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manias-wordcount · 8 months

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um !! so ive totally been using ur page as my nightly routine teehee and like. sorry in advance if ur requests r clsoed , im new to tumblr so i seriously have no idea how to check😭😭

but i was thinking ;; could you please write a smut for totk link and fem reader ? in whichhh u both hide in a closet together in like the castle or smth.. and to calm u down he like lets u ride him HAJHAH

so embarrassed, but imagining the shakey breaths and sounds of his armour clanking against the wall as he thrusts upwar ds .....

i know im a slut but im only a girl !! i cant help it..!

- r 🍒

Hero's Duty (BOTW Link x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼!

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘃𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝘀𝘀𝘆 𝗟𝗠𝗔𝗢

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be giving in like this. He should be stronger than this. He shouldn’t be thinking like this. He shouldn’t be wanting this. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t.

But fate is a cruel mistress. And he can’t stand it when you squeeze your thighs together and look at him like he’s the only thing you’ll ever need. He can’t stand it.

Still, He’s supposed to be a knight. He’s supposed to be a hero. Disciplined and proper. Courageous and strong. Polite. Gallant. Respect. Dignified. Honorable. He’s supposed to be all those things. And he is! He swears, deep down inside he is. He knows he is. Everyone knows he is. He’s been congratulated by the king directly before. Called upon by him to take up arms and join the fight. And He serves Princess. He serves the people. He serves the kingdom. Hell, he’s even wearing some of his royal armor right now. He’s supposed to be a knight. He’s supposed to be a hero. He’s supposed to be protecting you right now.

Not lifting up your dress and gripping your hips as he bounces your needy little hole down onto his cock over and over and over and over again.

It’s not what he should be doing. He has a mission. He has orders. He has a task to complete. Duty to fulfill. People to protect. People who need him. But your pussy feels so tight and so warm and so wet around his cock it’s amazing how he managed to last this long. But now that he started, he knows he can’t stop. He won’t stop. Not until he’s finished. Not until you’re both finished.

“ Ah….um, Link- Ah~”

However long it takes.

“You like that, princess?” He murmurs lowly, blue eyes narrowing in on your face as your eyes cross and your mouth falls open into a lewd expression. You don’t respond- at least, you don’t respond with words to his question. But at this point, he’s not even sure if you would have been able to hear him over the sounds of your cute little whimpers and moans as he thursts his hips into you. Or maybe it’s the dirty sounds of your soaking wet little cunt taking in every single inch of his dick that keeps you from hearing the sound of your lover’s voice. He doesn’t know for certain, but the selfish, selfish part of him likes to think it’s a combination of the two. And the rational part of him? “You’re taking me so well pretty girl. So well. ”

The rational part of him knows it’s a little bit of both. Plus the fact that you always manage to get a little dick drunk when someone fucks you good and proper. And luckily for you, Link’s happy to play knight in shining armor to his needy little princess and her perfectly tight little holes -

Fuck, you bring out the worst in him. But you know that don’t you? He swears it. He swears you do. He swears you have to . Goddesses, he doesn’t even remember what he’s supposed to be doing right now. He knows it was supposed to be something important. Something only he could do. But then you started getting anxious. After every battle, after every fight- you still manage to worry about him. You still manage to fear that your powers and your efforts as his support won’t be good enough.

It’s cute how you worry. It’s cute how you care. But he had a job to do. And he needed you in good shape to do it. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quell your nerves. Your silent shaking. Your quiet whimpers. And worst of all? Every promise that he’ll protect was starting to fall flat in your ears. Every comforting touch didn’t seem like it worked. Didn’t seem like it was enough . But he had a job to do. A job that included your safekeeping and your safe return. So he did what any good knight would do.

He pulled you into the nearest closet he could find and got you nice and relaxed on his fingers before stuffing you nice and full with his cock.

Now your moans bounce off the walls like hymns in a church. Now his name falls off of your lips like deities in a prayer. Now you can be protected. Nurtured. Cared for. All by him. All for you.

And maybe there were better ways of taking care of you and your fears. Maybe an orgasm and a good dicking down isn’t exactly what you need in this moment. But your precious little pussy is taking his cock so effortlessly that he’s starting to feel less of a knight and more like a man. A man who can’t help but have wants. A man who can’t help but feel lust. A man who can’t help but need to fuck a pretty girl when he’s not supposed to and make excuses about it.

And he’ll do it again the next chance he gets. He’ll do it all over again.

“ Mmm, Link I’m…I’m close…”

Your whimper is quiet, but within the four walls of this closet, it could be the loudest thing in the world right now. Louder than the loud slap of his pelvis hitting against your skin. Louder than his armor groaning and creaking under all this movement. Louder than the sound of you get exactly what you asked for when you look at your hero to distract you- to save you - from this moment of fear.

“ Oh, yeah baby? You’re getting close? ”

But that’s the thing… he knows. He knows because you’ve been getting louder. He knows because you’ve been getting tighter . He knows because every single time his gaze falls back to the spot where your bodies join, and his dick gets swallowed up by your perfect little cunt time after time, he feels his own core tightening up in a way he can only assume will leave you nice and full and messy until he gets the chance to clean you up later on. He knows you’re close. He knows .

“ Well, that’s too bad, princess.” He grinds out, eyes narrowing into slits as his hands tighten his grip on your hips. And goddesses, how you whimper. Goddesses, how you whine . But no matter how many times you beg him and you cry to him he doesn’t change up like he knows you want him to. He doesn’t shift his angle to hit deeper. He doesn’t speed up his thrusts to hit faster. He doesn’t cater to your every whim. He doesn’t listen to your heavenly cries when you beg him to let you reach euphoria with every single breath you take. At least, not this time. At least, not yet.

But fuck, you bring out the worst in him. You bring out the absolute worst in him. You bring out the man in him. So it’s only fair. It’s only fair that he takes what’s his. It’s only fair that he calls the shots. That he makes the orders on this battlefield. That he fucks you how he wants to. That he fucks you how he needs to.

That he fucks you like he absolutely should.

Because deep down in his mind, he’s still a knight. He’s still disciplined and proper. Courageous and strong. Polite. Gallant. Respect. Dignified. Honorable. He can learn to say no to you. He can learn not to give into your every want. To your every need. He can learn. He can do it. He’s your knight in shining armor. He’s your one and only hero. Your one and only everything . So he can do it. He can do it. He can.

Can’t he?

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seithr · 16 days

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#sticks my hand out of the ground to give a thumbs up.#sorry a lot came down on me and I've been more than out of it and needed to stick my head in the freezer.#probably better I not say More but buhgh. still fuzzy. its been a long week. i always come back to dimitri. i guess hes a comfort character #whenever I get stressed to physical symptoms i end up with a big block of photos in my phone...lockscreen... pfp...dumb but. it works. agh.#pass the mitri...#armour clanking #fe3h #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #is it weird to put my tag-admission of life in a character tag? probably but i'm half-aware at best. i wish other dimitri fans a very mitri

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goodboytown · 1 year

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>>> rivets continued

#ratchet and clank #rift apart #rivet #all my story rivs #shes wearing parts of the rebel armour in ASE

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gepardling · 1 year

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late night R&R w/ gepard.

desc. : Gepard returns home late after his patrols, but the last thing he expects to see is you still awake, let alone your fingers stuffed in your sopping cunny... (wc : 2.7k)

tags / cw : nsfw, afab!reader, lots of kissing, tooth rotting fluff, sex, lots n lots of sex, cunnilingus, size kink (?), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it!), praise kink, pussydrunk!gepard, masturbation, lil bit of overstimulation, petnames (baby, good boy, geppie, my love), not proofread! i wrote this based on vibes alone

It was shameful how something as innocent as your kisses could get Gepard all hot beneath the collar. Your kisses were gentle, quick, and very, very numerous. They were passionate, fiery and filled with your love for him. They were supportive, caring and understanding. Everything that Gepard could ask for, he found in your kiss.

That is, of course, until he remembers where else those lips of yours kissed him last week…

STOP. A blistering heat creeps up Gepard's neck as he tries to mentally will those invasive thoughts to go away. To focus on the task at hand. To finish his patrols and ensure the safety of the people of Belobog. But when he thinks of you all alone at home his heart goes soft, and his mind begins to wander again.

He thinks about your gentle touch, your innocent doe-like eyes, your soft hair, your plush thighs, your pillowy breasts…

…

Okay, that's enough now. Gepard tugs at his collar, a pathetic attempt to dissipate the heat locked under his uniform. Just one more block. One more block and he could return home to you and your awaiting arms. It was getting harder to focus by the minute, with Gepard's mind becoming clouded by thoughts of you. He hadn't even realised he had walked straight home on autopilot until he was about to open the front door.

