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miwsolovely · 1 month

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—WALLS AND HAZE

pairing: outlaw!farmer!141 x fem!reader

series masterlist taglist (closed.) next

contains: implication of abuse + rape, sexism, cheater husband, rumors about reader are being spread, (implications that) reader is called mean things here :( (whore, brothel woman), husband is an asshole.

summary: meal for a king.

wc: 4.3k

a/n: u guys were hungry huh

a/n 2: this is an outlaw 141 set in the 1920s, which i was not born in so mind the inaccuracies ! ( reader is so oblivious in here im crying but shes so cute )

a/n 3: firm believer that simon n johnny look like this in this series🫶🏾

You wished the walls could talk.

Wished they were one big spiderweb of networks, all connected, so that they would see what was happening to you and tell the world.

Wished people cared like you wished the walls would. Coming to your aid and mending you, body and soul. Holding you up when you can’t hold yourself.

But the walks can’t talk. They can only stay silent and watch. Feel your pain and sorrow and the feeling of your body being pushed against the way, beaten, bruised, broken, taken.

And the walls don’t care. No matter how much you wail and stain the floor with your never ending tears, tears so abundant and filled with grief, the clouds cry for you whenever you can’t. Eyes too red and dried out to do anything but watch and feel as your heart, your bones, your soul breaks.

The walls can listen too. Listen to your cries as you beg to be free, listen to your frustrations, your pains. But no words of comfort come from them. No kiss goodnight, no hugs overflowing with love or kindness. Just silence.

The man who you’re married to, the man who lifted your veil and said your vows, “for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

That man was asleep in your bed with another woman.

Asleep dreaming of her, kissing her, making love to her.

When it was supposed to be you. He’s married to you, she’s supposed to be the other woman. Not you. Not you indeed, the one with the ring, the ring he used kissed each night before bed, on your finger.

But he made it very clear that it was indeed you, who is the other woman. Letting her wear your clothes, clothes that he bought for you wrapped in colorful paper and sealed with fake words of love and promises.

You overheard some talk about him buying her a ring as well.

Heard him going over a trip for them to New York.

Planned for the day of your anniversary.

In all honesty, you just wanted out of this God forsaken house, this town.

So you decide it’s time to look for a new house.

But you can’t. The world is as cruel as your husband and women can’t buy or own anything unless their husband buys it.

Women can’t do anything, unless their husband is there with them.

The only thing you can do is sit on your loveseat and realize why women kill.

***

The man selling meat seemed nice.

He was rough though, you could tell by the way he looked and the way he carried himself. He was a big man as well. Easily towering over the mini crowd of women fawning over him.

You try your best to, gently but firmly, push through the crowd of women to get to the front counter where the man was cutting meat for a customer.

“Excuse me,” You mummer trying to walk around the woman shamelessly showing off her cleavage to the man as she leans on the counter.

She turns around at the sound of your voice and her elbow jams against your ribcage with how fast she did the action.

You flinched and held your middle, the corset you were wearing doing nothing but causing you more pain. The woman looked at you as if you stained the bottom of her shoes. “Be patient and wait in line.” She scoffs. She was about to turn back around to the man still chopping the meat on the counter, his eyes slightly raised to meet yours then anothers’ behind you, but another voice, accented and heavy, interrupted her.

“If Ye’re not gonnae buy anythin’, leave.”

You turn and almost crash face first with a hard chest. You look up and meet crystalline eyes. A color you’d never seen before outside the sky. The sea you’d yet to see but if you had, the waves would roar with jealousy.

The man gives you a wink and starts to walk by you towards the man behind the counter, completely ignoring the woman trying to seduce them both now, but stops midway and looks back at you, as if urging you to follow him.

You pause and were about to follow, but then, you notice the multiple pairs of eyes on you.

The women point and whisper at you. Likely spreading more false accusations against you.

“Look, it’s Mrs. Fitzroy. Shouldn’t she be tending to that husband of hers?”

“I heard she was trying to change her surname.”

“I heard she’s sleeping with the man selling apples at the market.”

“Good heavens! I thought she was sleeping with the fletcher down at Browns?”

“An’ I coulda sworn I saw ye spreadin’ yer legs for that blacksmith off on Hickory?” The man said. Lifting a finger to the woman who accused you of sleeping with a man you’ve never met, the fletcher, pointing her out.

A small smile, you notice, lifts the man behind the counter’s eyes, revealing his crows feet.

One of the women scoff. “A man so beautiful, yet such an ugly mouth…”

A cleaver comes down heavily, and startles the women still around the counter. “You women are so bratty,” He stares them down. His brown eyes turning black with… hate? “you lot make your own children jealous.”

Gasps of offense can be heard from ten miles down. The women act hurt as if their mothers mother were insulted, and one by one they file out the butcher’s shop after giving the two men their best glares.

You follow them with your eyes. And then, silence fills the room like a void expanding, swallowing up sound and leaving only a hushed stillness in its wake.

“Thought they were never gonnae leave.” The man with the blue eyes says. He scratches his stubble and faces you again, a smile lifting his face. “What do ye need lass? Or did ye come ‘ere jus’ for a peek at us?”

You feel your face grow hot as he flirts with you. When was the last time a man flirted with you, you couldn’t remember.

“I, well — I came to ask if you had, or have, Sirloin..?” You ask.

You noticed, that the moment you opened your mouth, the man with the rich brown eyes stopped his cutting of the meat in favor of looking at you, though it looked like he was looking through you at times, into your soul, and the man with the unique but beautiful accent had his eyes trained on you, as if drinking you in.

“Sirloin?” The man behind the counter questioned. He raised a scarred eyebrow. “Trying to make a feast fit for a king, lovie?” His voice is rough and deep, suits him well, you think.

You took a steadying breath. “No, no just dinner for my, husband. Our um — anniversary is in a few days.” You admit. Though you think you sounded sad, you didn’t mind it. You could tell the two men saw through you and noticed your unhappiness as well. Seven years with a monster will do that to you.

The man with the blue eyes hummed, something deep and rich that made you feel unsteady on your feet. “Congrats lass,” He nods his head at you. “Name’s John, this bloke ‘ere is Simon.” He nods his head and points a lone, thick finger towards the man behind the counter.

You offer them a timid smile and bow your head, your fingers finding and fixing invisible wrinkles on your dress.

“It’s nice to meet you both.” You say. You tell them your name and hide your shiver when the man behind the counter, Simon, says your name as if tasting it. It comes of his tongue like a melted honey similar to his eyes.

“Sirloin, yeah?” He looks up at you as he cleans the blood off his knife, dyeing the white handkerchief in his large hand red. When you nod after shifting your attention to his eyes, he continues. “Give me a second then, love.”

With that, he disappears through a door adjacent to the counter he was previously behind, most likely the meat locker, leaving you and John alone.

“Those women give you trouble all the time lass?”

You startle with how close his voice sounds to your ear. You turn to your side and look up to see him nearly standing chest to chest with you.

“Oh—no, no only when I see them or, or the other way around…” You say with a nervous smile. Looking down at his broad chest rather than his eyes after seeing how he looked at you with something akin to longing. When you take a step back nervously, his warm, large hand finds home on your waist, keeping you in place.

“Well if they give ye any trouble,” John says, lifting a finger to your chin and raising it so your eyes met his. “Ye’ll let us know then, hm?”

Will you? Will you let these strange, men help you when you need it? It was tempting, it is tempting, but again, these are strangers. Walking around the town with unknown men at your hips will raise even more rumors about you and your private life. People in the town will speak and words travel fast in your small town.

You want to say no, that you can handle yourself, but this man, he’s leading you into a field of roses that tempt you into his awaiting hands.

What you couldn’t see, was that behind the rose colored glasses, was a field of rot and sorrow that would follow if you obliged.

However the smell of roses and pine led you further and further into him and after a few minutes, you found yourself nodding, your words dying on your tongue.

John smiles at you, and his smile only grows wider when you step away from him as is burned when you hear Simon’s heavy footsteps.

When he opens the door, you notice the big sack he’s carrying over his shoulders, though almost the size of his broad shoulders, he makes it look like he’s carrying a feather.

You also notice that it looks bigger than what you ordered.

Simon places the sack on the counter and double checks the rope knotted at the top, making sure it's sturdy and won’t open. "Made sure to double the sack so it wouldn't leak," He says. When he looks at you, he notices the expression on your face. "Somethin' wrong lovie?"

John, still next to you pipes up. "Looks alrigh’ to me." You step up to the counter and run your fingers up your arm, a calming sensation to you. "Well, that's — It just, looks, more than what I ordered?"

Simon blinks. John smiles wider.

“Consider it an apology for dealing with those, women.” Simon drawls. He picks up the sack and walks the length of the counter to stand before you and John.

“An’ a thank ye for dealin’ with ‘im.” John says throwing a wink your way.

“I—” You sigh. “Fine, then how much do I owe you?” You start the motion of reaching for your wallet in your satchel. About to open it, John’s hand stops you midway.

“Consider it on the house hen, couldnae let a pretty lass like ye pay after what ye jus’ went through.”

“Oh, I couldn’t—please, the meat’s expensive and, and you gave me more than what I asked—not that that’s a bad thing but still—” You worry, and in the midst of that worry you don’t see the sweet smile rising on Simon’s face as he looks at you. The way John’s hand hovered over the curve of your waist, the lightest of touches just barely enough to satisfy him, but enough to keep your veil covering your eyes.

“Jus’ let us take you home love.” Simon says while stepping closer to you, caging you in between him and John whose hand now pressed against your waist, firm. “Can’t let a lady like you dirty her hands carryin’ this now, hm?” He says, shrugging his shoulders to prove his point, the sack already moistening with the blood of the meat inside.

Your hand, you realize, is still captured in John’s warm grip, calloused and rough, but gentle all the same.

You open your mouth, about to object, but John’s hand moved to and grew firm on your waist, urging you to obey, daring you to say no.

So you sigh, nod your head, and tell them your address.

***

The drive there is, pleasant. John sat in the back with you as Simon drove, the sack holding the meat sat next to him in the passenger seat. The scent of the meat was close to nothing, as Simon did say he doubled the sack. You’ll make sure to thank him later.

By the time you arrived at your house, it was close to eight o’clock. Around the time your husband would come home from work. If he even bothered to come home at all.

“Here I am.” You say eyeing the house. Stained with years of pain and sadness.

“Beautiful house you have here darlin’” Simon says as you unlock the front door, allowing them in.

Your heart beats faster and you feel as if this is a mistake.

“Thank you, Simon.” You offer a small smile. “Oh, you can put that in the freezer in the cellar. Here let me—”

“It’s alrigh’ bonnie, let ‘im handle it.” John says. His hand, once again, finding the curve of your waist.

“Ah, okay. . .” You say, and when you look in his eyes, you realize the haze you’re feeling right now, the haze these men are creating, you forget where you are, who’s last name you’re carrying.

“Would you—” You take a deep breath and you’re sure John can feel it. “Would you like something to drink John? Water or?” You say already walking to your fridge in your kitchen, already missing the warmth of his hand.

“Water’s fine bun, An’ call me Johnny, ‘John’ makes me feel as old as Price.” John, Johnny, says, following you to the kitchen and accepting the water bottle you offer him.

“Price?” You tilt your head in confusion. “Who’s that?”

John shakes his head with a smile. “No one, ye’ll meet him soon.”

If that sentence was supposed to quell your curiosity, it only fed the beast. “What is that supposed to—”

“All done.”

Simons voice, his deep voice, causes you to jump. You turn to face him and find him staring at Johnny, an unreadable expression on his face.

You clear your throat, feeling the tension. “Thank you, Simon. I really appreciate your help.” Whatever conversation Simon and Johnny were having, in a language only they know, it seemed to snap Simon back into reality and he looked down to meet your eyes, his own immediately softening.

“It’s not a problem love.” He says. And when he turns his face to the side with his hand rubbing at his neck, probably embarrassed, you notice a pink tint to his cheeks.

“Ach, an’ where’s my “thank you”? I did more than this wee bairn.” Johnny whines. You notice he looks more like a puppy than a man, pouting and all.

You laugh and hide your mouth with your fingers. “Thank you, Johnny.” You say.

Johnny, while feeling appreciated now, noticed you hiding your pretty lips when you laughed or smiled.

He’d change that. They all would.

***

Five minutes turned into fifteen, fifteen turned into hours, hours turned into talking while trying to act like everything was normal, like you weren’t sandwiched between two men you invited in your house, all to deliver meat to be cooked for your anniversary.

You were still in the kitchen, sitting on a stool that accompanied the island and Simon and Johnny occupied the seats to the left and right of yours.

You were all talking about nothing and everything. Your favorite foods, what you liked and disliked, you, you, you.

You tried to shift the conversation to them, tried to ask them a question, but all they gave you were either blunt, vague answers or an excuse saying “our lives aren’t as exciting.”

As if you could call yours that. Years spent behind these four walls, cooking, cleaning, having to endure your husband’s verbal and unfortunately physical abuse, the townspeople, it was anything but exciting. Anything but everything bad.

But these men, they clung onto every word that escaped your lips as if you were a God. Their eyes never left your form, and their hands touched you as if you were made of glass.

You felt Simon’s hand brush against yours and you knew and felt Johnnys' eyes and hands on you constantly, as if past your face, your eyes, your skull they were picking away at your brain, peering into your memories and cradling your heart in theirs.

Your body felt hot. Overwhelmingly so, but also in a way that you'd only felt once upon a dream with your husband; before everything went to shit, before your hands seemed to taint everything it touched in his eyes, before the withering flowers and declarations of false love. You don’t know what to do anymore, don’t want to become the woman the entire town believed you to be, an impure lady, the type of woman who belongs in a brothel, a whore. It's not what you were, not what you are.

The sound of a car, your husbands' car, pulling into the driveway almost halted their movements.

Almost because even when you walked away from the kitchen, from them, to wait and greet your husband when he enters through the door, their touches and eyes still lingered, still left a warm phantom touch on your skin.

Your trance broke when you heard the key in the lock of the front door, the sound of your husband’s voice cursing when he realized it was the wrong key before he tried again.

You heard Simon and Johnny standing and you were glad because they were acting as if they were just about to leave. You looked back at them and saw Johnny raising his pointer finger to his lips and sending another wink to you, Simon’s eyes smiling at you, piercing your heart.

You fight the heat rising to your cheeks and turned to smile at your husband, who just entered the house.

He paid you no mind however, taking his coat off and throwing it into your arms, his briefcase hitting your foot and toppling on the floor, the sound echoing throughout the room.

He marched up to the men, the intruders, in his mind, and stood chest to chest with Simon, locking eyes with Johnny and looking at him with disgust, he turned and met the hard, charcoal eyes of Simon and matched his glare.

“And who the fuck are you?”

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms !

- likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3 !!

©miwsolovely

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@the-faceless-bride @chickennn-soupp @starabigail @drenix004 @dogboyfoe @lostintro @tonylagsagne @sobasicallyimpoppee @ahervyn @ghostlythots @flowerloversthings @sugar-brains @midnights-song @poohkie90

if your name is in white, that means I can’t tag you and you need to check your settings (on this app) !!

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melloollem · 2 months

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Giving You Hell|| Jason Todd × No reader gender

Summary: After discovering that you were responsible for his resurrection, you and Jason Todd have an argument that results in the end of the relationship.

Warnings: anguish, mention of death, fight in relationship, No gender specified.

I consider this a good fanfic, I hope you like it.

(DC masterlist)

You knew the danger of keeping secrets in a pandora's box. Soon someone fearless would open it, soon the evil that had been kept there would find the light of day and you could only wait for that day to come fearing the destruction knowing you were too powerless to stop it and the day came.

You knew that Jason was investing with Bruce who revived him, they obviously knew it was Talia Al Ghul's doing, but there was something else, he knew. The date that Jason had been brought back was not an unassuming date, close to his birthday, as something of a thought, at first he associated it with affecting Bruce, bringing his son back close to the date he was born, but the boy soon dismissed that, he had spent years after his resurrection without contact with Batman, setting up his return and that theory lost its meaning.

Jason then decided to question Talia, a quick phone call in which he asked who had ordered his return, at the time he wasn't sure if anyone had, but it seemed like an alternative and a good way to start the conversation, a hunch that might give him his answer, but Talia was vague saying only that she wouldn't tell Jason who it was because of a promise. Jason found it frustrating, but at least now he was sure that his return to life had been ordered by someone.

Now he wondered how he had never suspected, was he so blinded by his revenge that he couldn't see the obvious? You were always there, you were the one who grabbed Jason's body as he tried to get out of the waters of the Lazarus Pit, you were the one he grabbed that day fighting back all the tears and violent memories, but for Jason you were there as a hostage, as the artifice the League would use if he refused to fight Batman and now in hindsight that thought seemed stupid, naive.

"I loved you, Jason," you didn't say it in defense of his accusations, you knew he would never forgive you for it, but that was the truth, you had done it because you loved him. Your voice was firm, you wanted Jason to be sure of your words, but even so your eyes were clouded with unreleased tears, because it was painful to explain why you had done it to Jason.

"You gave me hell," he said with disbelief, but also loathing. That wasn't how Jason saw his resurrection at first, he saw it as a second chance, a chance to try again, to take revenge on those who betrayed him in life, but after finding out it was you, you chose to dig him up and force him to live a life watered in hatred intensified by the Lazarus Pit and you hid it from him, that was a second betrayal far greater than Bruce letting Joker live after his death.

"No, no... no..." each no was said in a whisper, as if it were unbelievable to think the opposite. "I saved you" Your voice became louder, filled with certainty and arrogance. "You know that, you had everything. You called it a new beginning, a new chance." You were accusing Jason, using his words against him, trying to convince him of your reason, but only one line of yours stuck in his mind. Did you believe that he had everything? Half of the boy he was had stayed there, there was no Lazarus Pit capable of living that part of him.

"It was not your choice" Jason cried, he couldn't even remember the last time tears had rolled openly from his eyes after the Lazarus Pit, of course, he had cried as he struggled in those waters, as memories of his death flashed through his mind, but this was the first time he had allowed himself to cry, That those tears didn't come out after much reluctance, he actually let them roll down, too incapable even for that, too incapable to maintain the façade that what he felt was just hatred not a sadness of overwhelming magnetism, but that was it, he knew it was just that and those tears didn't lie. They weren't abundant tears, but even those small tears made it clear what it was all about, Jason's decline.

You didn't accept Jason's answer, shaking your head in denial "And who would, Jason?... you? Because I remember you're dead, I remember you didn't even have the chance to fight for your life in that warehouse..." your tears came out, your mouth trembled as you spoke, but anger was never far away, the feeling of sadness and anger mixed, boiling cruel words. "So I did it, I fought for you, I fought for you to have a second chance…"

"...a tiny chance of being something, of not having died in a warehouse with a title that was taken from you in 3 months" Jason didn't try to answer you, to fight your poison, you wouldn't listen to him. You would never understand being dug up with the sole purpose being revenge against those you loved, you wouldn't understand the weight of the choice you made for Jason, condemning him to a life now drenched in remorse and regret.

"I did it because I loved you, Jason, like no person has ever done before, like Bruce never did. I couldn't live knowing that was the end of you and nothing you could say would change my choice, because I love you, Jason and you know it. No matter how much you hate me after that, you know that I only did it because I loved you," you said after the man's silence, you struggled, even though you weren't sure he would listen. You don't think Jason would understand, knowing that the person he loved the most had been killed in a cruel way, meeting his end prematurely, he would never understand how heavy a burden it was to make that choice, to be condemned to a short span of a life with Jason that would soon end when he found out about your choice.

There were words choking in your throat, words that would have sounded like "I'm sorry, Jason, I'm sorry for all the hell you went through after you came back, I'm sorry for all the pain I couldn't take away from you", but they would have stayed there, you wouldn't have given Jason the chance to think that at some point you regretted what you had done, that you would do things differently if you had the chance, because although you were sorry for all the pain Jason had experienced, you would never have let that be the end of him, you just wished there was a way to take that pain away from him, but there wasn't and if Jason had to live with it in order to live, then so be it.

That discussion had come to an end, you couldn't say anything more, you couldn't ask Jason to let you stay, for him to understand your side, you couldn't ask him for gratitude, you couldn't ask him for anything, you knew that. You had to leave, he didn't want you there, this wasn't one of the nights when you drove Jason's demons away, not when you were one of them, you could only leave, leave him alone and you did. Without another word, you left, there was no hope of him asking you to stay, it was the end.

Jason seemed surrounded by a tornado, blinded by his thoughts, there was nothing else around him. Jason wasn't sure, but he thought he would rather have died in that warehouse forever and ever along with all the happy memories, with his moments of gratitude and admiration for Bruce, with his time honored as Robin, with his sweet love for you, but now it was all tainted, Bruce had been the one who betrayed him, Robin had been the one who caused his death and you were the one who now buried the last remnant of the old Jason, you were the final point the proof that that Jason should have died completely and now he did.

