#a knight's duty - chapter 15

[driftward]

Title: A Knight's Duty - Chapter 15 Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Ement Vauban, Guillerme Rating: Teen Summary: More questions than questions Notes: None

Sennights turned to moons and they all passed in much the same way as they had. Zoissette no longer fell half asleep during training sessions, but she did start to stay in the training room after them. Early on her studies had been more general, but they had become specific, as she turned her attentions to astrology and arcanistry. She was staying up late in order to keep up with said studies, but despite that, did not neglect her knight's training, taking it as seriously as she ever had. Guillerme, true to his word, drove Ement harder, and Ement in turn did what he could to teach Zoissette. It was slower going, but both Elezen grew into it.

One day, Zoissette came into the training room, and looked as though she was on the verge of crying, but was keeping it in. She walked over to where Ement and Guillerme were standing. The room fell quiet.

"...something on your mind, girl?" prompted Guillerme gently.

"It happened again," said Zoissette. "Not a new kid this time. One of the one's that's been there a while. Not... not a friend. But... the rumors are, his mother left his father to go join the heretics."

"Any truth to the rumors?" asked Ement. Zoissette shook her head.

"Bet she just -left- the bastard, then," said Ement. "If it was heretic business, the whole family'd be ousted."

"That doesn't matter," said Zoissette.

"Rather does to the Inquisition, I might think," replied Ement.

"Let her finish," said Guillerme, and Ement fell quiet. "So what'd you do about it, girl?"

"I told them to stop. To leave him alone."

"Oh, and that was it, then?" asked Guillerme.

Zoissette took a deep breath in. "...no. They started to call me names. They told me I must be a heretic too, or a dragon swiver-"

"Language," said Ement, almost automatically. He immediately planted his face in his palm.

Guillerme looked at him and chuckled. "You so old as to forget three summers past, son? She knows what a swivin' is, and probably much more colorful language aside."

"Halone preserve, forget I said anything. Go on, Sette," said Ement.

"...anyroad, there was yelling, and... one of them picked up a stone and threw it at me."

"Well then. What happened then?" prompted Guillerme.

"They missed, and I... I looped my arm through my carrying bag's loops and used it as a shield. The rest of them got started, trying to hit both of us. I got in front. I mostly didn't get hit. He got knocked down, though. And... that's when I charged them. Knocked one of them over, got him on the ground, hit him a few times.

"One of them pulled me up, and I hit them, knocked them over too. Dropped two more... the rest of them ran. I... I stayed behind, to try to help the other one up. The one who was being made fun of. The one I was trying to defend."

Zoissette took another deep breath, and steadied herself. "He shoved me away when he got up. He yelled at me. Told me he didn't need help. Then... he ran away too."

She looked down at the ground, clenching and unclenching her fists. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

"Well, maybe you were, and maybe you weren't, lass," said Guillerme. "Did you stop to ask if he needed help?"

Zoissette looked up at him with a frown. "No? I mean - no, of course not. He obviously did."

"And yet he didn't appreciate it much when you gave it to him."

"I don't understand."

"Think about it some. In the meanwhile, dress out. We've still got training."

Zoissette nodded, and moved over to retrieve her training gear. Guillerme rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

It was an hour later, both Elezen panting and exhausted, when Zoissette spoke up again.

"Retribution."

"What?" asked Ement.

"Retribution. They might go back for him later, when I'm not around. Or... or he thought he'd just take the hits, and hoped they'd leave him alone in the future," said Zoissette.

"Maybe... maybe. Things to consider. And what about you, lass?" asked Guillerme.

Zoissette looked confused. "Aren't we talking about me? What about me?"

"Why'd you wade into a mess what weren't yours, lass?"

"That's... that's why I'm doing this at all. That's why I'm learning this. To defend people. To keep people from being hurt. Because I can. Because that's... that's what I want to do. To do the right thing."

"And what made it right, lass? Just because you felt it so?"

"Well... yes."

"Hmn. Good knights trust their instincts, I suppose," said Guillerme. He turned away and clasped his hands behind his back. "But far too many of the knights that I have trained have claimed to be acting in the name of the Holy See and its edicts on their way to bash some poor otherwise-innocent bugger's head in. Certainly, they feel right to do as they do."

"It's not the same," said Zoissette.

"No?" said Guillerme. "Don't get me wrong, lass, I agree, but why is it not the same?"

"Well, they're - they're imposing their will on others just because they can. They're not trying to help!"

"And you're tryin' to help, you say, but it wasn't wanted. Aren't you also just imposing your will?"

Zoissette frowned, and Ement could see her shoulders tense, her fingers working her shield-strap as she thought.

Ement thought to ease the tension he felt in the room, and cleared his throat. "Well, I'd say the difference is that Zoissette's man is free to think his thoughts afterwards, with his head rather unabashed, wouldn't you say?"

Zoissette and Guillerme both turned to look at him, Zoissette still frowning, Guillerme's expression unreadable, damn the man. But that was fine. Ement grinned, and spread his arms out wide, and offered a small bow. The tension was thinning, he was certain.

"...you're right," said Zoissette.

"I mean, maybe," said Ement, lightly.

"No, you're - I think I understand the difference. Those other knights, they claim to know and do the right thing, but - but they're not acting on behalf of Ishgard or her people. Not really. I - I was. My intervention may not have been wanted, but what I did, I didn't do it for me. I did it for them. I did - I did what I thought they might've wanted me to do, if they'd had the power to ask for it."

Guillerme nodded, slowly. "And what then if they still don't want it, lass? I would prefer not to train another would-be tyrant, claimin' just as you claim, that they're doing right on behalf of the people for the people, in the people's name, whatever."

Zoissette swallowed. "...then it's important what Ement said. That... that they're alive and healthy and well and capable of being mad about what I've done after."

Ement crossed his arms. He hadn't really meant to have a point, but apparently his little sister had found one.

"...but it's not enough, is it?" Finished Zoissette, suddenly timid.

"Hmm?"

"It's... it's not enough just to... to feel like I'm doing the right thing, is it? I mean, I'm still pretty sure I did. He - he can be mad at me, but like Ement said, at least he isn't hurt, but maybe I'm still not thinking this all the way through. Not as far as I should."

Zoissette's voice trailed off. "Who determines what's right? I'm - I'm still not sure."

"... I did say a good knight trusts their instincts. A great knight, though, a great knight thinks about them. It's a struggle, lass, make no mistake.

"And the best of us," said Guillerme quietly, "Weighs their soul against the very star itself."

Ement watched as Zoissette swallowed nervously. She looked down at the ground, then back up at Guillerme's back.

"I'm... I'm not sure I'm good enough for that, ser," she said.

"Well. Maybe, maybe not, Maybe not yet. But keep it in mind, lass. I'm glad you're thinking about it at all. Keep that up. Maybe you'll learn one day."

"I'll - I'll do my best, ser."

"I hope so," said Guillerme, still quiet.

#final fantasy xiv #zoissette vauban #ement vauban #guillerme #one knight's journey #a knight's duty #a knight's duty - chapter 15 #202207-18 #biot writes

[gofancyninjaworld]

Blast is a mediocre hero

Talk about a controversial opinion! Well, I intend to defend it! With thanks to Eldrich_Void, who heard my rantings out.

This is not an opinion I rushed to. However, it has bothered me a lot that Blast seems to have a real track record for fucking things up. Almost all his endeavours seem to end up cursed in some way.

His evil partner, the ninja village horror he set up, and the way he seems intent on protecting the guy. His estranged son. The two heroes he saved both having serious complexes as a result. The monster he couldn't subdue.

Now that we get to see how he saw the situation on the ground, I think that Flashy Flash's accusing him of being unconscionably hesitant is right.

Under the circumstances, if I were Flash, I'd not trust that pressing that button would summon Blast in a manner timely enough to matter to me.

So, shall we see below the cut?

Before...

So, let's wind back all the way to chapter 165, back when Cosmic Garou landed. Remember then? He had time to pose for the benefit of the heroes gathered...

…then to look at himself, look at the heavens, and thank God for this gift of power.

Then Bang crawled up to Garou to try calling him back to his senses.

It took a while for the situation to ripen.

It's only in the next chapter, with Bang continuing to plead futilely with Garou, that Blast showed up.

Looks like he showed up as soon as he could.

So far, so good. It seemed that Blast came as soon as he could, given whatever else he was busy with. In the current timeline, Saitama came back from the future and punched Garou right when the latter looked up to thank God, so we thought, reasonably, that Blast never had a chance to appear. Case closed.

And looks like he didn't have an opportunity to show up.

But now we see more...

Several chapters have come and gone, and now we have a fuller picture of the event. And now we know that Blast was aware and on scene when Garou unleashed his gamma-ray burst:

Oh, so you were here.

We know too that Blast was on scene when Saitama appeared to punch out Cosmic Garou, before Bang even had a chance to crawl to Garou.

And there!

So Blast had had an opportunity to intervene earlier but did not take any action until after everyone was dropping dead and Bang was using the last of his energy to plead with Garou to come to his senses.

Okay, there's a place for observing the scene before you wade in so as not to make matters worse. As Drive Knight points out, rushing into things without proper analysis is a foolish thing. However, there's one thing I can't overlook. Even if Blast did not want to carelessly jump into a fight, the fact that he was able to reroute Garou's cosmic rays away from the heroes on the ground -- but had not done so originally... that is borderline unforgiveable.

Damn, if you could always do that, you should have done it earlier!

Let me be extremely clear. I don't hold Blast wholly responsible for restoring Empty Void. Yes, his rerouting the now free-floating 'God' powers as well as the cosmic rays to another dimension accidentally fed Void. That was careless, but not incomprehensible: thinking that one's evil ex-partner whom you left more dead than alive 15 years ago might be camping his nasty half-starved body on the other side of the dimensional hole you opened up in order to receive God's powers is not at the top of anyone's mind. What I am holding him responsible for is failing in the first duty of a hero: HELP PEOPLE!!

Now, let's go back to the original timeline. Even before he stepped up to support Bang, he could have rerouted those cosmic rays and saved most of the heroes. But he did not. I don't think he thought of it. Not a good hero instinct. But it gets worse.

Once it was clear that Garou had no intention of leaving the planet or ceasing to kill with his very presence, Genos stepped up, risking his life to buy Blast an opening.

Being a hero to the core. When people are in need, he is there.

However, when he was in danger and it was clear that Garou was fixing to kill him, did Blast step up? No. He just stood there, opened his mouth and bleated 'No.' [1]

And it gets worse still. It's not like Garou ripped Genos's head off to kill him instantly. Garou punched Genos through his center of mass. That was really bad: his upper torso is heavily protected for a reason, but that is not what killed him. We find out afterwards that Genos remembers seeing Garou pull his core out. Even that did not kill him: we've seen from back with the Giant Meteor that while losing his core's functionality will stop him being able to move his body, Genos's life support systems run independently of it. No, what killed him was Garou smashing him down so hard that his head and armor shattered and his blood splattered and ran into the ground, some of it being washed into long runnels by the fallout rain. So Blast stood there and watched while Garou not only struck Genos critically, but mutilated and maimed him to death. It was as if Garou was taunting him to try something heroic. And when Saitama finally arrived on the scene, Blast was just standing there. Uselessly.

Blast does not have the instincts of a hero.

Saitama rightly criticised himself for losing sight of what a hero's true duty was. I remember back when Sonic asked him who he was, he defined himself as the person who helps people when they are in trouble. [2] And he knows he fell short.

Blast appears to have totally lost sight of this fact. That's why his work is cursed.

A Hero Is More Than Mere Works

Without any doubt, Blast is strong. He is righteous but he's not looking at situations the way a hero should. He looks at things more as a warrior -- and it's not really helpful. He's forgotten the need to actually *be* a hero.

If I think about it a bit more, Blast was concerned for the health of the heroes on the field. Yet he did not protect them, even though he could have. He did not move them out of the way, even though he could have. He did not call on the rest of his compatriots to help him accomplish these goals, even though he could have and they would have helped.

I don't think that Blast is in danger of being deposed as the number 1 hero any time soon but man, it's as Flashy Flash says, his conduct is disappointing.

It's an insult to the heroes we've seen. I can't begin to imagine how bitterly Tatsumaki would be if she could have seen him. As the narrator said, she puts him on too high a pedestal. When I think of how hard she fought while never forgetting the helpless child, the civilians at risk, the rest of the strike team, and taking care of them even as it reduced her fighting efficiency, it's everything Blast ought to be. We saw so many heroes risk their lives to help others, even when they weren't of any strategic value.

Tatsumaki's determination to throw nobody under the bus, no matter how expedient, is the soul of heroism.

A hero is not merely their works. A hero is also what they symbolise. Amai Mask gets it: that's why he goes on and on about a hero being a beautiful symbol of peace. Saitama gets it: that's a big part of why he refused to out King because he symbolised being a hero so well. Mumen Rider lives it: even though he's not strong (by hero standards), he's greatly respected and people are inspired by him to do better in their lives.

What a hero is: someone who saves from danger, someone who reassures, someone who inspires.

Blast doesn't get it. When he had an opportunity to mitigate Garou's cosmic radiation and save lives, it did not occur to him. When he could have swallowed his pride and called back up to help him subdue Garou and save hero lives, it did not even cross his mind: he only saw a fight.

Since when was justice a matter of who can hit who harder?

And when he didn't prevail, he just stood there. When it was time for him to step up as a hero and actually take on some risk to try saving a life, he stood there, as hapless as any civilian. Even when it was hopeless, we didn't see the likes of Tank Top Master giving up. We didn't see Genos giving up on Tatsumaki, even when they were swarmed by Black Sperm. You don't give up on people.

No wonder his works are cursed.

How might the curse be lifted?

Some thoughts.

Never mind Tatsumaki: it's a rare hero who wouldn't be appalled. They all look up to Blast as the ultimate hero.

Fortunately, the only person who knows is Genos: it takes knowing how else things would have played out if Saitama hadn't arrived in the nick of time. Genos has no interest in trying to run down Blast: what little credibility he's got, he's used to tell Sicchi to ensure that Saitama got called up if Blast came up with anything.

Unfortunately, Sicchi hasn't passed on that message to Blast and Saitama's been allowed to go dawdling away. Even more unfortunately, what Sicchi has told Blast about Genos is that he's a terror who impedes access to Saitama. This may have terrible consequences down the line.

Talk about leaving out the important part. That 'is that so?' gives me chills.

You know how some readers are disappointed that the MA arc did not end with Saitama lecturing Garou about the importance of not compromising one's goals? It seems to me that Blast needs that lecture a lot more badly than Garou ever needed it in any version. He's forgotten that the point of heroism is the people you help *first* before it is about glorious fights. Important as it is to fight, losing sight of the human need in front of you is a hiding to nothing.

Or, if you want to put it differently: Saitama is likely to have a reason to confront Blast in the future.

Someone needs to hear this message and it's not the truculent teenage tearaways.

I am going to be there for it with a giant tub of ice cream!

Asides

[1] What was it that Awakened Garou said back in the WC: 'When facing an imminent threat against a monster, all you do is open your mouth and start babbling. It's an easy kind of job.'? (ch 85). It has applied very brutally to Blast here.

[2] In case you need a reminder:

That's the right thing to be. Saitama's been struggling since he forgot the brief a bit.

#OPM #meta #long #Blast #heroism #Blast may be the number one hero but he's got a lot of work to do to be a top class hero #I hope Saitama sets him straight #preferably before he makes needless trouble for Genos -- or anyone else #His help isn't very helpful

[sjsmith56]

Lord Buchanan - Series Masterlist

Series completed.

A bit of a mashup, set in an alternate universe, where a modern woman finds herself stuck in a medieval world. She needs the protection of a powerful man (guess who?) to stay safe in this world as there is danger in many places for an unaccompanied woman. The people of the medieval world (with touches of the Renaissance) are also aware of the modern world through the visions of their sorceress. Magic is accepted as being equal to religion. All MCU characters except for two will have different identities in this story. The two will be revealed during the story. Much of this story will be suitable for 18+ readers only. Minors should not interact with this story. If you follow me and your bio does not indicate you are older than 18 you will be blocked.

Characters: Lord Buchanan (James Buchanan Barnes), OFC (named), King Steven (Steve Rogers), Queen Peg (Peggy Carter), Sir Samuel / Knight Commander (Sam Wilson), Bruce the Giant (Bruce Banner), Lord and Lady Stark (Tony and Pepper Stark), King Thorn and Prince Loke (Thor and Loki), Dr. Jane Foster, Sorceress (Wanda Maximoff), Garrison Commander Rhodes (James Rhodes), Archer Barton (Clint Barton), the Baron (Baron Zemo), the Dreykov sisters (Natasha Romanoff and Yelena Belova), Prince Arthur David Joaquin de Torres Walker aka Quin Torres (Joaquin Torres as a teenager), Duke John Walker, Lord Fury (Nick Fury), and others in brief cameos. The final character of note is not an MCU character but a horse, Magnus, the black stallion ridden by Lord Buchanan; Magnus is a central character in several plot lines.

Warnings: sexual content, violent content, misogyny, talk of slavery, talk of child abuse, talk of sexual abuse, talk of incest, forced arranged marriages, death. There is also love, valour, honour, truth, and attention to duty so it balances out quite well.

Previously published on Wattpad and AO3 platforms, under the username SJSmith56.

Novels/Collections Masterlist Tumblr Masterlist

Read past the break for chapter titles.

Chapter 1. A New World

Chapter 2. To the Castle

Chapter 3. The Feast

Chapter 4. The Duel

Chapter 5. Declarations

Chapter 6. A Time for War

Chapter 7. Time to Live

Chapter 8. The White Wolf

Chapter 9. Two Brothers, Two Kingdoms

Chapter 10. Decisions

Chapter 11. Magic Moment

Chapter 12. Coronation

Chapter 13. Tactics

Chapter 14. Friends in Need

Chapter 15. Setting Things Right

Chapter 16. The Way Home

Chapter 17. Heavens Above

Chapter 18. At Home in the Rocky Woodlands

Chapter 19. Hope and Friendship

Chapter 20. Meeting of the Minds

Chapter 21. Solidarity

Chapter 22. Two Steps Forward

Chapter 23. Three Steps Back

Chapter 24. The Sweet and the Bitter

Chapter 25. Radio Silence

Chapter 26. Across the Waters

Chapter 27. A Single Step

Chapter 28. Home

Chapter 29. The Danger

Chapter 30. Celebrations

Chapter 31. Revelations

Chapter 32. Destiny Calls

Chapter 33. A Matter of Honour

Chapter 34. Time for Love

Chapter 35. A Call to War

Chapter 36. The Gathering

Chapter 37. Time to Fight

Chapter 38. The Last Time

Chapter 39. A Shot in the Dark

Chapter 40. Reap What You Sow

Chapter 41. Coming Home

Chapter 42. A Time for Everything

Chapter 43. Epilogue

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #james buchanan barnes #James Buchanan Barnes fanfiction #James Buchanan Barnes au #bucky barnes au #medieval world #buckybarneslongfic #Bucky Barnes long fiction

[moonundernostalgia]

Human ROTTMNT AU:

Usagi is a medieval knight who lives his life doing his duties until one day he sees Leo, a mere peasant who is irresistibly attractive, working in a huge field of flowers (in this Au Leo is a florist and gardener) and since then there has been an attraction and interest on the part of the knight. But then after days of talking Usagi discovers that the sweet and innocent Leo was some kind of Robin Hood to the village alongside his brothers and he doesn't know how to react to that. But by time he accepts it and keeps the secret.

The two get closer every day, with more familiarity however... a Ball is scheduled by the King (who I have no idea who it would be) in order to choose a partner (male or female), this King does not cares about marrying a servant or peasant, so he calls everyone in the kingdom and to Usagi's unhappiness he ends up becoming interested in Leo.

They need to figure out how to make the King forget about Leonardo and the only solution they can think of is to run away. Usagi spends a period of 2 months traveling with Leo and things happen :) when they come back the king finds out bla bla bla Usagi confesses his love in front of everyone and the king just accepts..? Like in the meantime he falls in love with someone else so it's okay (he just gets mad because Leonardo didn't think to tell him he didn't want to marry him in the first place smh)

I couldn't think of a better ending considering this is a BIG summary that has lots and lots of context and construction considering it could be a 15-chapter story but anyway ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ if you want a better ending think whatever you want ❤️

#when i tell you i thought of this Au in the middle of the night 🤡 #help me- #leosagi is on my mind #i got more things to say about Leo and the rest tho #i just wanted to show my idea #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rise of the tmnt #leosagi #leoichi #leonardo hamato #usagi yuichi #samurai rabbit: the usagi chronicles #rise leo #rise leonardo #Human rottmnt AU #bridgerton and sasusaku ideas were my inspiration to this #pride & prejudice as well!! #don't know how the Au would be called tho...gotta think of that later

[disgraceful-writings]

Meant To Be

Chapter 1

Y/n and Aegon were born on the same day, with velvet eyes and white crowns. Y/n is sent to Oldtown by their mother to keep her pure. What happens when she doesn't return so? How will her twin react?

Aegon II and y/n were born on the same day at the same time, with white crowns and violet eyes. Y/n was quieter than Aegon, she seemed to only observe those around her. Aegon was boisterous and needing someone’s attention all the time. However, when placed together, they would coo to one another and gravitate closer. As time went on, another princess and prince were born. Aegon didn’t seem to get along well with his other siblings, but he knew he loved y/n. Their father and mother spoke of them being betrothed due to the gods creating them as two halves of a whole. Viserys saw this as a blessing for years to come.