His hand hesitated on the doorknob. He didn't even finish his patrols, but it was so late already. You must be fast asleep by now. Part of him wanted to turn around and finish his duties but… Gepard felt guilty. He had been very busy lately, working late nights and often not returning home until the next day. At least he spends less time on the frontlines, but even so it doesn't help his workload much.

With a heavy heart, Gepard pushes open the front door and steps inside. The lights are already off, so he figures you must be in bed. The clanking of his armour makes him wince, sounding much louder in the quiet house than he first anticipated. Carefully, he removes his boots and gloves, leaving them in their respective spots. He decides to retreat to the kitchen for a glass of water before bed.

But Gepard stills in his tracks when he hears a faint noise. The softest of mewls peeling beneath the crack of your shared bedroom door. His immediate thought was to check if you're having a bad dream. But the closer he inches to the door, the more flustered he becomes. When he stops in front of it, the realisation fully sets in. First of all, you were not having a bad dream. And second of all, you weren't asleep at all.

He needs a moment to prepare himself before he opens that door, knowing what awaits him on the other end doesn't settle his nerves in any way. It's not that he was scared but you always had this way of making his heart race, to challenge his fight-or-flight response. He takes a moment to still the thudding in his chest, to try and ignore the way his pants feel a lot tighter than they did 5 minutes ago. But what he hears next makes his head spin,

"Geppie… Ahn-... A-Are you home yet?" your voice weakly calls to him through the door. Shit…

He opens the door slowly, and the sight makes his breath hitch. You're lying on your shared bed, 2 fingers stuffed deep in your cunny and your thumb desperately rolling your puffy clit. You weren't wearing your usual nightdress, but rather one of his shirts, bunched up around your tits. It was almost shameless, the way you held eye contact with him, desperately gasping with teary eyes.

For a moment he was glued in place, eyes fixated on the motion of your fingers, the way your arousal pooled around your ass on the sheets. You stop your lewd actions and move to sit up. But then he found himself moving, moving way too fast, and almost crashing onto his knees at the foot of the bed. In one swift motion, he scoots you forward on the bed and nestles his face into your soft thighs, quietly exhaling against your skin.

"I'm sorry I'm late, my love," he begins.

"I missed you, baby…" you reply, wrapping your arms around his head and pulling him in to hug you.

"Missed you too," he breathes out, muffled by the skin of your tummy. The sensation tickles, and you giggle a little before tilting his head upwards.

"Geppie… You seem exhausted…" you tut, gently raking your nails across his scalp. Almost instantly, he relaxes in your embrace. The small act makes his nerves melt away.

"Mhmm," he hums, eyes closing momentarily. But when he opens them again, the light in them changes to something a little… bolder. "Are we going to ignore the state I just found you in?"

You gape your mouth a few times, probably akin to a goldfish. A deep blush crept up your neck, and your loins felt a little bit hotter than before. You honestly forgot about that for a moment, being caught up in Gepard's emotional state. You bit your lip before replying, "I- uhm… It's nothing. You're tired, we should go to sleep."

"Don't wanna neglect you again…" he whines, nuzzling against you. Before you could tell him otherwise, he starts trailing gentle kisses down your stomach, onto your thigh. Lips hovering so close to where you know you need him, but…

"Gepard… It's fine. You don't have to- Ah..!"

He latches his lips onto your clit, and begins to gently suck the tiny bud. You subconsciously find yourself gripping his hair, pulling his face closer to your pussy. He lets out a groan at the sensation, the act sending sinful vibrations across your womanhood. He brings a hand up to your clit and pops his mouth off, darting his tongue out to meet your hole. He starts off slow, gently licking your mound, before nearly stuffing his face into your cunny to fuck you with his tongue.

The movement is sudden and it has you jerk forwards, letting out a loud moan at the feeling of his mouth on you. The longer he goes, the sloppier he gets, making a mess of his spit and your arousal across your thighs. You're nearly folded double, arms holding his head to keep your grip on reality. The sound of him eating pussy like a man starved is obscene, and only adds to your moment of bliss.

But when you start to see a light, what starts off as a white pinprick in your vision grows to a blinding flash. The knot in your core that builds and builds suddenly snaps and you come undone with a hoarse cry. You fall backwards onto the bed as Gepard helps you to ride out your high, placing gentle kittenlicks on your cunny. But when be doesn't stop there and keeps going, your post-orgasm bliss is interrupted.

"W-Wait… Geppie, what are you- Ah… Ahn!" Your voice cracks feebly and you try to push his head off your overstimulated clit, but your arms are too weak to make any difference. You try closing your thighs and scooting back on the bed, but Gepard has you locked in place. He wraps one hand around your thigh and places the other on your abdomen, lightly pushing down.

The sensation is far too much, and you're left arching your back and gripping the sheets behind you. You bite your lips in a poor excuse to try and die down the sounds bubbling from your chest, and subconsciously buck your hips against his face. All coherent thoughts are torn from your mind as you reach your second climax, Gepard's name ripping from your throat.

When he sits back up, his chin is practically glistening with your juices, and his breathing is ragged. A crimson blush is spread across his cheeks, nose and ears. You could swear he has hearts in his eyes as he looks at you with the most adoring, innocent gaze, something almost unbelievable given the acts he just committed.

"D-Did I do well?" He huffs out, almost somewhat embarrassed to ask. You nod your head and thread your fingers through his hair.

"Yes, baby… Did so good f'me…" your reply comes out slurred.

Gepard places one more kiss on the inside of your thighs before he stands up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, the sight alone making you press your thighs together. A new warmth bloomed between them, but you were too shy to admit that, already feeling guilty about keeping your lover awake. He discards his uniform and gets back on the bed, taking his place next to you with an arm draped over your middle.

You hum, turning to face him before planting a kiss on his nose. But one kiss turns into many, and before you know it, Gepard's flustered gaze meets yours. Gently, you trail your hand down his chest, coming to stop just above his member.

"You don't have to," he almost stammers, but you press a kiss to his lips to silence him.

"It's my turn to take care of you, Gepard." You whisper against his lips as your hand finally meets his throbbing length. He's already so worked up, just from eating you out, immediately letting out a gasp as you thumb his tip. Tiny pearls of pre bead at his tip, which you eagerly swipe away as you massage the head of his cock. Your hand drags up and down his length tantalisingly slow as you press open mouthed kisses against his neck.

Gepard can barely keep himself sane, small gasps echoing into the night. You move to sit over him, straddling his hips on either side with your thighs. You continued stroking his length, fingers dancing across his girth as you supported your weight with one hand on his chest. His expressions were absolutely divine, he looked ethereal. The moonlight cast a halo over his golden hair, your good boy taking all the love you lathered over his cock.

"You're so pretty like this, Gepard…" you breathed out, hand increasing the speed with which you stroked him, drawing out more and more cries of bliss from his lungs. Seeing the way he reacted to you, and you alone, was enough to make your heart flutter and pussy clench around nothing. You maintained your pace, unfaltering, until with a groan Gepard released white ribbons of cum into your hand, over himself and the sheets.

"Such a good boy for me," you whisper, leaning down to place a few more open mouthed kisses on his lips. He whines and meets you halfway, reciprocating your sweet love with no hesitation. You can feel his half-hard cock press into your thigh, and he does too. His hands grab your hips and slowly push and pull your folds across his length, still not quite satisfied. You gasp and moan when the head of his cock catches onto your clit, with every drag of your soft body over his lean one.

It takes all your willpower to push yourself up off of him, before reaching down to align his tip with your entrance. The blunt head rests snugly against your hole, and the size makes you hesitate for a moment. Gepard gives your hip a reassuring squeeze, and you slowly begin to sink down on his cock. The stretch burns, a dull ache reverberating through your lower half as you try to fit him all inside. Crystalline tears bead at the corners of your eyes, and Gepard immediately takes notice of them.

"We don't have to-," he begins, worry laced in his tone, but you cut him off swiftly before he can pull out.

"I want to…" as you grab at his free hand, guiding it towards your clit, gently rubbing it in slow circles. Your pussy clenches around him, and you both gasp at the sudden tightness, but eventually your walls relax. Gepard was worried he might cum prematurely at the sight of you trying to stuff yourself with his cock, the way your pussy fluttered around him each time you sank a little lower was almost too much for his brittle resolve. Bit by bit the stretch eases as you seat yourself fully on his cock, and he lets out a low groan when it disappears entirely from his vision.

