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anonymous-rendezvous · 6 months

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An Unconventional Relationship

💛 Luca Kaneshiro x GN!Reader

✦ — Written by Mod S 👿. Beta Read and Edited by Mod I ✨.

✧ — Contains: Humor, strangers to friends to ???, & open ended

✦ — Word count: 3.3k+ | Ao3

Based on these prompts - "You're lucky you're cute." "Wait, you think I'm cute?"

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

The sun is just beginning to dip below the horizon as you take your usual route home after work. “Hmm, maybe I should order something for dinner…I don’t feel like cooking, plus I’m pretty sure I still have to do the dishes. Ugh, curse you past me!” You trudged your way down the street, practically sulking as you walked. This was virtually routine for you at this point: getting off work, walking home, debating about dinner, sleeping, repeat. It was a pretty average life, and you accepted it wholeheartedly; the motions and all.

Well, it had been pretty average until a fairly strange encounter happened; the monotonous routine led you to make a very unusual… friend(?) roughly half a year ago. You can still recall the night vividly; the events playing through your mind are more similar to a show than an experience that had happened to you.

You had worked overtime resulting in you leaving work much later than you normally did. The moon was already high in the sky as you attempted to rush home. That was cut short when you were suddenly pulled into an alleyway; a knife pointed right at your neck. Like any sane person, you were about to give the person all your money, until – inches from your face – you see your attacker get punched straight in the jaw. The force sent him tumbling further into the alley. Hardly having the time to process anything, you didn’t notice that the nice stranger had proceeded to pull you away, two people dressed similarly to bodyguards rushing past you towards the mugger.

“Are you okay?” With the moment of calm, you took in your savior’s form. Broad, blonde, a very expensive-looking suit and matching hat that almost hid his lavender eyes from view, and from what few words he spoke; an Australian accent.

“U–um…” You quickly collected yourself, looking down to take a deep breath before thanking the stranger. “Yes, I’m fine. Uhh, thank you for that, by the way. You sure got a punch on you.” Before you can mentally smack yourself for being so awkward, he laughs, causing you ease.

“Well, thanks! I pride myself on my good punches! Oh, but do you need a ride home? Don’t want you to get mugged for a second time tonight. Lots of unsavory characters walking around during this time.”

“Really? Well, sure, a ride would be nice! Although, in exchange, I’d like to know the name of my savior.”

He takes off his hat, and brings it to his chest, letting you see his face without obstruction. “Heh, I can’t give you my full name, but you can just call me Luca, okay?”

You accepted his generous offer, and he did, in fact, drop you off safely. Ever since then, he’d occasionally pull next to you in his very expensive-looking car to check up on you. Hell, sometimes you’d run into him on your later shifts, and every time he’d offer to take you home. In his words, “To make sure you don’t get mugged again, you know?”. Honestly, you have no clue why he cares so much about you. He dresses so expensively, his car looks like it costs more than your entire life’s savings, and he has what you assume are bodyguards. He seemed like someone very important. So why is he constantly coming back to check on your safety?

This question loops back into your brain again as you walk, so much so you don’t even notice the car that pulls next to you. It’s not until the person rolls down their window and calls, “Hey!” that you snap back to reality, head-turning quickly as they stop. You notice there are two people in the car, and they look very similar to the same bodyguards who were with Luca the night he saved you. “Heya, you're the Boss’s friend, right? He wanted us to come pick you up.”

“Pick me up?” You blink in confusion, shuffling closer to the car and leaning toward the window in order to talk clearly. “For what? I don’t remember us making plans or anything…” You rack your forgetful brain for a moment, but nothing comes up. Hell, you’d have probably made a memo on your phone about something like this.

“He made dinner plans so he could talk to you. Said something about feeling bad that he hasn’t had the time to properly talk to you.” The bodyguard has to hold back a laugh at the face you make, waving their gloved hand in front of your face to get your attention again. “He also wanted to make sure we tell you that you don’t have to come if you have prior plans.”

Shaking your head, you respond, “He’s very lucky I don’t have any plans. I’m not gonna turn down a free meal. I’ll meet up with him.” Lowering your voice to a mumble, you speak aloud to yourself, “Lucky too that I had no clue what to eat today…” With your confirmation, you hear the car unlock and, with slight hesitation, you slide into the back seat. As soon as you're all buckled in, they take off.

It’s not long before you realize the car is heading toward an area of the city that you rarely go to. Looking out the window, you watch as the car moves through the richer part of town. Fancy hotels and lights everywhere, you even pass a fountain show going on outside. When the car suddenly stops, your eyes move to the two bodyguards in the front seat, who are already getting out. You scramble to reach for the door, but before you can grab the handle, one of them has already opened the door for you.

“Don’t worry, I got it. My partner here will show you to the Boss. I gotta park the car, then I’ll be in there as well.” You give them a nod as you get out, patting yourself down to look more presentable; and to shake off your embarrassment. Looking up at the restaurant, your jaw almost drops at just the exterior. Suddenly, you feel like you might need more than just a pat down.

Now listen, you've been to some pretty nice places before. However, this part of town is way too expensive for you to even think about coming here too often. So when you take in what you know to be the most expensive restaurant in the city, your nerves start to settle in. You're brought out of your thoughts by the car starting and taking off down the road as the other guard calls to you. “Please, this way. The Boss will be super happy to see you. And don’t worry about being underdressed. I’m sure the Boss doesn’t care.”

Pouting a bit, you begin to follow them. ‘Yeah, but that doesn’t mean the other people won’t think that…’ Preparing yourself for the telltale heat of judging stares, you keep your head down as you follow the guard inside. Eyes only watching the nice red carpet and the backs of the movement of the bodyguard's brown dress shoes – preoccupying your eyes with the stitches in the leather. It’s not long before you arrive in the section where Luca is waiting, only looking up when the guard announces so. “Here we are.” You look up and take in your surroundings, eyes widening at the amount of gold detailing in the room. The lights are warm and dim to give the space a sophisticated yet cozy atmosphere. Something you take in almost immediately is that there is no one else in this section of the restaurant, the only one being the person your gaze falls onto next. As soon as Luca hears his guard talk, he sets his menu down and gives you one of the most infectious smiles that you’ve ever seen. Your lips barely refrained from smiling just as widely, settling on a small polite smile and a wave.

The blonde opens his arms in welcome from his seat, energy radiating from his voice. “I’m so glad you could make it! I was so worried you’d have other plans since this was pretty sudden on my part. Next time, I promise I’ll get your opinion on future hangouts first.” Before he puts his arms down, he beckons you to sit, the chair across from him being pulled open by the bodyguard. “Come, sit. We can order and then finally have a proper conversation.”

You take the invitation, even if you are a bit nervous about what exactly is going on. After you sit and are pushed in, thanking the guard as they make their way to stand behind Luca’s seat. Picking up the menu, you immediately try your best not to physically cringe at the prices. Flipping through the pages, you go all the way back to the appetizers – probably the only thing you can afford on the menu. Luca seems to notice, and he tilts his head, voice laced with confusion.

“Oh, are you not hungry? Hm?”

Looking up at him, you give a nervous smile. “Uhh, well, everything here is pretty out of my usual price range. The only thing here that I can really afford is a soft drink and a small appetizer…” You’re about to wave it off as fine until he puts his hand up, stopping you from continuing.

“Oh! Don’t worry about that. I invited you so I’ll be paying. It’s the least I can do for springing this on you. So order anything, I got it.” He smiles, then looks back down at the menu.

Okay, now you're really suspicious. No one this loaded just… does this. Or if they do, they have a catch. Forcing your expression to remain neutral, you decide you’ll ask when dinner arrives. Even if this is immensely suspicious, he doesn’t seem to have anything malicious planned. Although you haven’t known him long, nothing has really set off immediate red flags in your mind. He’s been super kind and if this is a kidnapping or something, he wouldn’t go through all this trouble. He’d have just done it by now – he’s had more than enough opportunities. Taking a deep breath, you settle on a meal and let him talk you into sharing a bottle of some high-class wine with him. When the server arrives to take your orders, you notice the other guard has returned from parking the car, making their way to Luca standing behind him next to the other one. You're too busy giving your order and feeling nervous about the establishment, that you don’t notice how uneasy the server is; constantly looking to the side and shifting nervously. He scurries off pretty quickly after your orders have been filled, and before you can ponder it, you’re pulled into a conversation with the blonde.

Luca lets you talk about your life first, and you're surprised at how intently he listens. It’s not like you lived anything remarkable as he must have, but when he listens to you speak, you see the genuine spark of interest in his eyes. The wine arrives in the middle of your story, and you're about to thank the person, but they leave so quickly that you barely have time to. Maybe they saw you talking and just didn’t wanna interrupt or that could just be how the service is here. Either way, you finish talking about yourself before turning the questions back to him.

When Luca starts telling you what he does, you make sure to give him the same level of attention he gave you. He tells you how he’s the owner of a casino; explaining that they have passed it down to him through the family. Well, that explains why he looks so expensive. The bodyguards are still a bit weird to you, but you’ve heard that children of rich families tend to get kidnapped so that could be explained away. After he talks about his family business, you are actually glad he starts to talk about his hobbies and interests. The longer you talk to him, the more you realize just how down-to-earth he is. Admittedly helping you calm down as the minutes roll by.

The food gets to you just as he finishes talking about how he used to surf, and you can’t help but express how talented he seems to be. “Wow, you have so much skill under your belt. If you didn’t own the casino, you’d still be set for life.”

Luca laughs shyly, sipping at his wine. “Well, most of it my parents had me take classes for. They wanted me and my sister to be prepared, you know?” He sets his glass down and gestures to your food; changing the subject. “I hope you enjoy the food, by the way! That looks really good. I might have to get that next time I come here.”

You chuckle, picking up your utensils. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you my premium review of it after I’m done.” He laughs and follows suit in your actions. You both dig into your food, and you have to hold yourself back from letting out a noise of delight. This food was unlike anything you’ve ever had, really tasting like the high price it was. Being so engrossed by the food, you almost forget what you wanted to ask Luca, your brain circling back to the suspicions you had earlier. You wait a little while, but when you think enough time has passed, you call the blonde’s name. “Luca?” He pauses in his sentence, looking at you with concern at the seriousness of your tone.

“Y–Yes? Is something wrong?” His lavender eyes scan over you, trying to get any hint as to what might be bothering you.

“No! It’s nothing wrong, per se." You immediately reassure, seeing how he physically deflated. Luca perks back up, a look of anticipation on his face, encouraging you to continue, "I have an important question to ask you." He gives you a firm nod. Seeing his silverware down to give you his full attention. “Okay, this is gonna be a very uh… interesting question, but I have to ask. Is this like some sort of, uhhh, fancy dinner to win me over for favors? Like… convincing me to be your sugar baby or something?” The blonde in front of you seems to choke on a breath, one guard coming up to pat his back. Glancing at the three people in front of you, you realize there's a look of shock written across each of their faces. When Luca gets over his coughing fit, he looks back up at you, starting to chuckle, believing you're joking. He stops, however, when he takes in your serious expression – worry in your eyes – and quickly explains himself.

“No no no! This is nothing like that!” He’s a bit frantic with his tone, waving his hands in exaggeration as he speaks. “I just wanted to have a genuine conversation with you. I…” He pauses for a moment, brows furrowed as he thinks over his next words. “I’ve felt bad that I’ve never gotten to talk to you properly all those times I would pass you and say ‘Hi’.” His gaze re-meets yours across the table. “This is just a normal dinner with a friend, I promise.”