The burning star rose and gave warmth to y/n’s face. She rose and contemplated the dream she had that night when suddenly a knock was heard at her door, “Your grace? It is morning.” Savann, y/n’s favorite maid, opened the door with two others in tow. 

“Good morning, Princess, did you sleep well?” 

“Yes, thank you for asking, Savann.”

As she set a pitcher of water on the vanity, she started humming a tune and setting the princess’s beauty tools out. Y/n fumbled out of her large bed and onto her feet before walking to the vanity. “Savann?”

“Yes, your grace?”

Savann started to clean the princess’s face with the water from the pitcher. “Do you believe in visions?”

She paused for a moment and looked the princess in the eyes, “I believe people want and dream, however, they have to make those things come true.”

The princess hummed and Savann begun on her hair. “Savann, is Aegon really how people say he is?”

The elder looked into the princess’s eyes through the mirror for a moment, then said, “Your mother would never let him lay a finger on you. You will have your duty as husband and wife, but after that you are your own person.”

The princess looked down sadly. She had remembered their years together before she was sent to Oldtown at their mother’s request. He was always so gentle and kind to her, then they grew, and he turned to drink and whores for reasons unknown to y/n. Now she is 15 and bled for the first time, she will wed him. She always knew they’d be betrothed, it is their family’s way of things. That didn’t change her heart in the ways of the man she wanted.

“I suggest the green dress, your grace”, Savann pulled the dress out to show, “It will make your eyes stand out.” 

The princess stood and walked over to Savann who called one of the other maids to assist. She was 10 when her mother decided to send her off. Queen Alicent claimed it was for her education, but everyone knew she wanted to keep her favored of the twins pure to the world. What she wouldn’t know is y/n didn’t stay pure. Around the age of 13, a certain servant boy caught her eye. He was tall, built, and 3 years her elder. On her strolls around the land, she would hear him speak of becoming a knight at the keep or going north to the wall. They always saw each other, him walking through the halls, bowing to her or her strolling through Oldtown and seeing him train with the swordsman. This went on until one day she gathered the courage to approach him and ask for protection, as she wanted to go outside the castle walls. How could he refuse a princess? The ride was quiet between the two. But there was a feeling of want anyone could’ve felt.

After their ride, they came to a clearing covered with wildflowers. Y/n hopped off her horse and laid in a patch with a sigh. “Do you ever feel like something is missing?”, she had caught him off guard while tying up the horses. “What do you mean, princess?”, she rose onto her elbows to look at him, “Life is planned out for everyone. If your father or mother are servants or peasants, you’ll be a servant or peasant. If you’re a Lady, you marry a Lord and give him heirs who will carry on the name and do the same as you.” He walked closer to her and sat beside her, “Not always. My father and mother were farmers in the north before they passed, and I was sent here. Now I am a servant working to be a knight, and I will do anything to be one. You can change your fate whenever you want.” She lied back and looked at the sky in contemplation. They sat like this for a time until he spoke, “Do you not like being a princess?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, your grace, I do not mean to offend.”

She sat up, “It’s a good life, but I want more than just being someone’s child barer. I want to go out and explore, maybe discover something new.”

She felt his gaze locked on her, so she turned to him. He did not falter and slowly moved closer until his lips were on hers. Their hands wandered as their tongues searched on another’s mouths. He moved her to lie on her back, never departing from her lips. Her hands clawed at his chest wanting, no, needing to feel his skin on hers. With his shirt ripped open, she kissed and sucked on his neck, creating the most beautiful whimpers she's ever heard while he ground himself on her. She let him go, so he could push her skirts up, and he paused in awe at her pussy. Y/n sat up and started to unlace his trousers as he started to kiss her neck. He cried out, laying his head on her shoulder when she encircled his cock with her hand and started pumping. “I want you inside me”, she said into his ear and laid back.

 “As you wish, your grace”, trying to catch his breath, he lined himself up and slowly pushed in as he lowered himself on top of her. She cried at the burn, so he whispered sweet nothing's while kissing away the tears. “Can I move? I don’t think I’ll last, princess”, she nodded and the pain begun to subside with every thrust of his hips until they were both a mess of each other. His hips started to stutter, and he removed himself from her to finish in the grass. Breathing heavily, “we should go back. They’ll be looking for you”, he wiped his face of the sweat and laced himself back up, making himself more presentable. Y/n sat up, this empty wanting feeling filling her, what could this be? When she saw him start walking to the horses, she turned to look over the sun kissed field and rose. 

Taglist : @watercolorskyy , @xitsemm, @d3nny

Next Chapter ->

Masterlist

#aegon ii fanfic #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aegon ii #aegon ii fic #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #Aegon ii smut #Aegon ii brainrot #Aegon ii targaryen brainrot #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #prince aegon ii targaryen #prince aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #prince aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #king aegon ii targaryen #aegon targeryen ii fanfic #aegon targeryan ii fanfiction #prince aegon targaryen ii #king aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii x y/n #aegon targaryen the second #aegon the second

[needfantasticstories]

Summary: The Chain finally tracks down Wind only to find him changed in a way that leaves Legend speechless. Continuation from days 6 and 14.

Art of War

Wolfie shot out of the city gates, Warrior and Impa racing behind. Wild and Legend and the other heroes followed as they pounded across the drawbridge.

All except Wind.

Legend hoped Wind was alright, despite what he’d seen in the cellar. Perhaps he was still asleep, not aware yet of what had been done to him. If these mysterious enemies had been so cruel as to hamstring a literal child (nevermind that he was a seasoned hero already, since they probably didn't know what) and carry him away in a wagon, then what else were they willing to do? What could they want with a child? Could they have been cursed, as the knights of his era had been? Was not the shadow, but Gannon somehow behind this? Hadn't Wind been through enough, having to face that man and kill him in a desperate fight to save his world?

Wolfie slowed at the fork in the road beyond the bridge, and turned toward the path that rose over the tree-dappled hills, and disappeared. He pointed the way with his nose and boofed.

“They brougth Wind all the way out here? Why?” Warrior asked in concern, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow. The path from Castletown had zigzagged through dozens of stops, each one to deliver packages to various military posts, but nothing in the mail General Impa confiscated seemed out of the ordinary.

“There are fresh tracks. The mail wagon would be an easy place to hide him.” General Impa grumbled. "There's a fort ahead, one day's journey from here on foot. We can reach it by nightfall if we're swift."

Warrior looked back at the others. They all had a sheen of sweat from the search that morning, realizing Wind was missing, looking for him, asking Queen Zelda for aid, and then following a series of leads, leading here. Could they last a whole day of walking, and reach Wind in time?

“I can see the tracks.” Four declared, interrupting the Captain's calculations. “Warrior, let Legend and me go ahead with Wolfie. We might be able to catch up before they get far.”

“Do it,” he agreed, a fragile flutter of hope pressing on his heart.

Four bolted forward so quickly both Legend and especially Wolfie struggled to catch up. The path veered over a trio of hills, and before they’d crested the last one Wolfie already fell behind, so efficient were their pegasus boots.

Warrior took the lead with the other heroes at a slow pace.

Sky panted, feeling guilty. He knew it was probably for his sake, above any of the others, that they rested. But no point in letting the chance go to waste, he took his time, trusting the trio ahead to do their duty. Such had been his life, learning that other heroes would have to step in and help him. That he alone would never be enough, and his spirit would pay for that fact for eternity. And yet he knew Hylia was not nearly so disappointed as he was in himself, if Sun spoke truly. With a resigned sigh, he rolled his shoulders and continued at an even, easy pace.

Wild felt so useless. He couldn't go fast, he couldn't track quite as well as Twilight, and he couldn't sniff out traitors like Warrior. He stood beside Time, sulking more than he knew he should, but what good was he to Wind right now? Why had he pointed out the bakery? Wild was the last person to have seen Wind. I should have been paying better attention, Wild thought.

Hyrule watched Four and Legend leave with a pang. He had a terrible feeling about all this. There was a twisted, backwards sort of magic all along the wagon's trail. Thing that should not be was the nearest he could articulate it in his own mind. He wished his magic could be more specific.

Time took many deep, steadying breaths. He knew the flavors of treachery among the soldiers back there. He knew the looks they gave the captain, the looks that once had turned on him, a boy of what, twelve? Sixteen? He wasn't sure how old he was then, in mind or body, it all got so turned around in Termina. He could count the minutes, hours and days, but they had less claim on him. So he didn't know how old he was when the traitors set their sights on him as an easy path to hurt the captain. He only knew Wind was older, braver, and hardly recognizable as the future version of little Wind. The boy who looked up to him with shining eyes would someday tear apart armies of enemies just to stand by his head and rub his knuckles into Time's hair before slamming massive machines into their enemies. Wind's future could not end here. Time would make certain of it. And he knew Wars felt the same.

***

Far ahead, Four reached the third hilltop. Below him, the wagon trundled forward, the lone horse galloping hard. When the two soldiers sitting in front turned and saw the small hero nearly flying over the road towards them, they whipped the horse to run harder. But it could not. The horse was spent, and reared violently. The men jumped off the wagon and made a pathetic attempt to run away, but with a bit more force than strictly necessary, Four knocked their drawn swords away and dragged them back to the wagon by their collars. Legend had taken control of the wagon, and brought it to a stop, and Four made sure to drag them over every rock he found as he made his way to it. He hogtied the traitors and demanded answers, crouching with his hammer held

casually in one hand.

Inside, Legend tore open boxes, searched the contents, and even checked the floor for any secret compartments.

He found nothing.

A whine announced Wolfie’s arrival before the animal jumped inside behind him.

“You smell him anywhere?” The veteran asked, fear creeping into his question. What had he missed?

Wolfie whined again, but sniffed all around. He paused at a tall box no thicker than a board. A haze of black filled the wagon, and when it cleared Legend found Twilight had torn the side of a wooden box open. Inside, Legend spied the corner of an ornate gray frame, and his stomach dropped like a lead weight. How?

Twilight pulled the linen wrappings surrounding the painting away, and gasped.

It was a painting of Wind lying on the floor of the cellar they’d so recently left behind, his ankles bandaged but bleeding through the white fabric. His eyes were closed, and almost peaceful.

Twilight felt sick. “Who did this to him? Who would paint this?” He shook his head in horror.

Legend clenched his fists, and the growl in his throat swelled into a guttural scream. “HOW? HOW? THERE’S NO FUCKING WAY!”

“Woah, Legend!” Twilight stepped back, leaning the painting away with his movement. “What in Ordon’s Light is going on here?”

Four jumped into the wagon, drawn by Legend’s rage. He looked at the painting and scowled in confusion. He reached a hand out to it, but dared not touch it. “What does this mean, Legend?”

Twilight examined the back of the framed canvas while Legend scrambled at the wooden case, searching savagely for something.

“Legend! Explain.” Four demanded coldly.

Legend held up the front of the box, and huffed, ignoring Four. “So that’s what he’s going by. Fitting.” The Veteran held up the name of the recipient.

Twilight read aloud, “Lord Puriti?” and he studied the rest of the address, committing it to memory. “His address is inside the castle. So why is it going all the way out here?”

Four folded his arms. “Maybe he’s still trying to throw us off the trail. Whoever they are, I doubt they understand who they’re up against.”

“He might, if he went after Wind. He’s not from this era either, but this seems…planned.” Legend replied. “He might know a lot about us.”

“You know who this guy is?” Twilight asked.

Legend nodded. “His real name is Yuga. From my world, or rather the mirror of my world. He did this same thing to Princess Zelda, and me, and the heirs of the sacred Sages. This isn’t just a painting. That is Wind. He’s trapped in there.”

“What?” Twilight stared closer, as if expecting Wind to move. “How? And how do we get him out?”

“Hopefully, with this.” Legend drew out a thick gold bracelet from his bag. A large gap in the center stood out, clearly meant to house some sort of large gem or jewel, but the gold frame folded smoothly around the empty space. “I can’t use it anymore, not since Hilda sent us back from the mirror world to our own. But…” he spun the bracelet in his hands, and looked up at Wind. “Ravio would know what to do,” he mumbled. "But there might be a way, if I can repeat it.” He shoved the bracelet onto his wrist and covered it with his sleeve, then took the other side of the painting. He and Twilight situated it within its protective box once more, and arranged the packages around to keep it safely in place.

Four guided the wagon back toward Castletown. The traitorous soldiers tied securely in the back. Twilight's dark glare kept them from voicing their complaints.

“Did you find him?” Warrior called and ran up when the wagon came into view. The others ran up behind him.

“Yes, and no.” Legend replied, jumping out of the wagon. “You all need to see this.”

Emotions raged from horror to outrage. General Impa laughed darkly when she read the recipient’s name. “Lord Puriti? The gaudy artisan gunning to be appointed our Court Painter?” Impa sounded incredulous. “He’s the one behind their disappearances?”

Legend explained all he knew from his battles with the villain.

“I think it’s time we pay him a visit,” Warrior said, staring at the painting, his face in covered in shadow.

#febuwhump2024 #linked universe #linked universe fanfic #febuwhumpday15 #skipwrites #tw injury #tw kidnapping #tw child abuse #tw body horror (possibly?) #not beta read because my beta reader has a life

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Chapter 2: Dawn of the Pilgrimage: Page 15

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[asykriel]

Love is the Death of Duty - 3.

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☆ Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Male! Targaryen OC

☆ Status: Ongoing 

☆ Summary:  

“He is half of my heart.”

War made monsters of them all, but it also brought the two second sons together in a flurry of death, love, deceit and delusion. The story of Aemond Targaryen and the eldest son of Daemon and Rhaenyra, Maegor Targaryen, second of his name. 

☆ Warnings: Sexual content, explicit violence, dark themes, targcest etc.

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☆ CHAPTERS: (Prologue) / ( 1 ) / ( 2 ) / ( 3 ) / ( 4 ) / ( 5 ) / ( 6 ) / ( 7 ) / ( 8 ) / ( 9 ) / ( 10 ) / ( 11 ) / ( 12 ) / ( 13 ) / ( 14 ) / ( 15 ) / (16 - WIP)

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Chapter 3

Evening found Maegor pacing impatiently in circles around the guest chamber he shares with his older half brother, Jacaerys. Half a day passed since the events that unfolded took place and he could not still himself. If anything he felt even more nervous if that could even be possible. 

Half a day since he killed a man.

Half a day since Aemond caught him in a vice grip with no words or touch.

To make matters worse and add more wood to his raging fire, King Viserys was feeling slightly better - albeit aided by milk of the poppy - and he had announced a large supper with just the two families together.

"Why are you pacing like a caged beast, brother? Has taking a life frightened you so much?" Jacaerys questions, amused from the chaise lounge he was sprawled on. Clearly the eldest in a mood to play jests to ease his boredom. 

Maegor stops abruptly, fists clenched. Something dark flashes before his eyes but he does not yield to it. 

Smug bastard. 

"That may be it indeed, half-brother." Maegor retorts and his glare alone is enough to make Jace forget about picking on him and divert his attention on something else. Now that they were grown up his brothers grew weary of his hot temper. Maegor was quick to take offense and react much like his father.

I did everything while you hid behind mother.

 At least Lucerys was with Joffrey otherwise he was sure he would not hear the end of it by dinner time. 

No one should know what truly made him so restless, so angry and riled up. Maegor could bear with a few more childish jests from his brothers. He could even bear with them poking him constantly. Saying that he was afraid when he made his first kill because he was shaking like a leaf. Because he was so restless he could not resist sitting still longer than a moment. 

The fact that he was burning because of Aemond however, that was his secret. Their secret.

Maegor resumes pacing, more furiously this time just to keep his mind distracted from spiraling into thoughts about the Prince again. Eyes on his feet he was counting his steps in silence like a mantra. 

A heavy knock stops him again before the large wooden door is opened.

"My Princes you are awaited for dinner as per by request of their majesties the King and Queen." Ser Criston Cole enters to deliver the announcement. Maegor scowls at him but is the first to leave the chambers much to his elder brother's surprise who remains behind, escorted by the knight.

He was as eager for the supper as he was dreading it. Half of him hoped Aemond wouldn't attend and half was dying to see the Prince again. Dying to talk with him and just bask in his presence.

In the hall where the feast is held the gods curse and gift him at the same time. Maegor is seated at the head of the table next to Aemond right across Lucerys and Rhaena. One second son next to the other. Someone was either playing jokes or aiding him, he could not tell. 

Maegor could not help but steal glances from Aemond and when no one else was paying attention he was staring at him shamelessly in front of everyone. 

The One Eyed Prince looks at him once, glancing at him briefly while the main attention was on Viserys entering the hall on a seat carried by several of his guards. Everyone seated at the table stands for the King who keeps his dignity despite his sickness and grunts of agony. Maegor's throat went bone dry but brazenly he maintains the eye contact.

Then Aemond turns away. But he doesn't. He keeps his eyes on the Prince's side profile while the rest of his family is seated back. Maegor shifts in his chair, keeping a proper posture while he observes the rest of the people at the table with a fleeting glance. Most of them either purposely avoid his eyes or they are too engaged in other matters to notice. He does not mind, he only craved the interest of a sole person in this room and he was going to get it.

Maegor meets the eyes of his half brothers and scowls. Jacaerys and Lucerys exchange several lines that he can't hear from his side of his table and then they start quietly chuckling together. They were never going to grow up.

Shameless brats.

Maegor doesn't feel like wasting his energy tonight entertaining the jests of his childish brothers when the source of his burning pyre was seated next to him. He can understand why his mother was sheltering them when the majority of lords and ladies in the Kingdom knew they were bastards. Some wanted them dead, they were dining in this moment with several of those people. As their brother it was one of his duties as well to protect them even with all their fooling around. 

However, tonight duty could wait. Aemond was his most pressing matter and Maegor needed to continue what they silently started in the throne room. He desired Aemond's attention like that on him again. 

Unfortunately, patience never numbered among Maegor's virtues but he kept his facade as best as he could, feigning interest in all the dishes that were brought on the table but not touching any of them. Food was not what he was hungry for.

 Pretending to close his eyes soberly when the Queen held her prayer for Vaemond Velaryon and his guard when in reality he was relieving the rush of the kill and Aemond's expression full of fervor and desire was replaying on and on in his head. 

His father, Daemon in particular seemed to be the most amused during the prayer, not even trying to fake the mildest guilt like he was doing.

 Maegor gripped the edge of the table, eyes still closed and sighed louder than he intended to still himself. He almost forgot that the real Aemond was right next to him. The Prince gave him a curious look but remained silent, choosing to observe his silverhaired nephew instead of speaking to him.

"This is an occasion for celebration it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luke will marry their cousins Baela and Rhaena further strengthening the bond between our houses." the King announces, his voice slightly faltering in clear pain. 

Maegor opens his eyes only when he hears the commotion of toasts pouring for his half brothers, as they are congratulated on their engagements. He feigns interest again, raises a glass in their honor and fakes the ghost of a smile. However, he doesn't feign interests when Aemond begins to steal glances instead. His skin is starting to feel tingly.

"Well done Jace, you finally get to lie with a woman. You do know how the act is done, I assume?" Aegon leans over and whispers in his ears, louder than he probably intended as it reaches to both him and Aemond but neither pay any mind to him. One thing never changed from six years ago - Aegon was still a fool and a drunkard.

"Let us toast as well Prince Lucerys... the future Lord of the Tides." Viserys continues and Luke awkwardly fakes a smile. 

Aemond shifts in his chair - barely noticeable - but Maegor immediately sees the change in his demeanor when the Prince stares down Lucerys. Something dark flashes behind that violet eye but Aemond tries to mask it with a sip of wine from his glass. 

Maegor need not guess what was causing his displeasure. Luke was the one who took out his eye and right now he was being put on a pedestal in front of him. He contemplated starting a conversation with Aemond and offer some kind of distraction but decided otherwise when Viserys staggered and stood up from his chair drawing all attention to him.

"It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in the world yet grown so distant from each other in the years past." The King removes the golden mask, revealing his grotesque face, his flesh eaten all the way to the bone. Everyone's eyes are set on him except for Aemond's who avoids looking at his feeble father.

"Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided." Viserys hits his cane on the floor.

"Set aside your grievances if not for the sake of the crown then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly." The cane thuds louder before the King slumps back in his chair, exhausted. 

Rhaenyra followed, standing and raising her cup to the Queen, extending a peace offering to which Alicent returns it half heartedly. 

Maegor observes everyone with mild interest before he returns to his main interest. He could feel Aemond's uneasiness. It was faint but Daemon trained his perception not just his swordmanship so he managed to pick apart the signs. Maegor's tongue was itching to just tell him something. Anything.

He is successfully interrupted again when Aegon suddenly comes between him and Aemond and hooks an arm around his shoulder, leaning into Maegor's ear.

"What about my favorite nephew? Where is your betrothed? Surely by now you have women throwing themselves at your feet." Maegor clicks his tongue in annoyance but does not engage in Aegon's antagonizing. He shouldn't waste energy on fools.

"Unlike your elder brother I'm certain you know all about how the deed is done." Aegon pressed on, patting Maegor over his back. Aemond sighs in annoyance and shifts further away in his chair to put some distance between him and his elder brother.

"Or maybe you prefer men instead? That's fine too, no shame in that. Just ask Aemond, I personally took him to an establishment when he was 13 to get his wet for the first time. He cried a week straight after that." Aegon laughs in his ear, his wine filled breath hitting his nose.

He tastes blood again.

Spineless fucker how dare you.

Maegor stands up abruptly to face Aegon. They're the same height so his venomous glare easily finds Aegon's alcohol glazed eyes.

"I would invite you to the sparring grounds right now if I didn't know you were too busy emptying wine cups instead of brandishing blades, uncle." It is his turn to lean in Aegon's ear. 