You both still momentarily, attempting to catch your breath and get used to the way he splits you open. Then, you slowly rise, leaving only the tip inside before dropping back down. The head bumping your cervix is almost enough to cripple you with pleasure, he's so big it's unavoidable. You set a pace for yourself, riding his dick with vigor. The burn in your thighs felt good, each hump rewarded with the grind of his head against your spongy spot that oozes the love juice out of you.

Gepard's jaw goes slack with pleasure, head tilted back into the fluffy pillow. His hands had an iron grip on your hips, helping you along and stuffing himself deeper into your core with every thrust. The pressure was building up again, it was blistering hot, getting closer and closer to your release but not quite making it. It's messy. It's sticky. It's wet. With every rise of your hips he can clearly see the white ring at the base of his member. Both your mixed arousals coating his abdomen and leaving dainty strings in its wake.

The ache in your thighs had started to overpower the pleasure, and Gepard noticed the way your pace faltered. Despite being barely coherent himself, Gepard could tell enough to pinpoint that you must be getting tired. He couldn't really think straight in the moment either, but his natural instinct was to help you out, yeah? In one swift move, he has you underneath him, one hand pushing your thigh up to your chest and the other holding your wrists together, tugging you into him with every thrust.

The sudden change startled you, Gepard was never really this forward to begin with. But you couldn't deny the way you loved to be at his mercy for once. This new position squeezed your tits together even more, and every thrust dug deeper into your core. You turn your gaze upwards and meet Gepard's eyes, who is absolutely drunk on your cunt right now. There probably wasn't a thought in that little head of his, other than railing you into next Tuesday.

The way he groans and whines makes the room heat up a little, slurring out little please's and thank you's. You'd be lying if you said you didn't find it incredibly endearing, his worship and praise for you was unending and overflowing. You could barely keep up with his pace too, leaving you a mewling mess sprawled beneath him. Just a few more thrusts until you'd-...

With a sudden cry, Gepard's name dancing on your lips, you come undone once more that night. Your throat was hoarse by now, kiss-swollen and bitten lips pursing together pathetically to silence your cries. The way you clenched around him led Gepard towards his tipping point as well, thrusting one - two - three more times before he buried himself as deep inside your cunny as possible.

Ribbon after ribbon of his cum shoots into your womb, and Gepard rides out his high with shallow grinds against your pelvis. Your already-overstimulated clit burned at the feeling, but you were too breathless to let out a peep. Gepard stills in your cunt for a moment to catch his breath, "S-So good f'me, you feel so good," he babbles incoherently. When all is said and done, he pulls back and sees the way his cum spills from your messy folds.

It takes everything in him to will his dick down again. "... Gepard?" Your innocent little voice bores it's way into his mind.

"I'm… uhm…" he coughs awkwardly before his hands find your hips again. "S-Sorry…" he stammers. Your eyes widen in alarm. That can't be…

"W-Wait what are you- Gepa-AH!"

(It's safe to say you didn't get much sleep that night)

i kinda like this interpretation of geppie 🥺🥺 soft n shy but sometimes his more duty-driven side comes out in the bedroom... I imagine you've been together 4 a while so he's more comfortable doing these tings ♥︎

#gepard smut #gepard x you #gepard x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #hsr x reader #gepard landau #gepard hsr #♥︎ | milky writes

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asumofwords · 9 months

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Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello my babies, this has certainly been a build up, say 98 chapters long? Thank you all so much for your love, and messages, and support, I really hope you enjoy the way I eventually end SF&A. This was originally two shorter chapters, but I decided to combine them together instead. Bold italics are inner thoughts and flash backs as per usual. I have so much more I want to say but won't because you want to read it, and obviously we will talk after!!! Enjoy <3

Chapter 98: Hand Turns Loom, Hen Kasta naejot Zōbrie

When your mother had been crowned, you remember the day clearly.

How all the Lords and Ladies around you, knights, Maesters, maids; all those in her presence bent the knee.

All but Rhaenys.

How the sound of their rustling robes, their shifting pommels of armour, or clanking of their swords filled the air around you.

How your heart had swelled with pride, how deep and pure it had been. How you had felt adoration, devotion, and had no second thought about digging your knee into the ground below, bowing your head to your Queen.

But now, your knees would not budge, not even if you had wanted them to.

They did not bend, or creak, or crack.

They locked.

Refusing to drop down to the stone floor below. Refusing to meet the cold, hard surface, which would no doubt send crawling ice up your knees and body, but not only that, it would be to give in.

To give up.

To bend the knee to a monster.

And you had endured far too much to do that.

Too far to turn back now.

You would not bend the knee to Aegon, and so there you stood, in the throne room, before the Iron Throne, and the Small Council, refusing to kneel.

Refusing to swear him as your King.

Refusing to back down.

Gods be good.

Be on my side.

You could feel the heated gaze of your husband, and yet you did not tear your own away from the man before you, who took slow and calculated steps, each one echoing into the sparse hall as his boots thumped against the stones.

You did not try to move, nor would you have had the chance with the guards behind you, their presence coming closer. The warmth of their bodies behind you made the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end.

His violet eyes bore into your own.

His own flesh and blood.

His niece.

Your uncle.

Someone you had grown up beside. Someone who you had played with, and laughed with, and fought with. Someone who had grown into the monster he was today. And so he stalked towards you, and still you did not kneel.

Aegon, watching your refusal, looked to the guards on either side of you, and nodded.

Dracarys, Lucerys whispered in your mind.

Your knees hit the ground with a resounding crack, pain shooting up the both of them as the guards had grabbed you by each shoulder and forced you to the stone floor. Aemond shifted in your periphery, and you saw Alicent go to him quickly, grabbing his arm to keep him back, and yet you could not take your eyes away from the man who stood before you, hand resting atop the hilt of his sword, Conquerors Crown atop his silver waves.

This was it.

Today the Stranger comes for me.

Aegon smiled down at you as he watched you come to the realisation. And yet still, you made no move to swear yourself to him. No move to call him King. No move to save yourself. And although you had been forced to your knees before him, you had not bent them of your own accord.

“The punishment for a crime like this is death.” Aegon boomed to the chambers, voice echoing off the stone walls, his steps becoming slower as he came closer towards you, "I could have you hanged on the wall, or send you to the butchers block. Perhaps I could even feed you to Sunfyre.”

“Aegon.” Aemond's voice came from behind, clipped and short, held back by the last threads of his resolve.

You let yourself look at your husband, and saw that he had made his way closer, though Alicent still stood in front of him, hand on his chest as an act of a human barricade between her two sons.

Holding him back.

“Silence.” Aegon boomed, “Ser Otto, if Aemond speaks again, have him arrested and taken down to the cells where he can stay until the sentence has been served.”

You had thought to look to Aemond with your eyes for help, to beg for him to come to you, but all you had seen was the same man who had left you the last time you were here.

There was no saving you this time.

Dracarys.

The Small Council remained silent, not even Otto Hightower seemed to think he could talk reason into the King, and so he stood, eyes looking over the top of you at the opposite side of the throne Aemond was.

The King hummed, looking down his nose at you as a wide smile cracked across his pink lips, “Or…" He breathed, "You could take your place at my side as my wife.”

Wife.

Ice ran down your back as you looked at him, your heart beating rapidly in your chest, fingers tingling from the grip the guards had on your shoulders and arms.

It was in that moment, that you knew there was no going back from this.

Dracarys.

“Annul your marriage to my brother in the eyes of the Seven, and I shall take you as my second wife.” He purred, the proposition sounding as though it was a benevolent offering, when all those who were present truly knew the more sinister reasoning behind it, “You may atone for your sins and crimes by birthing me heirs, as is your purpose, whilst also upholding the terms of the treaty. An honour given to you which you don’t deserve.”

You jolted forward, grunting, trying to rip the arms of the guards from you so that you could launch yourself forward. Muscles in your arms burning from the struggle.

You were going to die.

And you would not go down without ripping his throat out with your teeth.

The guards hands tightened further, seams of your gown ripping as you struggled from below. Your eyes flicked momentarily to Aemond again, who looked as though he was fighting a battle of his own, but you knew, deep down you knew, he would do nothing.

As he always had.

And so you kept your eyes on the brother in front of you.

“My Husband-“ You began, venom dripping from your tongue.

“-Is my brother.” Aegon snipped, “And swore himself to me as King. He is bound by duty to the realm, and duty to the Crown. Aemond should be honoured that I would take his wife as my own. You would be wed to a King, not a second son.”