With a sigh, you cross your arms, “You realize how…” you struggle for the right word, “odd that is right? Like, you look like you own a private island and seem very comfy in places like this.” One of your hands gestures to the lavish restaurant around you. “I’m just a regular person you saved once from getting mugged. I'm nobody. What reason would a rich person like you have to constantly come to talk to me if not for some other motive?” Honestly, you almost feel bad about the way you're interrogating him. Though this is something to be questioned, and as nice and sweet as he is, it’s still good to have a sense of caution. Especially with the wealthy.

Luca’s silent for a minute, seeming to think over what he wants to say; eyes downcast, staring at his half-finished food. It’s only a few silent moments until his lavender eyes look back up at you, their determination shocking you. “Because you didn’t treat me like that when I helped you.” You blink for a second, confused, tilting your head as he continues to speak. “Well… how do I put this… You just seemed like a nice person who wouldn’t judge someone no matter their status, so I wanted to get to know you? I–It’s honestly nothing like a ruse or a scheme. Trust me, being in this business, many people do try to deceive me. I’m an excellent judge of character because of that, and you just seemed very kind and down-to-earth. It gave me the push to try to befriend you.”

As he speaks, you can feel warmth start to pool in your cheeks, causing you to look away, not expecting that answer. After a moment, you let out a deep breath and then turned your gaze back to him. “Well, honestly, that’s pretty surprising." You say with a light laugh. Slouching back into your seat, you continue. "I’m sure all of this is normal for you, but maybe when we hang out in the future, these places–” your hands raise to gesture around the restaurant once more– “are not really casual for people like me.”

His eyes seem to light up a bit, a small crooked smile on his face. “So… you still wanna try to be my friend?”

You have to hold back a giggle at how closely he resembles a puppy at this moment. Uncrossing your arms and picking up your utensils as you return to your meal. “Mhm, you're not a bad person. I can tell that you really are interested in my life, and if you did have any bad intentions, you would’ve done something by now. Plus, you’re lucky you’re cute. Hard to say no to the puppy dog eyes you’ve been giving me.”

He hears his guards snicker behind him, but chooses to ignore it as his cheeks begin to flush. “You think I’m cute?” He watches as you laugh, smiling at him as you take a bite of your food.

“Mmn, this is really good. Do you wanna try some? I can give you a bite.” Luca pouts a bit as you change the subject, but nods nonetheless. He’s happy as you converse for the rest of your meal, talking about nothing and everything. It’s refreshing for you and him, as you act like equals. Feeling like friends.

The pair of you stay for a while, but eventually, you do tell him you have to work the next day. He, of course, offers to take you home, especially since you’d both had a bit of wine. With the moon smiling in the sky as the four of you leave the restaurant, and the surrounding street was lit up by dazzling lights. The bodyguards escort you to the car, giving them your address. The trip gives the two of you a chance to continue talking. Luca couldn’t help the smile on his face, content with just listening to you speak, and this time remembering to give you his number so you could make future plans together. It wasn’t long before the car pulled up to your home. Luca, ever the gentleman, helped you out and up to your door. When you finally say goodbye and wave them all off, you feel warm, and you’re sure he shares the same sentiment.

To Luca, this experience feels like a blessing to him. To have a normal conversation – a normal friend – in his unpredictable life. And to you, this was an exciting change to your routine; being able to make such an excitable and interesting new friend. You only saw good things ahead, and you hoped that it’d continue to get better from here.

It could only get better from here. Right?

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#luca kaneshiro x reader #luxiem x reader #nijisanji x reader #luca kaneshiro #nijisanji luxiem #nijisanji luca #nijisanji en #nijisanji #luxiem #x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #Written by Mod S 👿

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tenebriskukris · 22 days

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Oshi No Ko Chapter 145 - My Thoughts/Analysis

I have plenty of mixed feelings about this chapter, so I suppose I’ll just get on with it. Spoilers for Oshi No Ko Ch145 below.

We open up with…Crow Girl?? Her pretending to be Ruby for the movie is so adorable that I just want to pinch her cheek. And Ruby cringing at her performance despite it being completely accurate is such a mood. I bet if most people saw their child selves do something embarrassing they would internally cringe at the sight.

And Crow Girl basically serving the fact that she’s been watching Ruby and Aqua since they were kids to the reader on a silver platter. I’d wondered exactly when she took an interest in the twins, but to know that she was watching even then…Then again, she’d already appeared in the Spica novel for Goro, so I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised.

Crow Girl narration?? Finally some internality from possibly one of the most mysterious characters in the series. I’d pay good money to see what she thinks for so much of the series in general. I can only imagine what she was thinking of the events that happened just a few chapters ago…

“She doesn’t have the slightest feelings of awe.” To be fair, she was reincarnated into her idol’s child, speedrun Aqua’s revenge arc because you led her on that road, and then found out that the doctor she’d fallen in love with also got reincarnated as her brother. I think Crow Girl needs to wow Ruby more with something a bit more overtly magical if she wants that kind of reaction. Or just, y’know. Stop talking so vaguely all the time and say what she actually means to say clearly. Then again, that’s par for the course with this manga, so I can’t be too critical about it.

And then this page… Crow Girl not seeing Ruby as Ai but instead seeing Sarina. And then her reactions after that…the implications…

We cut to the next day, and yet another timeskip. I don’t understand why they just couldn’t have said that these scenes all take place one after another during the same day. Once again I have to wave the flag that the movie arc should’ve been segregated into the background of multiple other arcs instead of dumping it down our throats all at once.

Now this is a familiar callback of one of the first chapters of the manga! Crow Girl as Aqua looks so fucking smug. That cheek pulling impulse returns with a vengeance.

Kana and Ruby’s reactions to Crow Girl as Aqua are also interesting. Kana is definitely looking at the past with rose colored glasses. More mysterious and cute? I don’t recall any of that when she first interacted with the twins at all. If anything, she was quite dismissive of the two and only respected Aqua because she got humbled by his “acting”. Really, the only reason that Kana’s saying this stuff in the first place is because of her ego and because she still holds a torch for Aqua. I doubt she'd care about the quality of the actor if Crow Girl was only playing Ruby herself.

“But you’re nothing compared to me when I was a child actor.” This is a very normal thing to say to what she thinks is a literal child. How insecure do you have to be to be threatened by the acting skills of a literal child? Of course, Crow Girl isn’t a child at all, but again, Kana doesn’t know that. Kana’s behavior when she was a child was shitty, but now that she’s an adult that is absolutely no way to act. And because she’s just supposed to be a “gag character” she’ll receive no consequences for this whatsoever. Get this bitch off my screen, this isn’t a bloody romcom.

Ruby fangirling over Crow Girl as baby Aqua is very precious. People tend to forget but she was just as much as a brocon toward Aqua as Aqua was a siscon over her.

Aqua appearance! And he has his white star eye!!! Pack it up, shippers, it’s so Oshi no Over. I’ll be cashing out my AquaRuby stonks to live off the rest of the manga in the Bahamas.

Memes aside, it’s good to see Aqua with a single white star eye again. With how Aqua was when he’d gained his dual black star eyes, it’s refreshing to see him freer than he has been during the start of the arc. The dual black star eyes Aqua wouldn’t be this open or be cracking these jokes. Side note: Him echoing the “child prodigy” line is incredibly funny. We were so robbed in the earlier manga for twins doing cute twin things. Would it have killed the manga to have a small mini arc for the twins as they were growing up to see their dynamic better?

Crow Girl flashback??????? WHAT IS GOING ON.

Sarina???? Crow Girl is an actual crow, who could’ve known. And Goro???? Oh, Goro fixed up the Crow and that’s why she’s watching them both now! I don’t know why but the panels of the crow watching them both are very cute, especially the image where it’s standing out of Sarina’s window with a leaf in its beak.

Oh. It was there when-–when Sarina died. That is—well. I think it’s become very clear by reading between the lines that the entire reason that Aqua reincarnated in the first place is because of Sarina’s wish. He wasn’t brought back for revenge, but rather for the girl that loved him so much that she wanted to see him in another life.

In hindsight, Aqua’s purpose in his new life not being vengeance also makes sense when one thinks about the circumstances of Ai’s death logically. All that stood between Hoshino Ai’s death was a single door chain. If that hadn’t happened, then the trajectory of his life would’ve completely changed and he wouldn’t have pursued revenge at all. If Ai was a bit more distracted that day and didn’t notice the doorbell ringing, if Aqua or Ruby were more clingy to Ai, if Ai had remembered the door chain, if Ichigo and Miyako had arrived early, if Ai didn’t mention her address to Hikaru, so many ifs. Ai’s death wasn’t absolute in the slightest. Him being reborn alongside Rubysarina was. The game was rigged from the start, so they say.

“To me, you guys have always been cheeky and cute children, after all.” Crow Girl = Ai real??? Much as I’d like to jump on that theory train, I doubt that it’s true considering we saw Crow Girl active while Ai was alive. But with magical beings thrown into the mix, causality’s more of a suggestion than an absolute rule, so what do I know.

Still, for someone that’s been watching them since they were born, it’s a very cute viewpoint on the twins. She’s almost like their guardian angel, though the comparison doesn’t quite work culturally since they’re Japanese.

This chapter gave me mixed feelings, if I’m behind honest. On one hand why oh why couldn’t this chapter be foreshadowed better? The Private Arc could’ve basically set this entire thing up so it didn’t feel like it came out of left field. Ditto with showing Crowl Girl more earlier in the manga—the Private arc’s pretty deep in the manga anyway, and Aqua and Crow Girl’s first meeting is bloody offscreen. Not exactly the best way to seed out crumbs for the supernatural so late in the game.

I did like this chapter because of what it implies, though. With Aqua’s white star eyes being present—and I suspect they’ll be present for the foreseeable future until he gets traumatized by something—as well as the fact that Crow Girl was present to hear Sarina’s final words…more and more ammunition for the shipping side of the fandom. I personally thought it was already set in stone even before the events of the previous chapters, but some people refuse to be convinced, even after the latest chapters.

But aside from shipping, it’s curious that this is the second chapter in a row we’re getting some more information on the supernatural side of things. It’s one of the few parts of Oshi No Ko that I think’s been very underutilized since the twins got reincarnated, which is a shame because I find that aspect so interesting. While I do think this chapter was kind of a cop out in giving us an explanation as to why they were reincarnated, it do believe it would’ve been better inserted within an earlier arc. Perhaps Ruby reminiscing about Goro’s kindness during the Private arc, or even earlier than that. We were so robbed of Ruby screentime so much during the earlier parts of the manga.

One final note: Now that it’s pretty established that Crow Girl was once, well, a crow, I find it strange that she now has a physical body. Her deal with her vessel being born, as well as the mention of a mother of all things…that’s going to be relevant, because why else mention a mother if it’s not going to be relevant at all—especially after we’re already giving spotlight to the supernatural bits of the series during this arc.