Maegor places his hand on his shoulder, mirroring the gesture and squeezing it in a vice grip until Aegon's mouth twists in obvious displeasure. A clear, blunt threat. If only he would take his invitation so he could obliterate him on the training grounds.

Aemond watches him with interest and a glint in his eye humming in approval at the mentioning of blades.

"A toast for our children." Daemon suddenly clears his voice. His expression is amused but the gaze he holds towards his son is a firm, cold one. Maegor immediately understands and complies, seating himself at the table again. Causing a scene now would cast an ever darker shadow above his family.

Aegon returns to his seat as well irritated. He needed more to drink his humiliation away.

"Aegon enjoys taunting people to get reactions out of them. He just needs to get put back in his place." Maegor suddenly feels a hand on his knee and Aemond's hair brushes against the skin of his cheek as he leans in to whisper in his ear. 

Instinctively he flinches in surprise and snaps his head towards the source, finding himself just inches apart from Aemond. They were practically breathing in eachother's air. His skin was burning again, but Aemond's breaths felt hotter against his face. The scorching heat from where Aemond touched him travelled all the way up to his head making him dazed.

Gods give me strength.

Jace suddenly jumps up, his fists coming in contact with the table. All eyes dart to him in surprise. Maegor bites back his tongue and curses his half brother and that drunkard fool for the interruption. Aegon moved back to his elder brother and Baela to taunt them again with his perverted comments. 

Aemond stands up abruptly. Maegor was suffocating from his earlier gesture but now the tension that was coming off him was even more unbearable. Aemond's violet eye silently stares down Aegon until he returns to his seat, shuffling nervously then it moves to Jacaerys. Maegor's elder brother is equally as uncomfortable, avoiding Aemond's stare and searching for an escape. 

"To Prince Aegon and...Prince Aemond." Jace swallows with an empty mouth. The hesitation and slight pause before mentioning Aemond's name is not missed. 

"We have not seen each other in years but I have fond memories of our shared youth." Jace continues, testing his luck like a fool. He swallows again, realizing those fond memories also referred to the constant taunting Maegor and Aemond endured in their childhood and the loss of the latter's eye.

 "And as men, I hope that we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family's good health, dear uncles." Maegor saw Aemond's jaw tighten and clench. Maegor casts a glance of disapproval to his half brother and thankfully Jace wasn't so dense to press on the matter.

"To you as well." Aegon muttered trying to shift his shoulder away from the hand Jace placed on him. He looked uncomfortable. Maegor smiled under his glass of wine at his discomposure.

All the eyes moved from Jacaerys to Aemond, awaiting for his own response feigning goodwill like everyone else was doing for the past length of this dinner. Aemond scowls, in obvious irritation and avoids the expectant stares of his parents. He was about to make a toast when Maegor's hand brushes against his leg under the table. Aemond's eye blinks in surprise but he  retakes his seat. They exchange fleeting glances, Maegor offering an apologetic look before they resume their cold facades. 

"Well done my boy." Viserys hits his cane in approval.

"Beware the beast beneath the boards." Helaena mumbles drawing Maegor's attention for a brief moment. 

No one else pays mind to her until she stand up to make a toast to Baela and Rhaena. She spent most of her childhood alone, trapped in her own world but Maegor pities her fate that got her tangled with her vile brother. Aegon's preferences were well known in and out of court but he was glad his younger brother was nothing like the failure he was.

Music is ordered to be played. Jacaerys extends his hand to Helaena offering an invitation to dance to which she happily obliges. Aegon initially disregards his wife and mother of his children but then looks dumbfounded as he slowly begins to process his drunken thoughts. He searches for his younger brother to which Aemond just glares back at him coldly. Aegon scoffs and decides the wine is still the best company for him.

"I was wondering if you would indulge me with that promised sparring session one of these days, uncle." Maegor taps against the table with his fingers. Aemond's head immediately turns to him and he swears he sees the ghost of a smirk against his lips for a moment. Or maybe he was just going mad.

"Ah yes. I shall keep my promise. I always do." Aemond hums touching Maegor's wine cup with his own before sipping some of the drink. For once tonight it would seem he was less irritated. 

Maegor's heart swoops with victory at the thought that he was the only one in the room Aemond seemed content interacting with without displaying hostile behavior. A genuine smile is returned to the older Prince and for a moment the violet eye seems to soften in response. 

Suddenly the exhausted King is carried back to his chambers by his guards at the same time more plates with food are brought in by the servants. A steaming, juicy roasted pig is settled right in front of the two of them. Aemond's fingers twitch and his violet eye no longer carries any softness. 

Behold the Pink Dread. 

The voices echo through Maegor's mind and he is certain they are likely overwhelming Aemond as well. Before him, the older Prince was the main target of all the pranks and taunting, that was until he claimed Vhagar. No one dared to talk back at him after he became the rider of a conqueror's dragon. Aemond turns his head towards the nearest wall and avoids looking at the main course.

Lucerys suddenly chuckles staring right at them from across the table. 

It was enough to make Aemond's head snap towards the source of the irritating noise. He stares him down but Luke continues to snicker in defiance just like he did years ago when he went down in the dragon pit and brought Aemond that fucking pig for him to ride.

Maegor shoots a glare to his younger brother, urging him silently to stop but if anything it only riles him up even more. Somehow it was more hilarious to his younger half brother that he was seated next to Aemond. 

A fist comes crashing against the table as Aemond jumps up, gaining everyone's attention and surprise. 

"Final tribute." Aemond states sharply. Darkness flashes against his features and Maegor could almost taste his rage on the tip of his tongue.

"To the health of my nephews." Aemond feigns calmness but the twitch of his fingers against his wine cup says otherwise.

"Jace." A violet eye stares Jacaerys down who shares a puzzled and wary look with Maegor then with Lucerys. Jace silently asks Maegor to intervene before it's too late.

"Luke and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise… hmm…" Aemond continues in a collected manner and stops briefly as if searching for an appropriate adjective. Maegor knew what was going to follow and tapped the table to gain his attention, practically begging him silently to stop.

"Strong." Aemond doesn't stop.

"Aemond." Alicent Hightower warned, faintly shaking her head in disapproval but he blatantly ignores her.

"Come. Let us drain our cups to these three." The Prince raises his wine cup higher to which Aegon mirrors his gesture, joining him in amusement but he probably was already too drunk to realize the severity of the situation.

Maegor sucks in a nervous breath and places his hand on Aemond's leg under the table like he did earlier, urging him to stop.

"Strong boys." Aemond concludes satisfied with himself. He does not comply to Maegor's silent plead but he does not slap his hand away either.

"I dare you to say that again." Jacaerys warns, his fists curled in rage. His body is tensed up but he holds his head lower as if he knows the balance of power between them.

"Why? Twas' only a compliment." Aemond questions, masquerading his innocence before he shifts away from Maegor's touch to advance towards Jace.

Maegor stands up immediately sensing the tension that was brewing and was about to be unleashed. He was conflicted about his options. The urge to defend his family for it was his duty was battling the instinctive urge to defend Aemond. 

"Do you not think yourself Strong?" Jacaerys throws the first punch but Aemond barely staggers. Maegor freezes up.

"Jace!" He hears his mother shout and he bristles up but he can't act without remaining neutral. 

 Lucerys jumps up to charge after Aemond but is swiftly slammed face first against the table by Aegon who clearly had a streak for going after those weaker than him. The drunkard's force makes Luke's vision cloud for a moment and it was the trigger Maegor needed to pick a side and intervene.

Aemond shoves Jacaerys roughly against the floor and chuckles in response of the grunt filled rage he receives in return when the guards manage to hold him back.  

"That is enough!" The Queen demands with no avail. 

Maegor darts besides Aemond, hitting him against his shoulder and making him slightly falter on his feet in surprise. Maegor lunges at Aegon offering an escape to Luke who is dragged by the guards as well. He flanks him from his side until Aegon is painfully slammed with his back against the floor where Maegor pins him down in a vice grip.

Aemond looks pleased by his doings, observing the chaos that was unfolding before his eye.

"Why would you say such a thing before these people!?" The Queen demands in desperation. She really thought a single dinner had the potential to heal all the wounds along years of bitterness.  Aemond scoffs at her. 

"I was merely expressing how proud I am of our family, mother. Hmm, though it seems most of my nephews aren't aren't quite as proud of theirs." The One Eyed Prince is not quite done yet but Maegor hears how he accentuated most.  Almost imperceptible but clearly referring to him. A silent refusal to place him in the same pot as his half brothers. Respect and acknowledgement and perhaps something more.

Rhaenyra moves next to her children to soothe them down but Jace and Luke start struggling against the guards again at the fresh offense thrown in their faces. 

"Wait, wait!" Daemon intervenes at last, lifting an arm towards his step sons and it is enough to stop them from charging after Aemond. They obey him immediately and he herds them back to their mother silently with his commanding presence alone. Maegor turns his head to his father briefly, easing his grip against Aegon momentarily.

The drunkard takes advance of the distraction and spits in Maegor's face, kicking his shin in a poor attempt at breaking loose.  

He sees red. 

All the fire triggered by Aemond earlier turned into blinding rage again.

"I killed a man today. Don't make me kill a second." Maegor growls in Aegon's face as his hands move from the the collar of his tunic where they were curled in fists to wrap around his throat. He hears gasps of shock but he ignores them until he feels a familiar burning gaze on him.

 There's an itch Maegor feels as if Aemond is silently daring him to try. Daring him to kill someone in front of him again. It was tempting.

It takes Daemon to grab him by the back of his collar and yank him off Aegon to put an end to his thoughts and drive him too next to his half brothers. Maegor curls his lip in anger but complies. 

"Go to your quarters. All of you go now!" Rhaenyra demands, exhausted and irritated. It was a long day and she was having none of it anymore. 

At the command, Jace, Luke and their betrothed shamefully return to their chambers with their mother following closely behind to make sure they would obey. 

Maegor doesn't follow, standing next to his father that was certain to scold him after all this was finished. Daemon stands tall with a seemingly amused smile on his lips, staring down Aemond in silence. He was the one daring Aemond to try anything now with eyes full of disdain but the Prince just hums in response feigning interest. The air was tense between them and Maegor could just hope Aemond was wise enough to not start an offense against his father as well.

Thankfully, Aemond gives in first, choosing to leave instead of antagonize. His hand lightly brushes against Maegor's unseen when he departs. A silent invitation.  

Maegor doesn't take his eye off his back and how his long silver hair sways when he exits the hall. The rush was already fogging his thoughts. There was only a thin line of reason left in his brain that was stopping him from chasing after Aemond right under Daemon's nose.

"Go to your chambers. Enough ruckus for one night." His father commands in an exhausted voice but there's a certain look in his eyes that his son can't figure out. Maegor nods and disappears swiftly not waiting to see if any scolding would follow.  Wandering aimlessly in the hallways, he finds himself in front of his chamber. 

Maegor stops in front of the door and contemplates his choices for a moment. The hour was late, most were surely sleeping including Jace with whom he shared the room. Certainly his older brother would not mind his absence.

 He decides to go against Daemon's words in the end and makes his way towards the sparring grounds with the intention to blow steam off and clear his head. Tonight he made progress with Aemond but Maegor was still not satisfied. 

The training grounds are quiet and empty like he expected them to be. Solitude was sometimes his greatest aid in times of uncertainty such as these. 

Nightbringer is unsheated with a sharp sound and Maegor closes his eyes. He begins his dance, striking invisible foes down with his blade certain he was the only one outside at this hour. The night air is crisp and cold on his scorching skin. It soothes Maegor.

"Like I said, I always keep my promises." A familiar voice makes him stop abruptly with a stagger. Aemond reveals himself from the dark with a slight smirk on his lips. His violet eye is blazing.

He tastes fire.

Maegor throat is bone dry. He does not utter a word, just nods in response, accepting the sparring invitation. He tries to straighten his body and retake a proper posture fit for a warrior. Embarassing himself in front of the older Prince would be the last thing he does. 

Aemond unsheathes his own sword and allows his nephew to make the first move. They begin to move freely in unison, dancing as steel clashes against steel. The sound of metal echoes through the training grounds. 

Maegor touches heaven at last. The force of the power displayed is enough to make him dizzy with bliss. The only thing that keeps him grounded are the heavy strikes of his opponent meant to disarm him to which he responds with equal strength. Neither of the Princes had any intention of yielding to each other. Which each strike of steel their breaths become heavier, their movements slowing down with tiredness but just as relentless as they were in the beginning. Maegor was getting more than a little excited.

With a deep inhale and the rush of renewed energy, Maegor twists his body and surges forward after a particular heavy strike. He uses the short window of time and comes from his blind eye, mirroring Aemond's move that assured his victory in front of Ser Criston Cole earlier at their reunion. 

The older Prince stops in surprise when he feels the cold kiss of Nightbringer under his chin, threatening to bite his skin open. Maegor holds a victorious gaze full of confidence and he feels his spine set ablaze. 

Aemond smiles and yields in defeat sheathing his blade and raising his hands in defeat. There's a strange spark in his violet eye that peaks Maegor's curiosity and lures him in like a fly to a spider's web. 

Nightbringer is removed from Aemond's throat and Maegor barely has time to sheathe it when he is suddenly grasped by the collar of his tunic and pulled upwards. His uncle slams his lips against his own in the heat of the moment. It only lasts a few seconds as they both pulled away equally as stunned by Aemond's actions.

The air no longer feels crisp. It's burning. It's scorching his lungs painfully so. He cannot breathe and it feels like he is dying.

 They exchange a brief stare that feels like hours, a war of confliction raging in both of them before Maegor decided to act first this time. He went after Aemond, catching his face in his hand and pressing his lips against him in a tentative and inexperienced kiss, rising his body on his tiptoes to be able to reach him. The older Prince immediately reciprocates and they shift from the middle of the courtyard to the nearest wall where Aemond takes lead and presses Maegor with his back against it. The kiss is quickly deepened when Aemond's hands find their way inside the other's tunic and Maegor shamelessly moans in his mouth like a man starved all his life. 

He knew it was utterly lost and broken at that moment. There was no going back now for either of them. 

It takes every ounce of strength for Maegor to keep himself standing and not crumble down like a castle of sand when they paused briefly to gasp for air. He takes his time and observes Aemond's face from close proximity. Maegor's fingers trace his features slowly, hesitantly touching the tip of his scar. Aemond allows him, studying his face with a soft gaze. 

The fingers trace higher until they hit the edge of the leather eyepatch. Maegor pauses then advances boldly, touching softly the tender tissue under the eyepatch until he finds the glassy surface of what feels like a polished stone.  The gasp he manages to draw out of Aemond's quivering lips hits him right in the depths of his core. 

"From the moment I met you I always knew you were a true dragon, not like those bastards you call brothers." Aemond closes every bit of space between them and leans his head down so he can press his mouth against his nephew's neck.

"Is that true uncle? Would you let me burn you then?" Maegor smiles victoriously, renewed with a new kind of boldness and confidence he never experienced before. He shivers at the heat that was coming off from Aemond. 

"Would you let me burn you until the wind scatters your ashes and fills my lungs with your being?" Aemond groans loudly at the thought and grips Maegor's slender waist with both of his hands as if he had to hold onto something so he wouldn't falter.

He was making Aemond feel like this. It was him alone and no one else. All the bottled up tension from the past day finally spilled over in the best ways possible.

"We shall burn each other like we were always meant to do." The One Eyed Prince whispers, only for them to hear. He inhales deeply the scent of his nephew with a loud sigh.

It was paradise. Maegor no longer held any doubts that Aemond did not reciprocate the feelings and fire that was scorching him. 

Both men were branding their minds with every possible sensation of their beings. It could be years until they saw each other again. It could be the last time they ever saw each other.

 They stay like that for a few moments longer in each other's arm, basking in the heat, craving the scorching touch until Aemond uses all of his willpower and straightens up with a silent sigh and an apologetic look in his eye. 

Maegor understands. If anyone caught them after the events that unfolded during dinner earlier it could bring more unwanted consequences on both of their families. These crumbs that were hastily thrown had to sate their craving for the time being.

Aemond turns to take his leave reluctantly.

"I always keep my promises. Do not forget that." He stops and gives Maegor one last look before departing to his chambers as quick as his walk allowed because he was certain if he stayed a moment longer, if he stole another glance it would be impossible to leave. 

Maegor leans back and groans in frustration, sliding down against the stone wall until he finds himself sitting on the ground. The leather pants he was wearing were painfully tight and his mind was in a haze. Aemond was his greatest sin.

We shall burn each other like we were always meant to do.

Everything inside him was howling in both delight and irritation. Dragonless or not the vigor inside him could allow him to slay through an army of men at that moment. He was certain of it.

Somewhere from the cover of balcony, unbeknownst to anyone, a pair of eyes closely watched the two Princes with a glare of scorn.

#aemond-targaryen #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #daemon #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen #aegon targaryen #haelena targaryen #hotd #asoiaf #hotd aemond #got #game of thrones #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #smut #fanfiction #smut fic #mine #original character #targaryen #targcest #love is the death of duty

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart   Chapter 15

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Story Summary: After fire claimed the lives of your family, the monastery of your Uncle Carden becomes your new home. As the niece of a priest you are expected to behave prim and proper, but not even the watchful eyes of the Weeping Monk can see all. An ancient magic returns to life when love and duty begin to blur.

Chapter Title: A Dream Of Fire

Notes: Very exhausted. Hope i’m posting this right.

Warnings: There’s a list of warnings for this story: Murder. Violence. Death. Angst. Sexism. Strong Language. Trauma. Childhood trauma. Survivor’s guilt. Mentions of child maltreatment. Threat of Sexual assault. PTSD. Misogyny, Self-flagellation. Gore.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Pining. Smut. Spicy content. Little Slow-burn.

Word count of this fic: +120K

Chapter:  15 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

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The ride was long, half a day had passed by the time the three of you had reached the forest Gawain had told you some things about.

Legend told that this forest was born of Fey magic, the sort of magic that was ancient.

Those with ill intend would not find it safe to wander these woods, the forest could sense it the moment one stepped foot inside.

It was quiet frightening and intriguing all at once.

“Wait.” You made Gawain halt “Is it safe for Manbloods?”

Lancelot deadpanned “We are about to find out.”

Gawain scolded him but held back a chuckle all the same “Lancelot, don’t scare the girl.”

Oh, the will to tease him right back was strong.

With the perfect pout, you leaned back more into Gawain’s form to seek ‘protection’ “Will the trees not wish to hurt me?”

The cheeky smirk vanished from the Ash Man’s face.

He knew you were just doing it to get back at him for messing with you.

Still…

He had never thought he would feel a sting of possessiveness. To see you close to another…No. it definitely stung.

The Green Knight fell for it a bit, he did not know you so well yet “Of course not. Don’t listen to the dolt over there.”

This time the Ash Man did let out a scoff he’d been holding back “Do not be fooled, Green Knight, she is not as innocent and helpless as she pretends to be.”

Your sly smirk was met with a certain look from Lancelot that made your blood run a little faster.

It was as if Goliath sensed his impatience as the horse began to step forward and backwards.

Gawain gestured with his hand to him “After you.”

Finally Goliath was allowed to trot ahead.

At first everything seemed normal. A bird landed on a bush full of berries nearby.

That bird… it was the most colorful one you had ever seen in your life. Then the flowers came into sight and their beauty was just unbelievable.

The deeper you went into the forest, the more beautiful it became, you even saw deer and fawns with flowers growing from their antlers.

When passing under a tree bearing fruit, you plucked a piece off to study the strange fruit.

It was a dark orange color with some red and it smelled very sweet “What is this?”

Lancelot could smell it from behind him “A pear.”

You mumbled “It doesn’t look like a pear.”

Gawain suggested “Taste it.”

The strange appearance of the fruit had you call out to Lancelot for a second opinion “Is it edible?”

At that question, he turned Goliath around and circled you, taking the ‘pear’ from your hands.

He took a bite of it to prove that it was edible before handing it back to you.

A frown formed on your face “You could have just said ‘yes’.”

Someone sounded grumpy…

He steered Goliath to walk next to the mare “Ah, yes. I almost forgot how foul your mood can become when you are hungry.”

Alright…that might have been true.

You send him a side-eyed look while tasting the pear, it did taste really good.

Gawain wished to inform the former Monk of his ill manners “I would be in a foul mood too if my meal had been in someone else’s mouth.”

You could just see it in Lancelot’s eyes that he was holding back a witty remark in response to that.

He wouldn’t dare, would he?

The Ash Man pretended to take the lesson to heart, albeit with a slight grin “I see your point. I apologize, y/n.”

While remembering how you had once not minded having his mouth were it should not have been…

You couldn’t look at his face, that tone had not been apologetic, it held a charm that could not be misunderstood.

Gawain jested “We’ll get him to be more well-mannered. Don’t worry.”

Your cheeky reply came while letting your gaze roll over the man who continued to make your heart beat faster “That’s not necessary. I like him the way he is.”

The knight wasn’t really surprised to hear it, the two of you kept circling around each other with words and wits and the Ash Man couldn’t keep his eyes off of you “Oh?”

Lancelot had straightened his back at the compliment “I share the sentiment, Lady y/n.”

You stole one more shy glance, then looked around the forest a bit more.

For a while, the three of you enjoyed the silence and beauty of the forest. There were some birds signing in a way that you had never heard before, soft like little bells.

The next thing you got hold of was a flower that grew on the bark of a tree.

It was rather small and a bright blue color that reminded you of another striking blue nearby.

The Ash Man caught it almost too late “Gawain!”

The flower was snatched from your fingers and tossed away by Gawain “What was that for?!?”

Gawain took hold of your hand and inspected your palm “It burns the skin if held against it too long.”