You sneered, trying to throw yourself forward at him, but Aegon did not flinch, and the guards pulled you backwards hastily, knees grazed by the stones below.

“Fuck you.” You hissed, teeth grinding against each other, heat in your cheeks, and blood thumping in your veins.

Dracarys.

The King laughed, head thrown back and violet eyes shut before he locked them back onto you. He smiled appreciatively, eyes roaming down your face, to the tight bodice of your dress and the way your skirts clung to your waist, all the way down to your knees on the stone.

“You are ready to serve me, as you are.” Your eldest uncle turned his head to look back at Aemond, “I will make her a good wife, one that can be tamed. One who will obey and follow orders, and all the while the treaty will be held. I am far more capable of tending to her needs, and a marriage to me is far better than death.”

You swirled your tongue in your mouth before spitting upon Aegon’s leather boots, “I will kill myself before I ever let you touch me again. I will throw myself from the window Helaena did rather than have your monster grow inside of me. And then my family will come you. Fire and blood, they will come. And you will die.”

The pain came before you registered what had happened, the sting spreading across your cheek as your head snapped to the side of the room, eyes trained tearily on the floor.

Alicent was heard in the background, hissing to her younger son, "Stop!"

Your ears rang, and you tasted the coppery tang of blood in your mouth.

You slowly turned your head back to the King, hair having fallen over your face from where it had come loose from your braids. You spat a bloody glob of spit at him again, attempting to aim higher, but the blood merely sprayed towards him and landed at his feet.

Dracarys.

His eyes narrowed, and his lips pulled back into a sneer.

“The Princess must have a weapon on hand. Strip her.” Aegon commanded, eyes jerking towards Ser Cole, who shuffled awkwardly on his feet.

Your head snapped towards the knight, “Touch me, and I will kill you. I’ll fucking kill you, Cole.”

Ser Criston Cole, a man sworn to his King, known as King Maker, stood dumbly as he looked to you and then to the man who commanded him. His tan skin was flushed at his neck, a pinkish purple spreading up from beneath the breastplate he wore, and his piercing eyes darting back and forth in decision.

This was not the first time that Ser Cole had been commanded to act in way that was not in protection of who he was sworn to.

Once before with Alicent.

And now with her son.

The Dowager Queen made quick steps towards you both, “Aegon.” She growled, leaving her younger son behind as her feet echoed on the stone floor, "Stop this madness."

You desperately tried to wriggle out of the guards grip, hissing and grunting, knees digging painfully into the stones as your dress ripped beneath.

A knight came towards Alicent, hand held outwards towards her in preventing her from coming any further, “The treaty, Aegon. Think of how Rhaenyra will react when she hears about this!”

Aegon snapped his head towards his mother, “Fuck the treaty.” He sneered, looking back at Ser Cole, “I command you to strip this traitor, and reveal the weapon she no doubt hides on her person.”

Ser Cole swayed, his long, white cloak grazing against the cold stone floors as he started to slowly approach you, eyes on you with a look of regret. A look of apprehension.

One of pity. One of guilt. One of disgust.

They were going to strip you.

Before all the eyes of the Council.

“You’re a monster.” You hissed, ripping a hand from one of the guards, reaching out to grasp at the King’s robes who stood in front of you, fingertips grazing his breeches.

For the first time, Aegon flinched backwards, and the guards rushed forward again, yanking you backwards and holding your arms behind you as you cussed, and cursed at them all, pain rippling through your arms.

“Kostagon se Jaes' ossēnagon jeme! Kostagon pōnta ivestragī nyke urnēbagon jeme zālagon. Kostagon pōnta tepagon nyke se kustikāne naejot gaomagon ziry nykēla. Jaelan naejot urnēbagon se ōños fade hen aōha qogralbar laesi skori gaoman ziry.”

May the Gods kill you all! May they let me watch you all burn. May they give me the strength to do it myself. I want to watch the light fade from your fucking eyes when I do it.

Aegon leant forward, looking down at you as you struggled, voice quieter now, tutting, “I still remember how wet your cunt had been. How much you bled, and cried. How you called out for my brother. For your father. Kepa!" He mocked you, your stomach roiled and rage nipped at you hotly.

Dracarys.

"I wish it had been me,” He smiled cruelly, “I wish I had taken your maidenhead, like I should have taken it years ago. I should have fucked a bastard into you before you left the Keep.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him, lips curling back in disgust.

Baring your teeth back at him, you pulled at the guards grip, “You are nothing but a worthless, drunken, whoring King, who took naught but a moment until you spilled yourself inside of me. You are the most pathetic excuse for a man."

The King's face rippled with anger, brows drawn as his chest began to heave.

Ser Cole stood to the side, uncertain of what to do, unwilling to move again until commanded, Ser Otto watching with a stoney face, the Small Council shifting on their feet, all the while Alicent stood behind, guard preventing her from moving forward.

The chambers fell still, and Aegon sucked in his cheeks, gathering the spit inside of his mouth, pursing his lips to spit upon you.

A wet warmth landed upon your cheek.

It had been a warm day in Kings Landing.

The small folk had flocked to the beaches, dipping their toes and their clothes into the cold waves, desperate to cool off.

The Red Keep was no different.

Men and women gathered in the shade, or sat in their chambers, fans in hand, whilst servants served them cool cups of ale and wine.

Aegon, being the eldest, had devised a plan to keep cool that day. You were all to hide amongst the secret passageways, the cold stone walls protecting you all from the heat outside, but being the kids that you were, it would not stop you from playing.

“Let the girl get the treats.” Aegon smiled, light leaking into the passageway from the room beside it.

“Why do I have to go to the Kitchens?” You argued, annoyance rolling through you.

Aegon looked to your brothers, and then shortly to Aemond, who all stood in front of you in a line, “Because you’re a girl. One day you’ll be someone’s wife and have to fetch things for your husband. I’m giving you practice.”

Luc and Jace looked at each other, and snickered, though their laughter fell when you gazed at them angrily, “If you want the treats so badly, why don’t you get them. I’m not a maid.” You huffed, folding your arms across your chest.

Aemond shuffled beside his brother, looking down at the dusty floor, scuffing the tip of his shoe into the surface.

Aegon smirked, “You’d be a pretty maid. Mine are all so dull and plain.”

“I’m not going.”

Aegon looked at the three boys beside him, “All in favour for Y/n going to get us treats?” His hand shot up as he loudly proclaimed ‘Aye.’

Jace and Lucerys followed suit, hands lower and voices even lower, their brown eyes refusing to meet yours.

All turned to Aemond, who did not speak, and had raised his violet eyes towards you.

“Come on brother, don’t be a twat.” Aegon chided.

“He’s not a twat, you cunt.” You snipped back.

Aegon laughed, “Come on, niece, play nicely. I’ll even give you a kiss.” Aegon puckered his lips towards you, making kissing noises whilst Jace and Luc scrunched their face in disgust and laughed.

“Leave her alone.” Aemond growled, finally speaking up.

The eldest Prince looked at your two brothers before bursting into laughter, “Sticking up for your love, Aem?”

“Shut up, Aegon.” You snapped.

“Make me.” He grinned, stepping towards you as he pushed you to the ground, you landed on your back with an grunt, staring daggers at Aegon as you jumped up, moving to punch him.

Your eldest uncle was jolted from the side, falling into the narrow walls of the pathway, a cry falling from his lips. His pale hands scrambling to catch himself as he fell into the stone.

Aemond stood, chest heaving as he watched his brother come to the realisation that he had pushed him.

“You little-“

Aegon jumped at Aemond, grabbing him by the scruff of his collar, jerking the younger boy around.

Jace and Luc watched on with wide eyes as you raced forward, "Let go of him!” You screamed.

Aegon’s arm cast out to the side and pushed you to the floor again, your head hitting the stone wall behind you.

You blinked, eyes filling with tears.

Aegon immediately let go of his brother and looked down at you. A tear rolled down your cheek as the back of your head throbbed, a hand coming to rub against the spot of impact.

Aemond raced over to you, kneeling down to check your head.

He turned to his brother, “I’m telling mother.”

Aegon sensing that there was no more fun to be had, spun around and left the secret passage, your brothers following closely behind, casting short glances to you to see if you were okay.

You sniffed, trying to blink away the tears in the shadows, but Aemond didn’t point them out. He came to sit beside you, back against the bricks, and you let your head drop onto his shoulder.

“Your brother is such a dick.”

Aemond sighed in agreement.

The floor of the throne room was cold.

Icy even.

Despite the beams of sun that landed colourfully onto the floor, streaming in through the stained glass windows, the stone would never warm. They would stay the same, icy, coldness that they always had been.