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lains-reality · 8 months

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Once a young woman came to Hafiz and said, “What is the sign of someone knowing God?” And Hafiz became very quiet and stood in silence for nearly a minute. Lovingly looking deep into the young woman's eyes, he then softly spoke: “My dear, they have dropped the knife. The person who knows God has dropped the cruel knife so often used upon their tender self and others.”[source]

please give yourself the grace of forgetting, of being sad, of failing, of fearing. you are allowed to. all is Self. you are okay now and here.

allow yourself to look at the insecurities, shame, guilt and fears.

give yourself the chance to respond, not react.

let vanessa be. vanessa is just a person like anyone else. thinks they are born and will die. every vanessa, no matter how well off they are, is scared shitless. but you treat your vanessa so badly.

you hate it. you want it gone. you see the body and mind as a cage without a key. it hurts. you curse it and nothing changes. you try to convince it and nothing changes. you curse it more.

It is not a matter of enduring, it is a matter of you being so crude to Vanessa, and expecting so much of her when she has no power. Do you feel the same way about the homeless man on the street corner? Do you constantly chastise him in your head, blame him for his circumstances? Even if you are the kind of person to judge based on appearances, you do for a moment and move on with your life. That's because you never thought he was you so how could you feel pain on his behalf? You may do the opposite and feel bad for his situation for a bit, but you still leave the matter alone as he's none of your business and you have your own things to worry about. - post source

vanessa is doing the best it can. it sings, dances, loves! it bleeds, it shudders, it hurts. all is the wide expression of Self.

and yet you hide from the pain, from the hurt, from the thoughts, the feelings. this is not the fullness of Self.

forgive yourself. let go of the shame and guilt. stop shaming vanessa for exsiting just like any other person in the street. stop carrying all responsibilities of the world. it's already taken care of.

you breathe with no help, you shit with no help, you eat with no help, you sleep with no help. and even if you do need help, the inability to do so, happens without your help. your amazon package comes through, your sibling grows 2 cm, the sun rises and falls, the seasons pass by. all by itself. what's orchestrating it all? Self. what other reason have we given ourself the world, other than out of love?

Leave poor Vanessa alone and stop assigning her the responsibility and accountability of everything that the dream shows. The entire dream is all an expression of the Infinite Being, not hers (the ego) which she is just one more creation of. And it doesn't have to be your (the Self's/I AM's) dream anymore when you stop identifying with it. - post source

its already out of vanessa's hands. vanessa can't do anything. let that be a celebration: all is taken care of. unconditonally.

"why is it all taken care of?"

"why not!"

"but why should *i* get the world?"

"why not?"

"but-"

its already all here for you. its already as it is. what is vanessa gonna do to change the infinte? why would the infinite need changing anyway?

Treat it with compassion, stop bullying it, it's not its fault you're not where you should be. You think he's in the way so you get mad, you get frustrated it's not following instructions or refuses to step aside. But the ego is not the problem, nor in the way. Your attitude toward it is the problem. Let it be, it doesn't know any better! - post source

give yourself the permission to exist as you are. give yourself permission to be as you are, right now. start asking 'did i give permission for this?' you'll find how much stuff is not even your choice. as ada said its just tolerance and endurance of the forced vanessa.

now you realise you don't have to be a forced vanessa. so you go completely the other direction and try to (forcefully) change the vanessa. you're still holding up standards, ideas & roles to yourself. the things that made you hate vanessa in the first place. just maybe, for this moment hold nothing. drop the knife.

“Stop trying to heal yourself, fix yourself, even awaken yourself. Let go of letting go. Stop trying to fast-forward the movie of your life. It gets so exhausting, doesn’t it, always trying to get there, chasing futures that never seem to arrive, living on second-hand promises. Instead, bow deeply to yourself as you actually are. Be here. Honour this present scene in the movie. Your pain, your sorrow, your doubts, your deepest longings, your fearful thoughts, are not mistakes, and they aren’t asking to be healed. They are asking to be held. Here, now, lightly, in the loving arms of present awareness…” — Jeff Foster

#lainsreality #nondualism #non dualism #LISTEN TO THE VIDEO #i swear i'm still on break #the first quotes source = video

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heaven4lostgirls · 1 year

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“What do you mean you’re not going?”

sirius black x insecure!fem!reader

TW: ED, panic attack, breakdown, body images, crying, emotional traumas happy ending tho!!

a/n: this isn’t proofread and this is literally my first fic be kind pls!!

Y/N had always been considered a marauder since she sat with them during their first ride of the Hogwarts Express in their first year however once she was sorted into Hufflepuff they obviously were not able to spend much time around one another

Y/N had also developed a crush on a certain Sirius Black during the course of their fifth year when he had run away from his parents and had openly shown his love for muggle traditions such as nail polish and eyeliner.

Sirius had never noticed her affection mostly because she spent most of her time avoiding him, however every year the 4 marauders including the Hufflepuff girl would meet in Hogsmead for their annual marauders day.

It was a tradition started in first year when they all had gotten their permission slips signed and decided that they knew nothing of Hogsmead and it would be safer for them to travel together in which they soon found themselves wanting to go to the same stores and thus a bond of everlasting love and friendship was born.

Y/N was now however considering cancelling her plans with her friends because her outfit that she had picked out to wear at the beginning of the week had somehow looked tighter than what she had remembered it looked like.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had used these clothes but that didn’t matter because her size had never changed before. Her mother had made sure of that whenever she visited home that she was to be placed on a strict diet because upon arriving her mother had noticed her stomach had looked chubbier than when she left.

Y/N had admitted she was not one to focus on portion control because the good at Hogwarts was amazing and she was used to eating a lot so that she had enough stamina to get through quidditch practice and none of the other boys ever commented on how much she ate because they all ate similar to her.

She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and decided that she would try and find another outfit. Y/N tried on countless clothes she had in her wardrobe only to try on a pair of jeans she hadn’t worn since she was 12 that obviously no longer fit her however that was her last straw as she collapsed into the pile of clothes and sobbed.

After cleaning herself up and pushing all her clothes back into the cupboard trying not to look too closely at herself in the mirror stuck inside her wardrobe doors she pulled on a pair of Sirius’ sweatpants and one of James’ old quidditch t-shirts.

She knew there was no way she would be able to make it to Hogsmead now considering she was already late from doing her hair and makeup which was inevitably ruined by her breakdown so she decided to walk to the Gryffindor common room to let the boys know she would have to skip out on todays adventures.

She softly muttered the password to the common room however upon arriving she noticed that Sirius was the only one sitting at the fireplace. She cocked her eyebrow wondering where all the boys were and walked over to him and as he looked up he gave her a confused body glance at her choice of attire.

“What are you wearing? We’re late and the boys are already on their way to the leaky cauldron!” Sirius exclaimed and she smiled forcefully before she looked him in the eyes as she hugged herself in comfort. “I- uh actually can’t make it to Hogsmead today…” she murmured embarrassed that she had made him wait for her only for her to turn him away.

“Are you sick? I mean none of us have missed a single Hogsmead trip together since first year, even when Remus had a full moon the night before we dragged him out of bed just so that we could get-“ Sirius was cut off by a frustrated and pained voice “I know Sirius, I just don’t want to go! Okay?” She exclaimed.

“What do you mean you’re not going?” He looked at her confused. “I just can’t go, you guys should have fun without me and bring me back some sweets from Honeydu-“ however it was her turn to be cut off by Sirius who shook his head “I’m not leaving without you Y/N, it’s a marauders day and if you can’t be there then there’s no point in the day is there?” He smiled and winked at her.

She was confused on why he was making such a big deal out of her going however she just rolled her eyes. “I just don’t think I look good in what I planned to wear and..I didn’t want you guys to be embarrassed…about me” she looked down as her eyes glossed over with unshed tears.

“Hey hey, don’t cry” Sirius cooed softly as he pulled her towards him and stroked her hair as her muttered comforting words into her hair. She felt her tears leave her eyes and she sobbed into his leather jacket. Sirius felt her body shake with each sob that tore through her and he felt his heart break a little with each painful sound leaving her.

“I can’t look at myself in the mirror anymore Sirius, I hate it i hate it i hate it. I hate how I l-look and how when I-I smile I have lines around my mouth, I hate that my t-thighs t-touch and that I c-can’t stop my eyes from getting dark circles and that my t-tummy isn’t flat” She cried hysterically into his shirt.

“I can’t do this anymore, i-it hurts. P-please make it stop P-please Siri make it s-stop” Sirius could feel the tears running down his face as all he could do was hug her tighter as he pulled them towards the marauders dorm and laid on his bed with his arms wrapped around Y/N.

“I know I can’t fight those thoughts for you but I need you to know that I will always find you beautiful, nothing is going to change that for me okay?” He squeezed her tighter as he heard her panicked breathing turn into shallow breaths.

“None of us will ever be embarrassed of you because of how you look okay? Do you remember in fourth year when James walked into the great hall with no eyebrows because he thought he could shave a slit into them?” When he felt her nod as a sign she was listening he continued the story.

“The rest of us were busy laughing but all you did was pull him outside the great hall and you gave him the hair growth potion Slughorn had taught us and hugged him before walking in like nothing had happened. That was when I knew that you were one of the kindest people I had ever met” He felt her snuggle into his chest and sniffle.

“I didn’t know that you saw me do that, I thought you guys were busy laughing. I just wanted James to feel better I would’ve done the same thing if it had been any of you, you know that right?” she spoke into his chest.

“I know love, are you sure you wanna stay behind, I will stay with you but I want you to know that even if you decide to go I know that the boys have been dying to talk to you about our new idea for a prank” he smiled down at her.

Her heart swelled at the idea of the three boys waiting for her with excitement. She nods slowly and gets off of his bed. “I-I think I’d like to go, w-would you mind giving me a minute to change and we can be on our way?” She smiled shyly.

He nods and smiles back and before he knows it Y/N leans forward and pecks his lips and scurries off not before saying “I guess that was your thank you for everything” Sirius stands in shock of what happened before grinning and touching his lips before running after her.

He picks her up with ease before carrying her to the marauders dorm. “Sirius!! Put me down! We have to go meet the boys!!” She shrieks and laughs. “Fuck them, you can’t just do that and think I’m not gonna make you mine” He kisses her neck with a smile before nuzzling her.

Safe to say they were over an hour late and walked into the leaky cauldron with their hands intertwined meeting the gazes of their shocked friends.

#remus lupin #james potter #sirius black x reader #sirius black angst #marauders #harry potter #marauders angst #juliwrites

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oceans-goddess · 4 months

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I don’t know if you would be open to this idea but a tmr newt imagine where the reader hurts her knee and now has a limp like newt and she is frustrated with it and it gets him to open up and it’s all fluffy??? I have just had knee surgery so I am being very self indulgent… again if you don’t want to no worries at all!!!

Author's note: Omg of course!!! Agh, I'm so excited, this is my first time responding to a request, so I hope you enjoy! Also, I wrote this really fckin fast, so I'm sorry if it's shit.

Guys, send in more requests! This was so fun to write!!!

Pairing: TMR Newt x reader

Warnings: mentions of suicide and death, leg injury

“This bloody knee!” you hissed, tossing your gardening tool to the side and pulling at your hair in frustration.

“Did you just say bloody? I must really be rubbing off on you” Newt said from above you. You gasped in surprise.

“Newt! What are you– aren’t you supposed to be talking with Alby right now?” You asked.

“Finished early. Not much to debrief today. Aren’t you supposed to be heading to lunch?”

Your boyfriend sat down beside you and picked up the tool you’d been using, toying with it as he waited for you to respond.

“I don’t think I’m gonna make it today. I’m running way, way behind. This piece of klunk knee brace won’t let me bend down to work, and Clint and Jeff refuse to let me take it off. I have to either stand straight or sit down, neither of which are fast enough to finish all this in time.”

You finished speaking with a huff, and Newt smiled beside you.

“Hey, that’s just what a brace is meant to do. You shouldn’t bend it until you’re all healed up. It’s only been a week, love.”

A week, you thought, recalling the accident that had occurred just a few days before:

“It should be all set. Just take it easy for a few weeks, y/n,” Jeff explained, helping you to stand and placing a rudimentary wooden crutch under one arm.

“And no more messing around climbing trees,” Clint warned, opening the door that led out of the med-jacks’ building where Newt waited. You nodded, but the comment stung your pride.

Earlier that morning, you had been sitting up in a tall oak tree in the deadheads. The location was morbid, you knew, but it was also quiet. A place to breathe. To think. If you sat up there long enough, it sometimes felt like the trees went on forever– like there were no walls, no maze, standing just yards away, separating you from the world beyond.

You’d been up there a while, and you knew your break would soon be over. The gardens needed tending, after all. That, and Newt would begin to worry and come looking. You knew he could handle himself, but the last thing you wanted was to see him struggle through the underbrush of the deadheads with his bad knee because of you.

You swung yourself off the branch you’d been sitting on and began making your way down the tree. As you placed your foot onto a small notch in the tree bark, the branch you held onto with your right hand snapped. You gasped, clawing at what was left of the branch, but your foot slipped, and suddenly you were falling to the side.

You let out a scream and braced yourself to hit the forest floor. Your right knee was the first part of your body to land, and it connected with a rock or a tree root– you weren’t sure. Your right shoulder slammed to the ground, though thankfully, it seemed that your knee had borne most of the brunt of the fall. Chest heaving, you slowly sat up and you tried lifting yourself off the ground. Pain surged through your leg, and a cry of agony escaped your lips. You sat back against the trunk of the tree for a moment, then tried to stand again. It was in vain– your leg couldn’t support you.

Just when you’d made your mind up to crawl back to the field where someone would see you and bring you to a med-jack, you heard a crunch of leaves nearby.

“Y/n?” Newt called frantically. When he saw you, the expression on his face made you want to disappear. His eyes were wide, and he cringed as he saw the way you held your leg. Others followed behind him. How he’d gotten here on his leg first, you didn’t know. Must’ve been the little piece of runner still left in him. He dropped down onto his knees beside you, calling out, “Bring the med-jacks, now!”

And then you wound up here, with a makeshift brace around your leg and a boyfriend that wouldn’t stop looking at you with that nauseatingly concerned expression on his face. It was all you could do not to scream in anger and humiliation.

You shook yourself out of the memory and turned away from Newt.

“I know the brace is helping. It’s just– it gets in the way. I’m so much slower than I was, so much less graceful, efficient, I feel… I feel like I just don’t operate like I used to. Like I’m supposed to. It’s so embarrassing. Like, everyone else is pulling their weight but me.”

It was quiet for a moment. Newt only watched as you clenched your fists together, but when he noticed that you were beginning to hold back tears, he reached over and rubbed your back.

“Hey, it’s alright. I understand. Sometimes I feel the same way about my own knee.”

At that, your stomach dropped, and you clapped a hand over your mouth. All the complaining you’d just done must’ve sounded so horrible– so inconsiderate– to him. You’d only been struggling for a week; his knee would trouble him for the rest of his life. And even then, he was trying to make you feel better, like always. That was what made you care so much about him. He always did what he could to make things easier for you, to comfort you, to make you happy.

“I’m so sorry,” you breathed.

“It’s okay, honestly. It’s alright.” Newt scooted closer to you and draped his arm over your shoulder. You leaned into him and took in his warmth, his earthy smell.

“Can I tell you something kind of sad?” he asked, his voice only a whisper. You didn’t know where this was going, but you nodded silently. Newt took a deep breath beside you.

“Aah, okay… you know I used to be a runner and everything, right? Before my knee?”

You nodded again, looking up at him. His brown eyes gazed down into yours with a mixture of affection and anxiety, but he continued on.

“Well, I don’t really ever talk about how I hurt my knee. It’s…” he swallowed. “it’s hard to talk about it now.” He shifted uncomfortably beside you, but you waited patiently.

“I… I really hated it here for a long time. It’s alright now, I’ve sort of made my peace with living here, in a way, but I just couldn’t take being trapped in this box. It drove me mad. One day, while I was on a run, I climbed up some of the vines and ended up on top of one of the maze walls.”

You could hear his heart beating faster now as you leaned against his chest. The next words out of his mouth were barely a whisper.

“I knew this wasn’t what I wanted. I couldn’t stand it. And I… I jumped.”

You gasped and sat up, looking into his face for more information. He only looked back at you with the most heartbreaking expression you’d ever seen on him.

“I wanted to be done. With it all. But, much to my resentment at the time, Alby found me. Dragged me back into the glade just before the doors closed. They fixed me up. I spent about a month under constant supervision from Clint and Jeff, and then I wasn’t allowed to be alone for another few weeks. Everyone thought I’d try again. I… I wanted to.

“It was even worse with my bum leg. Everything was harder, more irritating. I felt more useless every day.”

Hot tears rolled down your face. Newt brought up one hand and wiped them away with his thumb before kissing your forehead.

“I’m so sorry, Newt,” you whispered, and he pulled you in for a tight embrace.

“It’s alright, love,” he whispered back. “Things have gotten better since then. I found I was pretty good at gardening, and now, here I am. Made some new friends as well. And, of course, I met you.”

Newt pulled away and brought his hand back up to your face, resting his palm against your cheek.

“And I promise you I’m here to stay.”

You let out a quiet sob and pulled him in for a kiss. Your lips met passionately, and you ran your fingers through his dirty blond hair. He was as gentle, as loving, as always. When you pulled away, he was smiling.

“Another thing that’s changed though,” he began, “is that I’m seriously afraid of heights now. That fear extends to you. So please, love, please, I’m begging you. No more climbing trees. I almost had a heart attack when I heard you scream”

You let out a surprised laugh before responding.

“Okay, honey. Don’t worry. No more climbing trees. I promise.”

“Good,” he said with a nod. “Now– let’s go get some lunch. We’ll worry about the garden later.”

#requests are open #newt #tmr newt #newt x reader #newt x y/n #newt x you #newt maze runner #tmr #the maze runner fic #the maze runner fluff #newt x reader fluff

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jacevelaryonswife · 1 year

Text

Golden and Silver, my favorite colors | Part six

Although it seems to be more complex and difficult to solve than most people, the one-eye prince is shared common characteristics when he is close to losing something.

∴pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Wife!reader

golden and silver masterlist

Along the distinct activities that Aemond and you were supposed to perform throughout the day, there were long moments of synchrony between thoughts and feelings. A storm for both of you, responsible for the tightness in your heart and total deconcentration of the one-eye prince in his training. He couldn't help but think of you for a damn second. Your words, your smell, your beautiful face, your voice, your pain, your hurt... When he thought of his wife a few weeks ago, there wasn't much that intrigued him, that instigated him. Normal, she was. Quite kind, cordial too — like all the other well-born ladies — but most of all: normal.

Now, when Aemond thought of his wife, he always thought of the back of your head. He picture cracking your lovely skull, unspooling your brain, trying to get answers. The primal questions of a marriage: what are you thinking? How are you feeling? What have we done to each other?

What will we do?

You are all that he thinks, what he longs and dreads to be near, and he wonders if that's how you got up to it in dealing with indifference and apathy, your lord husband, or as you compared him the night before, a cold steel. He wanted to explode when Cole dropped his sword, too angry to pick it up from the ground or continue like that. Heavens, he had never been so restrained in a duty as he had been that afternoon. Come to think of it... He has gone with you, actually. He wasn't a liar either, but he mumbled a "yes" when asked by Sir Criston if he felt okay. He understood your fear, truly, he also understood your defensive posture and inability to forgive him quickly. He understood because he knew that if it was done to himself, he wouldn't be able to forgive easily either. But how he wishes it were different, that you could welcome him with your kind questions and affectionate smile, with your soft, shy touch on his hand and forearm. He would like to breathe in your scent again, feel your body as he slept next to you, hug you in his sleep and wake up next to you one moretime.

It seemed like a sudden and almost unwarranted change in behavior, after all, was that the power of the arrival of a child? No. Not quite. The main point for Aemond to resolve to be an ideal husband was indeed the news of your pregnancy, but what made him brood in frustration, anger and desire was your estrangement, your anger, your heavy words, and your posture determined to forget him, martyr him, blame him, and hate him. Although it seems to be more complex and difficult to solve than most people, the one-eye prince is shared common characteristics when he is close to losing something. It was too much for his pride and conscience. He couldn't let you slip between his fingers in that or any other way, after all, even if we mortals don't kill contact or use it, we don't like to lose our things.

And yes, maybe it was sudden the way he longed to feel your soft, demure lips on top of his again, in a kiss so chaste and simple that only a fruitful relationshipcould guarantee. But he wanted, from the bottom of the core and existence, how he wanted…

Perhaps, if he hadn't gone flying to get away from the dangerous fog that enveloped him, Aemond would have arrived in time for your chambers to meet you in your new silver dress, more modest than the gold one from the night before, but just as luxurious.

Most of your morning was spent in bed, dispensing with your lady-in-waiting and the rest of the maids to get rid of fatigue and regain your energies. Your lady mother had said that pregnancy used to tire the body and that the rest period should be longer so that the baby would not be harmed, what daughter would you be if you did not listen and practice one of her few good advices? The weather was good enough for a warm sheet to cover your body as your thought wandered, unfortunately you didn't go far enough to get away from everything that pertained to your husband. The deadly doubt between considering his apology and giving him a real chance or just continuing to pretend his existence never happened.