#oshi no ko #onk #oshi no ko analysis #my analysis #oshi no ko spoilers #onk 145 #i am once again late to the party orz

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thevividgreenmoss · 1 month

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I had a couple of friends (my only two friends really lol which two is far far above my historical average for friends, one is above the historical average if we're being Real) over last night to see the movie I made with my cats/co-directors and I made little tickets/keepsakes for both of them lol

Since the first short I randomly slapped together back in January which eventually ended up being incorporated into what this ended up being I liked the idea of keeping this as something I primarily just directly share with people in my own living room, like the only reason I initially put this shit online anywhere is to have an easy way to share it on here with you all in case it's of interest to anyone lol but idk like there's no way to make even five dollars off of this since I don't have the rights to any of the music playing in the background and huge chunks of certain songs/albums are in the shit lmao like almost half an hour of D'Angelo - Voodoo lmfao but like. it cost me literally nothing to make this, I shot the entire thing on my phone and cut it together on my laptop using open source software so there isn't even any cost to recoup so why not include the music I was already listening to ig and past that just share it with directly with anyone that's willing to sit through it

Back in May I was talking to one of my neighbors who is also one of the neighborhood plugs who also raps a little bit just for the fuck of it "I dont make money off music, I'm a trapper for real" (slightly paraphrased it was almost a year ago at this point), but I actually fuck with his music and listened to it of my own volition after he initially directly played a track for me and our other neighbor and the other day I was over to reup and was like 1) I made a movie off your product so truly thank you cause this doesnt happen otherwise and 2) if you check it out and anything jumps out at you we can work on a music video along those lines if you're down which who knows if we'll do that but personally I'd love to. Then he asked me why I haven't been fasting lmao, remembering that I also didn't fast last year. And that led to talking about god and history and america and the whites. He was telling me a bit about another Pakistani guy that buys from him, showed me a picture of the dude, standing with (presumably although I can't say for sure) his father and grandfather.

The picture he showed me, everything he said has been stuck in my head since. The three smiling desi faces, if I had to guess either fellow Kashmiris if not that maybe Pathaan, but especially the old man's face recalling of course my nana's. I wish I could've made a movie in Lahore with him. I do want to make one with my mom, I was thinking of incorporating clips of a walk around the creek at my parent's neighborhood with her into this video but I ended up going a different direction but I do think it could be worth it's own standalone piece. But I do want to do more of these and the process by which it came together is definitely something accessible to everyone like everyone can do this I feel, if anyone wants. But I personally do want to make one with my mom if she's down.

A few days before that aforementioned day in late May I read Prince's unfinished autobiography and among a million things in there that I have not been able to stop seeing or thinking of was what? The way he opened the first chapter with the image of his mother's eyes - the first thing 👁 saw.

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feywhimsy · 8 months

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requesting ambrosia for that ask game pretty please 🙏

ofc!! also tagging @invinciblerodent because they also requested her ♥

this got quite long, so I'm putting it under a cut. thank you both for asking about her, i adore her so much and being able to talk about her is always so wonderful 💕

Full Name: Just Ambrosia. Her "real" name is Lysarra, but circumstance had led to that name being dropped. In her original campaign, the name change was a conscious choice on her part on her journey to becoming a cleric of Nusemnee. For bg3 though, it was a result of the memory loss! When she woke on the nautiloid she was clutching a holy symbol with "Ambrosia" etched on the back, so she assumed that was her name.

Pronouns: She/her!

Gender and Sexuality: Ambrosia has never really thought about her gender and feels comfortable in her gender. She also has never tried to put a label on her sexuality, and struggles to put it into words. She also believes she can't and shouldn't get close to anyone, given who she is and what she struggles with. She doesn't want to hurt them. She's also never really assumed she'd be lucky enough to be in a relationship, and life has... really not been kind to her. Knowing what I know about her, and her past, I'd pin it as like... demiromantic-bisexual? She definitely has to know someone before she can open up to them romantically, even though she desperately craves that connection.

Ethnicity/Species: I don't have a lot to say here. She's a human, she didn't grow up in one place, and given she's trying to shed her past, there isn't anything she feels a strong connection to.

Birthplace and Birthdate: Ambrosia was born small village named Triel, north east of Elturel, to parents that did not care about her. Before she was sold, they never celebrated her birthday, and the mercenary group she was part of didn't care about any of that either. She doesn't know her exact age, but she'd estimate she's in her late 20s. (I'm going to say her birthday is in 1464, making her 28 at the time of the events of the game.)

Guilty Pleasures: murder drinking an entire bottle of wine on her own. Ambrosia is quite Large so it doesn't hit her quite as hard as it might others, but she still feels bad when she drinks an entire thing herself sometimes.

Phobias: I haven't really thought about this before, but something in my guy tells me Ambrosia is a bit claustrophobic.

What They Would Be Famous For: Ambrosia is delightfully unremarkable in most ways. She doesn't want to be famous, she doesn't like that kind of attention. If she had to be, though, she would hope it wasn't for the murders. Something that would leave a positive impact on the world.

What They Would Get Arrested For: Beating up people who are mean to kids. She might not consciously remember what happened to her as a child, but there's some scrap of it there in her subconscious, and it really shaped who she is. If she sees a child getting mistreated, especially by their parents, it takes a lot for her to keep her cool. She'll do anything and everything to care for that kid and show them their worth. The Arabella situation was hard for her, because she had half her brain thinking about the tragedy of it all, and the other part of her screaming to step in and ruin Kahga's week.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Ambrosia grew up poor and then was sold off to a mercenary group, so she doesn't actually know how to read 💔 But if she's listening to stories, she loves a slow-burn romance. Not that she would ever admit it out loud. But her life has been such a mess, just a simple slice of life story of people falling in love despite the circumstances always gets to her.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Fake happy endings, especially if the happy ended was worked for/deserved. To rip it away at the last second is the worst thing you could do to someone, she just hates it. (She does not realize how this relates to her own life.)

Talents and/or Powers: Mechanically, Ambrosia is a War Cleric with proficiency in Intimidation, Persuasion, Medicine, Athletics, and Insight. Despite having no proficiencies in it, Ambrosia is really good with animals, she loves them a lot and they're her lil buds! Original Ambrosia loved dogs, so getting Scratch in this game was just so!! good! she got to live her best life and have a friend!

Why Someone Might Hate Them: Ambrosia is. So stubborn. About even the most trivial things. She has her way of doing things, she has ideas of how things are going to happen, and she doesn't back down. Back in her original campaign this was a huge problem, because she was convinced she could show Strahd the harm he'd done and convince him on the path to be better. That obviously did not go well, but she never gave up.

Why Someone Might Love Them: Ambrosia is so stubborn. She refuses to accept a bad outcome to situations, she works hard to make sure everyone's happy and getting what's best for them. That includes herself, she's very hard on herself about the mistakes she's made and for the things she's done, the people that have died because of her. But it also means she pushes her party members into what's good for them and their well being! And she's always searching for solutions to whatever they might be dealing with, because her friends deserve good things happening to them.

How They Change: This is likely still a work in progress, as I'm only in Act 2 with Ambrosia, but so far she's learned to be a lot kinder with herself when it comes to her urges. She was actually able to open up to her party about what she was dealing with, initially out of necessity because of what happened at camp, but as time went on she realized she could trust them to help her through dark times.

Why You Love Them: Ambrosia was my... second? Third? D&D character ever. She was made for a Curse of Strahd campaign that sadly never finished. It makes me so happy to have her have a place again, and to get a story that has been so satisfying! I've always wanted to see how her story ends, and while a lot of her original plot was dropped (she ran like a redemption paladin, though mechanically a war cleric), she's still very much herself and it's just. So amazing. I'm hoping there's a happy ending option for Urge, because my girl has been through a lot, and I'd like to see her happy.

as a bonus for making it to the end of this post: here is my playlist of all of my ambrosia vibes music! it's all stuff from her old campaign, but most of them still apply. i'm going to make a bg3 version soon ♥

#thank you so muuuuch i hope this wasn't too much #sorry it took me forever to write. long day at work left me with little energy to think </3 #but i really appreciate it SO much #i hope u like my girl #i really need to finish her playthrough so i can finalize her story #bg3: ambrosia #ask

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spynorth · 1 year

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little health update under the cut bc it is going to affect my activity levels both writing wise and ooc. mention of heavy subjects so. you don't have to read <3

so as some may remember from my hook blog, i got super sick in late 2021. It carried over into '22 and eventually led to me finally getting a lot of bloodwork, x rays, an echocardiogram .. literally all kinds of things. the only thing anyone could tell me was i was definitely sick and it was probably something 'minor' (i'm using that term so loosely) like a disorder or something that was no big deal. I've gone in for frequent labwork and things keep getting worse. It was actually my psychiatrist (not my gp. what a shock :| ) who looked closer and referred me to a hematologist oncologist. Sadly, the trend in my blood is getting worse. Despite meds, everything that should be going higher is still getting lower and everything that should be getting lower is going way higher. I got a test back yesterday and I more than likely am going to have to have a bone marrow biopsy (which. don't look that up. fuck.). They are thinking i have Primary Polycythemia which is a rare disorder (for my age group) classified as a blood cancer (again. perfect. not escaping the word lmao) since it involves mutated cells inside the bone marrow fucking up and going on the fritz. Thankfully, I have the best oncologist in the world and she's very thorough and though there are outliers .. survival rate if you get treatment is 14-24 years. That's not bad. It's 14-24 years of chemo rounds and blood transfusions and sometimes removing the equivalent of a blood donation every 2-3 days in the worst case scenarios but like .. you're not dead. so. i think that evens out. The unfortunate thing is survival is 1.5-3 years if untreated/treated improperly and I'm at 1.5 years since everything started. I have headaches, blurred vision, exhaustion, aches, bruising, incessant itching, constant nausea and I'm overheated like all the fucking time. poor hunter is always wrapped in blankets because when we turn the heater on it becomes unbearable for me. My blood pressure sucks for the first time ever in my entire life (I've gone from 109/60 to 150/100 this past friday) and when it pounds in my temples, it's hard to write. and to top it all off, my platelets are so damn high thanks to my bone marrow being fucked up and overproducing that I have to constantly worry about a stroke or embolism or something else just as sinister. So, hopefully, the plan is to get this show on the road and alleviate a lot of things and reverse what's been done.

My point in this is that I'm tired. I want to do things that sometimes my body won't let me do. I have moments where the little box in the corner of my mind I've stored everything in opens and I panic a bit. Am I gonna be grumpy sometimes? fuck yes. I'm not magic. Everyone has bad days/bad moods and you add stuff like this and sometimes i just want to punch things. so i ask for patience. both in replies and ooc communication. I want to talk to all of you. I want to hear about everything same as always, but sometimes I just don't have the energy to reply as quickly as I once did. throughout this whole thing, tumblr/writing has sort of been my getaway because its an escape that I can do while house bound .. and there's this little tiny part of my brain that keeps saying if I'm not active on the dash or making people laugh as much, that I'll fade away and be forgotten about. so i'm just asking that people please not let that be the case. i love you all <3

#medical //#cancer mention //#health //#ask to tag //#psa ;#yall don't have to read this.#the gist is suck it up bc i'm gonna be gone a lot but also love me pls #also if i hyperfixate on somethign and bug you about it like a desperate man trying to find some happiness #i'm apologizing now sjhfjfhghj lmao

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ellxcherries · 1 year

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Losin Control || S.C.B

Pairing: Changbin x Y/N

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warning(s): None!

She’s falling in love now,

Losing control now,

Fighting the truth,

Trying to hide

But I think it’s alright, girl

Yeah I think it’s alright, girl ooh

Heartbreak was nothing new to you. You were immune to it by now. In fact, you were so immune you never expected to find someone who would actually love and care for you as much as you love and care for them.

You’ve always been a person who gave love, while people just take and never give back. Cheated on, used, played. Every bit of heartbreak you can imagine, you’ve experienced. So much, that you’ve built a wall and you refused to let anybody in.

It was never in your intentions to try a relationship again. Not until you met Changbin. He was different. There was mutual feelings between the two of you, but because of your trust issues and past relationships, you refused to label anything with him because you were scared of what could happen. He always reassured you that he had no intentions of hurting you and that he would do anything to keep you happy. As much as you believed him and as much as you wanted to be with him, you couldn’t bring yourself to let him in. You were already into deep with your feelings for him.