Unforgiving.

And they were just that, unforgiving.

Laid down beneath a tower of melted and twisted metal, made from an unforgiving King. A throne that lacked a soft edge, a show of compassion or kindness, even to those who were seated upon it.

The Iron Throne, for all intents and purposes, was just that.

Unforgiving.

Sharp and cold, made entirely of blades from those who had been conquered, those who had been slain, those who had fallen. And now your family sat atop it. A show of your ancestor, Aegon the First and all of his triumph. All of his power.

All of his mercilessness.

The skin of your cheek felt wet, Lucerys had stopped his whispering, and the world around you was oddly quiet. As though your ears had been stuffed with cotton, the muffled sound of the room around you making it hard to discern what was happening. And yet still, there was this odd feeling that spread around your chest.

Like the stone floors of the Iron Throne chambers, it was cold.

Icy.

They had always been a brilliant violet colour.

Your families legacy paired with the silver locks. And Aegon’s eyes had always been so telling of his moods, just like his brother. Telling of his thoughts, like a window to his inner workings and mechanisms.

It was always so.

They would dance when he was mischievous as a child, and as he got older, they would deepen with unspoken grief and paranoia.

But when Aegon was angry, they would become alight. Seemingly brightened by the flames that would lick him hotly at his cheeks, the colour lightening and eyes having more movement.

It’s how it always was.

And as you looked into Aegon’s eyes, you realised how much they had changed already.

The rage that had been dancing and swaying behind his eyes not a moment before, was now gone. Like a fire that had been snuffed out, a light that had been trampled upon, a lamp that had been extinguished. And now they looked up at you blankly, as you blinked down at them from below.

The noises around you became louder as you continued to stare.

A woman was screaming.

Why was she screaming?

Guards were crying out, men were cursing, and all you could do, was look at the head on the floor in front of your knees, and the blood that slowly leaked from its neck and mouth, seeping into the material of your skirts.

You wished she would stop screaming.

Someone kept saying your name, but you could not tear your eyes from the man below you. His silver waves were tinged with red as the blood spread into his silky strands, his mouth agape, but silent.

Finally silent.

His eyes were what really changed.

They were dull.

Lifeless, and almost grey looking.

Gone.

Aegon’s body was slumped beside it, arms and legs bent at unnatural angles, and blood leaking out onto the cold stones below. The thinner sections of blood had already begun to coagulate, the coldness sucking out any warmth from it and seeping into the porous surface beneath.

Life that spread and was soaked up greedily.

Like so many times before, the stones were fed with the essence of another.

How many more would face the same fate?

The coldness in your chest melted away, and a warmth spread through it, travelling up your throat, until it left your lips in a breathy laugh.

And then it kept coming.

And it did not stop.

You stared at Aegon’s head and laughed.

It was not something that you could have stopped if you had wanted it to, it did not even feel like you were in your own body, looking down from somewhere else in the room, perhaps even over your own shoulder. But the more you laughed, the louder the woman’s screams became, until someone spoke your name again, but louder.

You blinked, finally tearing your eyes away from the corpse of your uncle, the man who had raped you. The man who had driven your aunt to death. The man who had usurped the throne from your mother.

The man who had dealt so much cruelty.

And your eyes were met with, not the dull, lifeless violet that you had once been staring at, but instead a vision of violet and sapphire.

Aemond.

The Prince stood in front of you, looking down with a hard and stony face, jaw clenched and lips pressed into a line. Like his brother, his eye was the window to his soul, and flickering in the background was rage.

His shoulders were stiff, his body was tensed, and yet a hand was held out, steady towards you, palm up, scar revealed. The other was holding his sword tightly, body in a fighting stance, the blade dripping with thick viscous blood.

The blood of his brother.

Movement was all around you, and the woman still would not stop screaming.

Aemond barked at the room, “Hold!”

And the room fell still again.

All but the woman who screamed, and the men who cursed quietly beneath their breath.

You stared at Aemond's hand, the scar on his palm looking soft and pink, travelling up the length of pale skin. And with your own, you lifted and placed it in his, the strength of his arm pulling you to stand.

You knees popped and stung as you stood, the skin rubbed raw by the stone floors, dress ripped in some places. Guards stood dumbly on the side of the room unsure of what to do, all in shock.

Your husband flicked his blade to the side, blood spraying off of it onto the stones.

More food to feed them.

Aemond sheathed it back into its holder on his hip with one hand, the other holding yours firmly.

God you wished she would stop screaming.

Aemond bent down to the corpse of his brother, no regret, or grief on his face, instead a steady blanket of disgust and hatred instead. With his long fingers, he scooped the Conquerors Crown from the stone floor, looking down at it as he turned it slowly in his hand above Aegon.

The metal glinted, and the ruby in its centre glowed when the light shone over of it.

“What have you done?!” The woman screamed again, your head turning to see Alicent being held back by her father and guards, “What have you done?!”

Ser Otto Hightower, stood with nothing but shock in his eyes as he looked between his two grandsons, the one on the floor, and the one standing above him. His arms were wrapped around Alicent’s chest, keeping her pressed against him as she thrashed.

“He was to be our undoing.” Aemond stated bluntly, voice loud within the chambers.

Ser Cole did not move.

The Small Council did not move.

And all that could be heard was the screams of a grieving mother.

“Ser Cole.” Aemond gave the man what appeared to be a silent order.

Cole was a man who had been a father figure to him. A man who had trained him in swordsmanship and battle. A man who he had grown beside and watched support his mother.

And Ser Criston Cole obeyed, staying where he was, and all other guards and knights followed.

Your eyes roamed down his body, to where the white cloak, pinned to the pommels of his armour, soaked the blood of the King on the floor below. It tinged the white a deep red, and bled up the material, as though it had been thirsting for blood this whole time, much like the stones.

Aegon was dead.

And Aemond had killed him.

“What have you done, Aemond?! Your brother! The King!” Alicent cried, voice distressed as she screamed at her only surviving child.

Aemond ignored his mother, turning to you, a singular word falling from his lips.

“Come.”

The throne room was filled with your footfall as Aemond led you towards the Iron throne, Alicent’s cries which had turned to soft sobs, and the whispers of the Small Council.

No-one brave enough to speak up, or out against the Prince.

Aemond walked up the throne steps, as though he was born for it, as though he had practised each step with perfection. Each step taken was with purpose, as though he knew it was his true duty and right.

And you followed after, hand still in his, mind still in a daze.

You stared at the Iron Throne as he turned softly to sit himself upon it.

He looked comfortable.

At home.

Perfectly fitted for it, as though he was made for it.

With a look of determination, he handed you the crown, the heavy metal resting in both of your hands as you look down at it.

Alicent cried louder.

The room was still.

You locked eyes with Aemond’s violet and sapphire gaze.

And lifted the crown to place it atop his head.

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sp00kworm · 4 months

Text

One Word

Pairing: Enchanted Armour/Knight (Sir Jurdanus Dawling) x Reader

Warnings: Fighting, Fantasy Violence

Summary: An Enchanted Knight finds you amidst a mushroom circle and your life is never the same after.

Rain dripped down the back of your neck as you flopped onto the mossy floor. There was no way out of a mushroom circle. They were carefully laid traps, hidden behind roots and dotted in intricate patterns which made them hard to predict. Whatever Fae had hidden this one was powerful indeed. The mushrooms were like iron and the small pebbles between skipped upwards at your face when you attempted to break the circle. Your fingers were numb from trying to force them between the littler mushrooms. It was impenetrable, and eventually you would be food for the Fae who wanted to steal you away. There was some Fae that didn’t eat mortals, but those were far and few between. The only thing you could do was try and think of deals you could try to trick the creature which came to collect you. If it took them longer than a few more days, you would be dead anyway. There was an odd comfort in that. You wouldn’t be subjected to the whims of whatever the Fae decided to do with you. The other hope was someone stumbling along your path, but few would be able to taint the Fae circle enough to let you free, and you didn’t have much you could offer them anyway.

How many more hours would you last, you wondered? Defeated, you cradled your hand and sat inside the circle, massaging the tender joints as you watched the sun move overhead. It was nearly evening time, the sun was beginning to set along the horizon, threatening the sky with orange and pink. The trees rustled and birds sang their evening tunes as you picked at the pebbles around you and flicked them against the ward. The pebbles pinged back at you like a game, and for a time it was entertaining. Sodden moss wet your bottom and you tried to ignore the wetness on your backside, sitting on the moss in favour of the agony of sitting on several rocks. The old trees creaked in the wind, and you removed your satchel to look at the mushrooms and herbs you had managed to collect before getting stuck.