But then, you also found yourself thinking about the way he wrapped around your body last night, how he brushed his hair away from your face and inhaled your scent, the delicacy how he took your hand at breakfast and all the promises and right words he said, how he called you a wife and how vulnerable he showed himself last night. How you wanted him now by your side to lie on his chest as his wounds healed.

It was so confusing and intense how this marriage took your peg off the axles and showed you so many unknown facets of yourself, from the hardest working to the most spiteful. You couldn't lie, there was still a lot of widespread hurt in your heart, but the main focus on yourperspective still remained the same. So you decided to venture to another point of the castle, as you were still tired to get around to your seclusion corner at the end of Aegon's River, unfortunately, the palace gardens were considerably distant from your chambers, which made you give up reaching them and settle for the beautiful view of the tall trees from the balcony in the hallway. When you let out a calm breath, a familiar voice called your name. "Princess," you greeted Rhaenyra Targaryen. “Good to see you."

“I say the same," she replied with a simple smile, "it's a beautiful view, isn't it?"

“Indeed.”

In a quick observation about the figure of the princess you noticed two things: she was alone and there was a bulge on her belly, over which she passed her hand upon noticing her gaze.

"I hope it’s a girl this time, I think there's enough male presence around me," she said good-naturedly, making you smile out of courtesy. But perception was not an exclusivity of your, and the princess was not a fool. "What about you?" She could ask what sex of the baby you wanted, but like every girl who has not yet been blessed by Mother with a child, the answer seemed to be very obvious.

Of all the subjects that could be touched, that was the one that took the most out of your sleep. "My belly hasn't started growing yet," you said.

"Are you scared?" She asked.

Fear was an easy feeling to notice, but it wasn't the only thing you felt. It was more terrifying than that, almost as if your chest was being crushed and your world was destroyed by a raging dragon. Your feelings about pregnancy were confused at times and well clarified at others. At the end of the day, you just didn't know what to expect.

"When I was a little younger than your age, my preference was to wear chain mail and march into battle rather than give birth. I kept this thought for a long time, especially when my mother said that childbirth is the battlefield for womenlike us," the princess said. “It didn't get any easier when she was gone, especially the way she was, and when I was expected to have kids. It's terrifying the first time, harrowing, a painful duty to leave, but

I cannot imagine my life without my children." Although without much success, the princess tried to console you. “I believe that having support is important, especially the first time, I'm sure the Queen will know how to choose good handmaidens when the time comes."

"I think so." It wasn't the kindof conversation you'd want to have. “Thank you, princess."

She nodded with a weak smile, gently touching your hand before withdrawing. A distressed breath left your body and you had to lean on yourself to stabilize yourself. You'd like to believe that everything would be okay eventually. A sudden (or accumulated?) weariness hit your legs and before your form collapsed to the ground, the arms of your protector, Sir Koren Fowler.

"My lady! My lady are you okay?"

"Yes, I just... I'm tired." It wasn'tjust that, as your head was spinning until everything went dark.

The news of your malaise made the way through the halls of the Red Keep fairly quickly, as the image of your personal protector carrying your disgruntled body was quite evident. Your lady mother, the Lady Selene, was the first to arrive at your chambers along with Grand Maester Orwyle, sitting next to her as she took your hand.

"What happened?" She asked in fear.

"She fainted, my lady, I don't know why," Sir Koren replied.

“Has she previously shown any signs that could betray her condition?" Orwyle asked this time.

"I don't know, Grand Maester, she looked fine, just a little slower than the normal."

"When was that?" He asked again.

"Before that happens."

The older man mulled over his options in silence, leaning over to feel his temperature. "The period of fatigue and tiredness must have hit her, but fainting is not common, even if each pregnancy is odd and peculiar. The best thing to do is to keep it under review in case another incident of this nature occurs."

"Are there chances of it being anything other than pregnancy?" Your mother asked.

“It's too early to tell, but at some point in her life did she suffer a certain adverse condition?" Orwyle replied.

"No, she's always been a healthy girl."

"Good. It should remain at rest until it improves, but I will be constantly reviewing it in case something out of the ordinary occurs."

Your mother nodded positively, caressing your forehead. “I'll stay here, with her."

Neither man showed opposition to the idea, both of them making a brief bow before leaving, leaving the two of you alone for an almost long time, not only for your husband to arrive with dragon fire and open the door so violently that it made your mother squeal in fright.

"Forgive me, my lady," he said as he walked over to the sideof the bed, keeping his eyes uncast the whole time. "What's happened? Where's the Grand Maester?"

"He's gone sooner. We still don’t know what culminated in the fainting, the Grand Maester Orwyle suggested that it’s some symptom of pregnancy, since she has nohistory with other problems, but will accompany her if she presents a different picture. I must say, it's common for us women to get tired during pregnancy, but I don't know, I don't know it's excessive worry that makes my heart tighten, I just didn't expect it." Your mother replied. "Did you report anything out of the ordinary to her, my prince?"

Aemond didn't even consider your personality-related behavioral change before replying, "No, my lady, she looked fine yesterday and tonight, plus the rest of the days."

"Yesterday... she was very beautiful yesterday, my beautiful girl."

“Indeed.”

As he sat down next to you, holding your hand for answers, to feel anything coming from you, Aemond leaned over and kissed your forehead, caressing your cheek. Peaceful, that's how you looked, but it was the opposite of the way the prince and your mother felt. When the news of your uneasiness was informed after the return of the flight in Vhagar, your husband soon went in search of you, walking (running) so fierce and worried that he didn’t register the murmurs about what had happened. He was terrified, truly, one of the few times he felt the bitterness of fear clogging his arteries. The one-eye prince was a proud, merciless man with difficulty in forgiving. With so much darkness occupying his mind, he was pretty sure he would never forgive himself if something happened to you.

"My prince, I know that the intimacy of your marriage belongs only to you, but did something happen yesterday? Before or during the good ball come to the Princess, between my daughter and you?"

Seven hells, how was he supposed to answer that? With cruel honesty or with a part of events?

"A lot of things happened in those days. It made me realize that I wasn't properly doing my duty as a husband, my conscience as well. We're not in a pleasant moment, but I intend to reverse that, my lady."

The lady Selene kept an eye on every word spoken, drawing a slightnod into her furrowed brows.

"I'm sure she'll forgive him and fight eagerly for the success of his marriage, she's a good lady," she says.

"No, she won't," he countered, adding to your mother's confusion. "And in part, I'm pleased for that, to be able to show her that I really was sincere in my words, that I intend to reverse what I didn't do and be the husband that she needs, that she deserves."

"But the duty of a wife is to ensure the success of the marriage."

“Just like a husband. We also have duties to fulfill, but I didn't expend them and I didn't value her efforts, and I don't think unilaterality is fair. A husband must fight the same way a wife does," he squeezed your hand as he said this, noticing a slow, sleepy bodily response.

Your eyes opened to find your lady mother and lord husband on either side of the bed, eyes more open and full of anticipation. You felt tired, fatigued, and more than considerably hungry. Your two hands were occupied with theirs, fomenting the confusion that formed in your mind.

"My darling, are you listening? How are you?" Your mother asked.

"I... I'm hungry." The two of them laughed weakly. "What happened?"

“You fainted, earlier," your husband informed. "We're worried, my lady."

"Were you?"

"Yes," they spoke in unison. "We did," Aemond said, caressing your hand.

“Of course we did,” your mother said.

"How long have I been here?"

"It's been a while," lady Selene replied. "Sir Koren brought you here. Are you feeling anything else? Any pain or discomfort?"

“No, I'm not, I'm just really hungry. Will there be red fruit pie today?"

"I don't know, honey, but I can ask you to do it especially for you," she replied, smoothing your cheek. Your mother would really like to stay a little longer and make sure you were okay, as well as touch on the subject raised by the prince a few minutes earlier, but she knew it wasn't the most appropriate time, so she restricted herself to kissing your hand and bringing you in for a hug. "I'm back."

When your attention fell on your fingers entwined with your husband's, you sighed before looking at him. Aemond didn't change his attention for a second after entering the room, staring exclusively at your figure. The prince used to believe that he didn't have as much appreciation for touch, including touching and being touched, but all he wanted at that moment was to touch your face and kiss your forehead, as his own mother did to comfort him in childhood. A strange habit for him to replicate, but that's exactly what he did next, keeping your face very close to his own, so intimate it almost hurt.

"May I stay by your side?" He asked. "I need to sanitize myself, I'm smelling like Vhagar."

"It's not a very comforting smell," you said without realizing it, causing a closed-mouth smile on him. Even with a small, pointed reluctance, you allowed it.

Thinking of daring a little, Aemond rested his lips superficially on your own, breathing in your scent... What if he leans a little more?

Before performing the move, taking a close look at your reaction, a knock came from the door to frustrate him, revealing what he had brought to you from the flight. A beautiful field with yellow flowers, chrysanthemums, which he thought you might like if they were put in a beautiful vase or arrangement. When he returned to Red Keep, before learning of your condition, the prince instructed a maid to hand over the bouquet to some craftsman, apparently, the work was quite fast.

Hell, he didn't want to leave your side, but strove eagerly to get up and take the vessel from the hands of the humble servant. "Thank the craftsman Harlon for me," he said quickly, closingthe door and turning back to you.

Your eyes widened to the beautiful, multiple yellow petals coming towards him in a beautiful arrangement. Your breathing was slow, a little heavy, looking at him questioningly.

"I saw theseflowers earlier during the flight in Vhagar, I thought they would be to your liking," Aemond said. "They're light and vibrant, like you in your beautiful dress last night."

Your hands fingered both the vase and the petals with ultra delicacy, delighted with the beautyof your husband's gift and gesture.

"Thank you, Aemond, I really liked them and the arrangement, they are very beautiful. That was very kind of you."

"It pleasures me to know you liked it," he said, standing in front of him.

“Thank you," you said shyly, in a small tone.

You ate the pie that night and as your desire changed, other things were done to satisfy your desire, Aemond and his mother took care of it. That night too your husband crossed an arm over your and hugged you from behind, sleeping again next to you, sniffing your hair and neck in a few moments. The fatigue was intense enough for you to notice the physical affection, but you kept in your mind the beautiful gift of your husband. In the other days, your mother's and Aemond's attention was reinforced on you. Your walks through the gardens were more restricted by your own limitations, being strongly instructed not to leave the company of your personal protector, though that didn't stop you from beingdistracted by a good book or a table of lemon cakes. The Queen, in the middle of the week, made you a quick companion in your chambers — and just as your mother did not mention what happened on the night of the princess's reception. For her, it was a great satisfaction to see if her third child finally fulfilled his duty, and more than that, keeping a comforting hand all the time on your shoulder and back. Maybe things were finally settled, she thought. The Grand Maester also tracked your routine and health to come to a conclusion, always in the crosshairs of your handsome husband's sharp eye as he asked his questions and physical assessments.

Other things had happened over the course of the week, such as the prince finally talking to you more often, even though it was a little weird for you initially. The most recurrent subject at first glance was your health, obviously, but he perggreased what you thought of the wine, the food, the books you have already read, as on the morning of the third day after your malaise:

"My favorite story is that of Nymeria and the 10.000” ships, everything about it fascinates me," you said.

"I have learned that a new book with thehistory of the roinars before the vain of Valyria until the arrival in Dorne has been added to the library. I could bring it if it was to your liking," your husband suggested.

"I'd really love that."

Every day of that week he slept next to you, not always so close to your body, though he longed to feel your warmth and comfort. Heavens, what was happening to him? He never needed that, almost never had that, but on prom night when it all happened, he just had to be by your side and feel your skin, pity you, apologize, be totally honest with you. On another occasion — seven days after your fainting — over dinner, you were talking about dragons (it wasn't a topic that impressed you) and he suggested something when he discovered this:

"Perhaps, if you fly in Vhagar your opinion can change."

A quick, nervous smile edged your lips, almost incredulous.

"Are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He asked. "When you're better, if you're interested, the invitation remains."

Maybe that was the first time your gaze had remained connected for so long, neither of you wanting to part ways. Perhaps... maybe it could be a positive sign?

taglist: taglist: @immyowndefender @arcielee @malfoytargaryen @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @fan-goddess @dark-night-sky-99 @siriusdumblittlepuppy @let-love-bleeds-red @sassysaxsolo @cicaspair418 @yentroucnagol @mefools @risefallrise @auratiqs @glitterandgoldfinds @bellaisasleep @plzletmedaydream @padfooteyes @bellameshipper @zillahvathek @schniiipsel @little-duck @dc-marvel-girl96 @nina2697 @kaemond-zafiro @the-hufflebird-girl @panagiasikelia @whatsonthemirror @namgification @minttea07 @crazymusicgirl104 @sahvlren @aemonds-fire @partypoison00 (I couldn’t tag some people)

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond targaryen #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x you #aemond x wife reader #aemond one eye #fic #hotd fic #fanfiction #pregnancy #pregnant reader

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untitled-writer-013 · 11 months

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Love Triangle (Renfield x Reader)

Yandere!Renfield x Fem!Reader x Yandere!Teddy Lobo

warning(s): yandere themes, violence, kidnapping, threats with a weapon, mentions of eating bugs (if you watched Renfield, you know).

Renfield loved his darling more than anything, which is why it pained him to be away from her. But he couldn’t risk Dracula finding out about her, not before he escaped out of his master’s grasp. He couldn’t allow him to hurt another person he cared about. He let out a sigh as he dragged the body through the hospital, another victim for his master to feast on. He was doing his best to be on his master’s good side, wanting to take his darling out to dinner. He set the body down in front of his master, bowing his head as his master fed on the blood of the man he had killed.

Once dismissed, Renfield headed out, a smile on his face as he made his way to (Y/n)’s home. His smile, however, faltered once he spotted Teddy’s car. He watched as Teddy exited (Y/n)’s apartment, a glare on his darling’s face while Teddy seemed to be pleading with her.

“Come on baby, it’s just one dinner!” Teddy begged, being met with rejection from his darling. He frowned, getting into his car before he slammed his hands against the wheel, frustrated that he couldn’t get his darling to go out with him. She disapproved of his lifestyle, but he couldn’t help it. He was practically born into it, after all. He rammed his foot down on the gas, speeding out of the parking lot as he planned on how he would woo (Y/n).

Renfield waited until Teddy was out of sight before heading to (Y/n)’s apartment, making sure the flowers in his hands looked their best before he gently knocked. His darling opened the door, ready to hurl insults until she noticed it was him, her face instantly softening.

“Renfield, it’s just you. I’m sorry, I was just..dealing with someone. Come on in.” (Y/n) stated, moving aside as Renfield made his way into her apartment.

“Well, I just wanted to bring you some flowers, and I was hoping you’d come to dinner with me.” Renfield stated, a gentle smile on his face as he handed his darling the flowers, watching as she let out a hum.

“Aww. Renfield, you're so sweet. These are beautiful!” (Y/n) exclaimed, smiling as she smelled the flowers he had given her.

“Of course, only the best for you.” Renfield stated, muttering the last part under his breath.

“I’d love to go to dinner with you, are you free tonight?” (Y/n) asked, having nothing better to do, and she’d never turn a man like Renfield down.

“Oh! Um, yes, I’m free tonight! I’ll see you at Café du Monde at seven?” Renfield asked, earning a nod from his darling.

“That sounds perfect, Renfield.” (Y/n) stated, smiling as she carefully set the flowers down into a vase, making sure to leave some water for them as she set them in some sunlight.

Later, Renfield had made his way to the café, patiently waiting for his darling to show up. But as the time passed, his excitement died with it. His darling would never stand him up, so he wondered what was keeping her from their date.

He stood, deciding to stalk over to her apartment, noticing she wasn’t there either. In fact, it looked like it had been broken into, noticing the broken pieces of glass, the flowers he had gotten her having been knocked onto the floor. He picked up on multiple scents,but two stood out. One being his darling’s, and the other..

“Teddy Lobo.” Renfield stated, a growl escaping him as he followed the scents, now on a mission to rescue his poor darling from that monster.

“Now darling, there’s no need to be upset. Just tell me you’ll be mine, and everything will be alright!” Teddy exclaimed, a huge grin on his face as he held his darling’s face carefully with one hand, the other holding a gun to her head.

Renfield burst through the door, making Teddy jump off of (Y/n) out of surprise, aiming his gun at Renfield.

“And who the fuck are you!?” Teddy asked, a glare on his face as he looked up at the man.

“My name is Robert Montague Renfield. And you have my darling.” Renfield growled, quickly eating a bug before he tackled Teddy, practically breaking the gun with his hand, turning and beating Teddy with the gun. Teddy let out a yell, kicking Renfield off of him before he rolled out from under him. He picked up a chair, slamming it down onto Renfield, making him fall to the floor as he let out a grunt. The two men fought, Renfield landing more hits than Teddy, but neither were willing to let the other claim their darling for themselves.

Soon, the fight ended, Renfield having finally torn Teddy apart as (Y/n) let out a sob, traumatized by what she had just witnessed. She had no idea who the man in front of her was anymore, having known Renfield only as the sweet, caring guy she met at Mulate’s. She broke down into tears as Renfield walked over to her, a loving smile on his face.

“Don’t worry my darling, you won’t need to worry about him anymore. Now then, let’s go home.” Renfield stated, her hands and legs still tied as he picked her up, carrying her to a home he had bought, deciding not to worry about Dracula.

After all, he’d do anything to protect his darling (Y/n).

~fin~

author’s note: i finished watching Renfield, and when i looked to see if there were any Renfield x reader fics on Tumblr, i noticed there wasn’t a lot. so, i figured i’d answer everyone’s prayers for a Renfield x Reader x Teddy love triangle <33

#original writing #taking requests #renfield 2023 #renfield x reader #robert renfield #robert renfield x reader #yandere renfield #yandere renfield x reader #yandere robert renfield #yandere robert renfield x reader #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader

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midwestmade29 · 5 months

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“Do you understand me?” 😈

Well, I had every intention tonight to continue writing chapter 3 for [Leave Before You Love Me] but I kept staring at the screen blankly 😖 I really want to continue it so I hope I can get my shit together and do so ASAP. Instead, my brain came up with this smutty little number 🤭 @madhatterbri had me in my feels from her [story] she wrote yesterday and therefore mine was born 😂

If you are not 18+ years old, PLEASE KEEP SCROLLING. Do not interact with this story.

Due to the explicit nature, this story is NSFW or minors.

Some topics/theme(s) of this story may not be suitable and/or triggering for some readers. Read at your own discretion.

Dominant male, mentions of being punished (sexually), anger/frustration, (slight) edging, unprotected sex.

Word count: 943

The story takes place at a party/event that you and Christian Cage are attending.

Christian’s obsession with Nick was really starting to wear on your nerves tonight. Any other time you knew better than to complain or show any disdain towards his “Golden Boy,” but right now you just didn’t care. You let your frustrations bubble to the surface the more Christian carried on, rolling your eyes and sighing. “He’s a good boy, a special one. I couldn’t imagine a better son. He’s my pride and joy!” Christian raved. “More like a pain in the ass if you ask me…” you mumbled under your breath. One of the people in the group you and Christian were mingling with must’ve heard you because they covered their mouth and snickered. You looked up at Christian to see if he heard you too, leaving you disappointed when he pressed on without skipping a beat. “Nick has a bright future ahead of him, thanks to my guidance. He’s a smart boy choosing to follow my direction.” The same person that laughed at your “pain in the ass” remark piped up, asking what your opinion on Nick was while sporting a big grin. They probably got the hint that you weren’t Nick’s biggest fan, so you were certain they just wanted to stir the pot. With a dry laugh you responded, “You want my opinion on the precious Golden Boy? I think he’s a brat that needs to be knocked down a peg. He’s a 6ft obnoxious baby! I could go on and on!” The entire group of people around you burst out in laughter, everyone except Christian. You could feel his anger radiating off him, causing a cold chill to run down your spine. It was in that moment that you knew you had messed up big time.