Lancelot got closer to view your hand as well “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head “It just tingles.”

He taught you about the flower “That is how it’s begins. In the right hands, medicine can be made of it. In the wrong hands…”

You concluded “Skin gets burned. Got it, I’ll keep my hands to myself until I know more of this forest.”

He warned Gawain of your tendency to get yourself into trouble “You should consider binding her hands with ropes if you wish for her to stick to her own advice.”

It rolled out of your mouth “I’ve been bound by ropes enough these past weeks. Thank you very much.”

Both men shared a look, neither daring to jest about it.

The rest of the ride included similar squabbling and teasing, but you did keep your hands to yourself.

  When arriving at the city’s gate, all of you dismounted. The gates were being opened and a small crowd stood there to watch while others ignored it and went on about their daily business.

Right away you could feel the stares and feared all of them knew of your connection to your uncle.

You were reluctant to walk among the people.

Lancelot noticed “What is it?”

It was a panicked whisper “I’m not Fey. And I’m the niece of the person who has done this to them.”

Gawain had went over to one of the Faun archers who stood ready and returned with a cloak.

It was handed to you and you put it on without questioning it.

Lancelot adjusted the hood of your cloak to cover you more “You are forgetting what is most important.”

What would that be?

His gaze rolled over your form quick as a brush of wind “You are with me. If anyone has objections, they can bring them to me.”

Gawain chimed in “And to me. All who aid or believe in the Fey are welcome here.”

As the three of you walked into the city, you noticed that even Lancelot still looked quite timid to be there. You walked between them, letting the hood of the cloak shield you from the inquisitive looks that were aimed at you.

A man and woman approached, Manblood by the looks of it.

Lancelot took it upon himself to introduce the pair to you “This is Arthur and Red Spear.”

Arthur blurted out the information that they had forgotten to share with him upon seeing you “She’s a nun?”

Great, now more people were staring.

Gawain let out a sigh “It was a coverage to protect herself from being forced into marriage by the priest.”

Arthur awkwardly uttered “Oh.”

Red Spear ignored the idiot and formally introduced herself, she had a voice that carried power and authority “I am the Red Spear, exile of the court of Cumber the Ice King, a court now under siege by traitors. And Captain of the strongest ship that sails the seas, You must be y/n.”

You nodded, a bit intimidated. For someone so dangerous looking, she was also quite beautiful.

It led to the peculiar exchange.

You spoke to her “I am. It’s nice to meet you.” the nerves had you blurting out “You’re really pretty.”

She did not expect that sort of reply, especially not from a stranger.

Fantastic, now even they were looking at you strangely.

Well, it was too late to take it back and it would be rude and a lie to say it wasn’t so.

Gawain turned to Lancelot “You were right. She is braver than she pretends to be.”

Red Spear shot a glare and silenced both, then turned to you and gave a very quickly spoken “Thank you.”

It was all she said before abruptly leaving the group.

Arthur commented on it “Last time I tried to compliment her, she took it as an insult.”

Gawain couldn’t hold his tongue “Not everyone falls for your charms, Manblood.”

Arthur disagreed “Maybe not at first, but everyone has a weak spot for flattery and I will find it.”

Lancelot hid the fact that he had rolled his eyes “Do not let Arthur fool you, y/n. He is better with the sword than with words.”

You gawked at Lancelot who had somehow both complimented and insulted Arthur.

The Manblood retorted “Says the man who’s been a monk all his life.”

The lecture fell from you “Being a monk doesn’t mean that you can’t charm someone, only that is it frowned upon.”

Those weeping eyes had darted from you to the ground.

The cheeky Manblood gestured to you “Same with nuns, is it not? And here you are, charming us with your presence. Don’t worry, I won’t frown.”

Both Fey men beside you let out a disgruntled sigh at the blatant attempt at flirtation from the Manblood.

You ignored the attempt, already guessing you were one of the many who received his compliments.

It made you blurt out “I really need to find other clothes to wear.”

Gawain turned to Lancelot “Go on and help her get settled in.”

He appreciated the excuse given to get you away from a flirting Arthur.

Lancelot touched the back of your arm “Come on, there are some people who have been asking about you.”

  You were led into a large building, it must have once resembled a castle more and repairs were being made to the outside. Once inside, it did not look bad at all.

He guessed your line of thought “We are working on fortifying it. It is our mission to return this city to it’s former glory, a place where the Fey can find safety and flourish.”

The Ash Man missed how you were looking at him with admiration and pride.

A large door was pushed open by him and leaded into a dinning hall where children were, upon hearing the doors open the group looked away from the Faun woman teaching them how to read. Their attention left you rather quickly again, except the attention of two children.

Percival saw the chance to avoid being tutored and ran up to you, stopping just before bumping into you “Y/n! You’re here! I knew he’d bring you to us too!”

You pulled the boy into an embrace and purposely ruffled through that wild hair of his.

Percival scrambled to get away, but it was all a facade.

Seeing the lively boy brought joy to your heart “Look at you, you’ve grown since we last spoke.”

And he was wearing the scarf you had given him.

The boy beamed with pride at the words.

Grown? Oh, how you knew exactly what to say to charm the young spirited knight.

Lancelot had another surprise up his sleeve “Percival, why don’t you introduce your new friend to her?”

Percival ran back towards the group and knelt down momentarily to speak to a girl, after that she followed him back to you.

You instantly recognized the curly haired girl as she stopped in front of you “Neia!”

And Neia recognized you too, her small arms locked around your waist “Y/n…”

It felt like she did not want to let go of you ever again “How are you, sweetling? Are they kind to you here?”

Neia did not let go while nodding and quietly answering “Percival is nice.”

The boy had been rather protective over the young girl ever since they had met and since the girl was very shy and barely spoke, Percival took it upon himself to be her voice.

You couldn’t help but share a smile with Lancelot who was clearly proud of the boy he was guiding through life.

You knelt before the girl, barely able to pry her hands from you to take them in yours “You play together?”

She nodded, eyes holding a careful happiness “Every day.”

Percival did not stray far from Neia’s side and pulled some tiny pebbles from his pockets to show “We play with these, we draw a circle on the ground and every time one lands in the circle, we make the circle smaller. If it lands outside the circle, you have to skip your next turn and give the stone to the other. The one who throws their stone in the last circle wins. But If you run out of stones, you lose.”

They sounded so enthusiastic about their time playing together, no wonder these two were friends even if she was younger.

Lancelot chimed in lightheartedly “He also uses those stones for other purposes.”

Percival was quick to put them back in his pocket while Neia giggled.

That got you curious “Such as what?”

The Sky Folk Knight squinted his eyes at the Ash Man who was seconds away from spilling all his wrongdoings to you.

It did not stop him from telling you what the boy had been up to “Certain people here often feel something hitting them and believe it is the spirits of those who lived here before us that haunt the city.”

Percival peeked up at you through his lashes.

You couldn’t resist “Well, they should be glad someone is throwing pebbles at the ghosts who would otherwise haunt them. I’m sure Percival did not mean to hit them too.”

Both children grinned at each other.

Lancelot send you a look, then gestured to the group that were still listening to their teacher and gently steered the boy by the vest towards them “Return to your lessons. Go on.”

Percival protested “But it’s boring.”

You hoped the woman teaching them had not heard “Don’t say that, Percival. It’s not nice. That woman is trying to teach you something really important.”

The boy huffed but gave in “Alright.”

It was Neia who dragged him back towards the group “Come on.”

You watched them scurry off together until you felt something on your back.

Lancelot had placed his hand there to get your attention “Walk with me, I will show you where you can change clothing and freshen up if you please.”

That was an offer you took with open arms “Gladly.”

  You were led into a room that was seperated into two parts by a large curtain hanging close to the middle.

He walked passed you to open the curtain and reveal a space created just for cleaning oneself. A closet held some items of clothing and linen to use.

It had been a while since you had been able to look after your appearance and you were searching the closet for things to wear.

He hoped he had not forgotten something important, his knowledge on what women often wore was limited “Anything you wish to have is yours. I have inquired with others what you could need, but if I have missed something be sure to let me know.”

You had already fished out a dress that felt very soft “I think I have everything I need. Thank you. This dress looks nice.”

His head tilted, eyes fixed on how you held the dress in front of yourself to see how it would look “There is a mirror behind you.”

Oh?

Upon turning around, there was indeed a long mirror in the corner.

He halted you for a moment and took off your cloak for you, then let you go to the mirror.

After a quick look, you decided on wearing the dress.

When you began to undo the tunic you wore, he was quick to head for the door but you called him back “You can stay if you want. I am wearing an undergown under this.”

It was ridiculous how looking away and fleeing was so hammered into him still.

You did not let yourself appear shy now “And I need to speak to you.”

Why was it that those words caused him distress?

The tunic was discarded and you were left in the white undergown. You took a clean piece of cloth, wetted it in the bowl of water and began to wash your face “It’s about your family.”

It had his full attention “What is it that you wish to tell me?”

You slowly started to tell him “Before you and Gawain saved me in the forest, I met an elder Moon Wing called ‘Yeva’. She sensed the mark on me and spoke of your people.”

He stepped closer, listening intensely “I have heard of the name. It is known that she possesses certain abilities.”

You dragged the cloth over your neck “She does. She knew things she could not have known otherwise. Does the name ‘Ban’ sound familiar at all?”

When no answer came, you turned to see him with closed eyes and facing away from you.

Immediately you stopped washing up and dried your skin quickly before walking over to him.

He barely kept his composure at the sound of the name. The whispers he was taught to ignore came to him and fed him memories long forgotten.

It was almost cruel of them, of these voices to make him remember what he’d lost.

The Hidden, that was what the Fey called them. Even the Green Knight knew not all about the way they could haunt him.

Lancelot gave a shallow nod, not finding his voice or fearing how terribly it would waver.

You brushed a hand over his back “I’m so sorry-”

It came out quickly “What did she tell you?”

While rubbing over his back and shoulder, you told him the truth about what was learned “That you are the son of Ban, the Ashen King.”

King?!?

The vague memory of a face that the name had caused did not leave him anymore.

Blue eyes, Ashen marks and a beard. A calm and wise presence.

His father. His kin. His past.

And there was more The Hidden had returned to him. The faces and names of a woman and a boy who bore the same marks that he did.

Sorrow was overtaking him “King?”

It must be a shock for him to hear this “You were born a prince. I am so sorry, Lancelot, she told me you were to only one who survived.”

Why only him? Why?

There was anger in his tone, aimed at the one who chose him and left his other kin to die “I had a brother, Hector, I can remember his face now.” the feeling of Father’s cruel actions only fueled his fury “And a mother, Elaine.”

The change in him was visible to you, the sorrow and fury blended together and caused the storm no person should ever have to experience.

Grief.

He stepped away, eyes avoiding yours, thoughts lost in the storm that roared inside of him.

When he wanted to pass by you, you stepped in his path and took hold of his shoulders “Breath, Lancelot. Please!”

He moved your hands from him, still not meeting your eyes “You cannot understand!”

It was not his intention to hurt you, you knew that, but you did remind him that you understood “I too have have lost my family-”

You didn’t get the chance to reason with him, he had grabbed and pulled you to him and you found yourself in the arms of a man who’s heart had been broken once again.

The embrace was so tight and strong that you believed he’d never let go again, his face was buried into your neck. You could feel his fingers lock into the fabric of your undergown.

And from the corner of your eyes, you could see the flame of one of the candles in the room get a green hue as it restlessly moved back and forth.

Yeva had spoken of the power that ran through his veins, of the legacy of the Fey Fire and the destruction it could cause if not kept under control.

What started with one candle, soon happened to all. But this was not the time for Fey Fire to be born, not like this, not when it was born from his pain.

By cupping his cheek and tilting your head back a bit, you made him look at you, the second you had his attention you brushed the tears away with your thumb.

He was visibly uncomfortable to have you see him like this.

But you continued to place your hand on the side of his neck and let your fingers massage the spot, whispering “Just breath.”

The discomfort and shame began to fade from his expression.

You slowly moved your fingers to his face again, letting the tips of them trace along those ashen markings down his jaw.

The small gesture was perhaps the most intimate and meaningful action he’d experienced thus far. It was quieting the storm inside of him when you continued to let your fingers touch his face like he was something worth of wonderment to you.

Your eyes locked on his “I wish I knew what to say that could bring you some comfort, just know that I do want to give you that. It’s so unspeakably hard to carry such grief, know that I am here when you need me. Day or night. Always.”

It had never truly hit him until now how similar your grief was, both left without parents, both turned to each other to find comfort and distraction from the loss.

Something in the embrace changed, he held you a little differently.

It had been intentional, that became clear when he brought his forehead to yours.

The mark on your arm was tingling, like it was a warning for what was yet to come.

He cupped your neck and let himself be carried away by a heart’s desire.

It was the second time a kiss was shared between you, this one carried no haste.

He sought union and closeness, one sensation to drown out all others, craved to feel you close.

All the nervousness he was so prone to feeling washed out of him like a tidal wave.

You’d never experienced the devotion before that he had to caress your lips with his in such a manner that it felt like you were tasting life itself on them, it was home and it was warm and safe.

He sealed it with a lingering peck to them, like his lips had just made a promise to yours.

You couldn’t fully believe that just happened, thankfully he was still holding on because that kiss had weakened your legs.

The flames of the candles had returned to their original colors.

It left you in a daze and led to the admission “Heaven, I have missed you.”

His hand followed the curve of your neck down to your shoulder “And I you.”

This was not just infatuation, it ran deeper than you ever thought was possible.

Lancelot glanced down, his brow shot up involuntarily, than his eyes fixed on your face again “I should let you continue to freshen up.”

You hummed and threw the question at him “Am I too smelly at the moment for you?”

The truth came out with a smile while he let go “Believe me when I say that your sweat does not work repellent to me.”

Now it was you who arched a brow, but he wouldn’t comment further on it.

He stepped back and folded his hands behind him and while he was making those two steps backwards, you could have sworn his gaze drifted over your form.

It happened so subtly that you wondered how many times he had done it before and you’d missed it.

You couldn’t fight the smile you had now “Now that you have names, perhaps others can tell you more about them. Maybe Gawain?”

It sounded like a plan “I shall ask.”

With a cheeky grin, you teased “Remember how I once said that I deserved a prince or king if I could not have a handsome monk?”

He let out a warm chuckle and coyly replied “I do. I fear you will have to settle for a monk.” after a short pause he corrected himself “-or former monk.”

You picked the wet cloth up again and continued to clean up your neckline “I am not ‘settling’. I don’t care as long as it is you.”

He evaded your gaze for a second, than met it again “The Fey will never accept me as a prince or king after everything I have done. I have no right to claim the title, I am not worthy of it.”

The cloth moved over your arm now and you could see his attention be drawn to it every so often “The fact that you are here among them now, and still alive, means they are willing to give you a chance. No one knows what the future could bring. Tell me, how has it been for you here?”

There was a quiet sigh and he tried to put the experience into words “Difficult. I am trying to find my place among them.” he strolled around the room a little “The longer I am among them, the more I struggle to fight against the magic that resides in me. I used to have it under control, I avoided using it, that mark I gave you was one of the few times I did.”

You dried yourself with a clean linen towel “Yeva spoke of the power your father possessed, said you could have inherited it. She said you should not fear it. The Ash Folk were the ones who could create Fey Fire, Ban was capable of creating Fey Fire that burned for weeks.”

Was this part of his legacy as an Ash Man?

It worried him to hear it “How can I not fear it? If this power goes beyond my control, I could burn this city without ever intending to.”

The towel was placed next to the bowl by you “Gawain spoke of this girl, Nimue, the Wolf Blood Witch. It means he has some knowledge of Fey magic, tell him, he could help.”

Lancelot gave a nod “I will speak to him.” he pointed at a bruise on your elbow “May I ask what happened during your captivity under the Abbot’s order?”

You were quite bitter about the whole ordeal “I was bait to lure you. The bastard left me to starve for days. They kept me in a tent, the camp was riddled with paladins and Trinity guards. I had tried to escape before, I guess that is why they decided to teach me a lesson when Gawain and you came to my aid.”

He was quiet for a moment, the question sounded rather cautious “Did they hurt you in other ways?”

It confused you “Other ways? Like insults? No, not really. They didn’t say much.”

A woman held captive inside a tent for two weeks in a camp filled with ruthless men, anything could have happened.

Lancelot weighed his words, hoping to be more transparent with what he had meant “Did they… keep to the vow?”

Oh…

So that was what he meant with being hurt in ‘other ways’…

Thankfully, that had not been the case “Nothing of the sorts happened.”

It was a great relief to hear that you had been spared from such monstrosities.

You looked back at the bowl with water “I am grateful for the opportunities I am getting here. I just wish I could bathe completely, I miss that.”

It was an understandable wish to have.

He thought for a moment “It would be simpler to bathe in the river while it is still fine weather. No running around with buckets to fill a bath.”

One thing concerned you “Is there a spot at this river that is a little hidden from sight?”

He eased your mind “There is. I can show you tomorrow if you wish?”

It had you enthusiastic “Yes, please. I’d prefer not going alone.”

With an inclination of his head, he vowed to accompany you “It will be a short walk. Remember to take some clothing along and a towel.”

The plan was made and you looked forward to tomorrow “I will, thank you. You can be really sweet sometimes.”

There was a mutter “Sometimes…”

You picked up the dress you had chosen “And you would be even sweeter if you stayed for a moment longer and helped close this dress for me after I put it on.”

The dress was nice, unfortunately it was one of those that required to be closed by laces in the back and your wrists were sore from having been bound by rope a lot.

His answer came a bit slower, but no less eager “I will gladly offer assistance.”

Oh, heaven. Why did he have to sound so alluring and charming?

The atmosphere took a turn when you started to put on the dress.

Little by little, you had seen the confidence in him grow. He didn’t look away as quickly anymore and you were starting to catch him stealing glances often.

It was quite flattering to catch his attention without trying.

When you were ready, you called him over with a motion of your hand.

He went to stand behind you and took a moment to figure out how to actually help close this “Why would they make this so complicated?”

You giggled at that “Because it looks nice?”

He had to agree “It does indeed.”

It surely wasn’t to rush him “Especially when closed.”

He tsked “Patience.”

Feeling him fumble with the dress caused only more giggling from you.

Then you felt him touch your back intently and it tickled so much that you tried to get away.

The cheeky twit held on to the laces and prevented you from fleeing “I am not done with you yet.”

It had you biting your lip to prevent a sound from coming out of your mouth.

At least he was making progress and soon he reached the last inches.

He made an effort to end it with a bow instead of just a knot, sounding a little proud of his work “This dress compliments you.”.

No one else would ever know that he was looking down along your back.

As you smiled back at him over your shoulder at the compliment, that striking blue met your gaze instantly “No one has ever kissed me the way you have done today.” the jest fell “Did you practice while I was gone or something?”

There was a slight shake of his head, smirk growing “Did I do so well that it makes you suspicious?”

You hummed and looked ahead again, feigning pensiveness.

His hot breath touched the shell of your ear, voice a husk “I had a good teacher, remember?”

It was hard not to be prideful “Ah, yes. That’s right.”

He took hold of your shoulders, giving them a squeeze “All done.”

You went over to the mirror again and turned to see his work “Someone has experience with lacing.”

He made the comparison “It is just a different sort of ropes.”

It earned a laugh and you made a little twirl to show off “You did well. Thank you.”

He gestured to the door “Am I free to leave?”

With a scoff you told him “You always were, you twit.”

The little bow he made was comical.

Before leaving, he informed “The room is yours.”

It slipped out of your thoughts “And where is yours?”

There was a tug at the corner of his mouth when he saw you make yourself get flustered by blurting out the inquiry “End of this hall, last door on the right.”

The smile you send him must have given away your thoughts “Alright.”

He opened the door and took one step outside “You are free to explore the city, although I would prefer you did not do so alone. The people were…uneasy with my arrival. Some might be uneasy with yours as well.”

It would take time to earn their trust “I understand. I think I will just rest today, if that is alright? I haven’t slept much in quite some time.”

It did not need asking “Of course. Then I must warn you, Percival’s room is next to yours and he is not the quiet type. I will tell him not the disturb you today so you can recover.”

You gave a grateful nod “And what while you occupy yourself with?”

He leaned against the door frame “Helping the Red Spear and Gawain. It is quite time consuming to prevent them from acting to rash at times.”

The tease fell “Are you sure you’re the right person to help them with that?”

He cocked his head, sending you a look while turning to leave “I will see you later.”

You said one more thing “Be safe, alright?”

With a slow nod he left the room, closing the door behind him.

  ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

  It was never easy to fall asleep the first night in a new place and yet that was what happened. It was nice to sleep in a clean nightgown and having been able to freshen up after everything you’d been through.

But what started off easy, ended in a nightmare again.

You woke up in a sweat, still fearing that the flames that had haunted your dream would follow you into reality.

This place had been engulfed by flames and trapped all those inside. But you had been outside, watching it burn, powerless to save those inside.

Your legs swung off the bed and your feet carried you out of the room.

The first destination was the room beside you, you quietly creaked the door open and found Percival vast asleep.

Good, the boy was safe and sound.

Upon closing that door again, the mark on your arm gave off a dull feeling, glowing ever so slightly.

The sound of another door opening drew your attention away.

The answer to the mark’s response had taken one step into the hallway…

It appeared Lancelot had awoken too, he noticed you and gestured for you to come to him.

Once close enough, you whispered “Trouble sleeping too?”

Day or night, that was what you had promised…

He took your arm and drew you into the room he had just exited, closing the door once both inside “My dream was what woke me. You?”