Suddenly, the whole woodland went quiet. No animal made a murmur as the wind continued to blow gently through the leaves. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, waving with the wind as there was a great ‘thunk’ in the distance. The heavy clunk of armour thudded along the winding path between the old, twisted trees. The blood in your limbs went cold and your heart leaped into your throat. You stood up again and watched down the old dirt path as a great, heavy suit of armour rounded the corner. The armour was maybe six and a half feet tall, and the heavy cloak fastened about the shoulders made it all the more imposing. The steel was stained with black carbon, and the details were once orange copper. The details were green in most places but the emblem in the centre of the chassis, once bright, was a Swan, swooping upwards towards the sky, its neck bowed gracefully. There was a crown around its neck, resting on the top of where its wings were spread. The Knight rounded the trees closest to you, his armour clanking before he stood, the visor fixed on you trapped in the circle of mushrooms.

“Sir!” You shouted, “Please could you help me out of this faery circle?”

The Knight tilted his head, watching you carefully as his other hand not rested on the trunk of the oak, reach for his sword. He had two on his back, strapped underneath the great fur cloak which lined his shoulders. Watching him reach for the sword you panicked and reached for your bag, attempting to find something which would prove you were not Fae.

“Please, Sir...” You rummaged, throwing the pouches of weeds and herbs you had collected before you dragged out a small iron link you had found. You clenched it between your hands and showed him your skin, “Please... I’m no Fae. I got trapped here while foraging. I promise!”

The Knight looked at the link before he thundered over, the dark metal of his armour glimmering in the setting sun. The copper detailing was sickly green, almost falling off, and his neck piece squeaked with rust as he drew the long sword from his back. He turned his stance and looked at the mushrooms before there was a rattle through the armour and his hand reached forwards to where the magical barrier lay. The barrier rippled under his hand, the magic caving like a bubble, but still resisting. With another shuddering rattle the Knight grasped his sword by the hilt and stabbed it forwards. The warding screamed as the blade burst through the magic, sending sparks flying as he heaved the iron through it, to the floor. When he reached the floor, the Knight turned the blade swiftly and severed several of the mushroom caps. The barrier faded with a hiss and just like that, you were free.

You tried not to gawp as the Knight sheathed his weapon and stood back, resting his hands on his hips. You quickly hopped out of the circle and sighed with relief as you collected your items. When you finished you looked back at the Knight.

“Thank you, Sir...” You asked, wondering what the Knight’s name was. He probably had a House Name.

The Knight shuddered inside his armour again before the joints clicked and a voice echoed inside, “Sir... Sir, S-Sir...” He couldn’t seem to say his name.

“I’m sorry?” You asked, “Sir?”

Again the voice echoed from inside, “Sir...Sir...”

You frowned softly at him before daring to reach for the visor which covered his eyes. He let you grasp the metal, subdued and quiet.

“Here let me open this so you can...” You said before tugging the visor. It remained firmly shut. With a grunt you tugged it hard. It stayed down, as though it was glued.

The pieces fell into place then, and you let your hands fall to his broad shoulders. You fisted the fur. It was well cared for but old and holes had opened in the bottom of the soft leather upper. The crest wad old, battered and stained.

“You’re cursed aren’t your?” You asked as you stood flat footed again on the woodland floor.

The Knight nodded his head and tapped the crest in the centre of his chest. There was the house crest and a small moto painted intricately underneath.

“Alte Volant”

“I’m no specialist but this is definitely noble house armour... but, well I guess I could help you, as thanks for helping me?” You offered with a shaky sigh.

The Enchanted Knight nodded, his neck squeaking a little, and offered a hand to you. You looked down and then realised he was offering to carry your bags. Carefully you gave him the larger of the two and kept your satchel.

As your bag landed in his gauntlet, the air fizzed and a blue skinned Fae stepped out from a tree, their eight eyes twitching at the sight of the broken circle. Quickly, you whipped around, but the Knight was faster. The Fae span with another hiss of fury, her hands raised, crackling with blue magic as the tree roots curled violently under the woodland floor. As she clenched her teeth, magic shot from her, and the Knight grabbed his shield from his back, the great steel plated with old iron. He dragged you behind him in a flash as the bolt clanged against the shield and dissipated like water, falling as mist f. The Fae hissed again her body morphing into the trees as she skittered around and observed you both through one great black eye.

“A suit of armour playing Knight.” She gloated, “You died a long time ago, Knight!” She hung from the tree and reached her scales fingers for his helmet, “Iron is unbecoming. Iron is cheating.”

Instead of an answer, he sliced her fingers off with a strike of his blade and pushed forwards. The Fae screamed, and you covered your ears, watching as the Knight slammed her head against his shield then again, with a downwards arch, sending the Fae flying against the floor. There was a great screech before the iron blade sliced through her neck. You jumped as blue blood spurted up the trees and shook behind a trunk as the Knight wiped his blade with a clump or moss. He looked up and reclined his head at you. Without him, you would be dead.

You took a deep breath, “Come on, let’s get out of the woods.” You beckoned him to follow you as you grabbed your bags and made your way down the path. The thump of heavy armour behind you was the only indication you had of the Knight following you.

Luckily, your home was on the outskirts of town, tucked against the woods you had just been trapped in. The stone cottage had smoke billowing out of the chimney still, so that was a good sign that the cottage would be warm still. You opened the gates and looked back at the Knight following you. He paused by the gate and stared for a moment at the small, cobbled path to your home before he stepped inside the garden and waited again. You looked at the blue blood which had stained his armour before closing the gate and leading him inside to your home. The door creaked a little as you let the hunk of armour inside and you closed it firmly before turning the key in the lock and heading to the hearth. As you stirred the hearth the Knight stood by the table looking up at the dried plants and flowers.

“Come and sit down, I don’t know of you can still feel the cold, but it’ll at least be better than standing by the door.” You waved him over before getting a damp cloth from the kitchen area for him to clean the blood off himself. Graciously he reclined his head and placed a gauntlet over his chest. He began carefully cleaning the blood from the grooves of the paint.

While he cleaned himself you placed a couple of logs onto the stirred flames and looked into the ashes. Sat at the back of the hearth was the charcoal coloured egg you had found so long ago. It was a dragon egg. Abandoned or stolen, you didn’t know, but there was life in it as it wiggled gently and soaked in the heat of the new fire. The Knight caught your gaze and peered at the wobbling egg in fascination. A disapproving grunt was his only comment.

“Yes, I know. But I couldn’t leave it to die with the Fae.” You reasoned softly as you emptied your bag onto your work surface. The Knight shook his head but continued his work.

“How about we look for your crest? I have an old history book somewhere, and it has most of the noble houses in it.” You offered.

His visor turned slightly but he made no effort to tell you he wanted to have a look. Ignoring his silence, you went to get the book.

The book was very old. Your great, great grandmother had taken it before the great collapse. Many of the old houses no longer existed, after the revolution, but a few still remained in the far reaches of the country. You wondered just how long this Knight had been wandering. With a thud you placed the book on the table and leafed through to the catalogue of old house emblems. There were around a hundred, and you took a breath before beginning to scan for the old, battered coat of arms which was printed onto his chest plate. A swan in flight. It was a regal link. The Knight had maybe been close to the Queen before the collapse and that was many years ago. He could have been cursed a long time.

“Edelwyn… nope that’s a tree. Oakenfast… no that’s an acorn. Unicorn… a hare. That’s a peacock…” You turned the pages as the Knight creaked next to the fire, warming the leathers of his skirts before he began to brush the dirt from his cape with a hard brush. His weapons were next and you watched him for a moment as he pulled out carefully stored oils and cloths and began to meticulously clean the Fae blood from the iron. A few more pages revealed nothing until a crown appeared.

“Well, we might be down the right track, Sir!” You cheered as you reached for the kettle and filled it from a pail of water. Once it was over the fire you fetched the book and sat in the other chair on the large, overstuffed pillows. You looked at the crest on his chest again and hummed, flicking between three pages before you found it.

“Dawling!” You cried out as you hopped out of the chair and showed the Knight the book. The crest on his chest was penned beautifully with inks of good quality. You beamed at his helmet as you pointed at the crowned swan.

With a faint creak of metal, the knight reached up to take the book from your outstretched hands. There was the faint sound of wheezing breathing through the visor of his helmet as he touched the page with the crest and then carefully, like he was caressing a baby bird, traced the letters of his family name.

“Dawling was the closest family to the Queen.” You told him quietly, “Before the revolution the Dawling family were the last near her and all of them were said to have perished when they burned the castle in the North.”