With his jaw clenched, Christian excused the two of you from the group conversation. He grabbed hold of your wrist and pulled you in the direction of the stairs, his grip remaining firm. You tried to pull it free, but he only squeezed harder. “Where are we going Christian?!” you questioned the further you got up the staircase. He didn’t answer you with words, but the scowl on his face was all the answer you needed. Christian scoured the hallway for an empty room before choosing the host’s personal office at the end of the hallway. Once the two of you crossed the threshold, he released your wrist and walked further in the room, standing with his back towards you. “Shut the door.” He ordered. Recognizing the tone in his voice, you quickly did as you were told. “Christian, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say all of that. I just couldn’t stand to hear one more word about Nick…” You trailed off when Christian abruptly turned around and pinned your body against the door with his. “Don’t you ever talk that way about my son again!” He warned. “But did I lie though?” you hissed back defiantly. Christian grabbed your jaw with his large hand forcing you to look him in his darkened eyes. “Not only did you disrespect my son, but you also disrespected me while I was conducting business. Is that something my good girl is supposed to do?” “No.” was all you offered him. “No? No what?” he cautioned as he released your jaw from his hand. “No, sir…”

“That’s right, baby. There’s a multitude of ways I’d like to punish you for your little outburst, but we’re limited on time and resources, so I’ll just have to settle on fucking you up against this door until you learn some manners.” Christian boldly stated. Your core instantly ignited with fire, causing you to shiver and moan against his lips when they collided with yours. He moved your hands down to his belt buckle and you took the hint and made quick work of removing his pants and boxer briefs. Without hesitation, Christian lifted you up so your center was aligned with his hard length, your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him even closer to you. With one hand he slid your dress up to your hips and moved your panties to the side before pushing himself inside of you. The sudden fullness you felt in your lower half caused your head to fall back against the door and your eyes to skewer shut. Christian cursed under his breath at your tightness as you bounced up and down against the door, allowing him to go deeper inside of you with every thrust. The door rattled in its frame the faster he moved, causing the delicious pressure to build rapidly in your core. Christian took notice and asked breathlessly, “You want to cum baby? You want to let yourself go all over me?” You nodded your head yes, which caused Christian to stop moving and pull himself out of you. You groaned loudly at the sudden loss of contact, frustration replacing the feeling of ecstasy that had consumed your entire body. “What’s wrong baby? Frustrated?” he teased with a ruthless smile on his face. The both of you started to hear voices and footsteps echo down the hallway, so Christian released you slowly allowing you to slide down the door to your feet. With one finger placed over your mouth signaling you to remain quiet, Christian pulled you against his body walking you over to the wooden desk in the center of the room. Before spinning you around and bending you over the desk to finish what he had started against the door, Christian placed his lips mere inches away from yours and growled up against them, “Don’t you ever interrupt my business like that again. Do. You. Understand. Me?” “Yes, sir…”

Ugh he’s sooo freaking fun to write about 🥵

#christian cage #jay reso #captain charisma #instant classic #christian4peeps #father of the year #father figure #the patriarch #aew #all elite wrestling #christian cage smut #smut #christian cage fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #nick wayne #christian cage x reader #christian cage x you

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imajinxnation · 1 year

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Always One Step Ahead - Peter Hayes x Reader

REQUEST: thank you. ive always wanted to see a peter hayes x reader where she’s a dauntless born and she’s better than him and is always 1 step ahead of him in initiation, and it really pisses him off cause he likes her, and when he finally works up the courage to tell her she’s just like “yeah i know” and he’s a little embarrassed but doesn’t care cause she admits she likes him back @fay-stark33

Never realized how much I love writing fight scenes until now lmao

Sorry if this is a bit short!!

FEMALE!READER

WARNINGS: Fluff, Suggestive, Peter gets his ass beat, and Reader is a badass

"Admit it, Hayes, I'm better than you! I mean, why wouldn't I be? I am Dauntless born, after all," you smirked.

You looked down from the board, your name at number one, only to look at Peter who had a look of annoyance on his bloodied face. Eric had wanted to do an experiment, the toughest Dauntless born initiate against the strongest non-Dauntless initiate. Needless to say, it was allowed and you and Peter put each other through hell, and when you wouldn't let up, Peter lost due to exhaustion, plus a little "nudge" by you. And by "nudge" I mean knocking him out cold.

When he finally woke up in the medical centre, he was dissoriented and absolutely pissed that he had lost. And, not that he'd ever admit it, a little impressed, and slightly turned on.

He glared at you, looking you straight in the eyes. If looks could kill, there'd be a thousand knives in your body. The staring competition went on for a few more minutes before Peter got flustered by your unwavering smugness, and by how beautiful your (e/c) eyes were, especially with the amount of pride he saw in them.

"What? You can't even look a girl in her eyes, Hayes? Never took you as the shy type when it came to girls!" You laughed.

Peter's ears were burning at the thought of you thinking he was weak and shy. Getting frustrated by his reactions, the only thing on his mind was having a rematch, and one that he would win, that'd show you that he's not weak when it came to girls!

"The results can't be right, you cheated didn't you?! I want a rematch!" He demanded through clenched teeth.

You raised a brow, a bit impressed at his persistence to try and beat you, "Alright, but I'm warning you, this one might put ya in a coma," you winked.

After talking about a rematch with Eric, he was immediately down to see someones ass get beat, so there was no hesitation in letting you beat the shit outta each other again. You swaggered, confidently, over to Peter, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him to the sparring room. Eventually you let his arm go, assuming he could come the rest of the way without being dragged, but obviously not since he was just standing in the doorway, looking as if you had offended him.

"Well come on, Loud Mouth, I ain't got all fuckin' day! This was YOUR idea after all, so don't get cold feet now!" You yelled from the middle of the room.

Peter didn't wait to be told when to start the fight, he just straight up ran right at you, full force. You jerked out of the way once he got close enough and kicked him in the back of his knees, bringing him down to the ground, but before you could kick the rest of his body to the floor he swivelled around on his knees and hugged his arms around your waist and brought you down with him.

You took the chance while your lower body was trapped under him to kick his nether regions, which immediately brought his grip away from you and to his crotch. You got a quick punch or two on his face while he was crouching in pain, and quickly made a move to get behind him and kick his full body to the ground. He was in so much pain, you felt bad about it, but your pride in victory won you over, so you did what any winner would do; keep the loser on the ground by sitting on his back

"There, now you know I wasn't cheating, I'm just that good, now don't ask me to fight you again, I don't like hurting the person I like," you sighed.

"....What?" He asked.

"Oh shut up, you heard the the first time Peter, so are you gonna ask me out or not?" You snapped.

Peter twisted his head, trying to see your face, but couldn't, due to the fact you were literally sitting on his back.

"You knew this whole time that I like you?" He asked, his ears burning up in embarassment.

"Yeah, I've known for awhile now, but obviously you needed a push to ask me out. So, here it is; I like you too, so ask me out before I change my mind," you deadpanned.

"Okay, but first can you get off my fuckin' back so I can say it to your actual face and NOT the floor?"

At that, you immediately leaped off of him and sat in front of him on the cold concrete floor.

Peter cracked his neck and massaged his sore body before anything.

"So, you wanna get outta this place and get some food, or not?" He said, trying to hide his flustered state.

"Of course, Peter. But first, I think we should stop by the infirmary, cause I really did a number on you," you laughed, nervously.

He let out a small laugh too before standing up and walking with you out of the room.

#divergent preferences #divergent headcanons #divergent fanfiction #divergent #divergent imagines #divergent imagine #peter hayes headcanons #peter hayes x reader #peter hayes imagines #divergent peter hayes #peter hayes imagine #peter hayes #peter hayes fanfiction #x reader #x female reader

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beautifulterriblequeen · 6 months

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I have a fun new Claudia/DM theory spawned from E1 tidbits yesterday

(yes I got out of bed for this, and it's long, don't judge me):

Claudia has some new dark magic disfigurement, but she also has a walking stick to help with her missing leg. Maybe she has just healed herself, and the disfigurement is from that. But I got a much wilder idea and I gotta write it down or my head will blow, SO:

If Claudia attacks Terry because she isn't healed yet - attacks him for dark magic power to heal herself, using the walking stick he lovingly made for her, no less - then she's finally coming face to face with a big issue that's been hiding in the corner of her eye for a while now.

Claudia sees Terry as "a good elf", and the rest as enemies. But when push comes to shove, she also sees him as young, agile, and alive.

Just like the little deer she lured close with milk fruit.

And Terry is very, very close now.

But she does love him. She really does, as best she can. And it sounds like, in the pain and angst of the moment, she decides that she really is a monster, and that the only way to protect them both - her heart, his body - is for her to leave him.

Yes, if they stick it out, he could conceivably leave her someday, like her family has. But he's shown no sign of that at all. Terry is ride or die! Claudia maybe can't see that from inside her own traumas, though.

And, also likely, she's simply not telling him the monster part. She's very smooth at lying to "innocent" characters she likes about really dark topics. Little white lies aren't just a Moonshadow elf thing. And he'd try to argue her point, when she's made up her mind.

Basically, it's the Claudia version of Rayla leaving Callum in TTM.

Rayla, to Callum: the enemy is too dangerous, stay here

Claudia, to Terry: I'm too dangerous, stay here

SO. Claudia breaks up with Terry and literally walks (hobbles?) away for his safety, and only she knows the full extent of her reasoning why. She's alone and hurting, emotionally and physically, she's self-isolating, she's gonna brood like there's no tomorrow... and without support in that time, she's very prone to unstable influences. We all know Terry helped her with anxiety attacks and etc and generally set a really good mood at their camp.

Now, all of that is gone. She might forget that there is in fact a synonym for cinnamon.

Claudia could fall prey to Aaravos or any other outside entity at this rate - but she could also spiral on her own. Garlaath knows the poor woman's had enough angst to feed off for a lifetime.

Confession: I love Claudia, but I don't get out of bed for her. There's more to this theory. My kind of more.

It's hard to say from outside NYCC whether it's apparent that Claudia's new dark magic disfigurement is from healing herself or not. Maybe she was all healed up already and the attack was about other things - just scaring him, frustration, etc. Maybe she'd partially healed and it wasn't enough to get her foot to reach the ground, and there was nothing else nearby to kill.

But maybe it's "new" as in, it's still left over from the pentapus transformation.

Viren's a careful, calculated spellcaster. He doesn't waste magic, he does as little as possible to get the job done. Perhaps a caution borne from living long enough to want to be there for his kids as they grow, on top of his usual kingdom defense reasons.

But Claudia has grown wings, been half a snake, and then half a pentapus, all in the span of thirty days (not thirty-one, because we don't get the extra day!). That's some Doctor Strange What If material right there. Maybe some bits of those creatures... maybe they stick around in her DNA afterward.

Maybe they become part of her.

Maybe that's what "dark magic leaves a residue in the mage's body" is really about: You can burn snap magic cantrips at will because you've fused your body with a magic creature's essence.

Do you see where this theory leads, though? It does lead to Doctor Strange What If territory.

Here it is, then:

What if every unique monster in Greater Xadia used to be a dark mage?

What if they accidentally build themselves like Dr. Lazarus from that one Doctor Who episode, out of every creature they've ever burnt for power? Each dark mage's final evolution would be unique.

What if, one day, they just... erupt into a new form and have to run away or be attacked by everyone they love? Or what if they hide away in caves and cliffs, in bogs and burrows, because they can start to feel it coming?

Even Kpp'Ar lived alone in a weird house, like Dracula or something. What if Viren was a one-off, the way he was so so careful, the way he covered his stains, so he could serve publicly and keep Katolis safe? The way he married, had kids, tried so hard for normalcy?

What if Viren knows all of this, has always known it, and it helped him turn away from Aaravos at the last moment? If he'd rather die as he is.

When it really matters, Viren doesn't want to hide in the body of another, either. Maybe in that last argument with Aaravos, Viren finally understood where Harrow was coming from. Neither of them wanted to have a ship of Theseus life. For them, the answer to that age old question seems to be No.

I have one more fun twist, darlings.

What if the research Viren was doing for Harrow regarding the famine wasn't on Xadian monsters at all? What if he has a secret book of monstrous dark mages - because of course they're pragmatic enough to dutifully record each other's final downfall, in case someone else needs what they've become for a spell someday?

Maybe his source wasn't any scout report at all, but a horrible passage about a mage who used too much Sun magic and turned themselves into a giant, lumbering Magma Titan who could never go home again lest they set everything they love ablaze.

Yes, I'm still on my "but they looked so depressed out there by the lava river!!" bullshit, and it shall continue! This is at least my 3rd iteration of a Magma Titan backstory. And you'll hear it again lmfao!

I just. Love monsters. A lot.

Alright, there we go. You survived another one of my speculative theories. Good job. Remember to drink water.

#tdp #tdp speculation #tdp theory #viren #claudia #dark magic #tdp spoilers #tdp s6 spoilers

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nirawrite-holab-if · 11 months

Note

can we PLEEEEEAAAASSEEEE have a Drabble of the day MC was born ? (No actual pressure to right though just being extra :).)

Well..that turned out to be a little big 😳

Anyway, I loved doing it! Feel free to ask me again 🖤❤️ (also sorry for the grammar mistakes I wrote this on the bus 🤍💛)

And here it is👇🏼

The pain started early, before daylight even touched the elves' castle.

"What now?" Asta asks the line of maids standing motionless by the door:

The women exchange glances with each other, unsure of what to say to their queen.

"Your grace, we've already called the midwife," one of them began, casting a nervous glance towards Asta's big belly. "At any moment she's going to..."

"There's no time!" Asta screams as the worst pain of her life emanates from her womb and makes her knees buckle. "The baby is coming now; I can feel it."

She clings to the edge of her bed so tightly that the knots in her fingers turn white.

"Call my father," she manages to say between her teeth. "Tell him the queen is demanding his presence."

The maids exchange another, even more uncertain look before one of them practically runs out of the room.

Asta tries to find a comfortable position, but the pain is unbearable and won't let her think straight.

It's as if her body wants to do too many things at once — break in half, vomit, and, of course, expel a baby.

In the distance, the sound of a trumpet cuts through the air, and the silence of the morning is interrupted.

"Fuck," she whispers and looks at the maids, who remain motionless like statues. "Go after the midwife and just come back with her." Her tone comes out more menacing than she intends.

But there's no time to think about it right now. Not only is her baby on the way, but so is an army of vampires ready for war.

What is Carmello planning? Plucking the baby from her womb? Forcing a war?

"So be it!" She shouts determinedly, "Let's see who's left to tell the story."

Pain and frustration overwhelm her, and for a moment, the room fills with a blinding, impossibly hot flash.

When Asta's eyes are able to see again, her room seems to have been hit by a hurricane. There's broken glass, furniture dragged to the opposite corner of the room, and the squares on the wall are crooked.

But it wasn't me... She is horrified. It can't have been...

The bedroom door opens again, and Aedh enters, looking stormy.

He is wearing the royal military costume with the colors of the kingdom: white, gold, and lilac.

"Asta," he says, further evidencing his mood. 'We are on the verge of a war."

"And I'm having a baby, father," she replies, her voice trembling from the pain. "The heir of the kingdom you want to keep safe"

Aedh narrows his eyes at her.

"I can't help you with this," he replies, turning his back on her.

"Father" is just a word, but Aedh stops. He looks over his shoulder at his daughter.

She has her hair usually pinned together impeccably, glued to her sweaty face in a tangled mess of gray; her skin is pale; and the electrifying lilac eyes are the only sign of vitality on her face.

"I command you to stay," she says when she's sure he's actually listening. "If you will not listen to me as a daughter, you will have to obey me as your queen."

"Are you afraid to face the consequences of your actions alone?" He asks, turning completely to her.

But she doesn't have the opportunity to answer because, at that moment, the midwife finally arrives in the room.

🤍💜💛

Not long after that, and already with the baby safe in her arms, Asta finally averts her eyes from her heir's face and looks at her father, standing motionless in the corner of the room.

"You can go now if you wish," she tells him. Their last words to each other are still echoing through the walls of the room.

Aedh says nothing. Instead, he approaches the bed, where she rests with the baby in her arms.

His golden eyes fixate on the little creature's face.

It's not a monster, after all. He thinks with more relief than he thought he would.

They even have little elf ears.

Like him and Asta.

"Let me hold them," he says, extending his arms in a gesture that surprises both Asta and himself.

She hesitates for a moment before obeying the request.

With the baby already snuggled in his arms, Aedh walks around the room, thinking about how much chaos that little hybrid is already causing in the kingdom.

"Whatever your future legacy, you will have me by your side every step of the way." He whispers only to the baby after several minutes. "But I'm not going to take it easy on you."

Later that day, the sound of trumpets is heard again, but this time they announce the birth of a new heir in the elf kingdom.

#answered ask #mc #the parents #the grandfather #drabble #I really enjoyed doing this 😂#and inspired me more for the update

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weinnersongcollection · 3 days

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 (Dark Rafe x Sarah fanfic)

Summary: This was a draft I had in my notes app on my iPhone for my first ever attempt at a fanfic from last year. I don't have any recollection of it because I wrote it when I was drunk, and it was supposed to be a dark thriller-like read because I am inspired by the author, Karin Slaughter. A trigger warning: this will not sit well with some readers because it has incestuous elements. Basically, the story takes place over a year after the events of Ward dying, and Rafe's deep obsessive hatred for Sarah gets the best of him, and it gets really disturbing. I think I attempted a chapter in a half or two of this story. I probably don't want it to be a one-shot. If someone is actually content enough to stomach reading this and wants a continuation of it, I will write more chapters. Please know that this is a concept and just a work of fiction. If you're not into this trope, feel free to disengage from this read. Side note: this is pretty much a continuation from chapter one but not really finished because, like I said, this is from last year. I wrote it when I was drunk, and when I sobered up, I felt like this was so sick. I don’t think I want to finish it and publish it and get it cancelled, but I saw other writers stories that spoke about controversial stuff, so this is going up. If anyone who can withstand this read can handle it, I’d attempt to finish this chapter and make a third. 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚘: 𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚢.

Rafe removed Sarah off the ground and propped her motionless body into his arms she wasn’t dead, but she was out cold until further notice right now it was just him and her and the pain that kept them company all these years. The pain that his father’s favoritism for her was a wedge between their relationship. Even with his father, being dead, he still affected him traumatically, even if it was from beyond the grave Sarah’s body felt light as a feather in her torpid state cradled in his arms his hold on her secured so he could keep his balance as he was approaching the master bedroom of the mansion, the room now his since his stepmother and father, we’re gone Luckily, the bedroom door was already open, so he didn’t have to worry about stumbling his way in there with her. Rafe lowered Sarah onto the King sized bed. He didn’t know how long he had before she regain consciousness, and he didn’t know what he could do. To keep her there, seeing her felt triggering because she reminded him of everything he lacked she had John B who loved her unconditionally. While Rafe was only looked at for what he could provide, whether that being his father’s good old, reliable lapdog or nothing but a fien that brought in Barry money and gold because his cocaine addiction everything for him always came under a condition Rafe gently stroked Sarah‘s cheek and removed her messy hair away from her face you’re going to pay for the life that you stole from me Sarah if it wasn’t for you being born, Mom wouldn’t have died giving birth to you if it wasn’t for you being brought into existence, dad may actually of made me feel loved instead of putting all his focus on you he said in a very wrathful tone of voice whispering in her ear he put his index finger on the side of her neck and checked her pulse well, it looks like I didn’t really quite take your breath away because you’re still breathing, he says under his breath sarcastically then instantly Sarah’s eyes shot up and she was out of her comatose state where the hell am I she says, frightened and dumbfounded, when she took a moment to process her surroundings, and realized that she was face-to-face with Rafe she started to scream Rafe put his hand over her mouth, shushing her nice to see you respawned island, princess but I’m not trying to get hearing loss he says growing frustrated

Now then I’m pretty sure you don’t want me to smother you I’ll take my hand away from your mouth If you promise you won’t scream nod your head. If you understand, Sarah just looks at him blankly. Do you understand he screams which startled her Sarah nodded her head in cooperation. She was scared shitless, and even surprised that she woke up from his strangulation towards her.