You let yourself be leaded further into the room and he offered a seat on the bed “I dreamed of a fire again.”

He waited until you were seated before sitting beside you “I did as well.”

The screams still rang in his ear, the cries of his mother as the village burned…

There was no explanation needed, the look in his eyes told all “Your family?”

The answer came after he’d taken a deep breath “Yes.” he felt you lock an arm with his and rest your head on his shoulder “And you?”

You leaned into him more “This place was burning, I couldn’t save anyone.”

He leaned against you as well, shifting ever so slightly to fully appreciate the close proximity.

The words were spoken against the fabric of his undershirt “I can’t forget the smell of the burning ashes. If I can’t, then I can’t imagine what it must be like for you.”

His eyes squeezed shut, proving that he too struggled with it.

But he had not seen his family burn, only his home and vague snippets were forced on him by The Hidden.

You must have seen your home in ashes and smelled the burning remains of those you’d loved and lost…

He questioned why a certain pattern kept returning in your dreams “In your nightmares, do you always dream you cannot save others from the flames?”

The admission was a whisper “Always.”

With caution, he proceeded “Do you blame yourself for not having been there when it happened?”

It kept going through your mind day by day, that fate could have been so different if you had been there “I could have saved them.”

His arm moved around your back and held you close “You do not know that.”

There was a shrug of your shoulders. There could have been something you could have done…

He tried to reason “Fire is ruthless, y/n. If they could not flee, I fear you could not have done so either.”

At this point, you let yourself almost use him as a pillow “I don’t know…”

At least it had brought some doubt to your misplaced guilt.

Your eyes fluttered shut when feeling him press a tender kiss to your forehead. The silence of the night draped over both for a while.

He rubbed along your arm and waited until you looked up at him “I have spoken to Gawain, he had heard of my family. That is why he knew what I was so quickly. He knows what I inherited.”

It could be about his title or abilities “The Fey magic?”

He gave a nod “I told him I could feel it grow inside of me. Even today, when we spoke about what the Moon Wing Elder had told you, I felt it rise.”

You admitted to what you had seen “When we embraced, I saw the flames of the candles in my room turn green. One by one.”

The expression he had was one of disbelief and shock “You saw this?”

With a nod you confirmed it.

He let go off you and put his head in his hands “I could have hurt you-”

That was something you weren’t willing to believe “No.”

Those weeping eyes glanced back at you “From what I have learned, Fey Fire is much more powerful than a normal flame. It is born from magic and it brings magic. If I am not in control of myself, I am not in control of the fire inside either.”

His eyes were fixed on the candle that burned on the table beside the bed, seeing with his own eyes how his fear caused the flame to change it’s color.

How could he ever control something he did not even fully understand? And there was none other alive that could teach him.

You noticed what he was looking at, that green hue was overtaking the flame, it was as if the two colors fought each other.

Much like he was fighting himself over this.

But they could coexist, as they had once done so long ago.

By getting off of the bed and sinking down on your knees in front of him, you stole his attention away from what troubled him.

You took his hand in yours, holding on to it in a protective manner “I believe you are far more capable than you believe yourself to be. You do not lack control, you lack faith in yourself.”

His eyes were cast to the floor until they fixed on your hands.

You freed one hand and used it to rub over his lower arm soothingly “And if you cannot find that faith within, remember that you have mine. Always.”

Now his gaze darted between you and the flame, seeing how the green fire overtook it.

He could feel the power coursing through his veins and your gentle touch was it’s equal to match.

Your head turned to look at the Fey Fire, never having seen it this bright green before, innocently unaware of how Lancelot could not pull his eyes away from what was in front of him “If this fire is born from you, I see no reason to fear it.”

The legend of it’s origin was slowly making sense to him, what had once been stories now proved possible “It is said that it came into being when Festa and Moreii decided to remain together in their last moments. That the flames that burned them, fed their power as they perished. Fire born from the love of two who could not be together in this life.”

It was both tragic and romantic “Would that not mean that the Ash Folk is closely related to at least one of them?”

He hummed, lost in thought “Perhaps one of them was of the Ash Folk and they left us a power meant to protect ourselves so no fire could harm our kind again. A sacrifice of life for a future for others.”

Your eyes squinted and turned to look at him “But fire still kills Fey.”

Lancelot’s throat bopped and you knew there was something he wasn’t saying.

His head bowed in shame “Not all Fey.”

You couldn’t really believe what he was trying to say “What do you mean?”

He took hold of your hand, knowing the reaction it could cause in you “Ash Folk cannot burn.”

The news sank in and you looked away to process it, already guessing why he had never spoken of it before “I did not know that…”

He admitted that it had been to spare you “It would be insensitive to tell you such a thing after having lost your family to fire not long ago.”

It was strange to wish your family had been Ash Folk too and you pushed away that thought before it could put it’s claws in.

But he knew it must have passed your mind “I am sorry.”

Your shoulders shrugged “There is no reason for it. I am glad you told me, maybe now I won’t have nightmares of you dying in flames.”

He brought his hands up to cradle your face, letting his calm gaze speak to you.

The way he was looking at you was so caring and gentle that it made it hard to bring a word out.

The invitation left him like a wish “If you wish, you may rest here tonight.”

Well, that was unexpected to hear from a man who was raised as a monk.

Nerves hit you “I doubt that would not arise questions if others found out. Our past makes this a delicate matter. I am the niece of a priest and you…”

He knew what you tried to say “You fear they are not ready to know about us together.”

You explained your worries “Their faith in us is not there yet, I don’t want to compromise you being accepted by them. And admitting that you are with me might cause that. Father Carden was my kin, I am Manblood and came here dressed as a nun. I think we shouldn’t test their beginning trust further.”

You plucked his hands from your face and rose from the ground.

They found their place on your waist instead and he was quick to rise to his feet too.

There you stood, feeling him draw you in close

It felt and looked like he wished to do something but changed his mind at the last second.

Your heart went and left you there as it ran off alone “Goodnight, Lancelot.”

He cupped your neck but willed himself into letting go, the hand traveled down your shoulder to where the mark hid beneath your nightgown.

Even now he could feel it’s response.

He traced his thumb over it and then let go “Goodnight, my lady.”

Your brow arched and a soft giggle spilled out “My lady?”

The smirk he had was more confident than he perhaps felt in that moment “Well, you are mine, are you not?”

So the ambiguity had been on purpose.

You hummed, feigning doubt.

He did not give you the chance to mess with him on this matter “Do not bother to deny it. The sign is there.”

His eyes had drifted to your arm on purpose.

You found your voice from where it had hid itself “Goodnight.”

Dammit, that cocky self-satisfied smirk he had now gave you mixed feelings. He looked so damn attractive while doing it, but also so smug that you couldn’t resist the desire to pretend that it wasn’t.

You walked over to the candle that carried the green flame and saw him tense up when holding your hand a little above it.

It was hot like regular fire, but something was different.

The mark spread from your arm down to your palm and upon turning your hand around, you saw it grow to your fingers.

This time the pattern glowed green, like the flame itself burned within it.

Lancelot was completely quiet while it happened and you hoped this proved that you did not fear the power he held within.

It never hurt, it was quite mesmerizing to see even.

He walked over and extinguished the flame with his bare hand, the green left your mark and the pattern retreated back to just your arm.

It was the first time he saw that green glow on someone other than himself…

Your smile could not have been bigger, to have actually felt this ancient magic run over your skin like this was incredible.

Even now that it was darker, he could still see the wonder in your eyes.

It was a bold idea when you stepped closer, grabbed the front of his shirt and pressed a vigorous kiss to his cheek, the smile never left you.

After that you backed away and hurried out the door before you wouldn’t be able to resist staying there.

The last thing you saw when closing the door behind you was his surprised but amused expression.

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[batshieroglyphics]

[FIC] To Be Free Once More (That's Worth Fighting For) ~ Star Wars: Prequels ~ Fox/Obi-Wan ~ Mature ~ Ch 7/15

Title: To Be Free Once More (That's Worth Fighting For) Fandom: Star Wars Prequel Era Author: Batsutousai Rating: Mature Warnings: Alternate Universe, Qui-Gon survives, Jedi Shadow!Obi-Wan, Jedi culture positive, Coruscant Guard deserve better, clone trooper dehumanisation, institutional abuse, discrimination, learning to trust, Jedi and clone trooper relationships, strangers to friends to lovers, idiots in love, trans/nonbinary/agender clone troopers, trans/nonbinary/agender Jedi, character deaths (Palpatine, some Corries, offscreen Jedi OCs; more detail in notes of relevant chapters) Summary: As a Jedi Shadow, Obi-Wan hadn't expected to have much to do with the clone troopers. Until, suddenly, he does.

CHAPTER SEVEN

He didn't have much to check in with Yoda and Oppo about—he'd sent ahead his mission report while they'd been at the medical station, and nothing had happened on their trip back—so he was able to catch the four clones before they could make their escape. "Commander," he greeted.

"Knight Kenobi," Thorn greeted evenly, as if his Force-presence wasn't a tightly-wound ball of stress, which Thire seemed to have picked up on in the five minutes they'd had together. "I'm afraid that Commander Fox is currently on a mission and unavailable."

Something in Obi-Wan's chest cracked, the hope of seeing Fox, which had buoyed him through the news of Mace being gone, draining away all in a rush. "Of course," he said, and only his diplomatic training kept his expression and tone pleasant. "Thank you for informing me."

Thorn gave a sharp, tight nod. "I'm sure you have duties to see to; welcome back to Coruscant, Knight Kenobi," he said, saluted, and then turned back towards where Thire, Diamond, and Throckmorton had all paused in the act of boarding the Guard speeder waiting for them. They all jumped back into motion, bleeding uncertainty and a haunting sort of loneliness into the Force, which set Obi-Wan's teeth on edge.

Something had happened, clearly.

"Commander–"

"Good-bye, Knight Kenobi," Thorn said, without turning to look at him.

He felt like a door had just been slammed shut in his face.

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#foxywan #foxwan #pairing:Fox x Obi-Wan Kenobi #fandom:star wars #fic:To Be Free Once More (That's Worth Fighting For)

[captainswanapproved]

An Indecent Proposal- Chapter 19

A03,Prologue, Chapter 1,Chapter 2,Chapter 3, Chapter 4,Chapter 5,Chapter 6,Interlude,Chapter 7,Chapter 8,Chapter 9,Chapter 10,Chapter 11,Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18

Daemon x Rhaenyra Multichapter AU:

Daemon leaves Rhaenyra at her wedding feast. Rhaenyra marries Laenor. After a year of trying to do their duty and produce an heir, Rhaenyra writes to Daemon.

She needs a true Targaryen heir.

It only needs to be an arrangement of business, she says. And it would result in Daemon’s child one day taking the Iron Throne.

Daemon accepts the proposal and returns to court.

Only, ventures like these are never simple. As much as they would wish to, Daemon and Rhaenyra cannot let go of the past, or the feelings they once had for each other.

124 AC

“Muña!” Aegon the Younger cried in the middle of a stormy night.

Rhaenyra burst into her youngest son’s bedchamber at Dragonstone. She wrapped her arms around the child. “What is it, my love.”

“Egg,” Aegon said, pointing to the iron egg warmer in the fire. “Gone.”

Rhaenyra hurried over and withdrew the warmer from the fire, ignoring the heat as she opened the lid. Thank goodness true Targaryens did not burn. Her son had yet to learn this though, and was frightened by some sort of vision that had intruded his dreams.

The egg was not gone though. It had solidified into stone. A dragon would not hatch from this egg.

***

Alicent was beginning to wonder if the gods were punishing her.

Her beloved Daeron had lost his eye. The maesters had been able to save his life, but only just.

Then, the first month of the year, she had felt the quickening of a baby. To make matters worse, this pregnancy had been her most difficult yet, making her weak and bedridden since having felt the first movements. She feared that this would be the last child she could cary, which would leave her amount of heirs smaller than her rivals.

Her saving grace was that she knew this one belonged to her husband. But Ser Criston was joyful that he would soon have another child.

Alicent knew that her lover was becoming a liability, seeing as she had denied him access to her bed for months. Still, their last joining had been close enough that Criston could be convinced that the babe was his. That would keep him loyal.

But only until the babe was born and Ser Criston saw signature Targaryen features. Then her knight would turn on her and Alicent would have to dispose of him.

Alicent looked down at her rounded abdomen. She would know how to act soon enough.

***

Three months later, Alicent gave birth to a little girl with silver-gold hair and brilliant amethyst eyes.

She was named Maegelle, and declared to be the epitome of Targaryen beauty by the king.

Alicent’s lip curled in satisfaction as Viserys presented the babe to court.

Ser Criston was blessedly out of King’s Landing on a quest. Daemon, Rhaenyra, and their horde of bastard children had arrived to see the new Targaryen child.

But thanks to her father’s machinations, the false Aegon had no dragon. Alicent would ensure that Maegelle had one.

At this very moment, Criston Cole was journeying to Dragonstone to steal the last of Syrax’s most recent clutch of eggs. The foolish little bitch had left it barely protected at her ancestral seat.

The eggs in King’s Landing were tainted. But the last egg in Dragonstone was unmolested and sure to produce a dragon.

Maegelle, a true Targaryen princess, would have what she deserved.

Ser Criston would bring back an egg, and if he was caught in his attempt, Alicent would not have to dispose of him herself.

Her fortunes had turned.

***

“Must you leave us?” Rhaenyra asked, after the children were safely tucked away in their chambers.

“It will only be for one night, my love,” Dameon said, kissing her tenderly, then he bent to kiss Rhaenyra’s abdomen.

“Our new prince or princess will need a dragon egg.”

“Our next child will not be born for months, my love,” Rhaenyra said, only having felt the quickening that afternoon, but it had spurred Daemon to action.

“Perhaps not, but as much as it pains me to say, I believe it is best if we move our permanent residence to King’s Landing.”

“Why? We have been so content at Dradonstone. You have been able to maintain your position as Hand while the children have not been forced into the proximity of our enemies.”

Daemon smiled sadly. Indeed, he had been happier in the recent years than he ever had been in his life, solely because of Rhaenyra and his children. But happiness had a price. “In our absence, the Green Bitch has brought Viserys under her thrall once again. And now she has given him a daughter. You, more than anyone, know his weakness for daughters. We cannot keep travelling back and forth. We must keep a closer eye on the little harlot and her spawn.”

Rhaenyra nodded. It was a wise move to make, but the idea of living in King’s Landing full time after spending so many happy months at Dragonstone with her family made Rhaenyra’s heart ache.

Daemon seemed to sense her thoughts. “I will make the arrangements and return to you and our family as soon as I can.”

Rhaenyra nodded and squeezed his hand. “See that you do.”

***

Ser Criston Cole panted as he leaned against the damp stone wall.

The caverns of Dragonstone were nearly endless. How was he meant to find Syrax’s last egg?

His second child deserved a dragon, especially considering how poor Daeron had suffered.

Ser Criston knew his relationship with his queen had been imperfect as of late. He had been unable to bed her in months. But he still loved her, and would serve her until his dying day.

With that in mind, Ser Criston hurried through the catacombs. He would find that egg and present it to his beloved queen, and she would finally welcome him back to her bed.

So caught up in his fantasies of pleasuring Alicent, Criston was unaware of the footsteps that joined his.

A moment later, the knight felt a blade at his back. A strong arm wrapped around his neck. “What are you doing here, Ser Crispin?”

Ser Criston’s blood turned to ice.

He’d been caught. And Prince Daemon would surely stop at nothing to ensure a deadly punishment was doled out.

When Ser Criston refused to reveal his purpose—though it would surely be obvious to anyone with a modicum of intelligence—the world faded away.

***

Ser Criston awoke the following night in the dungeon of the Red Keep, his wrists shackled to the wall.

“What is the meaning of this? I am the Queen’s protector!”

A guard appeared at the door of his cell. “You were,” the man said, his voice disdainful, “And now you are guilty of treason. Your trial will take place on the morrow.”

“I need to see the Queen,” Ser Criston argued. “Surely she will pardon me. Please, I will see to it that you are rewarded with gold if you bring her here with haste.”

The guard appeared to be conflicted, but eventually the promise of gold won out.

Alicent appeared in the dungeon half an hour later, resplendent in a gown of green brocade. But her lovely face was drawn and pinched.

“You are a fool. I have no use for fools at my side in these dangerous times,” Alicent hissed.

“I went to Dragonstone on your orders,” Ser Criston argued.

“And you failed. You were caught by Prince Daemon, who has spent the day providing the king with evidence of your treachery.”

“My treachery? I have only ever done your bidding.”

Alicent smiled. “I believe you’ll find, Ser Criston, that I am completely innocent of your attempts to unlawfully obtain a dragon. The witness I sent to Prince Daemon has ensured your guilt. You will be tried and sentenced tomorrow.”

Ser Criston stared in disbelief at the queen. “Why would you do this to me? I am the father of two of your children.”

“You are the father of my third son. I was a fool to let you get me with child. You have never been the most clever or ruthless, and now, even your loyalty has run its course.”

“I would do anything for you, Alicent, and for our children.” Ser Criston protested.

Alicent’s eyes gleamed malevolently. “Would you? Maegelle is a true Targaryen with true Targaryen features. I knew the moment she was born that you would betray us. Your pride will not allow you to defend her. And so I am forced to act in the interest of her protection. Goodbye, Ser Criston.”

Alicent swept out of the dungeons, leaving Ser Criston to stew in anger and betrayal. How dare Alicent open her legs to the old king again, when she had already given Viserys three legitimate children. Ser Criston thought that his queen belonged to him, body, soul and heart.

He curled his fingers into a fist. If his fate was to die on the morrow, Criston Cole vowed that he would drag Alicent down with him.

***

All things considered, convincing Viserys of Ser Criston’s guilt had been almost too easy.

Especially when one of the Queen’s attendants came to him with a story of Ser Criston’s betrayal, swearing that the knight had acted alone in trying to procure a dragon egg. That Queen Alicent had begged him to reconsider and ordered him to go to Dorne instead of Dragonstone.

Daemon knew that Alicent was complicit. Furthermore, he was certain that Cole and the Green Bitch had conspired to steal the egg that had been presented to Daeron. Fate had taken care of that. But another attempt could not go unpunished. As it was, the attendant's testimony was a neat little tale that ensured Ser Criston’s death sentence and absolved the queen of guilt, which had been enough for Viserys. Daemon would settle for the result.

The next day, the court assembled in the throne room.

Daemon’s fingers curled around the hilt of Dark Sister as the evidence against Ser Criston was presented. Daemon kept his eyes on the Green Bitch, wondering why she had turned against her protector. Likely it was due to the birth of her daughter, who once again, had the looks of a Targaryen.

Princess Maegelle was still a half-breed, but Daemon knew that Viserys was the girl’s father.

He suppose it didn’t matter why Alicent lost faith in her lover. Soon, another in opposition to Rhaenyra’s rule would be disposed of. Daemon was certain the queen would eventually take a new lover, and when she did, Daemon would ensure that she was discovered and cast off.

After a quarter of an hour, the evidence was presented. Viserys rose from his throne and declared the verdict. “Ser Criston Cole, you are charged with attempted theft of a dragon egg and high treason against the Crown. For this, you will be put to death.”

The crowd’s response to the declaration was mixed. Those loyal to the Blacks began to shout for Ser Criston’s head, while those loyal to the Greens looked saddened and dismayed. The Green Bitch, however, looked carefully triumphant.

Daemon supposed he could not blame her. He had always hated the Dornish knight.

To his left, Rhaenyra stood still, her beautiful face carefully composed. She had once harbored a tendré for the knight, but Daemon knew that nothing remained of that youthful infatuation. Still, Rhaenyra had always been compassionate, never taking death lightly. Her mercy and benevolence often stayed his hand, but it would not do so today.

Daemon left Rhaenyra’s side, stepping up to where Ser Criston knelt. As the Hand, and the executioner, Daemon prepared to do his duty to his king. He held Dark Sister to Ser Criston’s throat. “Do you have any last words?”

The knight drew a breath. “Yes. Prince Daeron is my son. The Queen is a traitorous whore.”

Many in the crowd gasped. Daeron the Dornish was what people called the one-eyed prince when not in hearing of the king. Daemon spared a glance for his brother, but Viserys had Alicent’s hand in his, and Daemon could tell that it would take more than this confession to turn the king against the queen. Viserys was willfully blind when it came to his family.

“You deserve each other,” Daemon sneered.  Then he swung Dark Sister in a graceful arc, beheading the foolish knight at last.

#daemyra #daemon x rhaenyra #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd an indecent proposal #my writing

[lizzyverydizzyyo]

D.E.A.N | Chapter 31 - Civilian (END)

Masterlist and overall summary of the whole novel is here. | Prompt on trope-appreciation-tuesdays that inspired this is here. | @whumptober-archive

Fandom : Original Work

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)

AO3

A/N Aaaaaand here we are at last. The last chapter. The pseudo epilogue. The wrap-up. The end (before a new beginning for the sequel). I'm so proud of myself because this is genuinely the first long fic I've ever finished in my entire life. I have so many WIPs and they're all always half-written and get somewhat abandoned in the middle. Maybe this is the beginning of me finally being able to finish my other WIPs, including the sequel for D.E.A.N.

I cannot promise when I will start posting the chapters of the sequel, but with the first book in the installment now finished, it might be a little easier to finish writing the second book too because I don't have to jump around between writing two of them. I have another whump misunderstanding WIP too about a prince and a knight in a medieval setting that has a similar premise to D.E.A.N. And I have an anthology-style non-linear whump fic about two of my original OCs that are basically the prototype of Mark and Nick (you can read them on my AO3, if you want). It's likely that I will start posting those before posting D.E.A.N - Resurgence, so please be patient.