Despite her past she can't help the attraction

He tells her that he's nothing like the last one

He redefines in every way what love is

She fell for him and hasn't gotten' up since

Changbin has always been a gentleman. He’s never overstepped with you, and he was always so patient. Waiting for you to let him in. He never once rushed or pressured you into anything you weren’t ready for. If anything, he wishes he could meet your exes and strangle them for the damage they’ve caused you. In his eyes, you were the most beautiful and precious soul. All he wants to do now is love and protect you.

As you both sat on the couch in the dorm, your legs were rested on his lap. He noticed you were staring off into nothingness. “What’s going on in that pretty little head?” He asks, rubbing your legs in a comforting way. You stared for just a moment longer, contemplating on whether you should open up now or just deny even thinking. He waited for you. Whatever your reply would be, he waited. “I’m just thinking. When you’re finally done with me too-“ You were cut off and interrupted by Changbin. “Baby, I’ll never be done with you. I’m so in love with everything about you. Even these walls you have up.” He grabbed your hand and held it in his. He kissed the back of your hand and smiled at you. “I know you’re used to being hurt, but Y/N, that’s not what I want to do to you.” He said, looking into your eyes. It’s not that you didn’t believe him, you did. It’s just the simple fact that you were traumatized from your past. Losing changbin would be the worst heartbreak of all. “I know. You’ve been such a gentleman to me and I’m positively and deeply in love with you. It’s just hard to let my guard down and it has nothing to do with you at all.” A tear slipped from your eye. He was quick to wipe it. “Pretty baby, please don’t cry. It is not your fault. It has never been your fault. Do you know what? I’m going to be here every step of the way. I’m not leaving you.” All you could do was smile through the tears.

Who would’ve thought that all the pain and heartbreak would’ve led you to such an angel like him? He kept his word. He’s been there for you every step of the way. With time, you were finally able to open up and let him in. He treated you like a princess. His only wish was to love and protect you and he did just that.

#changbin x reader #changbin x y/n #changbin x you #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz changbin #stray kids x reader #stray kids x yn #changbin #stray kids angst #skz angst #skz x reader #seo changbin

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nothosword · 5 months

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✢⁎. INTERVIEW.

What has led you to where you are today?

“Hm? I’m lookin’ for someone.”

Fergus wakes himself up by popping his neck. He’s been waiting for his interviewer for so long that he allowed his eyelids to flutter and his back to slump against one of the office chairs. He looks less than presentable, but that’s just how he is–able to find a carefree spirit in even the most tense of situations.

Said interviewer prods him for more, the line drawn across their forehead clearly dissatisfied with the blonde’s answer. He thought it was perfectly reasonable, but he isn’t in charge here, now is he? He sits up.

“What, you want more? Alright, alright, just quiet down, ‘kay?” One of his hands pecks at the air to emphasize speaking in a low voice. He’s got a bit of crud in his eyes that he neglects to wipe away. “I was thinking about having a nap after this.”

The man is not the least bit sympathetic to how his demeanor is received. He wears that devil-may-care smirk like a hood pulled over one’s face in a Silessian winter. Because he needs it. Without his charm, Fergus would freeze to death in a pit of his own hatred. The urge to explain reminds him that there is spite laden in every smile, hatred laced in every word about his past.

“Name’s Fergus, in case you don’t already know. See this here?” He pulls at the strap around his scabbard until it comes loose, then unhooks it from his midsection to show the official. After a small click, a curved sword is drawn. “Get a good look at it. Yeah, real fancy sword I’ve got. The thing is: only my father’s sons can take it from its sheath. Don’t ask me how it works.”

For even if he knew, he wouldn’t care. As far as Fergus is concerned, the man who made this blade doesn’t deserve something so precious attached to his lineage. He deserves the dirt, the dogs. He makes the free knight bite the inside of his cheek just thinking about him, unearths from him only the black soot of disgust. And yet Fergus took the sword. He made a deal with his half-brother, promising not to show his face around Conote or Agustria so as to avoid an inheritance dispute. ‘All I want are two things,’ he had said, ‘proof of who I am, and proof of what I’ve done.’ The former is the sword, which has helped him on his quest to discover where his predecessor went and how he lived.

And ironically enough, forced him into the same kind of life.

“I heard a rumor that he died, but I wouldn’t put it past the old son of a brigand to have faked that so he could get away-”

His interviewer cuts him off to ask plainly what he thinks of his father, since Fergus appears so driven by his existence.

“Mm? Yeah, I don’t quite like him… Back home, people are hospitable and kind to each other. I just can’t forgive someone who would take advantage of that, you know?”

‘Home’ is where mother lies, lonely without a son or husband. ‘Home’ is by the sea, where the smell of salt wafts through an open marketplace glittering with seafaring goods. ‘Home’ is being rebuilt–saved by the efforts of Fergus and Prince Leaf. His sword in the Claus’ cause was his way of repaying ‘home’ for all that it did for him. Conote is ‘home.’

What do you believe are your greatest strengths? Your greatest weaknesses?

“I’m not too bad in a fight, even got the scars to prove it.” Fergus’ good mood returns like the morning sun when the question changes. And boy does he shine. He fishes through his pocket for something, eyes taking on a softer edge now that he can talk about how cool he is.

“Check this out,” he continues, producing a pin. It features a wyvern & pegasus, and the two holy spears crossed in its center, “It’s proof that I had a hand in the liberation of Northern Thracia. It keeps me out of trouble.” It is also the latter half of his deal. Every word he speaks about it is true.

“Let’s see… What else…” he taps his thigh as he thinks, “I’m the type to jump in and get things done, and I don’t look too bad, either.” Something seems to pull on the corner of his lips. Fergus’ smile grows uncontrollably wide as he thinks back to that fledgeling knight. She was hilarious. He imagines she’s out there having fun, hopefully not getting two-timed like his mom. “As for flaws…”

The pin enters the palm of his hand and receives a few taps from his index. “I stick my nose where it doesn’t belong. Before I met the prince, I was up and ready to leave Thracia. I’m also only personally motivated, and hard to tie down to boot.”

All marks of your standard self-righteous sellsword. Hopefully, nothing the interviewer hasn’t already seen.

If a story were to be written about your life, what role would you play?

Fergus nearly barks. This one has him thinking. As he drifts into a state of self-reflection, he half-chucks to himself. These people have probably stumped a lot of folks with a question like this.

“Mm, probably the guy that got mixed up in everything.”

It takes him a moment until he finally nods and confirms his own answer, but it becomes one he’s satisfied with. A sense of cheekiness works its way into his expression as he stands, arms crossed and face beaming still.

“It’s not exactly the nicest thing to admit, but I met Prince Leif in what you’d call ‘captivity.’” Air-quotes on ‘captivity.’ Fergus prefers the term to ‘prison.’

“I fight fights that aren’t mine, get involved where I shouldn’t–Man would my story be cleaner if I just kept to myself, but I’m not that kinda guy, and you can’t win ‘em all when it comes to life’s lots.” He shrugs. He’s right, and he knows it. Things got hairy at times, back in the Liberation Army, but he managed unscathed. The few sacrifices they did have to make don’t bother him–perhaps not as much as they should. He feels as though he’s always been of the mind that everyone has agency over their own life. If someone decides to waste it, that’s their own prerogative. Hell, there was even once a moment in which he was about to sacrifice himself for the young lord and little lass. He sighs nostalgically as the moment passes him by. Things would’ve turned out far differently if he met anyone but Leif.

“So yeah, just the dude who blew in outta nowhere, and will probably blow back into nowhere once I’m done. Glad to be here!”

#OOC #INTERVIEW #//this theme doesn't have enough links so don't mind me shamelessly plugging my interview #//come read all about fergie and his daddy issues

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m80495 · 1 year

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|| OutOfCombat ;;

Every day I think about how bad Mercury is at expressing his emotions. Even when he tries so hard. Readmore bc it got a little long sorry he’s running on a hamster wheel in my brain folds

Obviously with his upbringing he's NEVER had a good outlet for it, but he's just so goddamn emotionally constipated it's insane.

The moment that immediately comes to mind is the Battle of Haven in V5 (everyone’s favorite scene in everyone’s favorite volume :eyeroll:), specifically after it’s over and the Heroes Have Saved The Day or whatever and Emerald is about to have a meltdown on the floor. And Mercury just goes “Emerald, get up, we need to go. Emerald...” and like he’s whispering and his voice is still a little aggressive but you can tell he’s trying to be soft and gentle with her because he knows that’s what she responds better to and it gets me eeeeevery time. He cares for her so much in his stupid little repressed Mercury way. He just wants her to get out of there and be safe.

ANNNNDDDDD. He defends her from Tyrian later in V6E4(I think). But before he even does his little “Back off, freak.” thing he’s trying to get her away from him before the confrontation starts. “Emerald, come on.” because he knows Tyrian is just gonna get in her head and make her upset (because it is evidently not that hard to upset her). When Emerald turns and does her “I will cut off more than just your tail.” line, Mercury behind her is like O_O cause he’s like ahh great now I gotta make sure she doesn’t kill herself trying to fight Tyrian. (Tyrian meanwhile is unfazed because he is Tyrian. That shot of him cutting his face against her weapon and Emerald’s little OnO face lives in my head rent-free.) AND MERCURY’S HAND ON HER SHOULDER IS SO GENTLE. And he doesn’t take his hand off her shoulder until they turn around!!!!!!!!!! UGH oh my GOD. (Also, just as a little note, Emerald leans just the slightest bit against Mercury’s hand and turns so slightly towards him, but when Salem touches her on that same shoulder minutes later, she tenses up something fierce. I’m just mentioning that for me.)

This has nothing to do with the rest of the post, but I’m mentioning it anyway because it came to mind. Mercury is the first person to realize how enraged Salem is when Hazel tells her that rwbyjnr&qrow are being led by Oz. He’s the first to realize the atmosphere completely changes, the camera focuses on him when the windows start shattering. Tyrian and Watts start talking while Mercury is like uh ohhhhhh. He knows rage when he sees it. My poor boy. He’s the first person to be OUT of that goddamn door.

And then there’s That Scene in V6E9(lol 69). I fully believe Emerald is the only person he’s ever, ever opened up to about ANYTHING in his past. That scene is SO emotionally charged. Actually wait before I talk about it I need to point something else out. Mercury doesn’t ever really talk to anyone else in the show except for Emerald. And when he does he’s threatening/intimidating them. (The scene where they visit the Branwen tribe comes to mind. “Hey, ugly!”/”I was hoping you’d say that.” (irt cinder “Make him [cooperate].”)/“We’re the guys you should be afraid of.” etc.) (Or the scene with him and Ruby in V3, “polarity vs metal, that might be bad”/ “let’s just keep this between us friends” etc.) But every time he talks to Emerald, he’s much more casual. And he talks to her less when there’s other people around (V3, the scene in the ambulance, the scene where he’s repairing his legs.) but she’s still the main person he talks to. It’s evident in V6E9 too where he casually calls Cinder “a pain” and the tone of his voice with his “Just made sense.” and his subsequent explanation. He’s talking about how he was raised from birth to kill people, and how he killed his dad, but he’s using the cadence you’d use to talk about the weather.

This is neither here nor there but I think it’s very sweet and cute that Emerald is just kind of hanging out while Mercury works out or trains or whatever the hell he is doing in that scene. Yarrgh! Hiyaa! Grunt noises! And Emerald’s just sitting there. They feel comfort in each other’s presence, your honor! (Remember in V3 when he was doing pushups on the floor and she was playing on her scroll laying on the floor beside him? UGH THEY’RE SO SPECIAL TO ME.)