I know dad would of wanted us to stick together as a family and keep his legacy alive I feel that would of been his dying wish he says looking at her intently, grabbing her arm hoping to get a sense of consolation Sarah swatted his hand away from her and sat up meeting his gaze Listen, Rafe, dad is gone now you don’t have to keep trying to base your identity around him anymore you can start a new life one that doesn’t to have to be this obsession with chasing his approval she replied anxiously plopping off the bed on her feet keeping her distance her eyes set on the doorway of the master bedroom typical fried Sarah do you even hear yourself you didn’t even keep your promise when I ask you pacifically to keep dad safe you’re the last person to see him alive and he’s dead because of you he shouts rising up instantly and shifted toward her feeling overwhelmed with anger him she flinches in fear and backs away from him from being eye to eye with her Sarah was at a lost for words she couldn’t even open up her mouth to say anything in this moment his words cutting in deep there was no denying that there was some truth to his statement she wanted to feel sympathetic toward him apart of her understanding of his resentment towards her because he always had to prove himself to be deemed worthy of his father’s love and she was put on a pedestal and was the person that always got in the way of him getting attention from their dad she turn towards him and shifted her eyes grazing into his attempting to read his facial expression it’s like he has this switch where he can go from indifferent to unstable you’re gonna do everything I tell you to do do you fucking hear me. He snaps immediately Sarah starts to bolt out the master bedroom door and rushes to the mansion staircase I’m not done with you. He screams chasing after her. Rafe you don’t have to do this, you can let me go she pleads

he started to gain in on her if she didn’t get away from him there’s no telling what he would do her mind was racing a mile a minute she remembered when they where kids they would play hide and seek and when he found her he’d tickle her to death but this is modern day they aren’t kids anymore if she’s sought out he was gonna hurt her Sarah manage to outrun him and snuck her way into a downstairs closet She tried so hard not to hyperventilate Sarah’s phone starts to vibrate in her back denim shorts pocket shit he’s gonna hear it. She says under her breath, trying to remain quiet as possible the closet had shutter panels that were partly cracked open she wanted to be able to monitor Rafes movements Sarah grabbed her phone out her pocket it started to light up with a text notification from John B saying closed up the store. When will you be back home? There’s leftover pizza in fridge. Sarah tries to share her location with John B but her phone dies on her shit I’m fucked. I’m so fucked she thinks she whispered to herself shaken up in fear tears welling up in her eyes you can’t hide from me Sarah she felt her brothers voice getting closer and closer and saw his figure threw the closet door shutters she puts her hands over her mouth to muffle her panicked whimpers before she knows it the door knob on the closet starts to turn she jumps up terrified holding onto it with all her might her grip tightened not wanting to let go because she had no idea what was coming next if she let herself be caught by him I don’t wanna die she thinks to herself shaking crying so hard she felt her tear ducts would get swollen I know you’re in there Sarah Why don’t you come out and play? he snarled simultaneously he breaks through the closet door smashing the antique wooden panels with his bare hands Sarah started to scream so loud that she felt their would be no more air in her lungs left she couldn’t even make sense of anything anymore she just froze in fear Rafe snatched her up by her arms and picks her up throwing Sarah over his shoulder why are you doing this she said kicking and screaming attempting to be loosen from his hold dragging her away her hands beating into his shoulders and striking him in the side of his neck which caused him to groan in pain making him react angrily gnashing his teeth and halting in his

steps pulling her hair so hard that the muscles in her neck felt strained that she was coming onto a whiplash You’re gonna calm down and be a good girl, right? he asked the pitch in his voice heightening in a domineering way watching her struggling to get out his grasp with lifeless eyes as she started to whine in defeat her refusal to give a answer right away caused him to be frustrated and pull at her hair even tighter as if he would scalp a piece of her hair out y-yes I’ll be good she says whimpering in pain hoping her words will ease his hands off her head that’s a good girl he says, letting out this smug that he had her complacent finally and flings her head back over his shoulders pulling her away from the downstairs storage closet he broke down taking his steps towards the staircase reaching upstairs in this moment Sarah wish Rafe would just die and this would all be over and she be somewhere safe she felt him climbing upstairs with her being brought back to the same place she tried so desperately escaping from

There’s no better life waiting out there for you Sarah everything you touched dies here is a place for rebirth and we can start anew and be a family again he says talking into her neck him making out the sentence sounding strange Rafe drops Sarah onto the ground of the master bedroom causing her to fall flat on her face he slammed the door shut and locked it behind him she starts sobbing let me out of here please Rafe just let me go she cries out beating her fist into the bedroom floor sorry no can do sunshine this is only the beginning he replies squatting down looking at her pathetic state of despair he started to laugh manically I’m gonna have so much fun with you he says while his set motives could be insidious or unusual. Come here he commands grabbing her wrist pulling her forcefully toward him she tried resisting his touch but felt herself to weak from being overpowered by his strength whats the matter cat got your tongue he questioned not amused by her silence you always been daddy’s little princess got everything handed to you while I was left high and dry trying to find that love from my father that was only honored to you he lashed out at her enraged it’s not my fault Rafe a lot of things where unforeseen occurrences yes we faced two different experiences but we are in the same predicament we both lost dad and we both are wounded from trauma she spat out shakily trying to find his humanity within him Sarah was crying to the point she had a runny nose all she wanted was to be out of this chaotic situation please just let me go she pleads

Rafe ignores her attempts of convincing him of letting her go and rises her up and squeezes her hand pulling her to follow him into the bathroom and near the shower get yourself cleaned up he demands Sarah just stands there lost and in a daze um can I have some privacy please she requested hopefully thinking if she could just borrow some time and come up with a plan to sneak out the window and break free from all this the sooner you strip naked and just hurry this up the sooner we can get past this he says deviously you’re

not just gonna stand there and watch me she asks him thinking he’s unserious her eyes widening in fear his patience was running thin take your clothes off he ordered grabbing the back of her neck tightly causing her to yelp does it look like I’m fucking around do it he yells Sarah felt disgusted by his sick demands it was a shrouded mystery what he had up his sleeve she knew that he didn’t want her out of his sight it was to risky but couldn’t he atleast have a form of human decency and respect her space and let shower in peace you’re not moving fast enough he hollered Sarah started to tremble slowly unbuttoning her white denim shorts just like that nice and slow he uttered out his tone sounding more sinister Sarah felt chills all over her body as she felt compelled to continue undressing herself she pulled her shorts down over her ankles and gently pushed them off to the side with her feet followed by her pulling her crop top over her head easing it off her tossing it to the ground leaving her exposed to her floral pattern laced bra and panties let me get a good look at you he said taking this moment in. (To be continued)

#rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #sarah cameron #sarah outer banks #madelyn cline #drew starkey #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #outer banks #obx x reader #obx fanfiction #dark fanfiction #john b routledge #jj maybank #rafe cameron rp #rafe cameron role play

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deadmomjokes · 1 year

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How do you navigate raising a precocious child? Asking as someone who wants to be a parent

The short answer is: Carefully

The long answer is pretty long, and only my personal experience, but here goes:

1. Patience cultivated out of a sympathy which is born from perspective. What I mean by that is that you have to understand both the psychology and physical development of children, and constantly remind yourself what is and isn't appropriate to expect from them.

Especially in the case of intellectually precocious children, you have to remember that they are still little kids. Their emotions and ability to control them are only so developed, even if their vocabulary and intellect are ahead of their peers. My daughter is 3. She has the intellect of a 6 or 7 year old according to the professionals in her life, but her body is three years old. She has emotional outbursts and mood swings. Her brain physically isn't ready for the theory of mind. That's just how she is. She might know all about macrophages and the formation of exoplanets, but she also still cries when she's scared, and screams when she can't think of words to express her frustration. She's a lot of big thoughts in a tiny body, and that conflict results in a lot of outbursts, meltdowns, and stress. That is to be expected. That is normal. It's my job to understand that, and handle myself accordingly.

I've got 26 years on this kid, and I'm living in a body that isn't changing on a daily basis. I have the stability, and she doesn't. It's on me to keep my cool, because there are a lot of times that she literally can't. It can be very, very frustrating when I know what needs to happen, but she is doing the exact opposite. But the thing is, she's just doing the best she knows how. I get to teach her how to do 'better'. I can't do that if I'm looking at her as my enemy, or having a me-vs-her mentality. We're on the same side-- me and her vs whatever problem is causing her to shriek like a banshee at the moment. (Kids scream as a last resort, and until their list of first-resorts grows sufficiently, that last resort kicks in very frequently. I'm sorry in advance, they just scream sometimes. Invest in some noise reducing headphones or earplugs, it helps A LOT.)

The point of all that is this: I have to remind myself frequently that she's doing her best, and I have the perspective to handle this whereas she doesn't. I have to consciously put myself in her position and think about what it's like for her instead of focusing on how it's affecting me. That's how I get the patience to deal with the tantrums, meltdowns, and bothersome behaviors. I consciously remind myself that she's only been on this planet for 3 years, her body is dumping all kinds of hormones into her brain, which has the capacity to understand a lot more than she has ability to process. That's a painful, stressful, unwieldy combination, and she literally doesn't know any better than what she's doing. She will always try her best; if she's doing something undesirable, it's because she doesn't have the ability, knowledge, capacity, or self-control to deal with it in a better way yet. I have to teach her that, and I have to do it as much by example as by explanation.

2. Humility. A lot of humility. We're people. We mess up. We don't always know the right way to do things. I have to be honest about that with myself, and with my daughter. I have no reservations about apologizing to her when I don't handle something the right way.

I feel like a lot of us go into parenting with the mentality of wanting to be the person we needed when we were younger. And that's great! It's a perfect place to start. But you have to realize that your child is NOT you, and sometimes what you needed at their age or in their situation is not what they would need.

My child, for having come up in the pandemic, is a social butterfly. She's a people person. She's the opposite of a homebody. She LOVES going out and seeing people and doing things and being anywhere but home, and when she is home she wants friends around to play with. I was and am the opposite. Where I needed people to NOT push me into social interactions before I was ready, and to give me time to myself and teach me how to respect my introverted tendencies, that's not what my daughter needs. What she needs is for me to help her know when she's getting overstimulated and needs to take a break. She needs me to help her find things to do with other kids. She needs me to demonstrate appropriate kindness and interpersonal behaviors so she learns how to interact with other people in a way that is respectful, and ends with everybody having fun. That's different than what I needed, and that's okay. I have to be able to accept that my child is not me, and that de-centering can be hard. You do a lot of it consciously at first. It just takes a willingness to admit that not everything is about you-- not your child's behavior, not your child's challenges, not their needs, not their preferences, successes or failures.

3. Professional support. You may have seen me talking about my daughter's therapist. That's because at a grand ol' 3 years of age, she is in therapy! For anxiety! Because it turns out that taking in the world on the level of a 7 year old while only having the faculties of a 3 year old can generate a lot of stress that your body and brain are unequipped to deal with.

As her doctor and therapist both have said, smart kids stress more.

And in my daughter's case, there's a massive genetic predisposition for clinical anxiety problems and other mental illnesses. So as soon as my daughter told me that when she lays down at night, the nervous gets in her brain and she can't sleep, I knew right away this was something that needed early intervention. I am not a professional when it comes to anxiety management. I am still working on it, myself. So I knew we all needed help to get a good handle on this before it made her life miserable like what happened to me and my husband.

Kids think differently, and they process things differently than adults. Having a professional on your side to help you learn about how your child works is invaluable. And they can help you find the methods, skills, and interventions that work best for your child as an individual.

You as a parent need professional support, too. You need someone in your corner helping you out, even if it's just a yearly check-in with a therapist to learn some new meditation and mindfulness techniques. For me, it's dealing with my own anxiety and depression so I can be in the best state of mind and body to help my daughter learn how to regulate herself, which I was never really taught. So I'm having to learn that, too, on top of teaching her.

Professional support can also come in the form of social and educational programs-- in most cases, finding the right preschool. Just as an intelligent dog will become destructive if not properly stimulated, so too will an intelligent child get wild, stir-crazy, and emotionally explosive if their intellectual needs aren't being met. If you're about that homeschooling life, power to you. For me, I knew my daughter, a pandemic baby/toddler, needed the socialization with other kids, and needed a professional educator.

I was very picky about her preschool, opting for one that focused on holistic and values-based education instead of pure academics. They go over real-life skills, they make time for physical activity, they teach and practice mind-body awareness techniques (deep breathing, meditation, biofeedback, etc) on a level the kids can understand and use, and each week they have a different value and affirmation that all their lessons center around. They also do academics like letter recognition and sounds (pre-reading skills), numbers and counting, science, and so on, but everything loops back around to mental and emotional wellness. I knew that would be super important for her, and didn't want her in a high-stakes, high-pressure, competitive environment.

Sometimes being that picky is not possible depending on where you live. But if there's a way to get your kid engaged in something that flexes their thinking-muscles, and helps them learn to interact with others, that's going to be super important. Otherwise, take them new places when you can, even if it's just to the mall, and talk about what you see and experience there. Check out your local library (some even have educational resources parents can borrow, including developmentally encouraging toys!). Look for local museums and public/community educational programs. And find a local playgroup for that social interaction. Speaking of which....

4. Don't neglect their social development. Being "the smart kid" can make you Weird. I know, I was that kid. I was WEIRD, y'all. I needed to learn how to be a child my age, because my best friend was my also-advanced older sister, followed closely by my mother. Smart kids tend to hang out with older children or adults, and it's hard for them to relate to their age group. They need practice before they hit real school.

Weird isn't bad, but it can sometimes hide a lack of social and emotional health. Humans are a social species. We need social interaction to feel and function our best. It's how our brains are wired. Teaching children how to deal with other people is a big honkin deal, because it sets up how they interact with people for the rest of their lives. They need to learn to take turns, to share, to be aware of how their actions affect others, how to ask, how to say no, how to set boundaries, how to work together, so on and so forth. They can get good practice with you, but they need more than just you.

5. Tactful, appropriate honesty. The biggest challenge of a precocious child, after the emotional regulation issues, is balancing their intellect with their capacity to handle it. As I mentioned earlier, smart kids stress more. They notice too much sometimes. So you have to explain enough to satisfy their curiosity--which is CONSTANT and almost always surprising in its complexity-- but not so much that you give them new things to worry about.

For instance, when my daughter started fussing about her car seat and asked why she had to sit in it instead of sitting in the big seats like us, we explained that everybody wears a seatbelt to be safe. But she is too small for the big-seat seatbelts to fit her in the right way, like they do for mom and dad. So until she’s big enough for it to fit her the right way, she has to use a special seat that fits her just right.

We did NOT jump to “We need to be safe in case of a crash, and that’s why you need a special seat.” But we explained the reasoning thoroughly at a non-stress-inducing level.

Answer the question they ask, but ONLY the question they ask. If they ask follow-ups, great! If not, leave it where their curiosity took a break. It’s overwhelming being so small and noticing So Much. Kids love to learn, but their brains need time to log all the info, and concepts that are too big can lead to stress just from the gears turning, so to speak. But at the same time, don’t underestimate their capacity to understand, and to be totally cool with things we have been conditioned to stress out about or fear. My daughter has no issues watching surgery videos, because it’s not something she’s been taught to be grossed out by. She’s also very aware that meat comes from animals that are dead, and used to be alive. Her only issue with that was trying to figure out which animals become meat and which don’t because to her, it was totally arbitrary. (No, baby, we do not eat butterfly meat.)

It all sounds daunting when I put it like this, all over-written and wordy. But honestly, it’s all about following your child’s lead, which is what parenting is in general anyway.

#parenting #children #ask #long post

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look-at-the-soul · 1 year

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The Photoshoot-Part 42 The Date edition

Cillian Murphy

Series Master list 2014, 2015

A/N: I want to start this chapter by celebrating @peakyscillian for 1.5 k followers ! Congratulations dear Lau! I hope you get a lot more! ✨🎉💐 so I was inspired by your amazing dating series but I made my couple go on a date. ♥️

Especial notes: 1) You don’t have to follow the series to read this part, the only things you need to know is Cillian’s wife, Yael is a photographer, the story is set in September 2015, they met at a Photoshoot Cillian did at the end of filming S2 of Peaky Blinders and they are struggling with infertility at the moment, Cillian decides to take her on a special date as he needs to get in the skin of Tommy Shelby.

2) For this part I got the amazing help of two people who actually know about horses, my dear Cia (holacia2) & @notyour-valentine I can’t thank you both enough for all the input you shared with me -the one who knows nothing about horses- you made me imagine everything while writing, thank you for making this possible (you will find your names through the chapter as my way to thank you for your support) 🥰

Her whole body ached, specially her legs after that barre class. Cillian had convinced her it would be a good thing to go back to do the things she loved the most. It wasn’t easy for her, but at least she wanted to try, for him.

Taking her bottle of water, she took a big gulp, just as a voice called for her.

“Hello!”

Turning around, she found another woman smiling at her.

“Hey.”

“It’s good to see you back,” but looking at Yael’s puzzled look, she touched her arm, “oh! I’m sorry we never talked but we’re in the same class, I’m Liv.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Yael.”

“That’s such an unique name, never heard it before…”

Yael chuckled, the amount of times she had to write it down because people couldn’t understand it…

“I missed coming over, now I’ll feel so sore tomorrow.”

“No pain, no gain… or so they say.” Liv laughed. “I’m heading for a coffee, do you want to come?”

To her own surprise, Yael found herself nodding. There was something so charismatic about that woman, she had a light blood and nice energy around her.

“Sorry if I made a face before, I don’t have friends here, all the people I know is friend’s with my husband…” Yael apologized as they were waiting in the queue.

“No worries, we never talked before.” She mumbled while checking the menu. “Where are you from?”

“The UK.” Yael answered ordering the same coffee she always got. “Are you Irish?”

“Nope, I was born in the UK as well, but we moved over here since I was a toddler, so I’m basically another local.”

“That’s really nice.” She waited until Liv ordered to walk to a table. “Thanks for reaching out, all my close friends aren’t here… and I could use one right now.” Her eyes watered in a snap, her pain right there in the surface.

Liv reacted the only way she knew. “Oh darling, what’s the matter? We can sit outside the terrace is empty.”

“Sorry, I’m just all over the place.” Taking her sunglasses from her bag, she decided to hide beneath them. “God, what you must be thinking of me right now, how embarrassing.”

“Nothing bad, just that you need someone to listen.”

Liv moved back in her chair as their coffees arrived, and offered Yael a napkin.

“You know, I could use a friend too, but I’m too shy at the class because all of those ladies look me upside down.” She made a face and rolled her eyes. That made Yael chuckle.

“Most of them look like frustrated ballerinas.”

“But I mean it.” Liv looked at her, feeling like she was a good person. “Whatever is bothering you…”

The day was beautiful, Yael noticed, the sun up and bright, the terrace had big trees in front of it, surrounding the locals.

“I really appreciate your kindness, but it’s a little bit recent and the last thing I want to be thinking of is that. Maybe I’ll tell you another day.” She gave her new friend a try of a smile, it was just too personal to share. “Did I interrupt your reading?” Yael asked taking a look at the book poking out from Liv’s bag.

“Not at all, I always have a book with me, as I’ve to wait in the boring queue at school to pick up my kids.” She then went on to take a bite of the muffin, “Oh! This is so good, you should try it!”

Yale accepted one small bite and offered some of her own to Liv, but with that small detail she realized how Liv really was a good person, without knowing her, she was willing to share her food. She liked her already.

“I love reading as well, maybe we can exchange books or something.” Yael proposed.

“I’d love to do that! Let’s make this a regular, class, coffee and books.” Liv suggested with a huge smile.

And Yael couldn’t agree more, they spent some good time chatting about their lives, another things they enjoyed to do, their families… As they waved goodbye to go on their respective days she hugged Liv and thanked her one more time for her kindness, feeling like a nice friendship was starting, she felt so grateful for meeting someone like Liv.

***

“So I was thinking, maybe I could invite her somewhere? A little dinner to celebrate Liv’s belated birthday?” Yael asked Cillian from the en-suite, running her eyes over the bottles of shampoo, body lotion and other toiletries they would need. “Love?”

Cillian’s eyes were lost in thoughts, sitting by the end of the bed.

“What? Yeah.” He shook his head a little.

“You’re not paying attention.”

Cillian scoffed. Busted. “You’re there talking in your underwear… how am I supposed to focus?”

Yael blushed, suddenly aware, feeling self conscious, she took the leggings she just bought from the shelf and then threw the fluffy sweater over her head, it was longer than a usual jumper, so it covered her bum perfectly, her dark curly hair was now dry, so she did a quick messy bun at the top of her head.

He loved to listen her talk about her activities, especially now about the new friend she just made, until now he didn’t think of how lonely Yael was, of course his family was close and that was such a relief for him, but it wasn’t the same, soon he would be gone for months to film the upcoming season of Peaky Blinders and having a friend close could make things easier for his wife.

“Are you sure these are fine? You said comfortable clothes…”

“That’s perfect.” He smiled, glad that she had been taking her barre classes constantly, listening to her little stories of her new friend, and the excitement over the secret date he had been planning.

Walking towards the bed, Yael left the things she was holding next to her weekend bag, then quietly made her way to sit on his lap, passing her arms around Cillian’s neck.

“Hi.”

His hands linked automatically around her waist. “Hey you.”

“I want to thank you for all the things you’ve done over the last days… I haven’t been on my best and-”

“You have nothing to thank me for.” He fixed his blue eyes on her features.

“I know, but really,” she tried to distract herself with the top button of his denim shirt, his lotion filling her senses. “You’ve been cooking most of the time, listened to my stupid fears over the treatment and I know I didn’t make it easy.”

She brought her lips to met his in a small peck.

“Without you and your support I wouldn’t be able to hold it together, I just want you to know I really appreciate the extra effort you’ve put to make things easier.”

Cillian’s fingers moved in slow circles over her jumper, he wanted to do more, do anything to take her pain away.

“I’d like to do a bit of thinking of our options, investigate more to make a decision of what’s the best road for us, both IVF and adoption are long and tired process and I don’t want to feel pressured.”

Cillian smiled pleased, she always dedicated a huge amount of time before making an important decision, she helped him be less impulsive, think of all the possible scenarios and outcomes.

“We’ll do this on your pace, take all the time you need.” He kissed her, feeling her worries melting away. Her lips telling him a lot more than words could.

“You’re seriously the best husband ever.”

He chuckled. “Ah, that’s because I’ve the best wife.”

“Does it means I’m your favorite?”

Cillian arched his eyebrows, “of course you’re my favorite wife!”

And they embraced each other in a tight hug, feeling some kind of weight was lifted from their shoulders, their journey wasn’t easy, but they got to face it together and that was exactly what they needed. Support, teamwork, union…

“Will you tell me of this secret plans you have?”

“Not yet.”

Yael looked at him with a pout.

“Just a little hint?”

Cillian groaned and made her stand up. “Fine, Tommy needs to come out from the wardrobe for the new season, I need to remove the dust from him.”