Anyway, if you want to read this chapter and immerse yourself, I suggest reading this while listening to T*ylor Sw*ft's "Wildest Dream", because Nick and Mark are so "Wildest Dream"-coded lol. Not to mention I loosely base Mark's appearance on Scott Eastwood, who is in that song's music video. Look, I know a lot of people here don't like her, but some of her songs are really good and fascinating, and I think that song really fits the end of D.E.A.N. (If you want to immerse yourself when reading the first few chapters, especially Chapter 15 - Visit, I suggest listening to Adele's Easy on Me, because that's the song I was constantly listening to when writing those chapters).

Anyway, adieu everyone! I'll see you in the next book, hopefully soon!

Wordcount: ± 5067

TW: Discussion of Past Sexual Assault, Kidnapping, Captivity, and Torture, Allusion to Slight Panic Attack, Allusion to Past Suicide Attempt

After all is said and done, and the dust has settled, Mark realizes everything will—and has to—change from now on, so he takes care of some unresolved heartfelt business before going ghost with the hope that it’s not going to be forever.

Whumptober 2023 Tropes:

Day 16 — “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

Day 21 — Vows

Day 29 — Troubled Past Resurfacing

This story is set in the last half of 2016.

——

"Mister Belyaev! Mister Belyaev! Over here!"

"Nikolai, how would you describe your experience in Helga?"

"Nick Belyaev, is it true you made Helga network?"

"Nicky, over here!"

"Nikolai, can you tell us anything about your rescuers? They were said to be confidential?"

"Mister Belyaev, is it true you were prostituted to several senators? Which ones are they?"

"You were said to be the first surviving victim of Helga, is that true? How do you feel about that, Nick?"

"Mister Belyaev, can you tell us which politicians you know are involved in this syndicate?"

"Nikolai Belyaev, can you look here for a bit?"

The screen of the heavy-duty laptop is showing Mark the scene of Nick slightly slouching and covering his face with his hands, while double D.E.A.N/Secret Service agents stationed to protect Nick are trying their hardest to create barriers between the heterochromatic-eyed boy and the reporters trying to devour him.

Still, Nick and the agents can barely move, let alone walk away to their car to drive them to a safe house for Nick and his family. Despite the Secret Service agents pushing back reporters roughly and yelling, "Step aside now, all of you. He will not comment. Keep a distance or we will take necessary actions if you injure him," the reporters are relentless.

There are even civilians with signs yelling at the entourage, some saying, "Welcome home, Nicky! You're safe now :)"—which Mark begrudgingly feels grateful for as he hopes that it will cheer Nick up a little—while others have unsavory things to say regarding Nick's forced prostitution, his so-called ‘communist’ ancestry of being Russian-Vietnamese, and the fact that he created Helga's server—blaming him for it despite the widespread news that Nick was tortured into doing it.

Mark is tuning in on one among many livestreams available of the transfer. Some of them are filmed by reporters and broadcasted on behalf of the news companies they’re working for, big or independent, while others are by civilians from their personal social media accounts. They’re all equally competing with each other to get the best shots and audio so that they get the most viewers.

Nikolai looks so distressed in the livestream. Mark can tell from the screen that Nick looks somewhat pale with his swirly blue-brown eyes moist, lips also bitten. He hears Nick whispering with quivering voice to the closest reporters and nosy civilians, "Please, can you let me go?"

As usual, when he watches Nick being hurt by someone (like the times he was allowed to see Nick indirectly while being treated in D.E.A.N medic facility—many doctors and nurses, unfortunately, had to put Nick through somewhat painful treatments sometimes—or the instances Mark was shown more torture footages of Nick for intel purposes), he feels a jolt of fury and protectiveness seeing Nick deeply upset and scared like that.

Unfortunately, watching the livestream is the only thing Mark is allowed to do right now while the transfer to the safehouse is commencing.

He knows he isn't allowed to go near the building where Nick is officially announced to be rescued, with high-level commanders from Central Hub saying that 1056 agents aren't allowed to be near Nick. They’re citing worry that 1056’s objective judgments might be impaired after living with Nick for so long. So, all he can do at this point is just seethe, clench his jaw with balled fists, and wish his knuckles can connect to those asshole reporters and harassers roughly.

He muses that maybe the commanders are right about their suspicion.

Mark then ponders whether calling it ‘announced’ is too generous of a word. D.E.A.N simply moved Nick out of a confidential headquarter in Colorado and into this public venue—a transitional building to make sure no one can track D.E.A.N's classified locations—before delivering him to a safe house. D.E.A.N has finally decided that Nick has done enough work for them in secrecy, so he can now continue helping the division outside of their confidential sites.

They have also determined that Nick is safe enough to be put back into civilian life, although they will still station agents here and there to make sure Nick stays alive to keep helping D.E.A.N and other government agencies, including public law enforcement. Many national and foreign justice system courts have also requested help and testimony from him, since many are now starting to open criminal cases against Helga syndicate members who are caught and identified.

For some reason, crafty and sneaky reporters caught a whiff of the news of Nick's transfer and immediately descended upon the venue like a ravenous pack of vultures. The news traveled fast beyond reporters' communities too, so other curious or sympathetic people, along with bitter and mean trolls, are now also standing around the building, adding to the crowd that is swarming Nick.

There are at least 10 double D.E.A.N/Secret Service agents who are assigned to chaperone Nick right now, and they are still obviously overwhelmed anyway. It seems that they have underestimated just how easy and quick it is for classified information like this to breach containment, and how many people would be interested in it.

They are moving like ants, little by little, inches by inches, practically crawling instead of walking, but Mark can eventually see them pushing Nick gently into the car. The windows are tinted, and he knows that they are all also bullet-proof, but the reporters and the crowds do not give up in trying to see inside the car, many cameras shoved right onto the glass windowpanes. They’re probably hoping that if the lens is basically touching the glass, it can penetrate the dark tint of the windows.

It doesn’t matter. The car still manages to drive away, protected by another car in the front and one more taking the rear. So Mark sighs and closes his laptop, relieved on behalf of Nikolai, but also still anxious if the younger man is going to arrive here in one piece.

Marcus knows this is probably going to land him in hot waters with Central Hub, but he cannot make himself stay away until he can make sure that Nick is safe and sound. He is hoping Central Hub will only realize he is not accounted for in the headquarter within an hour at least, enough to buy him some time to see for himself that Nick has arrived in the safehouse, alive and well.

So he waits, leaning against his discardable car which he parks around a hundred meters from the aforementioned house.

Three cars that look different from the livestream finally pull over the safehouse property, and Mark is guessing they stopped by somewhere hidden to change cars, since the previous ones were already identified by the public. Those vehicles are probably no longer safe for travel to a sensitive spot like this.

Mark pulls out his binoculars, pointing them at the cars one by one until he finally sees Nick walking out of one of them. He sees Nick stumbling and hesitating when he sees his family—his mother, his father, his sister, his niece, and his brother-in-law. They are at a standstill for a bit until Alisa finally chokes out a sob and runs to Nick to hug him tightly.

Nick looks a bit surprised, but he raises his arms to hug his sister back, burying his face in the crook of his sister’s neck and shoulder despite being almost a head taller than her. The others then follow suit, walking towards Nick and hugging him tight. Mark can’t tell what they’re saying to each other, other than being able to see that they’re finally hugging each other with happy tears all over their faces, except for Tom who is more stilted and distant without hugging Nick like the rest.

Mark can only guess what Tom is saying to Nick, but Nick gives a small smile before looking at his brother-in-law’s arms where Nicole is being held. Nick immediately brightens up and bends down a little to coo at her, inviting a smile on Mark’s face too. He knows full well Nicole is really, really important to Nick. Months of living together in their Nevada headquarter have shown him that.

He sees Nick straighten up again with a wide smile and excited face—giving a peck to baby Nicole—before running to the car again. He pulls out a carrier, which Mark knows has Nightingale in it, so he is not surprised when he sees Nick unzipping the carrier and pulling out his black blob cat to show her to Nicole. The baby is reaching out to pet Nightingale stutteringly, probably because she hasn’t mastered her motor skill, and she laughs jovially while screaming in excitement because Nightingale turns to lick her tiny fingers. They all laugh together, and even the chaperone agents smile at the scene.

Mark pulls down his binoculars, feeling somewhat at ease since he can confirm that Nick is safe now, back with his family and hopefully getting better and becoming well-adjusted into normal life eventually.

Mark knows he should head back to the Central Hub headquarter right now, seeing that his secure D.E.A.N-issued phone is pinging alerts that he is being summoned to one of the offices in the headquarter, but nowhere to be found. He estimates that within 30 minutes they will realize that Mark has exited the premise without permission, and another 30 minutes to pinpoint exactly which coordinates he is at now.

Well, he still has time.

He pulls up his binoculars again and he sees the Belyaev (and Conrad) family walking into the house with Nick having his sister’s and mother’s arms around his shoulders. Alisa’s other hand is holding the pet carrier, while Nick is holding Nightingale in his arms, the feline looking much bigger than what Mark remembers seeing. Nick’s father and Tom are walking in front of him, opening the door so Nick can go in first.

He still sees some agents standing around the cars and the front door with their typical idle pose—a hand on top of the other over their stomachs. Mark can tell their earpiece comms are still on to communicate with some D.E.A.N management, seeing the lips movements of the agents with his binoculars.

He feels another vibration of alert in his phone, tsking in annoyance but still pulling out his phone anyway. A Central Hub agent apparently sent a direct message saying that he knows that Mark has gone somewhere out of the headquarter without clearance, and soon the commanders will know too. Mark rolls his eyes and types a message saying he has a pressing security matter to take care of, not really feeling bad about it because he is technically not lying. The matter of Nick’s safety is paramount to him.

But he continues the chat, sensing the testiness of the agent from the texts. He sounds pissed that Mark doesn’t show him enough respect despite being a higher-level agent—and also an agent in charge of managing several teams, one of which Mark is going to be assigned to. Mark tries to continue the lie, trying to conceal the fact that he is going directly against Central Hub’s instructions to not go anywhere near Nick.

He suddenly hears a knock on his car behind him.

He turns around near the speed of light, one hand already going to his holster, but then he sighs deeply in relief as he sees Nick there.

“Hi,” the heterochromatic-eyed boy says to him with a small smile.

“I thought you’re someone dangerous,” he responds with a slightly irritated voice.

Nick smirks, evidently pleased he could sneak up on Mark.

Mark narrows his eyes with a realization.

“How did you get here?”

Nick just shrugs. “Saw a suspicious car parked here since I arrived.”

Mark narrows his eyes even more in question.

“And you just decided to approach it?”

Nick shrugs again, making Mark slightly uncomfortable with how brazen Nick is about his safety.

“You know, for a confidential government institution agent, you’re kinda bad at disguising yourself,” Nick comments lightly, sensing that Mark might be concerned about his sense of self-preservation.

So Mark chuckles now, relieved.

“I’m not here under Central Hub’s command,” he explains casually, “so I don’t have enough resources and preparation to conceal myself like usual.”

“Hmm,” Nick smirks again, “Sure.”

Mark smiles lightly, feeling serene at the opportunity to talk to Nick again after weeks of not being allowed to meet directly. Or at all.

“You’re pretty good at ambushing me, though,” he comments again. “Learning well from those agents working around you all this time?”

Nick shrugs again. “Maybe.”

Nick moves his legs but stutters, seemingly wanting to get closer to Mark but not knowing if he is allowed. Bells are ringing in his head that this might be unwise to continue, but his heart yearns so badly for a chance to see Nikolai, so he steps aside to give space for Nick to stand near him. Nick walks around the front of the car and leans against the driver’s door next to Marcus.

“How are you?” he eventually asks softly, looking at Nick from top to bottom to detect if Nick is in any harm. He pauses a bit at Nick’s abdomen.

Nick gives a small nod with a bashful smile as he says, “I’m okay.”

It makes Mark feel that weird jolt in his heart again.

“How about you?” Nick asks back, now his turn to lower his eyes towards Mark’s abdomen on his right side.

Marcus looks down too, one hand absently going to his upper waist.

“Yeah, of course,” he replies with a reassuring voice as he feels softness in his heart at Nick’s concern. “Told you I was just lightly grazed.”

Nick nods again with his own relieved breath.

“That’s good. I didn’t know what became of you all these weeks. They didn’t tell me anything.”

“They want you and us, team 1056, to work efficiently,” he shrugs and adds, “Well, as efficient as we could be with all of our ongoing injuries recovery.”

Nick furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“They think separating us will help. Getting rid of distraction and all.”

Nick rolls his eyes.

“That’s stupid. I’ve been worried sick about you for so long I couldn’t think of anything else,” he says, before he sputters with widened eyes and continues, “I mean, the others in your team too!”

Mark tries not to read too much into it.

“Speaking of which, how are the others?” Nick starts again, his bashfulness after his comment about Mark starting to dissipate. “They didn’t tell me much about what happened to the agents in that attack.”

Mark stares at Nick for a while, eventually feeling some grief and maybe anger settling in his mind. He looks down and inhales deeply.

“3 from 1082… died in action.”

“Oh,” Nick whispers with a shocked and melancholic face.

“The deputy, one sniper, and another agent. I think. Wasn’t informed directly.”

“Agent Leonard, right? The black man?”

Mark nods mournfully. “That deputy, yeah.”

"And the decoy agent?" he asks unsurely, again with fearful face. "Robert Van Hoven, right? That's his name?"

Mark nods to confirm the name, but then gives a half-hearted shrug.

"He is not from 1056, so we weren't really given any information on him." He pauses a bit. "I hope he is okay, though."

Nick nods too.

“The thing is…” Mark leans his head back with a deep, weary sigh “…we weren’t told anything other than the official report. Even I don’t know what exactly happened to the rest. Just hush-hush info, not even verifiable.”

Nick stays quiet reverently, waiting for Mark to recount further.

“Over 25 died in that clash. 4 Tactical Intelligence agents. 11 Offensive team agents,” he explains with despair but also fury in his voice, eyes cast down.

He feels that familiar anger again at himself for failing once more—wondering what could have been done differently so that not so many lives were lost—and at to those sons of bitches from Helga themselves.

“Two out of Doctor Lowe’s three nurses, and another two out of the 5 additional Medical agents sent to 1034. I think at least 6 agents from backup teams also died. That’s all the report says.”

Nick’s lips part while looking down too, probably not knowing how to react to Mark’s obvious tumultuous emotion and expression, or show his condolence appropriately and sufficiently. They all pretty much died for Nick, after all.

“What about…” Nick hesitates, so Mark turns to him, “…your team?”

Mark breathes out heavily, relieved but also forlorn.

“We all survived,” he starts.

Nick’s eyes widen and he breathes out in relief too. “That’s… that’s really good to hear. I’m glad.”

Mark turns to him with slightly raised eyebrows.

“Oh, god, I don’t mean… I’m not glad about the other non-surviving agents,” Nick blurts out nervously with his raised hands waving frantically, “don’t get me wrong!”

Mark gives him a reassuring smile, although still tinged with mourning.

“I understand.”

Nick waits for a while in silence. He then asks, “But all 10 of you in team 1056 survived?”

Mark nods. “Yeah.”

“I’m relieved,” Nikolai says again, body slightly sagging against the car.

“Even for Don and Anna?” he jokes lightly.

“I’m not heartless, Mark. I never wished for any of you to die even if I’m angry,” Nick responds with a slight frown.

Mark chuckles. “I know.”

“Although you and I saw Anna and Angie in the end anyway, so I know they’re okay,” Nick tells him.

A silence passes where they just look forward to the other side of the road, then turn to their right to the safehouse far away from them.

“But…” Nick hesitates again, “…are they… okay?”

“Mostly…” he hangs his words, not sure about how to continue.

“Is anyone in critical condition?” Nick asks worriedly.

“No, not really.”

Nick still seems puzzled, waiting for more explanation.

“Horace is doing better with his shoulder after getting shot,” he recounts, “Anderson almost died of blood loss… had to have his burst spleen taken out… and Luke is still doing physio after his knee got shot.”

Nick raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“But I don’t know if he’s going to be recovered enough to still be a field agent. Fractured knee is kinda hard to repair, you know?”

Nick keeps silent to give Marcus the time he needs to collect himself.

“George… had to be resuscitated in the medic facility,” he informs more. “He survived, but… being dead for around 2 minutes gotta leave some chronic and permanent damage. For now, the Medical agents say just to wait and see.”

Nick bites his lips, unsurely asking him, “The rest?”

“Mary and Lena are thankfully pretty much unscathed. Somehow. Only bruises here and there.”

Nick sighs in relief again.

“And Don?”

Mark gives him another reassuring and somewhat cheeky smile.

“Of course, that son of a bitch survived despite getting shot in the spleen too. Why wouldn’t he?”

Nick laughs loudly, seemingly surprised by Mark’s sudden change of tone.

He drinks in the sound and tries to etch it into his mind deeply, sensing that he is probably not going to be able to hear it again for a long time.

“I mean, they’re probably not going to be fully okay-okay, you know?” he continues again with a somber voice after a while. “But they live.”

They both look down again in sedate silence.

“And are you… really okay, though?”

The way Nick says it tells him that he is not just asking about Mark’s physical condition.

That battle is the biggest conflict he has ever faced so far, seeing as multiple circles of Helga were all swarming them at once. He knew that he trained for this, but looking at the chaos and even some agents shot dead right in front of him still rattles his mind sometimes. He has never been in a collision that chaotic in all of his D.E.A.N history, short as it is.

The fear too that he might not be able to get Nick to safety—that he would have to watch Nick down a full vial of morphine just so that he wouldn’t be taken back by Helga—still haunts him too. It’s as if the fear when they got separated kept surfacing in his dreams all the time, making him this worried and obsessed with seeing Nick again despite direct prohibition from the higher-ranked agents.

That’s why he is here now.

Still, he nods anyway, a silent reassurance that he is fine.

“How about you, Nick?”

He knows that aside from his prior trauma in Helga and at the beginning of his time with Mark’s team (he shudders at the reminder), Nick also had to witness the chaos in 1034’s headquarter, running for his life and then separated and alone with his old handlers several times. He also had to escape with Mark, Anna, Angie, and Doctor Lowe until they eventually ran out of bullets, at one point considering doing a suicide pact with the morphine vials.

Nikolai experienced all of those hells too.

Even from the livestream before, Mark can see that Nick is still deeply anxious and mentally fragile. With how public his rescue is and how ruthless the reporters and harassers are, it’s bound to be another source of trauma for Nick.

“I’ll… I’ll be okay,” Nick hesitates with a small voice, “I think.”

Mark tilts his head so that he can still see Nick’s cast-down face.

“You’re out of there now. You can get better now, yeah? Try, for me?”

Mark says it with such a weight, a pleading at the reminder of what Nick did the day before that collision. He stares again at Nick's abdomen, coldly remembering the sensation of dripping blood on his thigh and Nick’s scream when he had to be cauterized.

Nick raises his head to stare back at him, slowly giving a nod and a small smile. Not completely happy-looking, but a smile nonetheless. Mark has to believe that it means Nick will be okay in the end.

Their silence is interrupted by another vibration on Mark’s phone. He sighs in irritation again.

“Where are you gonna go after this?”

Mark turns to Nick again at the deceivingly casual-sounding question, although he still can tell it’s a loaded one. Nick isn’t just asking where he is going to drive after seeing Nick here, but also where he is going to do his mission next.

He sighs.

“Pretty far,” he simply answers.

Nick looks down again with a frown.

“Central put together 100 new Offensive Department teams. Said it will probably be a good idea if I’m a deputy this time. But we’ll have to see from the preliminary meetings.”

Nick looks almost scared when he faces Mark again as he bites his lip.

“Where?”

Mark stays silent with his own melancholic look, the heaviness in his heart at the possibility of not seeing Nick for a long time settling deep. He doesn’t want to assume, but he senses that Nick is feeling the same about that possibility.

“North Dakota.”

“Oh,” Nick simply says, trying hard not to seem crestfallen as he fiddles with his fingers. “That’s halfway across the country from Oregon.”

“Yeah.”

They are quiet again. Mark doesn’t know what he should do or say now, with Nick not giving obvious hints as to what he wants from Mark.

“They… um…” he begins again at Nick’s silence, “…made the decision based on your story… to us before.”

Nick seems like he is working hard to not show any reaction, or even weep, but Mark can see the slightest movement of his jaw at the implication of what happened to him when he just turned 18. What was done to him before and after his attempt to escape at that time.

Maybe Mark shouldn’t have brought that up because he can sense the tension between them now, with Nick’s eyes glistening again despite his efforts to not seem affected. Mark decides to look away again to the safehouse instead.

Maybe he should end this before he makes things worse.

“You should probably go back.”

Nick follows suit by looking at the safe house, the place he is going to have to live in until whenever D.E.A.N decides he and his family can fully live as civilians again. Until they’re allowed to freely live wherever they choose with only having D.E.A.N agents check in on them once in a while, instead of watching them constantly.

“Your family must be worried sick about you. They might think you get kidnapped again.”

Nick stays looking firmly at the safe house, this time obviously trying to avoid facing Mark. He doesn’t know if Nick takes it as Mark indirectly telling Nick to go away.

He sighs quietly, mourning the gloomy and tense moment they’re in now. This is possibly the last ever moment they’re going to be together for a long time, and yet, this is the mood they’re currently in.

Eventually, Nick looks back at him with a smile that seems rough around the edge. Forced, even.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says quietly too. “I should.”

Still, they both don’t move from leaning against Mark’s disposable car, not until a while when Mark decides to be the one to end the moment. He straightens up and faces Nick fully, so Nick slowly does the same.