He’s nonchalant about it at first but we see pretty quickly he has a short temper. “Hey, what’s your problem?” He opened up (in his own Mercury way) and Emerald didn’t respond the way he thought she would, so he’s immediately on the defensive. But she isn’t aggressive (yet) so he backs off again. “Salem’s promised us everything.” and subsequent lines are again said casually. And then Emerald calls Cinder ‘family’. For someone like Mercury, who has likely only had bad experiences with ‘family’ (and there is NO way Cinder treated Mercury the same way she treated Emerald, like there’s no way, from the way he talks about her, he does not give two shits about that woman) he does not respond well to it. “Wake up already.” He sees through Cinder’s act of ‘caring’ about Emerald when she’s really using the two of them to further her own goals. I don’t think he’s fine with it, but he puts up with it because his ultimate goal is to be “top dog” in “Salem’s new world”. Cinder just also happens to be part of that. I’m also not convinced that’s the first time Mercury has tried to have the “Cinder doesn’t care about you/us” conversation with Emerald, it is way too emotionally charged on both sides. They’ve talked about this before I KNOW it.

I think it’s also important to note that Mercury is not the one who starts their dinky little slapfight, Emerald throws the first blow and nearly every other attack. She doesn’t even land any of her hits, Mercury effortlessly blocks and dodges his way out of all of them. “I’m sorry you didn’t have a mommy that loved you! But I had a father who hated me.” He physically stops the fight so he can say that. I do think he really is sorry that Emerald didn’t have a loving family, but I think he’s also, like, hey, I didn’t either, so tough fucking shit. It’s the difference between having no family at all vs a family that was actively abusive. I think Mercury would’ve rather had nothing at all than Marcus Black for a father, and Emerald would rather keep clinging to Cinder (who literally has hit her before and actively manipulated her) than have nothing at all. He’s trying to help her recognize that her circumstances are, uh, bad, but he’s so aggressive and frustrated that she’s not getting it, that it just turns into him being, um, not-gentle about it, because that is the only way he knows how to do it. He doesn’t know how to be soft and gentle about it, especially when it’s something that hits so closely to home. He’s been through this cycle before, and he can see both himself and Emerald trapped in it, and it frustrates and probably enrages him to no end.

Regardless of his frustration, he barely even tries to fight back. He knows he doesn’t have to, because he knows he can beat her in a fight. “Every day of training was a beating.” He’s literally just walking forward, hands at his sides. He’s doing nothing but intimidate her because he doesn’t want to fight her. He wants her to back down. He doesn’t start ‘fighting back’ until “This is a crutch.” with an extremely telegraphed punch, and “This makes you weak.” with a telegraphed high kick that barely even gets close enough to Emerald for her to even need to dodge from it. And those are the only two ‘attacks’ he throws out that entire time, and they are telegraphed, and easy for Em to block/dodge. He spends the rest of his little speech just circling Emerald with his hands up. Mercury spilled his guts out to Emerald, probably the first time he’s ever opened up about what happened to him in his LIFE. And that’s something that can be so personal........

And that’s why he’s so frustrated when Tyrian interrupts them. Because he’s an extremely private person, and someone he hates just overheard him unlock his Tragic Backstory to Emerald. And then get his ass handed to him both verbally and physically by Tyrian, he’s humiliated! He just tried to open up, and for what? I don’t think Tyrian was making fun of him, per se, but he did absolutely nail all of his insecurities right to his face. To be honest? I think Mercury sees a lot of Marcus in Tyrian. Marcus the assassin and Tyrian the serial killer. Kind of a tangent but I think it’s interesting how he doesn’t even try to fight back against Tyrian. He sees pretty quickly they’re unevenly matched and he just... stays there underneath him, staring at his stinger. Mercury doesn’t pick fights he can’t win...

I want to say something about Emeralds “Mercury, I wanted to...” thing because she definitely was coming to follow up on their fight, but Mercury is literally paralyzed with fear watching Salem create the winged monkey grimm (Beringel?? I cant remember what theyre called off the top of my head rn). We could’ve had them try that conversation again in private in V7 but CRWBY hates me specifically.

We didn’t see Em and Merc for the entirety of V7, and I can’t help but wonder what on earth went on between them during all of that. I feel like, from what we know from V8, with Mercury leaving Cinder to work under Salem directly, he had to have told Emerald before he did it. I think he made one last-ditch attempt to get through to her about Cinder not truly caring for who she is as a person, only caring about what Emerald can do for her, but again couldn’t reach her. So he decided to just leave, to prove it to her that Cinder never cared. And the thing is, too, Mercury outlived his use for Cinder. He had that fake leg trick at the Fall of Beacon, but aside from that, Cinder just uses him as muscle. And she could just as easily find anyone else with that ability, someone who has a semblance, too. I think Mercury actually might’ve been a little worried he’d get left behind (even if he didn’t quite realize it) when he decided to work under Salem directly. I dunno. Wait I’m going on a tangent again okay focus Combat focus we are talking about Mercury’s soft side. Okay maybe not soft just less rough than the rest of him. ANYWAY

As far as V8 goes, I don’t think Mercury has completely given up trying to get it through Emerald’s head that Cinder is bad for her. But I do think he tries a little less cuz it kills him inside to see that cycle happen and feel powerless to prevent it but he at least has to try. In V8E6. After Emerald brings Cinder back to the whale. She was just trying to help. “I think she’s had enough help.” Mercury is now bold enough to shittalk Cinder to her face, why’s that, I wonder, hmmmm??????? “Would you stop trying to protect her, already? She doesn’t care about you.” Where’s all this coming from? Huh? Oh, Cinder’s mad. So she tries to kick them out. And Mercury’s like SURPRISE BITCH I don’t work for you anymore. When he says that. Emerald doesn’t even look surprised at all. I just knowwww Mercury told her beforehand!! Like I said! She’s just like :(... meanwhile Cinder is like !?!?!?. I might just be brainrotted but Emerald leaves without waiting for Cinder to leave first, she follows Mercury instead, and I think that’s a nice little detail. Later in that same episode, when they’re all gathered, Mercury looks over to where Emerald is kneeling, just to check on her. I think that is also a sweet little detail.

And Then Volume Eight Episode Seven: War Happens. “He’s a prisoner, Em, he’ll say what he thinks will get him out.” I’m sure you know all about saying what you think will get you out of a little pain and punishment, don’t you, Mr. Black. Also I screamed when he called her Em. And I want to mention. Emerald did not go to Cinder with this. Emerald went to Mercury with it first. Emerald did not tell Cinder a single thing about the lamp and Jinn, she told MERCURY. MERCURY!!! I think, even if it’s just the slightest, smallest bit, he did get through to her just a little bit by telling her Cinder doesn’t care. “I know better than to disobey Salem.” I think that might’ve been a dig at Cinder actually. But also he knows the price of disobedience. So.

His voice drops so much between “Look, even if what he said was true, we can’t stop Salem.” Mercury is just as afraid of Salem as everyone else is, he just puts on airs to seem like a detached cool tough guy. “Big guy’s not gonna pick fights he can’t win. Neither should we.” Mercury knows that well, and it’s showed in so many aspects of him. He stops the fight with Pyrrha when he gets what he needs. He almost singlehandedly defeats Coco and Yatsu at Vytal. He loses on purpose to Yang at Vytal. And he kinda does kick ass during the battle of Haven. He intimidates Emerald into not fighting in V6. He doesn’t fight Tyrian back. And he takes whatever orders are given to him by Salem. He knows what it’s like to lose a fight and he does not like it.

Tyrian coming up to retrieve Mercury to take him to Vacuo... that scene is so... ough. Mercury tenses up SO much when Tyrian grabs his shoulder I can feel the tension in my own muscles. Mercury has so many second thoughts in that one short moment where Tyrian talks about Salem ending the world, and you can see it all over his face! I want to cry. “Come along, Mr. Black.” I just know Mercury hates being called that more than anything. I knowwww that’s what people In The Know called Marcus. I mean, hell, he probably had to call Marcus ‘Mr. Black’ on occasion. When Tyrian shoves him forward, he looks back at Emerald. But Tyrian keeps him going.

And then, finally, the last time we saw Mercury Black, literally almost two fucking whole years ago now, was him in the manta about to fly out to Vacuo. And he exchanged that LOOK with Emerald. (That Look is still my phone lockscreen to this day.) So many silent thoughts are communicated just through his nod. You’ve got this. You’re gonna be okay. I’m gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay.

Reader, they are not going to be okay.

#I just have lots of feelings about mister Mercury Black #I feel like the wider fndm as a whole doesn't understand him and his circumstances #So it's easy for them to write him off as Just Some Asshole #Which like. OK. Yes. He is very much Just Some Asshole. I would agree that not even CRWBY really gets what they want to do with him #But I'm not CRWBY and I'm taking custody of him and I'm deciding that Actually Yes. It IS that deep.#It IS that deep and it always will be.#He's my scrunkly oinkly blinkbo whatever the fuck #I got nauseous several times writing this post. God. He is so special to me #OUTOFCOMBAT | OOC #TXT #META: MERCURY #HEADCANON: MERCURY #Is this meta? I don't think I know what Meta means #anyway. Sorry about the category 5 mental illness event #I just have lots of thoughts and feelings and emotions and and and and and

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ihaveastorminme · 1 year

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I know it's been years but there's hope you'll ever finished "how ruthless..."? I've been needing to read that story's ending to have some closure for so long 😭

hi anon, thank you so much for the question and the love implied, because im so happy that you still like this story and want to see it finished.

i have been saying forever than i am still writing, and i have - but those have been mostly edits and re-writes of things that i had written before, to fit a different mood so theres not anything new. im going to add under the cut one scene that is completely new and the opening scene of the new chapter im working on.

[and also add here what has been stopping me this whole time from completing this story that i very much want to complete.]

warned, very long post follows.

at first i changed my mind on the very arc of the characters. it started with jon being this flamboyant character who used melodramatics to mask his true self. that part where sansa tells him that she doesnt think he really loves her, was actually true. he did not, but she had kinf of fulfilled a fantasy for him and he was heavily involved with his idea of her, rather than the real person. and as i kept writing him i also wanted to portray the reason why he is so closed off, and his differences between who he used to be and who he is - and all those led me to believe that i hadnt really SHOWN the way the vioelnce in his past affected him. and that led me to write a more serious character, one that would just as easily confuse his feelings for sansa but express that confusion differently.

and sansa herself - i wrote her as very emotionally open, very easily connecting with jon - which is still a thing in the current version of the story - but also admitting those feelings easily to herself. and THAT last part didnt then make sense with her character. or rather where i wanted to take her character. i needed her figuring out that littelfinger has been behind her isolation and paranoya and all of that, to hit harder than it did. and it coudlnt the way i had written her the first time, because she had admitted her feelings for jon at least to herself. in this version, she never does. she never even considers it a possibility. one of the reasons she - subconciously - doesnt want to be around him is because she feels this very strong affinity for him, and she has been brainwashed, so to speak, to completely distrust her feelings about people. coming out of that needs a lot more time.

even as it is i think that the 'conflict' is still king of flimsy, but i also dont think that really matters to me much.