Yael squealed as she felt his hand sneak down her back, then to her bum to give her a squeeze and a wink.

“Are you going to tell me what will happen to him?”

But he was already shaking his head before she could finish. “No, you asked for a hint of the plans not the script.”

“Ah, I won’t tell nobody.”

Cillian stopped at the top of the stairs, holding the bag in one hand, bringing her close by the waist with the other. “You’ll have to ask Thomas Shelby.”

She was surprised by the sudden brummie accent, his deep voice making her purr internally, a tingle running up and down her body. But she still tried to get him to speak as they drove to his sister’s house, Yael was extremely excited for the small change, for getting out of the house since some days were harder than the others.

Scout didn’t pay them any attention as they walked out the door, he was busy chasing after Sienna, bumping the stuffed animals with his nose.

“Do you know why is he so mysterious?” Yael squinted her eyes at Orla, keeping her voice down.

“No, he never tells… once he took Evan to Aspen for snowboard lessons and didn’t say anything, until he saw Joseph Gordon-Levitt and freaked out.”

“I swear if he takes me to a shooting camp, I’ll come back walking.” She joked wondering if she could switch places with Orla’s husband.

Orla suppressed a laugh as her brother walked out of the bathroom.

“Enjoy the weekend.”

Over an hour later, Yael saw they were entering a huge ranch, it seemed like a private property full of big trees, a huge structure in the back.

“Where are we?” Her mouth was hanging open by the sight before her eyes.

“This is a horses sanctuary.” He smiled proudly, offering his hand to help her out of the car.

Before Yael had time to react, two women approached the car and as they got closer he greeted them.

“This is Val and this is Cia, let me introduce you to my wife, Yael.”

“It’s so nice to meet you!” Cia welcomed her in a short hug, followed by Val.

“I’m so glad you made the reservation.” She stated.

“When I started to prepare for my role in Peaky Blinders, I came here to take riding lessons, they showed me how to mount a horse, to caress them, well everything.”

“It’s nice to meet you, this is such an amazing surprise.”

Cillian took her hand while they walked around the property, they explained it was a business ran by a family and they were both in charge on the riding sessions.

“This is where we train the young horses we get.” Cia pointed to an big area protected by a tall fence.

“This is beautiful.” Yael breathed out, taking a look around she felt so much peace.

“Wait until you see the horses, that’s the real beauty of this place.” Val offered guiding them to the large stable.

Yael squeezed Cillian’s hand when they entered it, feeling so small in such a huge place, she kept looking everywhere like a child in a candy store.

“This is Thunder,” Cia pointed caressing the first horse. “That one is Sonny, he was born here on a sunny day that’s why his name, and that beauty over there is Star, Penny, is living here temporarily,” she touched every single horse on her way with such a love oozing, and the most impressive thing was they equally gave it back. “Oh, bless you Moose.” She chuckled as one of them sneezed.

“Badger, usually kicks in excitement don’t get scared” Val started to explain just as they hear a loud kick, the hit on the wood echoed and Yael jumped in surprise. “There it is, he’s like a kid with hyperactivity.”

“Where’s Toni?” Asked Cillian remembering the one he used to learn to get used to horses while preparing for his role.

“Oh he’s at another fascility right now, working with children with special needs.”

“I came here to learn how to ride for the series.” He explained to his wife. “They take such a good care of them here, help them heal if they’re sick and show them how to be gentle with people, I met a boy with Down Syndrome while riding and his father told me it helped him so much with his skills and self esteem.”

“Would you like to give them a snack?” Cia asked, barely holding her excitement.

Yael doubted and took a step back, she had never been around horses before.

“It’s alright baby, here, let me show you.” Cillian took the apple slices from Cia’s hand and showed her how to do it. “It’s just like a big dog.”

“Yeah like ten times bigger!” Yael replied with a nervous chuckle still unsure, would the horse bite her hand?

“I’ve been told they can feel our emotions, our fears…” He understood her reluctance, at the beginning he was scared of riding a horse too. Cillian started caressing the muzzle of the horse to show her nothing bad would happen.

“If you don’t want to touch him in the face, you can caress his neck, they are very gentle.” Val offered from the opposite side.

As Yael nodded, she moved automatically to walk around to the other side, to stand next to Val, but her husband caught her right on time.

“It’s the other way around love, you never should walk behind the horse, he could kick you.” He explained so tenderly guiding her by the shoulders.

Yael chuckled nervously, it made sense. After touching the horse with just her fingertips, she realized he was so soft, but firm, moments later, she had completely warmed up to Harrison, smiling up whenever he made a little sound or move his ears, an indication that he was enjoying the petting and attention.

Cillian stepped back, watching his wife taking in the horse, the sparkle in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed to him, he was relieved to see her happy, enjoying the moment, Yael even asked to give Harrison another snack and laughed loudly when his nose touched her hand, it had a funny texture. They showed her how to brush the horse’s hair, it was surprising they had so many tools and it was a way to show some love and respect for the animal, the most beautiful thing about that sanctuary was that, they didn’t do it for the money, they wanted people to understand and value the animals.

But when the horse looked into her eyes, something changed inside of her. It felt as if the horse knew her battle. It was an indescribable moment, she was lost for words.

“Shall we go for a little ride?” Cia proposed and then Cillian winked at his wife.

Yael looked at every single person around with panic written all over her face.

“I tell all the couples that this is the test of fire, if they can ride together, they can live together.” Val encouraged them.

“The look on her face is screaming she’s scared he will throw her.” Cia joked.

“I’ve never been on a horse, and he’s usually making jokes and pranks…” Yael tried to explain.

Cillian faked indignation. “I’d never do such a thing.”

Val and Cia laughed, every single man who said that, did exactly the opposite to his wife.

“Don’t worry, you can ride with us, Cillian can ride by himself.” That seemed to calm Yael, because she accepted the boots Cia offered.

But it wasn’t just like that, let’s go and ride, boom, you’re on the horse, no… they spent a good amount of time showing Yael how to get on the horse, she had a good pliability by her years practicing ballet, but taking the impulse and swing your leg to then land carefully on top of the horse was a completely different task. And she failed several times on the saddle they set up to practice, but she got the chance to learn to control her body as well.

“Alright, keep your back straight,” Cia instructed Yael once she was on the horse, she could tell Cillian’s wife was so tense by her posture, “relax, it can feel a bit weird at first, let the horse guide you.” Cia was sitting behind Yael, holding the reins while she was holding onto the hom tightly.

“Ready?” Asked Val, she would guide Harrison by foot, to help Yael feel more comfortable with the ride.

“Are you sure he’s not going to run?”

“Harrison is very good, he’s such a gentleman and you’ve got Cia to control the pace and moves, don’t worry I’ll guide him slowly too.”

“Baby, you’ll feel a little pull at first.” Cillian warned Yael from his own horse, he was past that initial scary moment now, but he knew it was all new to her.

“Oh my freaking God!” She expressed in a panicked tone as the horse started to move. “Why didn’t you invite Evan to do this?” Yael closed her eyes tightly.

Everyone laughed, both Cia and Val were used to reactions like this when it was someone’s first time riding, it depended on the trust and bond the person could build with the horse.

“Try to not press your legs so much.” Val pointed out.

And finally after a few seconds, Yael opened her eyes, it felt a bit strange, the position she was sitting on, the movement, the way everything looked with the back of the head of the horse so close… but when she looked to her right and found Cillian smiling at her riding close, there were no words. She knew she would do it all over again.

“Eyes on the road please, you’re making me nervous.” She admitted loud enough for him to listen.

But this time, Yael laughed with them, she had started to feel comfortable enough to caress the horse’s hair and neck -trying not to lean too far-, but she was past the shock now, Cia even showed her how to take the reins, giving Yael instructions on how to make the horse take a left and then a right, showing that she was in total control.

“Oh wow, the stable looks so tiny from here.” Yael stated, looking how far they had moved.

“Do you wanna go back now?” Cillian asked, stopping his horse right in front of the other.

She nodded and they started to ride back, Val had to go back earlier to attend other customers. The view was absolutely breathtaking… as they got down from the horses, Cia suggested them go to the picnic table a few meters away from them. She gave the couple a look as they walked away, hoping the details Cillian requested would work, perhaps she should propose the romantic idea to the owners.

Reaching the picnic table under the tree, Yael gasped surprised as she saw everything; the table set for two, lemonade, tea, a pie, a basket with fresh fruits… she was touched by his gesture, her heart could explode from all the love she felt for him.

“This is beautiful, thank you.” She brushed her lips against his.

Cillian sighed relieved that she liked his plans.

“Had to compensate for the scary moment of riding a horse.” He chuckled.

She offered him a bite of one of the sandwiches and Cillian took it, looking right into her eyes, a soft smile decorating his lips. Taking a sip of his lemonade, Yael brushed a small leave from his hair, a lot of things were on her mind, but right there, looking at Cillian with the sun kissing his skin, the wind moving his hair, he was all she could focus on.

They enjoyed the food, it had been a long day and they would be staying close for the rest of the weekend, more riding lessons waiting for them. He needed to get into the mindset of his character and riding a horse was a fundamental part of Tommy Shelby.

“I’ve been thinking on what Val said earlier… about riding together.”

That caught Cillian’s attention, he fixed his eyes on her.

Taking a deep breath, Yael took his hand, looking for comfort, trying to ease her nerves by his touch. “I’d like to go for a ride… with you.”

Cillian was taken by surprise, the last bite of his sandwich stuffed into his mouth, but he was on his feet in seconds, taking a couple of cookies in his hand he offered his free one to his wife.

“Let’s go before you change your mind.” He celebrated pulling her excitedly, she laughed because of his eagerness.

Moments later, they were riding a beautiful dark chocolate horse named Brownie, but Cillian took her on another route, enjoying the calmness, riding together, he sitting behind Yael, his arms around her waist taking the reins, her body pressed gently against his chest, now knowing what to expect from the movement of the horse, trusting Cillian totally to take her wherever he wanted to.

She didn’t know how long they have been riding, but it surely helped her to clear her mind and heart, without realizing soon they reached the beach and the atmosphere changed completely as the sun was starting to go down,reflecting beautifully against the sea gifting them a breathtaking sunset.

One of his hands sneaked around, to wrap around her stomach, his thumb running small circles over her sweater, Yael bit her lower lip lightly thinking of this beautiful moment with her husband, of how much she had learned of herself in the last hours about horses, about riding, about trust.

“I want to try, Cill either way… IVF or adoption, whatever it is, as long as I have you by my side.” She didn’t have anymore doubts left, everything he did for her that day had been cathartic.

Slowly, she turned her head around to look at him, finding so much love in his eyes, she saw him nodding, now that she said it out loud it felt easier, lighter.

“Thank you for today, thank you for this beautiful date.”

Cillian brought up the hand that was holding her to cup her cheek, leaning his head forward, he captured her lips in a tender kiss. The sun lighting her features, making her glow.

He would take her on a hundred more dates.

****

Next part

A/N: Thank you for reading ☺️✨💐 I loved writing this part so much, I wanted them to have a moment of peace, romance, you already know it, your thoughts help me keep going and it’s the best payment I could get ✨

I read somewhere Cillian took a friend to do snowboarding while preparing for his role in Inception, I took inspiration from there too

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @gypsy-girl-08 @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @winchestergirl22 @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @strayrockette @forbidden-forest-witch @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @peakyscillian @moral-terpitude @babaohhhriley @queenshelby @heidimoreton @ange-thoughts @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @cilliansangel @rangerelik @already-broken144 @alessioayla @paprikabadger @dolllol2405 @conversationpits @itsilvermorny @lafell @imichelle-l-rigby @yrli8 @cutecurly-hair @mrkdvidal1989 @hyperfixationsonshuffle

#That’s what Cill said #cillian murphy #tommy shelby #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fan fiction #cillian murphy x tommy shelby #modern tommy shelby imagine #cillianMurphy #cillian murphy x oc

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sydsrichie · 1 year

Text

'til queendom come, ch. 6

[masterlist] [Ao3] [playlist]

aemond targaryen x targaryen oc

wordcount: 11,116

ch. 6, storm's end: then the storm broke, and the dragons danced.

warnings: canon-typical violence, canon-typical incest, abusive parent/child relationship, nsfw/18+ in later chapters, mentions of canon sexual violence & abuse (including against minors), spoilers for HoTD/F&B

a/n: please don't hate me for this one :) or if you do hate me, at least write me an ask telling me how you hate me so I can amuse myself with it :)

SPOILER WARNING: this chapter is where the spoilers for the books start! Unsullied, ye be warned!

The next days seemed to hold all the tension of a strung bow.

Prince Daemon had the castle garrison and even the dragonkeepers drilling in the yard, and Lord Corlys joined his wife at the war table. After some persuasion and a count of dragons and dragonriders, the Velaryons formally joined their Queen’s cause, and it all started to feel very real very fast.

Later in the morning, Jace and Luke would be taking flight, the elder to the Eyrie and Winterfell, the younger to Storm’s End.

At sunrise, however, Sena found herself on the battlements of Dragonstone, looking out across the bay. She could not sleep. Out there, over the horizon, was the family who had raised her. Helaena and her precious babes, whom Sena had only held once. Queen Alicent. The so-called Aegon II. And Aemond.

Aemond, who loved her. Aemond, who had called her a coward. And what was this, if not cowardice? Not knowing which way to turn, only knowing she wanted to run. Rhaenyra was the rightful Queen, Sena knew it in her bones. It had been the King’s wish - her dear, sweet uncle. And more than that, Rhaenyra was born to be Queen. She had all the qualities and training of a good ruler. She could be hard and soft, steel and silk. It was a balance that Sena admired, and one she was unable to strike herself.

Sena looked down and scrubbed her hands over her face in frustration - at her family, at herself. Could she get nothing right? She was forceful at all the wrong moments and then much too soft in the moments where she needed her strength. She felt herself being jerked around on a string by every member of this family and she felt powerless to stop it.

She sighed and leaned her forehead against her hands, willing the cool granite wall she leaned against to sap some of the restlessness from her exhausted body. She could not even fret properly, it seemed, her mind clouded with sleeplessness.

“It is a good place to think, is it not?”

Sena startled. She dipped into a deep curtsey. “Your Grace,” she said, keeping her eyes locked on the ground so as to avoid Queen Rhaenyra’s gaze.

“Rise,” her stepmother said, and Sena followed her command. “It seems I am not the only one in the castle who cannot find sleep.”

Sena shrugged as the Queen came to stand beside her, clothed in a simple black gown, hair unadorned except for a silver-blonde braid over one shoulder. “I just… didn’t believe it would come to this, my queen. Maybe that makes me a fool, like everyone says. I always knew there was a chance that Queen Alicent and Aegon… I just couldn’t live in a world where we would end up doing this to each other.”

Rhaenyra nodded solemnly. “I cannot say that makes you a fool, because I wanted to believe it too,” she sighed. “But believe me when I say I will do everything in my power to prevent this from turning to bloodshed. I no more want to turn dragon against dragon than I want to send my boys to war. I have already lost one child to this treachery,” she laid a hand on her still-swollen stomach, and Sena could see the pain that still pulled at her with every step. “I will not lose another.”

Sena sighed. She believed Rhaenyra would do all that was in her power, she just did not know if that was enough.

The Queen turned her gaze on her. “Why do you stay, Sena?”

“My queen?”

“You do not need to lie, not to me. You have no great love or loyalty to my husband. You cherish the young ones, yes, but they cannot rival the affection you have for my own brother and sister. And we both know I have been guilty of moving you about the board like a pawn in the past.”

The list of people who hadn’t used her as a pawn would be shorter at this point, so Sena could not hold it against her. “I swore obeisance to you, my queen.”

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow. “That is a politician’s answer. Saying something without really saying anything,” she said. “The Dragonmont is not guarded day and night, you could take your dragon and go anywhere you like. King’s Landing, Dorne, Essos… what makes you stay?”

Sena considered the question properly for a moment. Why was she here? The Summer Isles, the Free Cities, further east to shadowy lands she had only ever read about - they all called her name. All she would have to do was mount Grey Ghost and chart her course east. She sighed. Why was she still here? “Someone needs to stop this family from bringing about its own extinction.” She said it more to herself than the Queen, but Rhaenyra bowed her head anyway. Whether it was shame or fear, Sena had no clue.

There was the sound of a door opening behind them and Maester Gerardys stepped out into the brisk morning air, his arms already laden down with rolls of parchment. “Your Grace, my lady,” he said, performing the appropriate bowing and scraping before handing over the papers. “Replies from Lords Massey and Celtigar, your Grace. A report on the training of the guard, and best estimates on the men we can count on rallying to our aid, should an attack come.”

Something dangerously like hope twinged in Sena as she eyed the papers in his arms. “Anything for me, maester?”

Gerardys looked caught off guard and surveyed the papers in his arms, as if he’d already forgotten she was there. “Er… oh yes! One here, my lady.”

He handed over a scroll with a broken seal and Sena unravelled it in haste, only for her heart to fall when she saw the header. “Oh.” It was only a bill from her seamstress for her new winter dresses. She would pass it on to her father’s steward to be paid.

The Queen was focused on the letters of the Lords she was hoping to rally to her cause. “Your Grace, I will take my leave of you so you might continue your work,” Sena said, bowing her head.

Rhaenyra nodded absently. “Thank you, my lady.”

Sena retreated, feeling no lighter than she had when she’d come up here.

She was in such a daze, her mind churning so quickly she nearly walked straight into Jace and Luke on the stairs. They were in their riding clothes, wearing heavy cloaks. “Sorry,” she mumbled, sidestepping them.

“We’re just about to leave,” Jace told her with a tight smile. He looked like he wasn’t sleeping well either.

“Of course,” she said, pinching her nose. How could she forget? “Safe travels. Don’t let Vermax and Arrax fly you into any migrating geese.”

Luke grinned at her, though he looked a little nervous. It was understandable, she guessed. It was a big journey and a heavy responsibility for one so young. “I shall be back in no time, I reckon. Mother says it is not a terribly long journey.”

“It is not,” she said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Just a leap across the bay, you’ve flown similar distances before. And your mother, your betrothed and I will await your return, to give you a hero’s welcome.” That made him blush as she turned on Jace. “And you, I know Lord Stark is ages with you, but I trust you won’t get up to any hooliganism with him-“

“I’m not a hooligan-“

She arched a teasing eyebrow. “Mhm. That’s what they all say. Just remember, you’re the Prince of Dragonstone, our future King. Come back safe.” With that, she pressed a kiss to his brow, then to Luke’s, who made a show of wriggling away from her with typical adolescent disgust. She laughed as they went on their way.

Jace paused and turned back to her. “If I see Lord Royce at the Eyrie,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “I’ll tell him our sister wants her castle back.”

Sena grinned, shaking her head at him and watching until they were out of sight.

She spent the rest of the early hours of the morning in the training yard, desperate to rid her mind of some frenetic energy and get her blood pumping. But it seemed even her most time-honoured methods of calming herself down were evading her. All she could see on the training dummy was Aegon’s wispy hair, Ser Criston’s white cloak, Aemond’s eyepatch. All men she might have to meet on the battlefield before long.

She gave up when she overbalanced in a strike and her boot skidded in the mud, sending her to her arse. Not even a real opponent and she had still ended up dead. She groaned and threw her sword down. Seven Hells. At least her father was too wrapped up in his warmongering to have witnessed it.

She returned to her rooms to change out of her sullied breeches, picking up the dress she’d discarded on the floor earlier with a sigh. The letter Maester Gerardys had given her that morning fluttered out of the pocket, another menial task for her to busy herself with. She cast it down on her writing desk along with her other letters and was about to go back to changing when something caught her eye.

The bill had landed next to Aemond’s last letter to her, the one he’d sent before her journey to King’s Landing. And… the handwriting was similar.

Too similar. She picked them both up and squinted at them.

Aemond’s handwriting was as meticulous and controlled as he would have people believe him to be, and he crossed his ‘Z’s and his sevens. And the bill itself…

5 yards of Qartheen silk, sapphire blue.

She did not own such a gown, and it would be ridiculous to order one for winter at any rate.

For a second, she just stared at the invoice and the letter, side by side, trying to figure out what it could mean.

She scanned the writing for anything strange. Flipped the parchment over. Blank on the backside. Was she going mad? So lost in stress and longing she was seeing him everywhere?

Something itched, deep in her memory.

“I actually read something the other night about an invisible ink. We could write to each other with it and only the other will know how to make it appear!”

“Invisible ink? How?”

With a gasp, she held the parchment out over one of the pillar candles that lit the recesses of her room, watching the blank side with a sickening anxiousness.

The heat from the candle spread under the parchment, making the corners curl, and brown lettering began to appear. Her heart leapt. “Aemond,” she whispered.

My love,

I have no clue if this will work and no assurance that you will even remember a conversation between children some four-and-ten years ago, but I had to try.

I am so sorry. So sorry for everything I said that last night in the Red Keep, for putting you in this position between our two families. And I am so sorry for what I must tell you now.