“Take care of yourself,” Mark says to Nick, earnest with a hint of desperation. He feels worried now that he realizes he cannot make sure Nick will be okay with his own eyes and hands.

Nick just nods, turning around to see the safe house and then to Mark again, almost like he is debating whether he should stay or go. He still ends up taking half a step to walk away, so Mark puts his hands into his pockets to prepare to watch Nick until the heterochromatic-eyed boy is safe inside again.

But he didn’t expect Nick to turn around quickly to face him again, launching himself to Mark with arms tightly embracing him. His eyes widen in shock before he processes what is happening, feeling Nick’s face burying into his shoulder with a sensation of moisture on his clothes.

His face softens eventually, and he raises his own arms to hug Nick too. His arms are careful—gentle, but also tight around Nick’s thin body—while he is drinking in Nikolai’s presence in his arms that he knows is going to stay deeply in his mind in years to come. It will be his lifeline to tether him to Nick, at least for several months, or maybe even years.

“You stay safe too,” Nick whispers with muffled voice to his shoulder, “give me a sign once in a while that you’re still out there.”

“Nick—"

Nick pulls back quickly with almost frantic and desperate eyes, some tears visible on his cheeks while his arms are still linked behind Mark’s neck.

“I know that you’re probably not allowed to contact me directly, or be stationed close to me,” Nick quickly says, “but just try to give me hidden signs somehow.”

Nick searches his eyes, almost like he is begging Mark to say yes.

“Tell me you haven't forgotten me. That you’re still alive somewhere doing your mission.”

Mark inhales and opens his mouth to explain some protocol, but Nick doesn’t let him.

“Promise me!”

He stares at Nick, and he loathes just how easy it is for Nick to bend Mark’s emotions to his will, even right now after not seeing each other for weeks. It feels like his attachment to Nick hasn’t worn out at all throughout that. He can’t look at those teary swirly blue-brown eyes and say no. He just can’t.

So he lets out a soft breath with crumbling defense, unknowingly getting close to Nick until their foreheads touch, his arms around Nick’s waist tightening. Nick doesn’t rebuff him.

“I promise,” he eventually says, “It’s not like I can forget you.”

They stay like that for a bit, letting themselves dip their toes into that… forbidden… place for once, even if Mark knows he can’t fully jump in and stay there indefinitely.

Just once, he’ll let himself take this moment.

After a while, they both let out heavy breaths and reluctantly separate from each other, their arms letting go of each other too.

“I really need to head back home,” Nick says as if trying to sober them both up.

Mark nods again, already feeling heavy in his heart, but he still lets Nick take several steps back, looking deeply into each other’s eyes. He wants to keep the sight of those captivating swirly blue-brown eyes permanently in his memory.

Eventually, Nick turns around and jogs away, and Mark tries to gulp down at the tight feeling in his throat.

Why is it this difficult?

As if to torture him even further, Nick pauses his jogging to turn back for a second, tantalizing Marcus again with the offer he knows he cannot take. Then Nick continues jogging again before slowing down to walk away, steadfastly no longer acknowledging Mark now.

Nick’s back to Mark gets smaller and smaller until he can no longer see him unless Mark uses his binoculars again. He chooses not to. He knows he’ll get hooked again if he can see Nick clearly.

It’s only when he can tell that the small dot of Nick’s body is walking into the house—welcomed by his family again—that his logical mind finally catches up.

Regardless of what he feels right now—or even later—he knows making sure that Nick stays safe is important. He knows that taking down the people who hurt Nick before—and can hurt Nick again, if he doesn’t do his job right—is his biggest priority right now. Whether one day he can see Nick and have him by his side again or not, what matters is making sure that Nick will be safe and sound permanently, whatever he needs to do to achieve that.

So, he opens his car door as he receives the call on his phone.

“Agent Hayden speaking,” he says to the agent on the phone professionally, “Yes, I will arrive in 40, Sir.”

Now, his real work begins.

-----

Masterlist and overall summary of the whole novel is here. | AO3 series link is here.

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)

#whump #whumptober #whumptober2023 #whump community #no.29 #no.21 #no.16 #Troubled Past Resurfacing #Vows #Don't go where I can't follow. #OC #writing #completionist #panic attack #criminal syndicate #whumper turned caretaker #original work #OC whump #D.E.A.N #english #me #me write #finished #happy ending

[aalissy]

Sacrifice

Whoop day 15 is finished now!! Mayhaps a tiny bit of Ladynoir snuck into this chapter but it’s still mainly Marichat heheh. Lemme know what you think!

AO3

Marinette giggled lightly, holding on to Chat’s arm as they wandered around Place des Vosges. After they had played nearly a million rounds of Ultimate Mecha Strike III, they had both started to feel rather bored and decided to head outside.

Marinette was cuddled tightly against Chat’s side, snuggling even closer as the cold wind caused her to shiver. The arm she wasn’t huddled against was gesturing wildly as he told a funny story. 

With a small sigh and an even smaller grin, she stared up at him. How had it taken her so long to realize that she was in love with him?

In the next second, though, their quiet moment together was instantly interrupted by the sound of a crash nearby. Blinking, her head swiveled around as she spotted an akuma land next to the carousel. 

Her grip tightened on Chat for a brief second before Marinette remembered that she wasn’t transformed. She gnawed on her lower lip, wondering how she’d be able to sneak away when she was lifted up into a pair of arms. Squeaking in shock, she wrapped her arms around Chat’s neck as he launched the two of them away. 

In a matter of minutes, he dropped her off on her balcony giving her a reluctant smile. “Sorry, purrincess, but it seems that your knight in shining leather is needed elsewhere.”

“But of course.” Marinette laughed softly. “Thank you for getting me home safely first.”

She really was thankful. It meant that she didn’t have to find a place to hide and transform while she was next to her partner.

Chat’s eyes gleamed at her humorously. “No purroblem! Happy to help.” 

A slight trace of regret hit her as she watched him turn to go. Before he could leave and get started on the akuma fight, she grabbed his tail. He turned around, his head tilting to look at her curiously. “I-I just wanted to say be safe, Chaton. Please, be careful.”

Instantly, Chat’s confused expression vanished morphing into one much softer as he stroked a hand over her cheek. “Always,” he murmured.

Marinette’s heart felt heavy as he jumped off of her balcony, heading the short distance back to where they had first spotted the akuma. It was funny. She knew that she’d be joining him in a few moments as Ladybug yet her heart was still quietly panging for just a few more stolen seconds together. But... when duty calls.

Heaving a sigh, she called on her transformation, “Tikki, spots on!”

In a flash of pink light, she was Ladybug and, with a whizz of her yo-yo, she took off in the direction of the park. It was time to meet up with her kitty.

She arrived just in time to witness the chaos unleashed by the akuma. The once peaceful park was now a whirlwind of destruction, as the akumatized villain, wielding a staff that crackled with dark energy, sent bolts of power in every direction.

Chat was already engaged in a fierce battle with the akuma, gracefully dodging and countering each attack with careful swings of his baton. Landing in front of him, she spun her own yo-yo, stopping the crackling dark beam in its tracks.

“How’s it going, Chaton?” She turned her head, looking at him with a soft grin.

“Hey, bugaboo.” He beamed back at her even as his chest heaved. The akuma must be tough if Chat was out of breath like this. “I was just waiting for you to drop by.”

A growl sounded from in front of them and they both staggered back as another blast of energy came from the akuma.

“I’m purretty sure the akuma’s in his staff.” Chat nodded his head over at the villain. 

“I think you’re right,” Ladybug mumbled, watching the akuma carefully before calling on her lucky charm. As she watched the object fall from her yo-yo, a shout startled her. She looked down, blinking in surprise as she noticed a black beam of energy was hurtling towards her. 

There was no time to dodge and she stiffened, preparing for a blast that never came. Instead, she was knocked out of the way, fumbling for her lucky charm as Chat pushed her to the side. 

Standing back up quickly, she twirled her yo-yo as she glared at the akuma. He was smirking at her. Her eyes narrowed at him before a whimper came from below her. 

"No," Ladybug whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of horror and despair. Chat was on the ground in front of her, curled on his side as his eyes clenched tightly shut. He looked to be in a severe amount of pain.

Kneeling beside him, she placed a gentle hand on his side. His eyes flickered open at the touch, staring up at her hazily. 

“M’lady, I-I don’t think I can walk,” he whispered weakly.

She heard the akuma laugh and suddenly she was in a whirlwind of fury. She rushed at him while he was distracted, not even using her lucky charm as she swung her yo-yo at him. She didn’t give him time to use his staff, whipping her weapon at him as fast as possible. 

He was getting tired, she realized with a small smirk. His dodges turned more sluggish with her fervor. With one last powerful swing, Ladybug hit him with her full force. The akuma slammed into the ground with a groan, dropping the cane from his grip. 

Quick as a flash, she picked it up, breaking it on her knee. Purifying the akuma, Ladybug then rushed to where she left her lucky charm, throwing it into the air as she watched her magical ladybugs fix the damage.

For the first time ever, she abandoned the civilian, instead running over to where Chat was. Her heart was lodged in her throat as she knelt beside him once more. “Mon minou, are you alright?”

He had sat up, flexing his fingers before beaming at her with a nod of his head. “Yep, all better now. Those little ladybugs of yours fixed everything, like usual.”

She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream at him for putting himself in harm's way. Before Ladybug could do any of those, though, her earrings gave a quiet beep. Gasping, she brushed a finger against the cold metal. She had to go before she transformed back into Marinette.

Pushing down some of her anger, she held out her fist. “Pound it,” she and Chat said, grinning at the other.

Flinging her yo-yo around a rooftop, she tugged herself back to her balcony. She made it just in time, transforming back into Marinette as soon as she was back home. Tikki grinned at her tiredly before she handed her kwami a macaroon. 

She watched Tikki practically devour the small treat before leaning against her balcony with a sigh. Scrubbing a hand down her face, she groaned. She had gone through so many emotions today. All of them were because of her partner.

A hand brushed against her shoulder, startling her from her thoughts. Whirling around, her eyes widened. Was there another akuma attack? Was she wrong and the same akuma was still active?

Instantly, Marinette felt herself sag in relief as she saw Chat’s smiling face. Good. Monarch was finished. At least for a little while. 

As soon as the relief came it disappeared as she glared at him, thumping his chest lightly. “I saw that akuma attack! What were you thinking?! I thought you promised to be careful!”

“You saw that, huh?” He winced with a sheepish grin. He scratched the back of his neck.

Marinette simply nodded, crossing her arms across her chest as her eyes narrowed.

“But I’m fine now.” Chat twirled for her. “Look, see! Full use of my limbs!”

Unable to stop herself, she giggled at him. Catching sight of his happy, goofy grin, she felt some of her displeasure return. 

“That’s not the point!” She scoffed. “The point is that you got hurt. You shouldn’t sacrifice yourself like that.”

“I have to keep Ladybug safe.” He glanced away, his face turning pensive.

 Marinette frowned. She supposed that she could understand that. After all, she wanted to keep him safe just as much as he probably wanted to keep her safe. With a long exhale, she slowly said, “But I don’t think that Ladybug would want you to get hurt to keep her safe. Would you want her to do the same thing to protect you?”

Chat’s expression softened as he looked back at Marinette. His eyes filled with understanding as he gazed at her. "You're right, Marinette. I don’t know what I’d do if it had been Ladybug who got hurt like that."

She watched him for a few more moments before wrapping her arms around him in a giant hug. “That’s how I feel about you too, kitty,” she whispered. “I don’t want to see you get hurt either.”

He nestled his head into hers, wrapping his own arms around her waist. Together, they stood cuddled against each other. Slowly, Marinette let go of her fears and sadness. Clutching Chat to her tighter, she lost herself in the hug, letting herself enjoy the moment.

#marichatmay2023 #marichatmay #marichat #ladynoir #love square #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ml #mlb #ml fic #fic #fanfic

[damienthepious]

every time i post fanfic now i'm going to fucking bitch about how fucking SHITTY this new editor is, i hate it so fucking much. Anyway.

The Beast In On His Chain (chapter 16)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ch 4] [ch 5] [ch 6] [ch 7] [ch 8] [ch 9] [ch 10] [ch 11] [ch 12] [ch 13] [ch 14] [ch 15] [ao3] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien, Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Lord Arum, Rilla, Sir Absolon

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, prisoner/guard dynamic, Dehumanization, (which feels like a weird word to use for a nonhuman person bUT. it's what i got.), Despair, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, (EVENTUALLY!!!! it'll take a while), Captivity, Suicidal Thoughts, (that will be a theme throughout. inescapable in this particular fic. alas.), Eventual Romance, (Yes the dynamics in this one are fucked. honestly i'm kinda Stretching my limits these days.), (having fun with it. fucking around. it's fine.), Recovery, (eventually), Self-Reclamation

Chapter Summary: Queen Mira has been made aware of certain worrying circumstances. Damien experiments with treasonous misdirection.

Chapter Notes: chapter specific warnings for references to physical assault, mentions of suicidality. lmk if i missed anything else!

~

The Queen unexpectedly assigns secondary staff to take positions in the Trophy Room, and instead summons all of those positioned in the surrounding section of the inner Citadel to a meeting, before Damien's next shift, and Damien tries very, very hard not to feel as if every organ in his body has turned to either acid or ice.

(Even before he turned his efforts to... well... literal treason, such a summons would be cause for Damien to panic, with the wild and unfounded terror that he could be in trouble for something he did not even know that he did incorrectly, but now-)

His heart pounds behind his ribs, behind his temples, at the hollow of his throat. He can hardly swallow around it.

Saint Damien, he thinks desperately, keep me still, keep me still, keep me still-

He nearly stumbles when he feels-

The old coolness, like he once felt in the grips of the river. Almost like a voice, almost like an echo. Something whispered back, or-

Tranquility. Tranquility...

Damien feels his breathing slow, feels some measure of tension ease from his shoulders, his clenching stomach.

(Saint Damien used to answer him, used to linger as a presence, an aura around Damien's very soul, but slowly- slowly- so slowly that Damien had not been sure until it was too late, his saint had gone silent. Damien thought- he used to worry, perhaps, that his efforts in knighthood were not enough, that he had made it through his training and despite his successes, had come out lacking into knighthood, and even his own saint had been able to see the deficit within him. Else, his saint simply thought that Damien no longer needed him. That was, of course, the kinder idea. He was rarely able to convince himself of it.)

(When did Saint Damien begin to drift away? During his training? In the early days of his knighthood?)

(The last time he heard Saint Damien's voice in his heart, in his mind-)

(It was before his first kill. It was, wasn't it?)

Damien swallows, breathes slow, and joins the dutiful trickle of knights and guards into the wide meeting room that Queen Mira has selected for this day. For whatever, exactly, this is.

Sir Absolon already stands on the far side of the room, bracing his weight on the back of a chair and sneer-grinning at another, younger knight as the queen looks through papers a few feet away, narrowing her eyes towards the table. The group is... fairly small, split near evenly between sworn knights and more simple guards.

After a few minutes, Queen Mira straightens, and the assembled all silence themselves from their low chatter in response, attention given immediately.

"Something rather troubling has been brought to my attention," Mira says, her tone grave, and Damien's stomach gives a very unhelpful lurch. He breathes, and breathes, and keeps his face still. "A monster in the Trophy Room- the Lord of the Swamp." Another lurch. Tranquility, tranquility in stillness. Focus. "I have been given reports indicating that its condition... its condition has recently begun to change."

A ripple of uncomfortable breaths and subtle murmurs permeates the room, and Damien allows himself to shift with his very real discomfort. Before, he is certain that such news would spin him into a panic for quite different reasons than it does currently.

"Its condition has been decidedly static for more than a year, at this point. After its initial diminishing-" (oh, an unexpected spike of indignant fury, at that) "the monster had been stable and under control for quite a long time. It has, however, to appearances, been recently rallying. Growing stronger. With no apparent trigger, or cause. I thought it best," she says calmly over the low smattering of distressed murmurs, "to gather those who have been in proximity to the creature, to note if any of you may be aware of anything that could be responsible."

Damien feels another unexpected pulse of anger at her phrasing. At her avoidance of actually saying, he no longer looks as if he is starving to death, a still-aware desiccated corpse. He feels reasonably certain that any anger that manages to leak through into his expression is likely to be interpreted as aimed towards the monster, and not the queen, so he does his best not to worry too terribly about obscuring the feeling.

"Would anyone like to begin?" Mira asks, sounding very tired, and Damien notices Sir Absolon tipping his face towards him, all furrowed brow and disapproval.

The room is murmuring-quiet for a few beats while Damien purses his lip, ignores Sir Absolon, and pretends to consider, as if wracking his memory for any such trigger that he most certainly is not responsible for.

"Sir Damien," Absolon interrupts, apparently either unconvinced or simply choosing a direction for his own irritation. "You've been maintaining the chamber during the daylight shift, haven't you? Anything you've seen?" He grins, a baring of teeth that Damien might, in the past, have interpreted as the friendly goading of a comrade. Now, it makes him bristle. "Besides that one incident, of course."

Damien shoots the other knight a look, tipping his chin up with as much dignity as he can muster, even as he feels his cheeks heat with some combination of indignation and very specific fear.

But-

The incident. Right. Well.

That could certainly work.

It's almost too easy, in fact.

Damien drops his gaze, furrowing his brow again and putting his hand to his chin, angling his tone towards thoughtful. "Perhaps," he starts, his voice thankfully steady. "Perhaps... when Sir Absolon beat the monster in retaliation after the mentioned incident, it may have triggered some latent regenerative ability," Damien suggests, as smoothly as he is able. To his satisfaction, that makes the Queen blink, and then turn towards Sir Absolon. "It is not unusual for monsters to exhibit certain unnatural capacity for healing," he adds, as if that point is still the focus of the conversation.

"Beat the monster," Mira echoes, her own tone very blank.

Absolon's own face has gone ruddy and dark, at that, a very clear tension in his neck.

"Well-"

"Indeed," Damien continues, and then he blinks. "Were you unaware of what was done to the creature, my queen? Oh. My apologies, then. I would have reported the damage done to your trophy, had I known you did not order it to be beaten."

Referring to Arum explicitly as Mira's trophy, as an it, does make Damien's stomach turn, but- Mira's lip curls in a way that Damien thinks might indicate discomfort at the phrasing for her own part, and that is satisfying enough to warrant the slight.

It is also... he admits, an odd relief to know that Mira did not order Arum to be hurt. At least, not in this one specific way.

"I assumed that Sir Absolon would not perform such aggressive and extreme actions without orders," Damien adds, blinking, remembering the uncomfortably recent time when he would have spoken that sentence with full, naive honesty.

"You injured the monster," Mira says slowly, stern and measured, "that we very specifically have cause to keep safely alive. Without orders."

"No," Absolon says, and then he shakes his head, visibly aware of the attention now aimed his way. "Or- yes, but- it wasn't like that, my queen." He aims an irritable look towards Damien, and through sheer force of will, Damien keeps his own expression puzzled and implacable. "The thing needed to be wrangled, that's all. If it got hurt, that was only incidental in the effort to-"

"That is rather odd," Damien hears himself interrupt, ice in his own tone to overlay his incandescent rage. "Considering that the monster was placid on its stone when I was ordered from the room. There was no one at all within arms reach, last I saw, and no reason I could think of to approach it after the fact, barring an explicit intention to cause damage." He pauses, then adds, "To retaliate."

Absolon's eyes spark with fury, but Damien does not drop his gaze until the queen speaks again.

"That is a highly concerning assertion, Sir Damien."

"It's- it wasn't like that," Absolon lies again, scowling.

"It let me go, when it became clear that it would not be released or killed," Damien explains, knowing that the truth is dangerous but also knowing that there were other witnesses to the event. In fact- "It was, frankly, barely strong enough to stand, after it let me go. It collapsed. Is that not right, Sir Marinell?" he says, turning to one of the other guards who had been present. Marinell, for his part, winces very hard, obvious guilt on his face.

"Ah- er, that is-"

"You don't know what happened after you left the room, Sir Damien," Sir Absolon says darkly, prickling anger in his tone. "You don't-"

"Clearly," Queen Mira says, "none of us do, save those of you who were there. So, perhaps you should explain."

Absolon half-cringes, but he manages to pull himself together with annoying swiftness. Not swift enough, however, because Marinell breaks before he can weave together his own explanation.

"Sir Absolon was in charge," Sir Marinell says breathlessly, still wincing. "We were just doing as told. We were careful! Absolon had us leave our weapons out of range, we knew the thing isn't supposed to die. But Absolon said-"

"Marinell," Absolon warns.

"That he promised that the thing would wish it was dead, and-"

"Oh," Damien says, something cold curling against his heart. "Oh, yes. I remember, now. You promised that while the beast still held me, I believe." He locks eyes with Absolon, matching the fury there with his own. "I suppose you made good on your promise, then. Though- I think we rather have proof, do we not, that the creature already wishes that he were dead."

"Oh, you smug little s-"

"Sir Absolon," Queen Mira says, sharp, and the room goes breathless-silent again. "I am unspeakably disappointed by your conduct in this matter. There is still so much that we do not know about this creature and its capabilities, and if a single moment of impulsive, unnecessary violence by your own unilateral decision has caused this monster to begin to grow stronger again, that could have consequences that effect our entire kingdom."

Sir Absolon opens his mouth, possibly to argue, lie, plead his case, but something on the queen's face must be enough to quail him because he snaps his jaw back shut and cringes with his entire face, his fists balled tightly at his sides.