With a soft nod he looked over the small descriptive notes, his armour flexing gently with tension.

“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth…” You offered a gentle hand to him.

He said nothing but you watched him reach up, his fingers twitching. The metal of his gauntlets was cold against your skin but smooth and well looked after. Warmth enveloped his fingers from your skin and the Knight peered up at you. His visor was shined and as he put the book down you saw a faint glow behind the slats. Behind the metal there were two haunting eyes. The blue eyes glimmered before disappearing again into the darkness of the armour. Wisps of light trailed out of his neck.

“Would you like anything?” You asked as you patted his hand.

The knight shook his head as he looked back at the dancing flames.

“I suppose now I have to call you Sir Dawling!” You joked as you let go of his hand, “I wonder who put this curse on you though…I suppose we will never know now, but you can stay here a while if you like?” You offered.

Sir Dawling turned to look at you and nodded his confirmation, the flames reflecting patterns over his armour.

“I’ll make you the spare room up then.” With a smile you went to collect some linens but you were stopped by Dawling standing by the fire shaking his head, pointing to the sunset in the sky. With a confused stare you followed him towards the door and watched as he stood by the door, collecting his weapons.

“Can you not sleep?” You asked as he packed his weapons. He shook his head again and then made the shape of a butterfly which his armoured hands. When that didn’t work, he pointed to the blue blood which remained on his shield.

“The Fae? I doubt they would come this far out of the woods and beside they can’t get in here without invitation.” You soothed, but Sir Dawling shook his head and insisted, opening the door. He closed it behind him, his leathers squeaking a little as he sat outside the door on a small log. You looked through the glass of the window as he took his whetstone out and continued to work his blades. It seemed as though he was to stand guard. Maybe he didn’t need to sleep? He was after all, cursed. With a sigh you went to the fire and decided to make dinner, pondering on the curses which could have been cast over him before the revolution truly took root in the country. You stoked the fire gently around the dragon egg still nested in the coals. There was an answer to the riddle that you could not see.

A few hours later, after reading numerous books on the subject of magics, you hadn’t found many answers. The key to the Knight’s curse probably laid in the type of magic used to curse him. With more questions than answers you stood from the fire, wrapped tight in a blanket, and took the spare to the door. Quietly you listened behind the wood. Sir Dawling’s armour creaked with the phantom movements of his breathing and quietly the thud of his metal finger against his thigh. Quietly, you opened the door. His helmet turned to face you immediately. Dawling made a shooing motion with his fingers, beckoning you to head back inside. You stepped out onto the stone step and smiled at him before offering him the heavy woollen blanket. You could see he was eyeing the red dyed wool, but instead of giving him a choice you thrust it over his lap and smiled. Carefully, he unfolded the fabric and laid it over his thighs.

“You don’t have to stay out here you know… I feel bad with you out here protecting me and helping me again.” You sighed and rubbed at your shoulders against the cold.

Sir Dawling held his hand up and shook his head, as though it was no trouble at all for him.

“But still… there has to be something I can do?” You asked, “Or maybe give you? I don’t want you out here all night bored…”

Again, Sir Dawling shook his head and you sighed at his protest.

“Fine but please, come back inside if you’re cold or anything. I’ll keep the fire on for the little one anyway.” You joked.

He shook his head at the idea of the dragon egg again and fixed his gaze on the moon and the stars above. You left him there, gazing up at the night sky, and went to bed.

For fourteen nights, Sir Dawling sat outside your cottage. Reluctantly, throughout the day you let him follow you too and from your jobs in town. You didn’t have a particular profession, but you had a lot of room for foraging and several of the plants on your property were useful to the locals. Alongside a bountiful variety of mushrooms there were several herbs like mint and rosemary which were used in salves. Sir Dawling watched the exchanges carefully, wary of the townsfolk who were wary of him. The people asked after him curiously, but most of the people in the town were far too familiar with the workings of the Fae in the woodlands. Once you explained a few of them were even sympathetic towards the poor Knight, though the others knew that a crest meant he was once someone of an important station. Not many looked on the Queen or her Court favourably out in the woods. Still, no one had said anything, yet. Sir Dawling followed behind you, his tattered cloak billowing, and his swords an obvious statement of prowess. He didn’t need to draw them for people to know he was a killer.

“Are you going to sit out here again?” You asked on the fifteenth night as you gave him a clean blanket.

Sir Dawling shrugged his shoulders, and as always, he didn’t reply.

“Well would you like a fire? I don’t know if you can feel cold but I got a little cast iron fire pit while I was out in town today!” You pointed to the edge of the small vegetable patch where the iron pit was located.

With a creak, Sir Dawling stood up, his armour clanking as he reached the fire pit and then bent over in order to drag it closer to the door. He reached for a log from the stack you had down the side of the house, but you had already beaten the Knight to it.

“Here.” You smiled and watched him take the log before you went inside to fetch some kindling and a small scoop of hot coals from the fire inside, “You know, the egg is really close to hatching I think.”

Sir Dawling shook his head at the mention of the egg you had pilfered inside of your home.

“I know you think I’m silly for keeping it…” You said as you handed the Dawling the kindling, “But I couldn’t stand the idea of a poacher getting it! That or the Fae. I just wanted to see if I could save it.”

A long wheezing sigh echoed from the chamber of Sir Dawling’s armour as he took the hot coals from your hands and carefully poured the scoop under the kindling. The twigs quickly caught fire with a few fans of his hands. Gently, he handed you the fire scoop back to take back inside and you did so before returning, running with your oven gloves on, with the dragon egg in hand. The egg gave another shake and a creak as you ran for the fire pit outside.

“SIR DAWLING! FAN THE FLAMES QUICK!” You screeched.

Sir Dawling took the fan from your pocket and fanned the flames as high as he could get them as you rolled the egg gently into the fire. The charcoaled shell cracked with the smoking wood, and you gazed at it in amazement as fiery lines erupted over the surface. The red patterns intertwined with one another, weaving an intricate image over the shell before a small, horned nose butted a chip in the shell. Sir Dawling leaned close enough to watch the egg shake and a small nose batter at the shell again. The flames licked the surface, like a caressing mother, and you dropped the oven gloves in favour of squatting by the pit.

The iron base glowed with the heat as another great creak sounded and a spiked tail flopped into the wood. The wood spat at you as claws raked at the thick calcium, gouging freedom from the egg. Horns prickled the egg and soon a small, growl sounded from the flames. A small, jade green dragon curled in the fire, grumbling in the fire, its tail poised high, and its neck flared defensively. It hissed and spat a small flame. With a firm hand, Sir Dawling removed the fire poker and watched as the dragonling growled, its sharp, ravenous teeth flashing. You looked at the jewelled creature in awe before sitting by the side of the fire and replacing your oven mittens. The dragon spat, its horned prickled in your direction, but you reached gently to move the eggshell out of the fire. Dawling’s helmet shifted to you, watching as you reached into the coals again and then placed the meat you were going to cook into the embers. The dragon grumbled, lowly, like a cat, but quickly turned its slitted pupils on the meat. Its eyes were a glorious orange, like amber. Carefully, its claws hooked the food, and you delighted quietly as it took the food and began chewing at the chicken leg.

“I know…” You whispered at Dawling as he looked to reach for the poker again, “Its stupid to try, but I think I can do this. Its such a beautiful creature.”

With another echoing sigh, Dawling nodded and watched you feed the dragon.

Another leg of a chicken had the small dragon clawing at the edge of the fire pit, its head raised, looking up at you with a gentle rumble. The scales down its neck glittered in the fire light like gems. The dragon was beautiful. Carefully you dared to let the hatchling sniff your hand. The dragon rumbled, sniffed and then carefully pushed its head up into your hand. Underneath its chin, as it raise its head, there was the glittering of a bright, pearl coloured scale, round and fat like a heavy gemstone. It glittered before the hatchling ducked its head again and growled, hopping out of the fire to curl around your legs. The dragon peered up at Sir Dawling from between your legs, and cocked its head, wondering about the suit of armour which clunked in its seat.

“He’s cursed.” You offered down at the dragon, “He did something in his previous life which upset a great sorceress, so she made him like this.” You smiled at Sir Dawling, offering him your hand and a comforting squeeze. His gauntlets creaked with the squeeze, but you smiled at him and then offered the dragon your hand as well.

“Wait… how do I tell if it’s a male or female…” You whispered as you turned back towards the house. The dragon followed dutifully, swinging its tail like a happy kitten as you both slipped through the door.