My king has commanded me to Storm’s End, where I will win House Baratheon to our cause by pledging my own hand in marriage to one of Lord Borros’s daughters.

I have always loved you, Sena, and I fear I will until my dying day. My only hope is that in letting you go, I will make your choice easier for you. Run if you can. Fight if you must. Just know that wherever you are and whatever you do, my heart is yours.

“Oh,” she breathed. Oh.

She knew. She knew they would not be married now. She knew they were over, finished, a distant memory. They could not fight on opposite sides of this war and hold on for each other. Especially not Aemond, whose hand in marriage was as fine a boon as the greens had to offer. She never expected it to be so soon, though. It was a gut punch. It had not been a moon’s turn since he kissed her sweetly and told her he loved her, and now he was to fly to Storm’s End and claim a bride-

Storm’s End.

A blind panic climbed Sena’s throat and it was all she could do not to scream. The letter slipped from her hand and caught fire in the flame but she did not care. It could burn to ash on the flagstones, she had to go and go now.

Still in her training gear, she grabbed her cloak and flew out of the room, taking off down the hall at breakneck speed. There was no time. She could not even think on the Prince’s words, she could not begin to let herself feel what they meant, she only knew she had to get to Storm’s End now.

If their last visit to King’s Landing had made anything clear, it was that Aemond had spent the years since his eye was gouged out honing his rage like a weapon.

And that meant Luke was in danger.

Sena raced down the steps and into the great hall. She rounded the corner to go out to the yard - and clashed headlong into Rhaena.

“Sena!” The girl shrieked, holding her arms out to steady her sister. “What’s gotten into you?”

Sena tried to pull away but Rhaena held on. “I don’t have time to explain, Rhaena! Get father, get your grandmother, anyone you can, tell them to follow me to Storm’s End!”

Rhaena gaped at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Aemond will be there when Luke arrives!”

Rhaena blanched. “Gods,” she swore, and it struck Sena as an odd thing to hear coming from her youngest sister’s lips. Then they took off in separate directions at a run.

Sena sprinted out into the yard and thanked all the Gods that the gates were open to allow a shipment of food in. The guards were too stunned to stop her as she stripped past them. The Dragonmont was close now, and she followed the path to Grey Ghost’s cavern that she would have known in her sleep.

The half-blind grey dragon was already on high alert when she got to him, that peculiar thing in their bond that let him feel her own emotions at work. There was no time to saddle him - Luke already had an hour’s lead on her - so it would have to be like their first time flying together, then. They were both a little bigger than they had been then, but she trusted him. She clambered onto his back, wrapped her arms around his neck, and they were off. Grey Ghost prowled forward, following the dark cavern he knew by heart out of the Dragonmont. When Sena felt fresh air on her face, she commanded him “Sōvēs!” Fly!

Grey Ghost surged into the air with a mighty beat of his wings. As they climbed into the air above Dragonstone, she strained to see if she could spot anyone white haired following her to the Dragonmont. Hurry, she thought. Hurry. I don’t know if I can do this alone.

The morning sun cast the sky in a beautiful light, but as she guided Grey Ghost south, grey clouds loomed on the horizon. She gritted her teeth. She could not lose the sun. She had never been to Storm’s End in her life, could only point to it on a map. It was roughly equidistant to Dragonstone as King’s Landing, just in a more southernly direction, on the coast of the Narrow Sea. If Aemond had the chance to hurt Luke because she had not paid enough attention in her geography lessons-

There was no use even thinking about that, she thought firmly. Grey Ghost was a lot bigger than Arrax, his wingspan could make up for lost time.

Her arms were cramping already and she adjusted her position, settling back onto Grey Ghost as she would if she had a saddle. She clutched at the ridges of his spine and settled in for the ride. She kept looking back to see if any other dragons had joined her, but she could not make out any, and soon she would not be able to see far for the cloud cover. It looked like she may well be on her own.

South and ever so slightly west, Sena did her best to keep her bearing without the sun to guide her as the miles disappeared beneath Grey Ghost’s wings and Blackwater Bay gave way to more southernly waters. With every second, minute, hour ticking by, Sena’s heart thrummed in her chest, her stomach churning with nerves. Let her not be too late. Whatever Gods were listening, she begged them to hear her.

Then, true to their name, the skies above the Stormlands grew tempestuous. There was a far off rumble of thunder. Hope and dread mixed in equal parts inside her. Maybe Luke had not even made it to Storm’s End? Maybe Arrax had grown fearful and turned around, navigating back to safety, away from the storm.

Or maybe he had been struck down by a stray bolt of lightning.

The first droplets of rain stung Sena’s cheeks. She looked down past Grey Ghost’s wings and racked her brains. A large isle sprawled out to her left. Could it be Tarth? That meant that the bay below her was Shipbreaker Bay, so Storm’s End was due south-west. The visibility was poor - the spitting rain had turned into a downpour - but she thought she could make out the ancient keep dating back to the Age of Heroes, standing in defiance against the wind and waves.

The clouds encroached and the rain was pouring down. Grey Ghost howled in distress. He was flying blind in this weather and the wind was throwing him around. She was both of their eyes now, she thought dully. The Gods had a sick sense of humour.

Just when she was about to give up and land Grey Ghost further up the coast - she would have a better chance reaching Storm’s End alive on foot in this weather - a sudden blast of flame caught her eye. Dragon flame. “Bē! Paktot!” She commanded, and Grey Ghost loyally obeyed despite his distress, curving his path up and to the right. I’m so sorry, she longed to tell him, I’m so sorry for scaring you like this. But she didn’t. She would tell him when she got them both out of this alive.

She could make out Arrax now, a small shape, rising high into the clouds. Thank the Gods, she thought, and commanded Grey Ghost after him. If Arrax was alright, there was a chance. A chance that Luke was alive and clinging to his back.

Light burst across Sena’s field of vision as they broke the cloud cover, and Grey Ghost screeched at the sudden brightness. She blinked rapidly, and ahead of her she saw a small figure on Arrax’s back, twisting at the sound of Grey Ghost’s screech.

“Sena?” Came a faint cry on the wind, from a familiar boyish voice.

“Luke!” Sena screamed in reply, relief crashing over her like a tidal wave. He was okay! He was alive. Gods be good, he was alive.

“No! Run!” He was shouting back to her, barely audible, and the relief she felt melted away as she took in his and his dragon’s panic.

If Luke was okay… what had Arrax been breathing fire at?

That was when the largest dragon she had ever seen broke through the clouds.

Time slowed. Arrax was in distress, flapping his wings violently to stay aloft on the thin air. She could hear a familiar voice mounted on the newcomer howling commands, commands she knew like the back of her hand, but the ancient beast gave no sign that they had been heard.

Luke was not looking, too distracted by her presence.

In some small way, she was glad of that. Glad she could save him the fear before the end.

It felt like a thousand years, but it was all over in a heartbeat.

“No!” A scream ripped free of her throat as she watched Vhagar’s jaws close around the youngling dragon. Arrax’s wing drifted on the breeze, no longer attached to a body.

There was nothing left of Luke.

Grey Ghost roared and let free a blast of flame in his distress, banking rapidly out of Vhagar’s path, back down into the clouds. Sena’s arms screamed at the sudden turn and she threw herself down onto her dragon’s neck, rain battering their bodies as they fell down, down, anywhere but into Vhagar’s jaws. Grey Ghost was practically sightless again in the dark and the lashing rain, and Sena was numb all over. Could not think or act or even breathe. She heard Vhagar’s roar and knew the beast was descending too, closing in on them. They needed to change paths now, before she met the same fate as her poor little brother.

She could see the water rising up to meet her, and she commanded Grey Ghost to swerve flat. They were low over the bay now, the cliffs were rising around them on all sides and only one of them could see where they were going.

That was when a furnace blast blew past her. Her cloak caught alight and before she could unclasp it, it was singeing into the back of her legs and Grey Ghost’s scales. She screamed in agony and Grey Ghost panicked, banking again, flying this way and that, desperate to get out of Vhagar’s sights.

They got so turned around that she could not even see Vhagar or the bay or anything anymore, lost in the storm with the senseless turns they had taken. Then, right at the last second, lightning flashed and Sena caught sight of the jagged cliffs that rose above Shipbreaker Bay. Dead ahead. So close, there was no time, no time to command Grey Ghost to turn, no time to do anything but-

Let go.

She let go.

She closed her eyes, but even the wind howling past her ears could not drown out the sickening crunch as the blind dragon collided headlong with the cliff.

Sena’s body hit the water with force and she collided with the rocks at the base of the cliff, hidden just under the sea foam. White hot agony ripped through her side, knocking the air from her lungs. She surfaced, gasping for air and not being able to draw any as the icy cold water buffeted her from side to side, scraping her limbs over the razor sharp rocks surrounding her on all sides. She was lost and helpless, barely able to tell which way was up and then the water was surging over her head as her dragon fell into the waves.

Her dragon. Her Grey Ghost.

She kicked to the surface, choking out a lungful of salt water. Her throat burned. She tried to move but the pain in her left arm where she had hit the rocks made her vision swim. She pushed her right arm through the cold. She had to get to him, she thought weakly. He could still be alive. He could still be-

Water crashed over her head and she reached out blindly, gripping at bone and membrane. She dragged herself forward. Her throat was raw, her lungs on fire. She pulled herself up onto his wing with her good arm.

Grey Ghost did not try to resist the rolling of the waves. He just… lay there on the surface. Wings splayed. Head twisted at a wrong angle. Dead.

The broken girl let out a scream.

Overhead, a dragon roared.

-----

“Sena!"

“Sena? Sena!”

She did not know how long she had been in the water. Her limbs were numb and she could feel the hard scales of a dragon beneath her cheek. The swaying of the waves had somehow stopped. Had they washed ashore? The sound of her name and distant, hurried footfall. The whicker of a dragon, salt on her lips. She tried to lift her head.

“Don’t move. Stay still,” the voice, a man’s voice commanded. She was more than willing to listen. Every bone and every muscle felt like it had been wrenched out of place. She’d never move again if she didn’t have to.

It was quieter, now. No howling wind or lashing rain. The waves had reduced from a torrent to a crash on the sand. “It’s alright,” the man’s voice said. He was getting closer. “I’ve got you.”

There were hands on her upper arms, attempting to roll her over, but the second any pressure went onto her left arm, she let out an agonised scream. “No! No!” She begged. Her voice sounded broken in her ears.

“Fuck,” the voice swore. “Oh, my girl."

The man stepped back, leaving her blissfully alone. Then another voice joined the fray, a woman’s this time. “You need to move her. We can’t be here and we still need to find Lucerys.”

The man grumbled and stepped up to her once more. “I’m sorry, Sena, but we need to go.”

She screamed as her broken arm shifted. The pain was like nothing she’d ever felt before. Her stomach heaved, her vision spotted, then all she could see was white. She could have been out for seconds or hours, there was no way of telling. But then she felt the sway of the man’s gait, felt his feet struggling through sand, and she knew she was no longer sprawled out on the corpse of her oldest friend. Her left arm was placed over her chest and she was being cradled to a man’s leather jerkin. She slowly opened one eye, squinting against the glare of daylight, willing her head to stop rolling, and her heart lurched in her chest. Her eyes caught on silver blonde hair and she struck out with her good arm against her captor’s chest. “No! No! Get off of me! Get off of me!” She struggled in his grip and the man stumbled in the sand, nearly dropping her.

“Sena!” He shouted as she rolled dangerously in his arms and he fought to stop himself pitching over. “Sena, it’s me!” She looked up. Two eyes looked back at her instead of one, and they were deep purple like her own. “Sena,” Prince Daemon murmured. He pulled her into his chest and steadied himself. “It’s me. It’s Dad.”

She was crying. She was so glad to see him. She let her head loll in the crook of his arm, seeking the warmth of his body, the familiar scent of his jerkin. “You’re riding Caraxes with me,” he told her, regaining his footing and struggling on through the sand. “I’m taking you home. Rhaenys will stay to search for Lucerys.”

Luke.

“Oh no,” she moaned. Fresh tears sprang from her eyes.

“Sena? What is it?”

It hurt when she breathed, like the inside of her ribcage bore metal spikes that pierced her lungs. “Luke,” she mumbled, pressing her face into her father’s chest, trying to hide. If she could just hide… but she could hear Luke’s shouts ringing in her ears, see what was left of Arrax tumbling through the sky when she shut her eyes. If she had not been there, if she had not distracted him at the crucial moment, would he have lived? “Luke. I couldn’t save him, Father. I couldn’t…”

Daemon stumbled in the sand, jostling her painfully. “What?” He asked, confused.

“Vhagar,” she said. “It was Vhagar.”

“I…” Prince Daemon was lost for words, for the first time she could remember. “We… all that’s washed up is you and Grey Ghost, love. Not him, not Arrax. Are you sure? Are you sure they didn’t get away?”

There were hot tears on her cheeks and she nodded weakly. “There won’t be a body,” she croaked, and she could hear her voice breaking. “There’s nothing left.”

The look on Daemon’s face was shocked. Bleak. He stood there for a moment, the high wind on the beach whipping his hair around him, cradling his eldest daughter to his chest. His expression went grim. “Cousin,” he barked. Sena winced at the loud sound.

Further up the beach, the voice of Princess Rhaenys sounded again. “What is it?”

“We’re not going to find Lucerys,” he said. “There’s nothing left to find.”

-----

Sena had only brief periods of consciousness to mark the passing of time.

There were a lot of solemn faces. And the crying - the crying was endless. She would open her eyes and see Joffrey sniffling at her bedside, or her father staring at her limp form from the doorway. Rhaena slipping a brush through her curls. Baela seemed to rarely leave, more often than not curled up asleep on a seat in the corner.

It was only when the grasp of the milk of the poppy slipped and she was able to move that she realised her arm was bound and splinted from elbow to wrist. She groaned, the pain dimmed somewhat in her drugged state but still there. Baela sat up in a hurry. “Rhaena!” She called.

Sena raised her other arm in a placating manner. “Shhhh,” she rasped. Her head felt fit to burst. The arm she raised to placate Baela was blue, green, yellow and mottled. Seven hells. “Let me die in peace, would you?”

Baela glared at her. “Not funny, Sena.”

Rhaena must have been standing guard at the door or something, as she flew into the room in an instant. “What’s wrong? Is she alright?” The younger twin asked.

Baela jerked her head at Sena. “Don’t ask me, ask her.”

“Sena!” A look of pure relief was on Rhaena’s face as she dashed to her sister’s side. She fell to her knees and took Sena’s good hand in hers.

“Sister, please,” Sena croaked, “keep your voice down.”

“Maybe we should get the Maester? She could get more relief for the pain,” Rhaena said to her twin.

“She is right here,” Sena grumbled.

Baela scoffed. “That’s the last thing we should do. The Maesters have had her knocked out cold for a week. Let her at least figure out what day it is. Or what continent she’s on.”

“A week?” Sena said, moving to sit up. Her bedroom swam dangerously before her eyes and Baela jumped forward to grab her by the shoulders.

“Rhaena! Her pillows!”

Rhaena reached behind her and fixed her pillows, then the twins helped her lean her weight back against the headboard in a more upright position. “A week?” She said again, weakly.

Rhaena wrung her hands. “Maester Gerardys said it was the best thing for you. You could barely move a muscle without crying, Sena.”

“Hmm,” Sena hummed. She hadn’t much memory of what happened after Grey Ghost… and Luke, she thought weakly. “Rhaena. I’m sorry.”

Rhaena brushed her hair back from her forehead. “Whatever for, sister?”

“I didn’t… he’s dead,” she let out a breath and fresh tears brimmed in her eyes.

Rhaena squeezed her hand, her own eyes swimming. “Oh, Sena,” she said.

“It’s not your fault,” Baela spoke up from the corner, her voice sounding cold.

Sena shook her head. “I got that letter before he even left,” she mumbled, “if I hadn’t been wallowing in my own self-pity, I would have worked it out sooner-“

Baela scowled at her. “It was the Queen who sent him. Jace chose to go North, not South. Grandmother and I are both dragonriders and did not volunteer to go for Luke or with him. Would you blame us?”

“No-“

“Then why do you blame yourself?” She asked with an edge of steel in her voice. “Why not blame the one person who you could actually blame for this?”

“Baela,” Rhaena cautioned, letting go of Sena to turn and glare at her twin. “Now isn’t the time.”

Baela scoffed. “No, Rhaena, I’ve had enough of it. It not now, when? He killed Luke, Sena. He nearly killed you. If father and grandmother hadn’t arrived, he might have damn well finished the job,” Baela said.

Sena’s head swam. Her stomach dropped like a stone. “Wait, what happened? After I fell? Is Aemond-“ the word caught in her throat.

“Alive,” Baela gritted out. The air rushed out of Sena with relief. “Turned tail and ran as soon as he saw Caraxes and Meleys. The craven.”

“Baela, stop. We don’t need to do this right now,” Rhaena said, sending a glare at her twin. “She needs rest, not a lecture.”

Baela shook her head at her sisters but sat down again. “Leave her to rest, then. Go,” she told Rhaena, her tone still icy cold. “I’ll watch her.”

“You’ve been here for days,” Rhaena retorted. “When did you last sleep in a bed? Or change your clothes?”

Baela shot her own glare back at her twin as she settled herself back into her armchair in the corner of Sena’s room. “My clothes are fine and I cannot fucking sleep anyway so there’s no use trying,” she snapped. “Go on then, if you want her to rest. Leave us.”

Rhaena scowled but got to her feet, saying no more. She looked back at Sena and gave her her best comforting smile. She refilled the glass of water on Sena’s nightstand then slipped out of the room with one last glare at her twin.

When the door clicked shut, Sena turned her unfocused gaze on her sister. Of the three of them, Baela was most like Daemon. She had one leg tucked up onto the chair with her and the other swung and flicked like the tail of a foul-tempered cat. “You should be kinder to her,” Sena chided in her roughened voice. “She’s a good child. Sweet.”

“So was Luke,” Baela said and pulled her leg back up onto her chair so she could hug her knees to her chest. “Look what it got him.”

Sena leaned back against her pillows and let out a pained breath.

She had nothing to say to that.

-----

Sena refused the milk of the poppy as often as she could. The only thing she detested more than the pain was the unsteadiness, the cloudiness. It made her head roll like she was back out at sea, clinging to Grey Ghost’s corpse. It was nauseating.

The birds and sea creatures would be picking at his body right now, she thought. The steady rot would let them pull aside his scales and they would feast on her oldest friend. She could not find it in her to begrudge them that. In some strange way, it’s maybe what he would have wanted, being given back to the animals he had hunted all his days. After all, when she died, a dragon would light her funeral pyre in the tradition of her house. It only seemed right, after spending a lifetime mastering the will of a dragon that her body be taken from the world by one.

Mastering the will of a dragon… what had truly gone on in the skies above Storm’s End? She found she was too cloudy and the thought of Luke’s death was too painful to discern it. She had heard shouting, commands bellowed in the tongue of her forebears. She knew Aemond’s voice about as well as she knew her own, at this point. But what had truly happened? And what reason could Luke have given Aemond to do such a thing and bring a war down upon his head? For that was what this meant, she knew with grim certainty. And not just his head, but Helaena’s, his mother’s, Aegon and Daeron, the twins, Maelor - everyone he professed to love. Had she truly overestimated him all this time? The past had left deep scars on Aemond, physically and mentally. It had made him volatile, sometimes downright cruel, she had seen that for herself. But could he truly do something so vile with no discernible cause, at such a cost to himself? Could he kill a child?

Baela had taken to haunting the corner of her room less as she gained lucidity, but the girl would have wrung Sena’s neck if she could hear her thoughts right now. After everything that had happened, was she truly still trying to find a way to excuse him, to love him? Shouldn’t it be enough for her that he had cast her aside and agreed to wed another as soon as his brother asked him to? That would have been enough to most sane and sensible people, to see they were not wanted. But his letter… his letter.

I have always loved you and I fear I will until my dying day.

She was beginning to fear it too, that there was nothing he could do that would wipe away the memory of the round-cheeked and wickedly clever little boy he had been. How, at cost to his family, he had been by her side and saw something worthy in her when almost no-one else had. The kind man who doted on his sister, brought toys and played at battles with his niece and nephew. He was the apple of his mother’s eye and still somehow managed to be his elder brother’s only friend in the world. The smiles he kept just for her - not smirks full of secrecy and malice but genuine smiles, and he would laugh that boyish laugh of his and kiss her in rooms where anyone might catch them.

Some days when she lay in bed, the battering her body had taken seemed to pale in comparison to the turbulence in her mind. A gaping black hole of grief and all the things she could not reconcile with it, things she dare not take too close to it for the fear that they might get swallowed up too.

There came a point one morning where even the protestations of her body were not enough to keep her in that room any longer. The black thoughts lurked under her bed, in her wardrobe, in the corners the light didn’t reach, in her dreams and she needed away from them.

One more thought of Luke or Grey Ghost or Aemond and she was going to scream the castle down.