SECOND THING - i needed to add to two themes that were either very underdeveloped or missing entirely. one, a scene where jon sees the way sansa is treated in court, and reacts to it by 'crowning' her. i 'told' that scene before, and it needed to be shown, because sansa's reaction to that was severe, and though in the new version it is not, it is still portrayed as a very stupid thing jon did, out of impulse, and not like, actual outright intent to push her as in the first time.

second, i needed to flesh out where this 'image' of sansa in the eyes of the dragoncourt comes from. its not something she fashioned. its something that she simply uses. in this new light, her opening up to jon in the riverlands makes more sense, because she doesnt really lie, in king's landing. she just... doesnt make a spectacle out of correcting people's assumptions and has chosen to use them - same as Jon does , really, but sansa uses the assumption of weakness that has been put on her, while Jon uses the assumption of heartlessness. and both kinda sortea believe they are what others say they are, even as they scorn it, even as they wear it as a mask. which is the more insidious part of this whole thing. for sansa - her relationship with Viserys was abusive, and HE was the one who shaped the idea of who sansa was, that other people parrot back. i have never said this in the fic, not even in the re-written version, but the hints are there. and they were not before. i felt it was needed to make her character more cohesive, more believable, and also to build that bomb that was supposed to be Sansa realizing that it was Petyr, and not Viserys, who took Beth from her. ... i still have my doubts that i have managed to make it have the intended weight but as it is , its good enough for me not to obsess about it.

oh i also fixed what i thought was a pacing issue. there is no more picnic feast, it all happens in one night, one feast in the great hall. most of the conversations stay teh same, i have added one or two lines here and there, or removed some without much consequence. i wanted it done this way because i kept thinking of the timing of these things happening, and through realistically, it might have worked out. aka, this happenign in real life - in the story, it dragged down a part of the story where things needed to happen very fast for the tension to build apropriately.]

scene 1. golden laurels

The throne room was alight with music and laughter, the scents of roasted meats and pies. The wine was flowing freely. The music was beautiful and for the most part there had hardly been any fighting. It was overpowering, like too tight of an embrace, but one you could not bear to part with.

Not all celebrated the same thing or in the same way. This was Jon after all, that they were supposed to be honoring, and he was too distrusted and misliked for it to be any other way. But as she made her way through the hall, greeting people and indulging them with flattery and charm, Daenerys believed that the mood was positive enough. And either way, this was one of those rare times when she had decided she did not have to care, but rather could enough the feast and the joy of the occasion.

“-But do you not think that such a dealing could potentially overstep your mandate?”

“I do not,” Jon said firmly. “If a lord passes a law which he then violates, claiming to do so to calm an angry populace, that is wrong enough. And he is twice to blame if that anger is one that he himself created. Daenerys! A word.”

Jon did not even apologise; he just strode in her direction the moment he caught sight of her, leaving his interlocutors behind. Dany barely contained her grin.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying your celebration.”

Jon only shrugged before downing his wine. “They grow tedious quickly. Everyone wants something.”

“And this surprises you?”

“No. Where is Lady Stark?”

Dany blinked at his abruptness. “I certainly have no idea. Why?”

“Why is she not here? Half of King’s Landing seems to be.” He looked impassive enough, but she could see the truth of it in his hard eyes: it was a wonder anyone had spoken to him so far without getting cut.

“I told you, Sansa doesn’t like to attend court-”

“Unless she must, I remember.” But even as he spoke he’d already looked away from her, searching for someone. He caught one of the serving girls as she passed him by.

“See that woman there, with the dark hair and the red Lyseni gown?” he said before even giving the startled girl the time to curtsey.

“Lady Shae, your grace?”

“Yes. Tell her to come to me.”

“Yes, your grace.”

The girl hurried away. Daenerys stared hard at Jon’s face, consciously preventing herself the frown that her confusion was trying to stamp on her face.

“Jon, what on earth is the matter with you?”

“Nothing at all. Lady Shae, good evening. I don’t see my cousin. Is she not here?”

Shae had just risen from her usual awkward curtsey. She could do a perfectly good one when she felt like it, but there was a particular brand of insolence that ran strong in this girl and that she refused to surrender. Like the flat look she was giving Jon in that moment, for instance. There was nothing subtle about that.

“My lady is at prayer,” Shae said curtly. Jon’s grey eyes glinted with suppressed emotion.

“I would like her to honor me by joining the celebrations.”

Shae did not give in an inch. “Lady Stark is indisposed.”

“Indisposed…” It was as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth. “Well, that's a shame isn't it? She will have to change her disposition into one that is more favourable.”

Shae did not know Jon enough to know that he only spoke this softly when he was well and truly furious, but she was smart enough to recognize a threat when she heard one. Dany saw her tighten her jaw as if she was biting back the insult that lit up her eyes.

“I have news she will want to hear,” Jon pressed on. ”And she owes me a word or two of her own.”

“She owes you nothing.”

Shae spoke without inflection or emotion, her gaze unflinching and unafraid. Daenerys felt a shiver crawl up her spine. It was not fear, for no matter how fierce his reputation, how black his moods or the stinging of his indifference, Dany could never bring herself to fear Jon. It was merely the memory of old fears; the many lessons her brother had taught her, that her flesh had not yet shed.

Shae’s words seemed to have a curious effect on Jon too. His face darkened, yes, eyes flashing with a strong feeling that Dany knew was wrath. But then it cleared, like the sky after a flash storm. It looked as if he’d been given an answer to a question he did not even know he was asking.

“That is true,” Jon admitted. “But not for you to say.”

“Even so.”

“Tell your lady I require her presence. She would not refuse me.” Jon repeated, sounding like his own self again and calmer than he’d had all day. Then he smiled and it was a fierce and mischievous thing. “But if she does, remind her that I am the man to come get her myself.”

Shae arched one brow. “Truly? And which one of your many selves should my lady expect? The black prince, the black bastard, or her cousin?”

“Shae!” Dany hissed, straining to keep her face impassive, but Jon laughed loud enough to turn heads.

“All of them of course. It will not surprise her one bit to hear it,” Jon finally managed to say, a hand going over his face to help wipe the smile off his lips. “As i'm sure we both know, your lady believes everything.”

Shae was not amused nor did she seem reassured. She did not bother with the pretence of curtesy, simply giving them both her back and disappeared among the crowd. The moment she was out of sight, Dany turned to Jon. “What are you doing?”

“Inviting my cousin to my celebration.” He looked at her as if she was the strange one. “Why, what does it look like I am doing?”

Dany could not believe what she was seeing. “It looks like you’ve lost your senses.”

“There are many who would debate you on whether or not I ever had any.”

Dany huffed. “Spare me.” And her contempt must have shown because Jon laughed some more. He may not care a single whit about it but he was behaving in ways that were bound to fuel the idiotic rumors that had been swirling about the Red Keep for the past moon.

“Jon, I warn you, do not make a scene.”

“Of course not. Excuse me, my company is in high demand tonight.”

He pulled away from her and walked towards the balconies, stopping only to speak with one of his men, no doubt to tell him to watch for Sansa’s arrival. Which would be never, of course. Sansa was not one to succumb to such clumsy manners or threats. She would not come… which was a problem of its own, because Jon was not one to issue idle threats either.

What the fuck was the matter with him anyway? Sansa had not said anything to imply they had shared more words than politely necessary, which had been easy to believe: only a small handful of people could go further than that with lady Stark. Few bothered to presume it possible or necessary. Dany had simply assumed she would be that way with Jon as well. Worse even, because it had been obvious that he intended to use her for something, up there in the Riverlands.

As she was contemplating her options, Daenerys heard the chatter of the hall momentarily rise, swelling like a wave and then crashing down, expanding its ripple throughout the hall. There was open laughter pattered throughout, thought quickly shushed. Dany turned then and saw Sansa entering the hall through its northern gate, flanked by Jeyne and Shae. Her temper heated to witness the side-along glances and the little smiles that followed her. Dany knew what they were sneering at: Shae had been true to her word, Sansa really had been at prayer and it was quite plain to see. Aside from the diamonds in her ears, she had no jewellery to adorn her. Intricate hairstyles were the rule in official celebrations like this, the more elaborate the better, to better show the opulence of those wearing it. Sansa had her veil on, it fluttered with her every step like a silver cloud trailing behind her. The copper curls beneath it were unbound, unstyled. Her luminous dove-grey dress was exquisite, but despite how it flattered the line of her body or the lovely way the straight neckline exposed her collarbones and the tops of her shoulders, it was a downright conservative choice for a royal feast.

Of course, none of this had been accidental. Sansa built herself up layer by layer every day, wielding her many selves the same way knights did sword and armour. There was a reason for every piece; this hall was simply not her intended audience. And yet, even here, the meaning shone through: the fine silver sheen of her silk dress immediately traced it to the silkworm farms of northern Dorne, famous for the almost metallic shine of their fabrics and sole dominion of the queen, who from time to time bestowed bundles of the rare fabric as gifts, marking out those that had her favour. Sansa had embroidered the jaws of a snarling direwolf on the right half the bodice in white pearls, its open jaws framing her breast, its tail curling among her skirts. Her diamonds were from the mines of the Stony Shore, the pearls from the Trident. She was courting Hardying by reflecting back at him the narrow idea that his underdeveloped imagination fancied was the perfect highborn maiden, while inflating his pride with suggestions of the power he’d stand to gain by possessing her. It was such an elegant hunt, Dany admired it even if she scorned the prey.

And he would fall, of course. For all of his gallivanting on horseback, Sansa had more practice hunting than Harrold Hardying, who, despite all his failings, was an altogether different beast from Sansa’s previous ones. She would have no trouble muzzling him, Dany knew. She had muzzled worse. But it was not Harry Hardying’s eye that she drew now.

Jon reached Sansa faster than Dany did. It was as if he had materialised in front of her, so sudden was his appearance. Dany’s dread heightened but she couldn’t very well run through the hall and draw even more eyes than were already on them. Daenerys had not even taken three steps in their direction however, when she was herself intercepted. Margery came towards her, with Garlan in tow and a handful of Tyrell cousins. They all curtsied for her and Garlan kissed her palm.

“Princess, my congratulations. The feast is splendid.” Margery leaned in to kiss Dany’s cheeks, her smile brilliant. Dany’s answering one was small and it did not reach her eyes. She had not forgotten fat Tyrell’s insult to Elia during Blackamont’s hearing. Daenerys was not about to welcome them warmly.

“Thank you. I am glad you are enjoying the festivities.”

“We certainly are.” One of the girls admitted, looking to the others for confirmation. “The music has been wonderful; we have hardly managed to sit down for one reel at a time.”

Dany chuckled. “I will extend my compliments to the singers and the players.”

“To organise all this in a week is truly a feat, your grace,” Garlan pointed out, his enthusiasm more subdued than his sister, and therefore more tolerable. “I daresay there will be no better managed keep in the realm than the one you chose to make your future home.”

The allusion to her future marriage was one that would have sparked her ire, but she knew enough of Garlan to know that he only meant it as a compliment. That he was the Tyrell Rhaenys liked best, aside from her own husband, spoke highly of his character. “That is very kind.”

“Not at all.”

“And how is the prince enjoying his accolades?”

“I have scarce had the chance to ask,” Dany said, glad that she could find a use for her current company. “Would you like to join me and find out?”

“Why certainly,” Margery said, delighted. Garlan offered his right arm to Daenerys, his left to his sister and together they moved to Jon. He was still where Dany had last seen him: with Sansa just past the northern gates, where the dragon heads were of the height of a tall man. Tyrion had also found his way to them, standing next to his lady as was his custom. As they neared, they caught the tail end of their conversation.

“It was not common rain,” Dany heard Tyrion. “It lasted for two weeks. That may be seen in the stormlands but King’s Landing was simply not equipped for it. The deluge claimed homes and shops and people alike. Fleabottom was flooded, hundreds of people died. And the Citadel has already sent out warnings it may happen again at the break of summer. Princess, Lady Margery, good evening.”

Tyrion managed to bow his neck an inch greeting them. Daenerys held back a snort. “Lord Tyrion. Nephew. I bring you well-wishers.”