“How do you like Frasadu?” You asked the dragon. It chirped in response, “So maybe you are a boy…”

Sir Dawling shifted on the log outside, touching the crest on his chest as he watched you go inside, feeling an odd ache where once his chest was. The Knight shook his head, moaning inside the armour as he reached for the poker by the fire.

There was a disgusting sound, like two pieces of metal grinding metal together, which woke you up. With a scream, you shot out of bed, just as there was a great slam against the heavy stone wall of your home. You heard the sing of iron outside, indicating Sir Dawling had drawn his sword. The dragon by the fire stirred, and opened his mouth, his teeth lighting with fire. You rushed to the door, grabbing a dagger before you opened it. Frasadu howled at outside, and you froze by the door as Dawling’s sword sliced through the first fae who dared to get too close. With a rush of odd light, his gauntlet slammed through the chest of another, and you stood, clutching at the iron dagger as the bottom wall of the garden exploded into rubble. A great insect like beast crawled over the stones, its mouth parts slicing against one another again to make the awful noise.

“DAWLING!” You screamed as the insect beast slammed a great, needle like leg down towards him. The Knight rolled and sliced upwards, severing one of the monster’s legs before he made a quick roll back towards you. He held his hand up and you watched as Frasadu roared, flaring his wings before he shot a great ball of explosive fire at the insect. The beast screeched and reared before its abdomen set ablaze, and it sprinted for the trees, howling.

The fae watched their monster run and hissed, their black eyes glinting like oil slick in the fire. A few of them slunk behind the logs and rubbles of your walls, watching as you reached to touch the top of Frasadu’s head. There was a brief moment of silence amidst the crackling rubble, both parties staring at one another. Dawling flicked the blood from his great sword and turned the flat of the blade upwards at the slinking faeries.

“You have dragon lord blood.” A great tall Fae slunk from the rubble, her white hair was braided intricately around her head, holding poisonous thorns and dried hawthorn leaves. Gossamer wings fluttered behind her, placing her before you gracefully. Her face was narrow, impossibly thin in all dimensions, and her skin glittered green with a shine of iridescence. Black eyes bore holes in Sir Dawling as he stepped between the two of you.

“Silence Knight.” She scoffed. Her clawed fingers gripped into a fist and you felt the metallic scream of Sir Dawling as he was thrown in the air, writhing, his armour denting and groaning in on itself, “The incessant smell of your shame bores me.” The Fae spat, “You were cursed for it, and so you will end with it, curled in a ball of molten rotting metal.”

“Wait!” You begged, holding your hands out as you rushed in front of Dawling. He howled above you as his gauntlets were peeled open, each joint pulling outwards from his body. His arms buckled as you stared down the Fae.

“He is protecting me. He saved me…and I have looked after him. He does not deserve this…” You asked of her, “Please, leave him be.”

“I, Ushura, Lady of Glowing Stars, will not let the Fae Slayer live.” Ushura screamed, her fingers gripping the metal, tearing at it with the familiar glow of blue magic. It was the same colour that glowed inside of Sir Dawling’s armour from time to time.

“Please, my lady.” You begged, “What can be done to repay this sin?” You asked.

Ushura spat her disdain at your feet, “Your Queen has long since died. She was the one who asked it of him, but he was the one who carried it out, burning our burrows, slaughtering our children in their nests!” Fury burned in her veins, the weight of a thousand lives, her people, heavy on her shoulders.

“He suffers still for his slight, my lady, but please, let him live.” You asked, “I do not know what I am or who I am to you, yet, but I can only try and make things right.”

Ushura held Sir Dawling aloft, but the crushing of his armour halted, as did his howling. You watched her black eyes soften a little at the edges as she looked at the small hatchling at your side.

“Misee wi. Forni talmas, ui porteh alme.” She spoke gently, watching as the dragon at your side listened, his ear turned to her. The hatchling dipped his head and turned, his head stretched upwards, revealing the pearl beneath his neck. It was strangely, like you knew what to do, and you reached out carefully to touch the pearl. Frasadu hummed against you, and there was a great spark of white, brilliant light. You heard the Fae recoil and hide behind the rubble. There was an unending ringing in your ears before the light dimmed enough to reveal a great shape before you. All the sights and sounds of your ruined home disappeared behind the great shadow. Two wings spread out, shadowing beyond you, far into the corners of your field of vision, and you gasped at the silhouette of the dragon before you.

“Long have I awaited the return of a Dragon Lord. You are the last. The last of the line of glory, of brotherhood and blood ties beyond that of this continent. Frasadu was not a name you came up with, but it has rather always been my name, little one. Together, we are to restore what is broken, to mend the broken reaches of the world. We are destined to be, as your Knight is destined to follow you. Tell them, in the old tongue. As one we once were, and as one we are once again.”

The light receded as quickly as it had appeared and when you could see again you looked at your fingertips touching Frasadu’s chin. The dragon’s orange eyes reflected wisdom of thousands of years, and you smiled as you cradled his chin. With a resolute breath, you turned back to Ushura.

“Ret yue fristra, ret yue gugartha ne.” You told the fae.

“Then as one you must all remain.” She hissed. Her claws unravelled, dropping Sir Dawling from her grasp. The knight landed with a great crash, armour clattering against stone. You tried not to turn, holding the gaze of the Fae as Frasadu puffed his chest out before you, spreading his wings out in a threatening display.

“You must not return here.” You told the Fae, “Sir Dawling is to remain with me.”

Slowly, the Fae disappeared back into the trees, their eyes merging with the shadows as the firelight flickered far from view. You watched them for a moment before rushing to Dawling’s side. The armour laid motionless, laid in dented chunks.

“Please don’t be gone.” You begged quietly as you turned his helmet and desperately tried to place him back together.

There was a groan from somewhere within all the scattered metal and you found a twitching gauntlet in time to hold Sir Dawling’s hand. The metal armour groaned as you took his hand and tears burned in your eyes. You felt the wet drops on your cheeks as Frasadu growled and dragged a crushed greave over by your side.

“I don’t know how to fix this!” You told the hatchling, and the knight who’s head was laid in your lap.

The helmet visor clicked open with a sudden screech of metal. Your tears dripped inside the shell only to see the faint wisps of soul slowly swirling inside. The gauntlet by your feet twitched before it began to float, the dent groaning as the leather gloves stretched. You sobbed as you watched it float, the fingers reaching for you. The tips caressed the apples of your cheeks, slowly shifting downwards before they gave a gentle twitch. The chest plates expanded with a groan.

“Dragon… Lord.” Sir Dawling wheezed, his armour shaking, grinding along the floor as it attempted to fuse back together. You clawed at the pieces, pulling them together as your tears dripped down the once beautifully intricate metal work.

“Can we fix him?” Frasadu rumbled innocently. He sat next to you, his scales against your leg, “His soul is still here.”

“I don’t know how to fix this Dawling…” You wept on the armour with a thundering sob.

“Jurdanus…” Dawling wheezed, “Jurdanus… Dawling.”

“Jurdanus, please, Sir Dawling, I can’t…” You stuttered as you finally placed the rest of the armour together.

The knight gave one final, heaving breath, before the light dimmed behind his visor and the metal went slack against the stone. The fire continued to crackle behind you, dulling the sensation of reality for a moment before you placed your hands on Frasadu wept onto his scales. Sir Jurdanus Dawling didn’t move. The fires crackled as you held Frasadu close, and you looked to the stars in the night sky above. All was quiet, for a moment, before there was a gentle whoosh, like gas being lit. Frasadu grumbled, shifting in your grasp, stretching to look at the armour as a soft blue wisp drifted down towards you both. Amidst the fire you watched the light swift before it formed the shape of a large man. The silhouette drifted closer, and a hand reached to touch your cheek, tracing the same pattern Sir Dawling had drawn.

“Jurdanus?” You asked, hopefully.

The silhouette nodded before spreading its arms and laying backwards. The light disappeared back into the armour. A great whoosh sounded again before the ruined armour before you clanged, shifted, and banged, rumbling violently as it once again took on the perfect shape of a suited knight.

The light behind the visor glowed once more and with a delighted shriek you jumped over Sir Dawling’s hips, delightedly shaking his shoulders as he reached up to steady you by the waist.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” You wiped the tears from your face, sniffling.

Jurdanus nodded his head and reached to wipe the tears from your cheeks. Tenderly, he cupped your face, and there was a whisper of thanks on the wind, although no voice echoed from within the armour. You smiled and howled with laughter as Jurdanus sat up and dragged you with him, holding you close to his chest as he span through the garden, with Frasadu hot on his heels.

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