Sena sat up in bed with a wince, her body aching in protest but not outright rebelling. She swung her legs to one side, to feel the cool flagstones under her feet once more. The dining room was not so far. She could break her fast with her sisters and Joffrey, ask after Aegon and Viserys and any news of Jace. Her father was plotting his conquest of the Riverlands - Baela had told her so when she asked after not seeing him for about a week straight - and she had yet to see the Queen since awakening.

It made sense, she guessed, the Queen was a busy woman. Besides, what mother would want to look upon the face of the girl who failed to save her son?

The room swayed uncomfortably as Sena got to her feet and the burns on her legs stretched under their bindings. Gerardys had told her she’d been lucky it was only her cloak that caught fire and burnt her. If she had caught the full force of Vhagar’s flame herself, there would likely be little left of her. Lucky, she thought with a humourless laugh as she braced herself on her dresser with her good arm and reached out to grab her robe.

Rhaena and Baela must have been changing her nightgowns for her as the one she had on right now was a little sour but not dirtied with weeks worth of soil. How long had she even been in her bed, she wondered? Could nobody bring her a damned calendar?

The hall seemed a lot longer than she remembered as she tied her robe about her waist. She could hear voices and the clinking of glasses and silverware. As she crossed the threshold of the dining room though, the voices died.

Baela, Rhaena, Joffrey and the Queen all stared at her. The little boy had not yet mastered the art of tactfulness, it seemed, as his mouth hung open while he took in the sight of her. She must look dreadful. Splinted arm and hair sticking up in every direction. It was the sight of the Queen, though, that stopped her dead. She curtseyed and mumbled a “your Grace,” before she could stare at the dark circles under Rhaenyra’s eyes for too long.

“Sena,” the Queen said, a little shocked. “Should you be out of bed?”

Sena grimaced and lurched towards the table. “Don’t need more bedrest. My arse is numb.” Rhaena hurriedly got up and pulled out a chair for her, taking her hand to help her down. Sena did so gratefully, despite her protestations about her arse being too numb to sit.

That won her a weak smile from the Queen. “I suppose it’s a good sign you have an appetite.”

Sena turned down the corner of her mouth. The maesters had been forcing turnip soup and gruel down her throat for weeks but even after such a long spell of uninspired cooking, the spread before her was enough to turn her stomach. Feeling the Queen’s eyes on her, though, she picked up her fork and valiantly speared a chunk of ham hock. She had tamed a wild dragon and duelled with Lord Fleabottom himself - she could eat a little pork. “I was more growing bored of having conversations with myself. I can see how it would drive a person to madness,” she frowned. The ham was so salty it made her eyes water. “It appears I don’t have anything interesting to say.”

Baela smirked. “I could have told you that years ago.”

“Hey,” Sena chided round her food, pointing her fork at her sister in what she hoped was a menacing manner. “Don’t give me cheek in front of Joff. I won’t have him learning that bad attitude of yours.” Everyone looked down the table at the young boy and it seemed Sena was fighting a losing battle, though, as he was carving a halfway decent picture of Tyraxes into the arm of his chair.

“Joff, stop that,” the Queen chided, although it seemed half-hearted and Joffrey did not look up.

Rhaena laughed and leaned in, offering suggestions on how to make the carving more lifelike. “His tail is longer than that!” Baela pointed out, following suit. “No, look, I’ll do it-“

Sena swallowed hard to force the pork down her throat. Now that she had appeased the Queen by eating, she sat back in her chair. “How have you been… my Queen?” She asked, barely daring to look at her stepmother.

Rhaenyra let out a sigh that sounded ancient and weary. “I don’t know,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “I don’t know. I just… wake up and do the next thing, then the next, then the next, until it’s time to go to bed again.” She looked into the embers in the fireplace. “Even then, I cannot sleep.”

Sena didn’t know what to say. What had she ever been through in her life that could even begin to compare to losing a child?

“The boys have been needing me a lot, that helps. Joffrey has been acting out - it was only his Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys who stopped him from climbing aboard his hatchling dragon and going to burn the capital down,” Rhaenyra said grimly. “Aegon and Viserys are too young to understand, but they need me all the same.”

“What about Jace?”

The Queen’s eyes glassed over with tears. “I begged him to come home, but he refused. He told me his heart was broken but this only made his mission more important than ever.”

Sena’s chest heaved under the weight of her own breath and dug her fingernails into her palms in an attempt to ground herself. “He’ll be a fine King one day, your Grace,” she said, willing her voice to remain steady.

The Queen nodded but they both knew it was no consolation for what she had lost.

There was footfall in the hallway and then Sena’s father was coming into the dining room, gathering a plate of food to take straight to his maps and letters, it seemed. He paused when he laid eyes on her. “You’ve rejoined the realm of the living, have you?” He asked in lieu of greeting as he pocketed a bread roll.

“Just about,” she said and braced herself on the edge of the table as though to get up. “You ought to take me to your war room. I want to see what you’re planning, what’s next.”

Daemon gave her a look. “What’s next? For you? Bed rest,” he said. “You could have died.”

Sena gritted her teeth. So everyone keeps saying. “I think I’ve had enough bed rest.”

He rolled his eyes at her and reached over Baela to grab a leg of cold chicken. The two of them looked remarkably similar with that disgruntled look on their face. Like a moody infant being roused from sleep. “And yet you haven’t miraculously healed your broken arm or hatched another dragon. No, Sena. Maester Gerardys says it will be two moons at least before he’ll take off that splint.”

“Two moons?” Sena balked. “You can’t expect me to sit about on Dragonstone for two moons. There’s a war going on!”

Queen Rhaenyra intervened, likely to save herself the headache of them bickering. “You have fought bravely, Sena. You gave more than you should ever have to. You can rest.”

Sena gave a disbelieving laugh. “I wasn’t brave, your Grace!” She snapped, her voice trembling. “I was scared. And I achieved nothing. Arrax, Grey Ghost… Luke is dead. All for nothing.”

Silence fell around the table and guilt washed over her as her sisters and brother stopped their japing to turn and watch the adults argue. She shouldn’t have gotten out of bed.

All traces of humour had left her father’s face, and he set his plate down on the table, his jaw wound tight. “Do not fear, daughter. We shall even the score soon enough.” She didn’t like the look on his face. It had scared her since she’d been old enough to remember it. “And soon enough, every traitorous whelp from Alicent Hightower’s cunt will regret the day they were born. They will die screaming. And I’ll save the kinslayer for last.”

He didn’t mean to. The thought was a bleak echo in her mind, unbidden, unwanted. But how could she know? How could she know what was in his heart that day? Sometimes she felt as though she barely knew him at all. And what did it matter if he meant to? Luke was dead, regardless of his intentions. Baela was glaring at her from across the table, reading the struggle on her face and willing her to keep her mouth shut-

“That’s enough,” Rhaenyra snapped, pushing her chair back with a screech. “Joffrey, come. You’re late for your lessons.”

The boy had up until then been transfixed on his stepfather, watching him with large brown eyes and a hard look on his face, an anger Sena had never seen on him before. His mother pulled him up from his chair despite his protestations and ushered him out the door. She then rounded on her husband, who was setting her with a grim look.

Sena’s hands trembled in her lap.

“Rhaenyra-“

“No,” she said forcefully. “It is none of my business what you do with your girls and how you choose to shape them, Daemon, but by the Gods, I will get my sons through this with some shred of humanity left in them if it fucking kills me.”

She stormed out, and Daemon was left with his daughters, all of whom were determinedly avoiding his gaze. He dipped his head and huffed out a laugh. “We’re at war, girls,” he growled, leaning over the table towards them. “Get used to the idea. How do any of you expect to get anything done if you won’t get your hands dirty?” He lingered over them, willing one of them to be brave enough to look up and meet his eye. When none of them did, he shook his head and stalked from the room.

Sena slowly brought her gaze upwards and caught Baela’s eye. The elder twin looked shaken, but raised an eyebrow. “He’s not wrong, is he?” She breathed.

Rhaena was chewing her lip. “Come, Sena. Let’s get you back to bed.”

Sena, for once, didn’t protest.

-----

The days on Dragonstone seemed to crawl by, as Sena willed her body to heal so she might escape the dark recesses of her mind for a while. Once she was able to get out of and stay out of bed for any length of time, she made herself useful by joining the Queen in her solar and answering some of her correspondence for her, to take some of the pressure off of her. The volume of ravens flying in to Dragonstone had at last proved too much for Maester Gerardys to handle and Sena’s body might be in tatters but she had an able mind, decent penmanship and most importantly, it was not her dominant arm that was in a splint. It was a small mercy, she thought bleakly, as she stared at her sword belt hanging from its hook by her bedroom door one morning. A slightly different fall and she might have never been fit for battle again.

She pushed the thought from her mind, the way she pushed all thoughts of that day away, and finished readying herself. On the way to the Queen’s solar, she paused outside Luke’s bedroom door. She did this every morning. The door was closed and no one had moved any of his possessions yet. Sena rested her head against the oak and pictured the books that he so detested in a dusty pile on his desk, his clothes in disarray on the floor. Muddy training gear and a half-finished secret love letter to Rhaena with crossings-out and ink blots. Or not-so-secret, as Rhaena had always ran to Sena to discuss them with her as soon as she got them. They made Baela balk and make gagging sounds at her, so Rhaena had always come to Sena. And in her own head, Sena would think of Aemond’s letters, feel the ghost of his touch, his lips on hers.

She sighed and pushed herself away from the door. She could not mourn at Luke’s door and think of Aemond. She would not sully her brother’s memory with thoughts of the man who had brought him his painfully early end.

With an announcing knock, Sena let herself into the Queen’s solar. It had become her habit over the weeks to let herself in as she was expected. She regretted it instantly this morning though, as she saw the Queen and Prince Daemon bowed together in deep conversation. She blushed a little, having intruded on a private moment, and curtseyed to them. “Your Grace, my Prince, good morning. Apologies, my Queen, I did not realise you had company.”

“Rise, Sena. It’s quite alright, we were discussing troop movements, nothing more,” the Queen said, smoothing down her skirts. Prince Daemon stood at an angle to the Queen so he could survey his daughter, something glinting in his eye that Sena was not sure she was entirely comfortable with, a letter in his hand. She ignored him and crossed the solar to the small writing desk the servants had set up for her, already stacked with correspondence from the Lords of the Realm swearing fealty to their rightful Queen. Jace had finally returned from the distant North, and he could not have brought better news. The Eyrie and Winterfell had both sworn to defend the claim of Queen Rhaenyra and were raising their banners at this very moment. The Usurper may command the support of the Stormlands and the Westerlands, but the Reach had been slower to declare. House Tyrell with its infant lord and council of regents had proved reluctant to be seen to be following the lead of their banner-house, the Hightowers. It was the noble houses of the Reach that the Queen and Sena were currently focusing on, to see which ones chafed at the overreach of the Hightowers and remembered their oaths of fealty to the young Princess of Dragonstone.

The Riverlands had also been slow to declare, however, and it was that region of the war table that Sena’s father was currently focused on. She was actually surprised to see him still on Dragonstone this morning. “Father,” she said as she set herself down at her desk and reached for her letter opener, pulling an envelope with the seal of House Tarly towards her. In her younger years, she might have bemoaned swapping her sword and the training yard for the little blade and a writing desk, but she could see now that if they were to win this war and put the rightful Queen on the Iron Throne, the fighting would as much be done with the quill as the sword. “I’m surprised to see you still here. Were you not departing to join your host in the Riverlands at daybreak?”

Her father gave her that smirk of his that set her teeth on edge. “As soon as my business with the Queen is finished, daughter. Caraxes is saddled and my men await me where they have made landfall at the mouth of the Trident. We will march on Harrenhal at once.”

Sena’s eyes went to the Queen and caught the downturn of her mouth at the mention of the cursed hall. Now the seat of Lord Larys Strong, the Usurper’s Master of Whisperers, it was the place Ser Harwin, her lover and the true sire of her sons by Ser Laenor had perished in a fire. It had been in circumstances every bit as uncertain as Ser Laenor’s death… and Sena's mother’s. It was something she tried to keep in mind these days, as her new role in the unfolding war demanded of her. It was important to tread lightly and watch her back, as she had no way of knowing which hands were bloodied and with whose blood.

“Speaking of, what was your business with me, husband?” The Queen asked, trying to shirk the dark mood that had descended on her once again at the mention of Harrenhal, another black chapter in her history. Sena knew the Maester had started preparing the Queen sleeping draughts and had noted it had alleviated some of the dark bruising under her eyes, but had done little to ease the tenseness in her shoulders and the dark moods that caught up with her when she least desired them.

Sena might not know what it was to lose a child a sennight after carrying a babe to a funeral pyre - and thank the Gods she did not know that pain - but she knew the feeling of being swamped by the darkness as you began to tire of treading.

“I can leave, come back later, if you need the room?” Sena suggested, fearful it was a matter of sensitivity that need not go past the Queen’s ears yet, but her father shook his head. That wry tilt of his lips was making her stomach churn. What on earth could he have to say that had him looking like that, like an ugly tomcat with a bowl of cream?

“No. Stay. You would hear it soon enough anyways,” he said, and held out the scroll in his hand to the Queen. “From King’s Landing, your Grace. Some of our seeds have borne fruit, at last.”

Sena’s pulse jumped. What news could there be of King’s Landing? Who in King’s Landing was even writing letters to her father right now? Since they’d returned from their ill-fated visit, it had been like the Wall itself had been erected across the gullet of Blackwater Bay. No ships, no letters, no anything drifted on the waves or soared in the sky to them from the capital.

The Queen gave her consort a puzzled look and snatched the letter from his hand. She opened the folded parchment and began to scan it. Her eyes widened, her mouth fell open, and she gripped her midsection as she let the letter fall to the desk. Sena’s stomach lurched. “Daemon,” the Queen breathed, addressing her husband with wide eyes. “What have you done?”

The Prince looked back at her with a sneer on his lips. “I’ve gotten my hands dirty, your Grace,” he said simply.

“What?” Sena questioned sharply, standing up from her desk. She could feel the nausea rising inside of her. “What is it?”

The Queen steadied herself on her desk with one hand, looking faint, still gripping her middle with the other, as if she needed to feel herself breathing to be convinced she was doing it. She was grey in the face, and Daemon was still. Deadly still.

And Sena could finally pinpoint that look on his face when she had walked in. That was how he appeared when he was pleased with himself.

She could not take it any longer, she lunged forwards and swiped the letter from before the Queen, acid climbing from her belly up her throat. The writing was scratchy, unrefined and poorly taught, but she could make it out clear enough.

The deed is done. The usurper’s heir is no more. An eye for an eye.

“An eye for an eye…” Sena read out loud, the words swimming before her eyes as she tried desperately to make sense of them.

“A son for a son,” came her father’s low voice, and Rhaenyra let out an agonised sound as her worst fears were confirmed.

Jaehaerys.

Sena looked up from the parchment, which shook like a leaf in her hand. She met her father’s eyes. Violet. Like hers. “Tell me I don’t understand,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Tell me I- tell me you didn’t-“

“Come now, daughter. Even you should be able to puzzle out the riddle,” he said with a scant smirk in his cruel eyes. Were her eyes that cruel? Did that shade of purple seem so impenetrable, so treacherous on her?

“You bastard,” she breathed. Her knees were shaking, struggling under her weight. She stepped back, gripped the edge of her writing desk, “No. No, not even you- not even you could do that.”

“I can assure you, daughter, I can and I did,” he said, taking a step towards her. She shrunk back from him, leaning her weight on the desk so she did not collapse there and then. “My catspaw took their chance when the so-called Queen was taking her children to visit with the Dowager-“

“Helaena was there?” Sena’s entire body shook. No. No.

Her father nodded, unfeeling, unflinching. “Yes. I’m told she was given the choice between the boy and the babe, though it wasn’t really a choice. Shame the little one will have to grow up knowing his mother did not love him enough to save him.”

“You monster!” Sena barked, her hands gripping the edge of her desk until she was white in her knuckles. The rage rising in her was like a tempest, a hurricane. Like some godly wrath straight out of the Seven Hells. When she blinked, she could see the sweet little boy behind her eyelids, offering out his little hand-carved horse and smiling at her bashfully. She could see Helaena watching him with adoration, Queen Alicent beaming with pride.

She could see blood.

She felt like she was going to be sick.

“What have you done?” She breathed, drawing closer to her father on shaky feet. “How could you? He was an infant.” She could not draw breath. “What happened to Luke was an accident! A dragon gone rogue. You just murdered a little boy in cold blood.”

The Queen and her consort both looked up at her sharply at that. “Luke-” Rhaenyra choked out.

“An accident?” Daemon laughed coldly. He leered over her, his expression a picture of mad amusement. “Gods, Sena, what poison has my wretch of a nephew been pouring in your ear?” he asked. “You truly think he is some tortured soul? Some poor victim of circumstance? That was no accident.”

“He is vengeful and lacks restraint, yes, but despite his faults, he is a good man who would never mean to hurt a child,” she hissed. “The same cannot be said for you.”

He brushed her hair from her face with his calloused fingers. The skin he touched felt as though there were living things crawling beneath it. “You’re truly pathetic, aren’t you?” He said with a mean grin. “Is that all it takes to turn you into a blind fool, some weak profession of love so that you’ll let him stick his cock in you?”

She was shaking. She was burning.

He shook his head, smirking and giggling. “I truly don’t know where you get it from. At least your mother had enough backbone to hate me ‘til the bitter end. She had the brains to know I was telling her I loved her just so I could fuck her.”

She spat in his face, catching him square in the eye and he flinched away, wiping at his face with a grunt. “Little bitch,” he growled.

Sena turned on Rhaenyra and she was livid, every inch of her white hot and singing. “Did you know about this? Did you know?” The Queen had tears tracking down her cheeks. She could not seem to move a muscle, let alone answer. “Tell me!” Sena demanded, slamming her hands down on the desk before the Queen.

Rhaenyra flinched and turned a look of pure rage on Sena. Sena wished she had it in her to feel the shame her younger self would have felt at invoking such a reaction. But her younger self, her innocent and gentle self was gone, gone, and her father seemed hellbent on burning out every remnant. “Your sister, your poor, sweet sister who has never shown you and your sons anything but love.” She ducked her head to hold the Queen’s line of vision as Rhaenyra looked away, trying to garner some response from her. “Helaena will not survive this,” Sena’s voice shook as she realised the truth of it.

Her father’s answering laugh was from the depths of hell. “And House Targaryen will be rid of one more halfwit,” he said.

That was it.

That was all she could take.

It wasn’t in the heat of the moment, it wasn’t without thought. She knew exactly what she was doing, exactly where the letter opener lay on her desk as she spun around and reached for it. She flew at her father, her sword arm raised high, and brought the small blade down with every ounce of strength she possessed and pure clarity of thought.

Daemon’s blood spattered onto Sena’s bodice and Rhaenyra let out a gut-wrenching scream. Sena knew that the blade was too small, too blunt to accomplish her means, she knew it. But the look of shock and fear on her father’s face was worth every second of the hell it would rain down on her. He raised one hand and clutched at the blade in his neck, holding it steady in the wound, and brought the back of his other hand across Sena’s face. Hard.

Stars blew across her field of vision, her father’s heavy signet ring causing blood to burst from her lip. The rug on the ground rushed up to greet her. The air was forced from her lungs and she let out a scream as her splinted arm went aflame with pain once more.

The Queen was running from the room, screaming for a maester, a guard, anyone. Sena lay there on the rug for a second, tasting the blood in her mouth, feeling the ragged gasp in her throat and chest as she clawed back her breath. Her father knelt down on the rug beside her, still holding the letter opener steady in his neck, and dragged her up by the neckline of her dress with his spare hand. He was so close to her she could smell the sourness of wine on his breath. “For the blood we share,” he breathed, his voice ragged from the effort, “we’re going to pretend that was a clumsy accident. Like the traitor you whore yourself out for.” He shoved her back down to the ground, and fresh pain burst through her arm.

Her father staggered to his feet. Sena pressed her forehead into the rug and laughed coldly, turning her head to take in the man who had sired her, pale and shaking, his own blood sprayed across her. “What is blood to you?” She asked. She herself was surprised at the humour in her voice, the mad grin on her face. “You’re already a kinslayer, father. Accursed. What’s one more?” She pushed herself up to her knees and held her arms out in surrender. “Quickly. While no one can stop you,” she urged him, eyeing the blade in his neck.

Was he mad enough to do it? Pull the blade free from his neck and greatly damage his own chance at living, just to put an end to her? The daughter he had never wanted nor loved, sired on the wife he despised. He could do it. He was stronger than her, bigger, could overpower her easily and do it, even with the letter opener. He could end it all. He just needed to pull the knife free, let his own blood flow.

He leaned over her, so close they were nose to nose, brow to brow. “I will end you,” he promised her in a ragged voice. “Not yet. That would be too easy. Not until your precious halfwit has thrown herself from the highest window in Maegor’s Holdfast. Not until I finish what Lucerys started, and your lover is a feast for carrion crows,” he breathed, stroking her cheek with a bloodied thumb. “But then… I made you. And I will end you. I promise you that, Sena. Here and now.”

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