"I will speak with you privately, now," she says, tone utterly cool. "I apologize, for removing the rest of you from your duties for such a- needless cause. Your relief from your positions is intended to last the entire day; so you may be dismissed, now. Sir Damien," she adds, as the majority of the room immediately takes their cue to retreat from this now deeply uncomfortable space.

Damien lifts his chin towards Queen Mira, face as still as he can force it, a chant of tranquility taking up the majority of the space in the back of his mind. "Yes, my queen?"

She inhales, then exhales a sigh. "I thank you, for your candor. You are dismissed for the day as well."

Relief like a flood, rinsing through him from the base of his skull to the bottoms of his heels.

"Thank you, my queen," he says, tipping his head into a bow, and then he takes his turn to retreat as well.

#elle's fanfic #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #sir damien #queen mira #i HATE THIS NEW EDITOR SO MUCH #STAFF ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME. FUCK OFF. #GIVE THE OLD EDITOR BACK GOD DAMN IT

[anchanted-one]

Book of Storms. Legend of Vajra

Chapter 15. Knighthood

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43208574/chapters/109237216

@swtorhub

Council Chambers, The next afternoon

Decked out in his new ceremonial robes, Vajra was ushered inside the spacious round room by the droid. All the blinds had been closed, all the lights switched off, so when the door closed behind him, there was a moment in complete darkness.

Twelve Lightsabers ignited all over the room, illuminating it in blue, green, and yellow lights. All of the wielders were hooded, and holding them with both hands, in the ceremonial guard position.

Master Satele’s voice rang out, calm and clear as always. “Step forward, Padawan.”

Vajra obeyed, and knelt down before the figure in the very center of the circle.

As he knelt, all the Lightsaber blades pointed downwards.

“Vajra Devarath,” Master Satele intoned. “By the Right of the Council, by the Will of the Force, and in recognition of your service and performance in the trials, I dub thee a Jedi Knight of the Republic.” She tapped each of his shoulders with the tip of her ceremonial sword, then placed it on top of his head. “Yours has been a difficult road so far, but you have conquered it with skill and determination that is truly worthy of a Jedi. In the name of duty, you have led, you have bled, you have fought, you have overcome. You have shown all the wisdom, compassion, and maturity we expect from our Knights, but it is your singular talent for combat and protection which have gained you our attention and our confidence. I foresee that your road will only grow more difficult, and sometimes lonely. But your service will keep the trillions of innocents in this galaxy safe. Your blade will bring countless agents of evil to justice. Your heroism will inspire the Galaxy for generations to come. And your ferocity will be heard across the stars. You are hereby named the Storm of the Jedi; not by this Council, but by the Force itself. Hearken to it.”

Vajra felt chilled by her speech. He wasn’t the only one. Whispers broke out when her voice went silent, but quickly halted when Master Satele gave Vajra her hand to symbolically raise him back onto his feet. He looked her head on, and found a look of consternation on her own face which she hid at once and began clapping politely.

The other Masters followed suit, but there were a few who cheered rather more enthusiastically; by his own request, Jasme and Kira had been invited to his Knighting ceremony, as had T7-01, who whistled and chirped happily.

The lights came back on, and the blinds pulled back to transform the Council Chambers back into its usual self.

Master Orgus led him aside. “Well, well. ‘Storm of the Jedi’. I wasn’t expecting that. Nor was Master Satele, I think. No, that proclamation came from the Force direct. A somewhat ominous prestige. Congratulations on your Knighthood, my young friend.”

Jasme and Kira rushed over to him, and Kira offered him the highest of high fives before slapping his back. “Good job, my boy!” she cheered. “‘Storm of the Jedi’, eh? That’s a good name for a wrestler or something!”

Jasme squealed excitedly gave him a tight hug, something only she could do in plain view of the Masters.

“And so, my little brother’s gone and become a bigshot,” she cried. “How does it feel?”

“These robes are a bit itchy,” he admitted. “And the amour’s thick. I almost couldn’t fit your belt over it.”

“Yeah, I blame my clothes too!” Kira laughed.

“‘Storm of the Jedi’,” Jasme also repeated. “An apt title for a ‘Child of the Storm’. You are the Jedi’s Child of the Storm. Storm of the Jedi.” She cackled. “How apt! And not very imaginative, if you ask me. The Force is definitely no poet. So, what’s next for our conquering hero?”

“We’re about to get to that,” Master Satele called. “The Council is in session. I call for order. We have some related matters to discuss.”

Jasme went back to her seat, and Kira returned to her place beside Master Kiwiiks.

Vajra looked around. All the Council Seats were occupied for once. There were several Masters he had heard of, but never met before.

“We needed to discuss the matter of the Twi’leks. Despite everything, their Grand Matriarch refuses to relocate. I would know your thoughts on this.”

“Jasme has met her,” Vajra answered. “But I haven’t. She ‘granted me an audience’ after that poison episode, but I have neglected to follow through on it. I trust Jasme’s instincts that she’s up to something.”

“What does Matriarch Ranna say?”

“She thinks Kolivish is stubborn but claims she’s a good person. But it’s my opinion that a good person wouldn’t ignore her people as much as Kolovish does. She stayed aloof the entire time I’ve been here, expecting us to go to her. The only times I think she’s stirred is when talk of leaving Tython emerges.”

“It is troubling that she chose Tython to settle on, of all the worlds in the galaxy,” Master Braga coughed.

“Personally, I’m more concerned about how she stubbornly refused to leave even though there were Flesh Raiders and Dark Jedi attacking her people,” Master Kiwiiks said.

“But what can we do about it?” Master Syo asked. “Can we get them off the planet?”

“Only the Senate has that authority.”

“Then perhaps we can petition the Supreme Chancellor. These Twi’leks have endangered themselves many times over, demanded we allocate resources to defending them, then betrayed us. They betrayed the Jedi who had protected tirelessly them for months. For their own sake, but also ours, we must force them off this world.”

“If we’re worried about the danger we’re putting them in, why not leave ourselves?” Vajra questioned. “Tython is poorly defended.”

“The location of this world is a closely-guarded secret,” Master Nikil said, his serpentine body reclined against his pillow. “The Empire won’t attack us here anytime soon. There are many measures in place to ensure that only people we trust enter or leave this world.”

“Bengel got here,” Master Satele pointed out. “And with enough weapons to arm the entire Khrayii population, too. And the Kalikori got here too, mere weeks after word of our new location reached the general population.”

The Council shifted.

“What Vajra says is true,” Master Kiwiiks said. “Tython cannot be defended as easily as Coruscant or Corellia.”

“But we can’t abandon it just yet,” Master Satele sighed. “Relocating our Temple is vastly more expensive than relocating the Kalikori. And we can’t return to Coruscant. The Senate has deprioritized the Temple, since so much reconstruction in residential areas is still underway. It will be a decade at least before they begin. Nor can we go anywhere else, not yet.”

“Still, I’d be interested to see how this ‘Grand Matriarch’ reacts to a rumor of us leaving,” Master Tol Braga said thoughtfully. “If nothing else, her response will tell us whether or not she really is a harmless old woman.”

“A fine idea,” Master Kaedan said.

“The only one who can get close to her is Vajra,” Master Satele said. “And he’s needed on Coruscant.”

“Coruscant?”

“We have determined it as the source of the growing darkness. Master Kiwiiks and Kira cannot handle this alone. You and Master Orgus are to leave along with them.”

“If I may, I’d like to attend Morint’s funeral tomorrow, along with the others who died.”

Satele looked at Kiwiiks, who nodded. “Our audience with the Chancellor is scheduled for the day after tomorrow anyway. I think it’s not a bad idea for Vajra to leave the Kalikori on a more conciliatory note.”

“Very well then. Your request is granted, Vajra. Say your goodbyes, attend the funeral. But let the Twi’leks know that we are not happy to be proven right.”

“Yes, Master.”

*

Kalikori Village

It was nighttime, and most of the Twi’leks were celebrating Vajra’s victory. They hoped that with the culprit behind the attacks captured, and the majority of the Khrayii Force users slain, the natives wouldn’t pose much of a threat anymore.

Most Twi’lek children had been allowed to spend the night in the play pen in the play pen, as the adults were in the mood for a rowdier-than usual celebration.

It was in fact, a jamboree, beyond anything they’d had in years; the liquor stores had been raided. All adults gathered around the fire to sing, dance, eat, drink, and in some cases in the have orgies in the less illuminated places. There were several groups of three, four, five, and—in one case—even nine villagers, all busily pleasuring each other almost in the open. The normally simple, unassuming folk, really let loose today.

Ranna, not having any reason to attend either group’s idea of fun, sat gloomily in her home, still mulling over how badly she had messed up. The decision to betray the Jedi had not been hers, but her people’s. They had folded to the Dark Jedi’s demands almost at once, and insisted that she accept. On their prompting, she had lied to and betrayed the one she loved, and been accessory to the capture of someone he deeply cared for. Then she had failed him by not seeing Morint’s second betrayal coming. She had seen Vajra fight before; his reflexes were supernatural. He had avoided blows that he shouldn’t even have seen coming with ease and elegance. That Morint’s shot had hit him was an anomaly explained by one thing only; he’d been distracted. By Master Orgus’ kidnapping, but also by her advances. She wondered if he’d have been able to avoid it if she hadn’t come on to him so hard.

But could she have refused her people? Did she have that right? Or was her title all duty and no privileges? She hated how they could celebrate while she mourned the end of the one thing that had kept her going since her mother’s death.

What else could she have done? What else should she have done?

“Ranna?”

She almost screamed. “Vajra?”

“Sorry. I let myself in. You kinda liked it last time, didn’t you? You didn’t answer your comms.”

Ranna furiously wiped her tears away.

“Vajra? What are you doing here?”

“I said I’d talk with you once this was over, didn’t I?”

“But that was yesterday!”

“That drug Morint put in me? It wasn’t without its effect. I was all but out cold after my fight yesterday. Only woke up this morning. But I thought Jasme told you that?”

“I… I think she may have sent me a message. But I didn’t think to look. But what happened today?”

“Well, today was a little hectic. I was raised to Knight this morning.”

“What? Oh! Congratulations!” Ranna didn’t feel the cheer she was faking. If he had been Knighted… “That means you’re going to be reassigned, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad it’s only one of our fates to be stuck in a tiny village for the rest of her life.”

“You can always leave,” Vajra said. “Not just Tython, but the Kalikori. This religion you’re following… it feels like a cult to me. The Jedi can help you start a new life. Maybe I can visit you, wherever you find yourself.”

“Leaving these schuttas feels like such an appealing idea at the moment…”

“That’s a strong insult from you.”

“Did you see them out there?”

“Yeah. I think I saw your mother’s nurse close by, with three men straddling her. She looked…”

“I know, Vajra!” she wept. “They’re cutting loose! Having the time of their lives! All while locking me in a hundred chains! ‘Oh, hello Ranna! Now that I’ve seen you, drop everything you’re doing and waste your morning solving this miniscule trifle for me!’ ‘Why, it’s the Matriarch! Here, let’s take this problem that ten grown adults weren’t able to solve, and ask her to solve it for us!’ ‘Oh, Ranna sweetie, maybe you can hear me complain about my toenails for the rest of the day!’ And after everything I did, everything I gave them, they forced me to betray you! And now they’re celebrating? The gall!”

Ranna was stunned when Vajra picked her up. “Vajra?”

“I am sorry I couldn’t make it earlier, Ranna.”

“Why are you even here? Why are you even willing to share the same air with me? How can you hold me again like nothing happened?”

“Because I don’t believe you did anything wrong. Besides, I love you.

She could scarce believe her hearing. “You love me?”

“Yes Ranna.”

“But aren’t you leaving Tython?”

“Not tonight. Tonight, I’m all yours. And I thought I’d ask if your offer was still open.”

“My offer… oh!” Ranna’s jaw dropped. “Do you mean…?”

“I… I want to…” she looked up at him at last, having avoided his gaze since the beginning. He looked so shy! It was adorable! “Ranna, just this once, I want to share your bed. I want to celebrate with you the way your rowdy villagers are. I want to see that same expression on your face that Nora had!” He blushed furiously as he said it, but he did manage to say it.

Ranna giggled furiously, then kissed his neck. “Well, well! Celebrate like them? Discard all inhibitions? Yes, please! Give it to me!”

He returned the passionate kiss she had given him on his birthday; she felt an excited flush flood her face. She began undressing him as he carried her to her bed, and then lay back to admire his body when he deposited her on the straw mattress. She knew her face had a most satisfied smirk as he began to disrobe her as well, placing kisses on her mouth and neck.

As he placed his hands on her final articles of clothing, she thanked all the stars that had aligned to give her this one, perfect moment. Tonight was a good night, after all!

*

Vajra nudged Ranna off his chest early the next morning. “Ranna… I need to sneak out, so that it looks like I’m only just arriving for the funerals.”

Ranna gave him a truly tearful look. “Is the night over already?”

“Almost. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” her expression morphed into one of deepest satisfaction. “It was the best night of my life. I understand now, why the others like to couple up at every excuse.” She watched him dress from under her sheets. “I know you said it was one night only… but do you think we’ll get to celebrate like that again? I’d like to do this once in a while.”

“I don’t think so. But perhaps we will see each other again. Tython is still the Jedi HQ. For now.”

“Good. I’ll be counting the hours till I see you again.”

He chuckled. “How do your people see me? Will my presence be resented?”

“No. I told them what transpired and most of them understood, Morint’s brother among them. But be prepared for a few hostile stares. Morint was well loved.”

But then, Vajra had been well-loved too. And her people had turned him in at the shadow of a threat. In hindsight, Ranna believed that they could easily have repelled the children.

“I can almost see the stress eating away at you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. The job of Matriarch… I’m sorry, Ranna. But you’re better ceding it to someone else until you’re at least twenty-five.”

“I understand.” After a brief pause, she hesitantly spoke up again. “Vajra?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you considered my other offer? Leave the Jedi. Live with me. Let us repeat last night as many times as we please. We can lead a simple life, away from all the burdens and responsibilities. I was not ready to be a Matriarch, but are you ready to be a Knight?”

He sighed. “I’m not. But I’m afraid this is my path, for now.”

“Does it have to be? Please, just give it some serious thought. Move in with me. Or at least the village. Marry me when we come of age, and nail me to our bed every night. I’ll make you happy too. I can be the mother of your children. As many as you want. And the people will eventually remember everything you did for them. You will be welcomed here. Adored. Respected.”

“Your offer is tempting,” Vajra conceded. Master Satele’s warning loomed in his head. Jedi, or everything else? Lover, spouse, and parent? Or Jedi? “But I can’t.” This time it was he who paused for a moment. “I want you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“If you ever find someone else who loves you, and can keep you warm most nights, and happy most days instead of just once every few months… take him. I am not worth pining over for the rest of your life.”

“I can’t promise that, Vajra.”

“We are teenagers,” he said insistently. “Feelings at our age are famously changeable.”

“Mine won’t!” she said heatedly. “I love you! Now, and forever!”

“Promise me.”

“No. Even if this is the last time we ever meet alone, this is what I want. Don’t ask me to change my mind.”

He sighed heavily. “Alright. May the Force be with you, Ranna.”

She mumbled something and went back to sleep.

*

This was the first real Kalikori funeral Vajra had been allowed to attend, so he didn’t know what to expect. From all the exclusivity, he’d expected rituals, hymns, elaborate burials or cremations, and even for the bodies to be decked out in ceremonial robes. Perhaps adorned with several of their personal effects.

But it was rather perfunctory. Ranna just mentioned each Twi’lek’s name, where and when they were born, and that they would be missed. After that, she placed a single torch on each pyre before backing away. There wasn’t even a speech recalling their lives and service.

Everyone had their entire faces covered with a thin gauze so as to avoid inhaling the ash and smoke from the pyres, but everyone shed at least a few tears.

“Was Matriarch Sumari’s funeral any different?” Vajra asked Nora, the former Matriarch’s nurse. Several Twi’leks gave him scalding hot looks, but Nora squeezed his hand briefly.

“Just like this. Only difference was how Ranna fought back her tears. She is understandably not as distraught as she was back then.”

Vajra recalled Jasme’s comment about how this cult felt a little poorly designed, lacking even a modicum of ceremony or symbolism.

Behind him, he felt a slight nudge. He turned to see a Twi’lek with a green, lined face.

“So, you’re the Jedi Padawan I’ve heard so much about.”

“My name is Vajra. Pleased to meet you.”

“I am Grand Matriarch Kolovish,” she announced, her voice deep and mellow. “Please, follow me.”

Vajra considered disobeying, but that risked causing a stir. She led him a fair distance away from the crowd, but Vajra said “I think this is far enough, Grand Matriarch. I’d like to return to them afterwards.”

Irritation flitted across her face. “So be it, although you should know by now that we like things simple here. The funeral is over. Everyone will either watch, or return to their homes.” She watched him for a moment before going on. “I offered you an audience, but you never came. It’s bad to keep your elders waiting, you know.”

Only half a year ago, Vajra would have agreed with that statement. Things were different now. Perhaps it was a sign that he was in his rebellious phase. “It’s also bad for an elder to condemn her innocent followers to their deaths, you know.”

Her eyes flashed for a moment, but her voice remained soft and kind. “We were hounded out of our homes on Ryloth. We will not abandon our homes again. No matter the cost. We will never embrace cowardice again.”

“Why not, if it keeps your people alive? They are important. The land is not.”

“Having someplace to call home is important. It grounds us. Gives us a sense of security. You will not understand; you are still a young child.”

“There were twenty-three children even younger than me, who were tortured to death in that valley. That was the fate of every child in your village if we hadn’t helped you. Every villager.”

“Regardless. We will stay no matter the cost. We are proud, we are brave—”

“The Jedi Council discussed leaving.”

She spun around. “What?!”

“It’s true. Tython is remote, and Jedi are needed everywhere. Our beloved Temple has been rather empty for months. Why do you think I was the only Jedi they could spare?” Her mouth worked for a few moments. Her eyes screamed panic. “Bengel Morr’s threat to your village, and your people’s subsequent betrayal, proved our concerns. Your presence is a threat. Our beliefs force us to protect innocents. But you refuse to leave… better if the Jedi withdraw. You can have this place all to yourselves.”

Her mouth worked. “But the Flesh Raiders!” she protested. “They may be gone now, but they’re still numerous! They will return one day! How will we survive, without Jedi support?”

“You’ve changed your tune, haven’t you? The Council were right to not trust you.”

“You… you lied to me, didn’t you? The Jedi aren’t going anywhere! This is their birthplace!”

“I didn’t lie. And we’ve already left once.”

She sighed, having composed herself at last. “The stories about you are wrong.” Her voice was of a grandmother sadly revoking her favored grandchild’s access to dessert. “You are a rather unpleasant child. I granted you this audience to give you the privilege of being accepted into our fold. But clearly, you are not the cherubim I was led to believe.”

If I’m guilty of misleading your people, what does that make you? He wondered. You clearly led them here to get close to the Temple, not to watch this paper cult flourish. What is it you want with the Jedi? What are you plotting?

But he said nothing. He bowed and returned to the funeral, returning his mask back into position. The crowd had thinned, but Ranna was among the ones that remained. Vajra took his place beside her and solemnly watched the pyres burn.

*

#star wars #swtor #the old republic #fanfiction #jedi knight #hero of tython

[habenliebe]

Hello!

My name is Vikingr or Reesh, this is a general about me post.

My pronouns are it/him. I am Bigender.

I am 18.

My sexuality is my partner.

Do not use tone tags on me.

I also have ASPD and Borderline Personality disorder. I am a DID system.

Other things about me!

My favorite BANDS, GAMES, SHOWS, MOVIES, and YOUTUBERS:

Bands: Metallica, Slipknot, Cobra Starship, Megadeth, Rammstein, Ghost, Emigrate, Feeling B, Mariana’s Trench, Nightwish, The Used, Sabaton, Avatar, Foo Fighters, Slayer, Anthrax, Pantera, Sepultura, Black Veil Brides, Mötley Crüe, Motörhead, Iron Maiden, and more!

Games: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare III, Mafia Trilogy, Call of Duty: Ghosts, Detroit: Become Human, Call of Duty: World War 2, Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla, Dead by Daylight, Outlast, Outlast: Whistleblower, Roblox LMAO, Elder Scrolls Online, The Forest, Phasmophobia, and more!

Shows: Turn: Washington’s Spies, The Last of Us, Moon Knight, Falcon and the Winter Soldier, The Mandolorian, Book of Boba Fett, Hawkeye, Loki, Stranger Things, and more that I cannot think of right now!

Movies: Anything Marvel related, The Lost Boys, The Shining, Halloween, The Batman, Kingsman: The Golden Circle, IT, IT Chapter Two, Scream, Underworld Franchise, Resident Evil Franchise, Lord of the Rings Franchise, The Hobbit Franchise, and more!

More about me, how I will tag my posts!

The way I will tag my posts is:

I won’t! :]

Extra/Necessary information

Needed Trigger Warnings:

Suicide/Self Harm topics

Anorexia/Bulimia topics

Abuse/SA topics

My DNI list:

BASIC DNI CRITERIA

DNI if toxic metal fans

DNI if over 50

DNI if under 15

DNI if DSMP fan/stan in any way shape or form.

Extra!

My spotify will be linked below, my discord is stanheights., my instagram is morbid.mouth.

If you have questions about DID or other things about the system feel free to ask!

Please do not purposely trigger other people up, especially if they do not want to be fronting, please ask!

Thank you for reading!

#metallica #metallicafandom #intro post #hammetted #kirk hammett #lars ulrich #james hetfield #cliff burton #metallica 90s #kirk shit #detroit being human #detroit become human #assassins creed valhalla #resident evil #turn washington's spies #spotify #thrash metal #80s music #i love metallica lol