Daenerys came to stand at Sansa’s side, putting herself Garlan and Margery between Sansa and Jon, forcing them all into a wider circle. Margery curtsied, the emerald that pinned the crown of braids on top of her head catching the light.

“My brother and I wished to offer congratulations on the behalf of my house. We are so very glad to see such honors being bestowed on one so worthy.”

Jon inclined his head to her. “Thank you, lady.”

“I was told you brought great relief to the people of the riverlands.” Margery continued, and Jon’s attention, which had strayed from her to Tyron, was brought back around.

“I made myself useful.” The side of his mouth curved upward slightly. “It’s one of my few good qualities.”

“Few, you say,” Margery teased. “Apparently modesty is among their number.”

“No, that was never one of my ailments.” Jon denied swiftly.

Margery’s laugh was like the chiming of silver bells. “I have all faith that you will put all your virtues and many gifts to good use, your grace.”

And Dany knew then, just by looking at her, her manner, the way she looked at him and stood beside him, how she spoke and even the way she moved her hands that Margery Tyrell was trying to endear herself to Jon. One look at Jon’s face and she knew he’d understood the same thing. And though her anger was for the closest target first, Dany knew that it was Margery’s pug-faced father that was to blame for this new development.

Was the Black Bastard good enough for the rose of Highgarden, now that he officially sat on the King’s council, Dany wondered bitterly. Now that they thought he finally had the king;s favour?

It could not be so easy.

“Lady Sansa, you look lovely this evening.” One of the Tyrell cousins said softly. Her hair was arranged less conspicuously than her cousin and she wore a fainter shade of green and gold, but she was lovely, and not at all sincere. Dany disliked her immediately, as she disliked the slant of her smile and the glances the other two girls exchanged. But Sansa received the words as if they were most plainly meant.

“Thank you, lady Gena. You all look lovely as well. You must tell me the name of your dressmaker.”

“I gladly would, my lady but I fear you will be disappointed with her. She is far too frivolous a creature to suit your sober taste.”

Sansa acknowledged this with a nod, choosing to not speak on the implied insult.

“Don’t be silly, Gena,” Margery said. “Can’t you tell lady Sansa has come from the sept? Is that not so, my lady?”

“It is. I wished to congratulate his grace, before I retired.” Sansa explained, the lie so smooth on her lips that had Sany not known differently, she would have believed her.

“I am sorry to have disturbed your prayers, cousin.”

He was a shameless liar and a villain, but Dany already knew this. She met his eye and Jon smiled as if he’d snatched the thought right out of her head and found it hilarious.

Jon turned to Sansa. “Which gods were you praying to this time?”

“The Seven, your grace.”

He did not smile, but Dany knew Jon enough to tell that something about Sansa’s answer amused him deeply. It danced in his eyes.

“I am curious, what would a lady such as yourself pray for?” Tyrion interceded.

“What do you care for prayer?” Shae asked, looking Tyrion over. “You don't believe in anything.”

“Which is why I am so curious, my lady.” Tyrion explained, full of mirth for whatever reason.

“I pray for wisdom not to fear shadows, my lord,” Sansa answered softly. “And the courage to face them, when danger truly dawns.”

Jon’s lips curled upwards. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Sansa inclined her head. “As you say, your grace.”

It was strange, Dany thought, to see two people so important to her, speaking to one another for the first time from this close. They had spoken before of course, but the way they looked at each other now was different. And unlike the other times, their proximity in that moment highlighted how opposite they had always seemed to her: Jon, with his darkness and intensity that carried all before him, and Sansa, silver-bright with her glacial calm that moved for no one. Like the two faces of the moon, it seemed impossible that they should share the same space at the same time.

And share it they did: if before Jon had been standing too close, now he could no longer, but still, Sansa could not move an inch, without Jon mirroring her, whether it was shifting his body so it was facing her exactly or inclining his head if she looked away as if he was inching to put himself back into her line of vision.

Daenerys knew these little tics about him. She had seen them before. She doubted he even noticed he was doing it.

“Were you just now speaking of the great deluge of three years ago?” Dany asked, trying to divert attention. Perhaps if she distracted them with politics, she could give Sansa a chance to slip away. It was a game they had played so many times, but the way Jon ket looking at Sansa, as if he was convinced if he blinked too slow she might disappear, did not make her hope very likely. If she left, he would follow Dany was certain: Jon had the very bad habit of not thinking very well when he was in his temper.

Dany did not want to stop and think what was making him act this way. She would need her calm undamaged.

“We were.”

“We suffered in Highgarden too. Many lives were lost,” Margery said her tone softening as it should when she mentioned the loss. “But as I heart it was nowhere near as bad as the crownlands.”

“The rain was bad enough, but the tales were worse.”

“Tales?” Garlan turned to look at Dany.

“A monster was apparently seen prowling the streets through the storms.”

“What kind of monster?” Jon pressed.

“A mule's head on the body of a whore, men said,” Dany began. “One human arm, the other's an elephant's trunk. On its back, the bearded face of an old man. A tail like a neck, ending with a snake's head. Scaly limbs. It's left foot like a hoof, the right an eagle's talon.”

“Well that certainly sounds horrific.” Garlan pointed out.

“It sounds like a fiction born of exhaustion, anxiety and too much wine.” Tyrion countered.

Dany could not help but agree. The whole thing sounded ridiculous in her mind. She remembered those rains. Even when the tall was light, the wind was such that one could hardly see five feet in front of one’s hand, let alone have vision sharp enough to tell what was a hoof and if arms were scaled.

“All the same, people were afraid,” Dany remembered their cries, how every time the curtain of rain eased, you could hear them shouting from behind the gates. “They came up the hills crowding against the doors of the castle, seeking safety.”

“There were those that believed the deluge was sent by the gods as punishment,” Tyrion reminded her.

Margery frowned at him. “Punishment for what?”

“Oh, the usual: corruption, decay,” Tyrion smirked. “High lords safe behind their walls on their hills while common folk wade through mud up to their arse and see their children washed away.” He turned to Sansa then, quite unexpectedly. “You are the true believer among us, lady Stark. Do you think it was divine punishment?”

When all the others looked at Sansa, Dany looked to Jon. His eyes were fixed. And even if the intent in his eyes had not been plain enough, Dany would have still known that it was not a need to appear well-mannered in public that made him wait for Sansa’s answer, because he’d always distained such things, choosing to be openly provocatory, instead of submitting to falsity.

“I believe in the power of faith, of course. But I also believe in hope and charity. In welcoming people in, when they’re in need, sharing one’s fire with them and the food of one’s table. Assuaging the fears of those who are frightened.”

Gena chuckled. “There are the words of a true devotee.”

“Are they?” Jon was not smiling. “They sound more like Stark words to me.”

He was looking at Sansa as if he could hear exactly what thoughts were turning in her head, which would have been a gift indeed since Sansa’s face was the picture of blank serenity, with nothing at all moving behind her eyes.

“How do you mean, your grace?” Margery asked, and if Dany did not know better she would have thought her suspicious.

“Sharing food, hearth and home is the only way to survive the deep winter.” Jon explained, looking to Margery one more. “When the snows fall fifteen feet deep, Wintertown, Barrowtown and White Harbour welcome the whole of the north. Most of the time supplies from Winterfell’s glass gardens are the difference between life and death for a great many people that are hungry and cold and scared.”

“Of course;” Margery’s eyes fell on the jaws of the direwolf on Sansa’s bodice and a small smile curved up her lips. “Our Sansa is such a gentle soul, one could be forgiven for forgetting the fierceness of her forebears.”

That was a bold-faced lie; no one forgot. It had simply been a long time since anyone cared for what it truly meant. There were some ideas, Dany thought, that once formed, took root deep. And the main ideas that had shaped who Sansa was to the court, had been moulded by hands that were not present tonight. Though he needn't be for how well people kept dancing to his tunes.

“An understandable mistake, considering.” Tyrion said. Dany pinned him with a sharp look that he answered with his own crooked smile.

“I do not know about that, my lord,” Margery insisted, looking at Sansa again. “While the lady is devoted to the seven, I am quite sure she prays to the old gods too, do you not Sansa? And I still remember how aggrieved she was to lose her little northern wolf, years back. Why, I believe she wore mourning clothes for months.”

Dany felt her blood run cold.

“Did you?” Jon’s question was direct, spoken as if he and Sansa were alone.

“A child’s fancy, your grace,” Sansa dismissed.

The scorn lingered in the coldness of his eyes. His little smile could not quite conceal it. “That so?”

Margery laughed at Jon’s softly spoken words. She did not understand him. Dany felt as if she’d stepped back in time, playing in a piece of theatre complete with the tittering of the ladies around them. But this was not Viserys’ company – the similarities were shallow at best; one look at Jon’s face, one true look and it would be known. Dany could not understand how Margery did not sense the danger. She was usually so perceptive. But Jon was unknown to so many, deliberately so, his passions so often misunderstood. And he had turned his body towards Margery Tyrell for the first time since she tried to get his attention, leaned into her space a little bit, interested, intent. He had scented the lurking filth the way beasts scent blood and he was after it. Dany knew this because she knew him. And she knew none of these people, save perhaps Tyrion, understood what they were stepping into, because she also remembered how easy it had been, once, in this very court, among these same fine people, to get the attention and favour of another prince by practising the games that he’d best enjoyed.

Perhaps Margery was trying to do that now, but it would go badly for her. That was Dany’s one consolation. Because though she might have understood something of Viserys, Margery Tyrell knew nothing of Jon and could not see… could not see the similarities were skin deep. She could not get the truth of it, because ideas, Dany reminded herself, had roots deeper than a hundred-year-old oak.

“Why yes, your grace. It went well within summer. But despite everyone pleading for her to shed her mourning and enjoy the renewal of the season, our lady refused. Even at the urging of the high septon. She turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to all. The picture of wilfulness indeed.”

There was no expected surprise on Jon’s face. Only a thin smile. “And how was she dissuaded?”

Margery bit her lip, coy. “She was not. The late prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys had to cut her out of them.” She laughed as she said it. “Then all the princess ladies got together, and we dressed her fit for summer once more.”

She said it as if it was a funny jape. And there were those who laughed. Even Sansa smiled, as if she could see the humour and was indulging a good friend with their shared history. But Tyrion’s eyes were searching his cup, his lips twisted in a sneer. Jeyne was looking at the floor and Shae looked fit to cut Margery Tyrell a red smile of her own. And Jon…

Jon’s eyes met Dany’s with the force of a hammer.

“Sounds like a grand time,” he spoke so softly, it was a wonder Dany heard it. But she did, and heard the words beneath the words as clear as a bell too. His eyes shone like polished steel. “I would have liked to be there and see it myself.”

Margery shrieked. “Ser, you are wicked. There would have been nothing at all for you to see, since we stole the lady away the moment her ribbons were cut.” Margery turned to Sansa with a brilliant smile. “But it was such wicked fun. By the time we reached the princess’ rooms I remember we were crying with laughter.”

“So. My fair cousin was stubborn once, many years ago,” Jon finally said, “Is that the only fault to be laid at lady Stark’s feet?”

“Oh, yes. The only one,” Margery smiled at Sansa, who mirrored her expression. Though the warmth had drained from her cheeks and made her look bone white against the flickering of the candles, her expression remained calm and unbothered. “Which of course I can only admire.”

“We all do, of course.” Genna added. “One cannot help it.”

Dany saw Shae take a breath as if she was about to speak, saw Jeyne move to grasp her wrist. Jon was faster than them both.

“Which reminds me, I owe you my thanks, cousin.”

The words themselves were plain enough. It was in his face that you could see the truth of it, the blistering feeling that animated him. It took just a glance for Dany to know he was about to do something stupid.

Sansa’s brows twitched together, the only manifestation of her confusion.

“Had it not been for insistence and prudent council, matters in the Riverlands might have been resolved very differently. And I daresay, quite more violently.”

“You’re too kind, your grace.”

Even Daenerys heard it. Do not.

Jon was deaf to it.

“I’m not. In fact, I say it would be only fair to share the day with you,” Jon said as if the thought had just occurred to him and Dany never knew that praise could be spoken so angrily, but there she stood and she heard it same as everyone else did.

“I would never presume-”

“You’re not presuming anything, though, are you?” and Jon did smile then, a true smile, which Sansa looked away from.

He put his cup down and plucked the wreath of golden laurels from his head. Dany realized what he meant to do the moment Sansa - and just about everyone else who had been paying attention - did. Sansa’s composure cracked, her surprise palpable in her wide eyes and slightly parted lips. Even the music had stopped.

Dany could not breathe. He might as well have just declared his intention to have her, right there for all to hear, for how unmistakable his actions were.

What was he doing?

Two steps ate the distance between the two of them. Sansa seemed frozen into marble, she did not even seem to be breathing. Jon unpinned her veil with one hand, letting it flutter to the floor, and settled the wreath on her head carefully. It was a touch too big for her, but Sansa’s curls kept it from falling to her ears.

A pocket of silence had formed around them. Dany could already see heads further away from their small circle, starting to turn.

“A royal gift for a lady worthy of it,” he stepped back, the look on his face fond. “I give it freely, along with my gratitude.”

Dany looked around, marking the stunned expressions that surrounded them. Margery’s eyes had narrowed, her cousins were already whispering. Garlan alone seemed to be wearing the ghost of a smile, which Tyrion grinned at her. If some version of this moment did not burn through King’s Landing within the end of the day, Daenerys would eat her favorite dress.

Finally, Dany could no longer hold back her miserable doubts. She let them wash over her and they gave her terrible pause. Could it possibly be true?

“Forgive me, your grace. Any words I know are too feeble to express my feelings in this moment.” Sansa said then, words barely above a whisper.

That was probably very true, Dany thought as she watched Sansa’s chest heaving with short, fast breaths. Nerves, most would think. Overcome with emotion. But then again, most people had not spent so much time in Sansa Stark’s company and would not be able to read anger in the stiff line of her shoulders, in her downturned eyes, so fixedly staring at the ground for fear they would give her away.

Dany did not think Jon was aware of it either, until she saw that a small frown had made its way between his brows. “No need for any, then.”

Congratulations and questions started pouring in. Sansa fended them off graciously, modestly. And as she watched, Dany wondered how it must feel for her, to receive smiles and praises from some of the very same people that had laughed at her before, who had abandoned her when she had been in need. People who, dany felt sure, would have not hesitated to mock her even now if Jon had given the slightest hint that it would have amused him.

She turned to look at Margery, who was very jovially saying something Dany only caught the tail end of.

“Indeed, to hear Lady Stark tell it, she did nothing but keep company with the ladies the entire time.”

Jon did not seem overly impressed. “She did that too.”

Margery laughed, her discerning eyes going from one to the other. “Well, aren’t the two of you a puzzle.”

“My cousin gives good advice and asks the right questions. There is nothing more to puzzle out.”

“Of course, a lady always needs to be very discerning in her daily duties,” Margery said with a nod.

Sansa caught Dany’s eye over their conversation. Finally, in the ensuing confusion, Dany saw her chance.

“Discerning and beautiful and modest,” Dany said as she took a step and put herself in front of Sansa, offering her hand with a grin. “Will the lady gift me with a dance, so that I may bask in her graces some more?”

Sansa put her hand in Daenerys’ outstretched one. “I would be honoured.”

Margery gasped. “Oh but you cannot deprive us of Lady Stark so soon. She has not even begun her story.”

“I can and I shall,” Dany said haughtily. “Like all dragons, I guard my treasures jealously.”

It caused laughter, which had been Dany’s intent: distract with charm and get Sansa away. They did dance and when Shae approached and abruptly told Sansa that Yohn Royce and Harry Hardyign awaited her, Daenerys let her go. Sansa left so quickly, it was a wonder she did not run. And, as Dany watched, she noticed that it was not anywhere in the hall that Shae led her, but outside into the gardens. A lie then. Good. Dany calmed further when she saw that Jon had had the wisdom not to follow but was rather having a conversation with some of Stannis’ men.

Daenerys turned away. She could not even look at him without her temper rising.

“Aunt.”

Dany startled to hear Aegon’s voice so close behind her. She jutted her arm backwards, causing Aegon to grunt.

“Gods you have sharp elbows.”

“How many times must I tell you not to startle me like that?”

“Well, then you should make such funny noises when i do, should you?”

He put a cup in her hands and came to stand by her side. “Did I mishear, or did my brother just crown Sansa Stark for something or other, with the very wreath of laurels the king gave him?”

“You did not mishear.”

Aegon blinked as if he struggled to understand. “You mean - he did that here?”

“He did.” She said through gritted teeth. He ahd done precisely what she’d told him not to do.

Aegon’s laughter was shocked and disbelieving both. “What can he mean by it?”

Fucked if I know, Dany thought. Outwardly, she shrugged.

Aegon took a long drink from his cup, thinking it over. “Do you think it’s true?” he asked finally, voice low, before he grinned at her. “That the dreaded black prince has finally fallen in love and forgotten you?”

Dany gave Aegon a scathing look. “Court gossip is ridiculous, and you must be drunker than you look to believe it.”

In truth, she did not know what to think. Ever since he’d come back, Jon had been a mystery. He’d never been easy to read by any means, but at least before he would share his mind with her.

She might have believed him in love, if this was five years ago and his true smiles were not rarer now than snow was in Dorne. He had been slow to trust before too, but never slow to love. Indeed, once, when he was still a boy, love had come so easily to him, it still broke her heart to remember it. He used to give armfuls of it to anyone who showed him the smallest kindness.

They’d both been such sad children.

But they were children no longer, Dany reminded herself sternly. And much had changed since then. The Jon Dany knew now could never fall in love in little more than a month, with a woman he’d hardly met before. The more she thought of it, the less possible it sounded. And then… then strange thoughts began clouding her mind. And more and more they darkened her judgment.

No, she would have answers from him, be it the last thing she ever had from him.

and the new scene - the opening scene of the next chapter, after the fight in the red keep between lannister and stark men, for Shae.

i. ambush

Rhaenys rode her horse inside the courtyard at breakneck speed, her guards far behind her. When she saw him, she urged her mound in his direction, making slow circles around him as she paced her stallion down.

“Half brother.”

She sounded studiously bored, which meant someone had thinned her patience quite a bit. An interesting feat considering it as so early in the morning.

“Dear sister.”

Rhaenys made a face at him. “Where are you coming from?” She asked as she dismounted, handing the reins to one of the stable boys.

“The market.”

“You mean the brothels?”

“If you like.” Jon said with a shrug.

“You should have come to prayer. You need it.”

They started walking towards the Red Keep together. “I don’t hold with the seven.” Though he found it hilarious that she pretended to.

“Might give the septons praying for your soul’s salvation a crumb or two.”

“I don't hold with giving people false hope either.” Jon said then. “It happens to be the reason i don't hold to the seven.”

“Yes, yes you're very clever.”

“You find my wit tedious, I know.” Jon looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Just like I know you don’t believe in the seven either.”

“I have recently changed my mind on that account.”

Jon’s laugh was dry. “You want me to believe your stay with the Tyrells has made you pious? Even Willas cannot have that power.”

“One might argue,” Ser Arthur suggested calmly as he reached them, “That the fact the princess has yet to strangle any of her good-family - or you - might be proof of divine intervention.”

“You make a good point, ser.” Jon conceded. “Though I have always thought my half sister to be more practical than to attempt murder by strangulation.”

“I am indeed - and clever enough not to need to murder people, when i can simply persuade them to obey.”

“I do not think threats and coercion count as persuasion.”

“They do if you do it right.”

“Unlike me, you mean.”

They passed beneath archways of the great hall. “Well, if you feel the burn of my words, that is no fault of mine.”

“Come Rhaenys, no need to be shy.”

She scoffed and looked at him with derision form the corner of her eye. “I haven’t been shy a day in my life.”

Oh she wanted everyone to believe that, but he remembered differently. Yet, Jon smiled anyway. “If you keep rolling your eyes that hard, they will roll right out of your head.”

“Yes, Pycelle used to tell me the same thing.” Her grin was all teeth. “You must be so proud to match the wit of a man whose balls brush his knees.”

“Great age allows for great wisdom.”

“Do not hold out hope for that. No matter how much time it spends trying to, wisdom will never penetrate through your thick skull.”

Finally Jon laughed. “You’re in fine form this morning.”

“She’s been practicing with the high septon.”

Jon looked at his half sister with great perplexion. “What for?”

“Yes, that was a question I asked myself too, about five blinks into the conversation with the man. Gods he’s dull.”

Jon stopped abruptly, an icy shiver running down his spine. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood on its ends, responding to a danger that was nowhere near him, and as real as the walls about him.

Ghost.

Rhaenys turned back to look at him, perplexed. “What is it?”

“I don’t know.” But his heart was already speeding up, legs carrying him forward. Sansa would have taken the garden path back to the castle, Jon thought as he started taking the entrance stairs in front of him two at a time. It was not so far from here.

“Where are you going? What is it?” Rhaenys grew more angry with each unanswered question. "Is it mother?”

When he heard the sounds of clashing steel, Jon started running. Arthur ordered the guards at the entrance with him.

“Jon, don’t!” Arthur warned. Jon did not heed him.

Arthur dry his blade and stopped at the entrance of the hall just as Jon did. “By the all thundering gods…”

The scene appeared to him all at once, all the details entering his mind in the space it took him to draw his sword. He surged forward, disarming the first redcloak he saw, blood running cold at the sight of Sansa on the ground, painted gruesome red on one side.

Please…

“What are you- Stop this madness in the name of your king!” Rhaenys’s shout echoed over the sounds of clashing steel but the fight was so fierce and so close, none could stop without risking their own skin.

Jon saw his half sister unsheathe the dagger from her belt, sharp and long as her forearm. She slashed at the thigh of the first redcloak she reached, twisted his wrist to steal his sword.

Jon kneed him away from her. “Stay back.”

“Fuck off!”

“Drop your swords or I will see you all hang for treason!” ser Arthur’s voice managed to draw attention, but it was too late. The stroke was already falling. The blade catching skin, his uncle brought to his knees. Sansa’s scream was terrible enough to draw blood from stone.

Ghost jumped. They tasted the man’s blood. They howled in rage and pain when the arrow bit into their shoulder. It was that red rage that propelled him to move, a measure of all the small cuts that had demanded his restraint for weeks in this place, the pent up fury of having to smile in the face of those who had earned meeting his fists, until he had to walk here and find his own people bloodied broken and-

With a howl he cut the archer’s throat so deep, he reached bone. He stalked the two men to his left, who had stopped fighting yet met his look with wide frightened eyes of their own. And thought Jon knew it was fear that made them raise their sword against him, he still threw himself at them, fighting both at the same time until he kicked one against the wall and took the head clean off the other one. He did not turn to see it land with a metallic clang a foot away. He parried the blow of the second soldier who had recuperated his breath enough to defend himself, twisted his arm out of the way and got in close enough to knee the other man in the balls. He doubled over, sword falling from his hand. Jon kneed him again in the face, felt the metal nose-protection cut into his knee and then out of sheer anger kneed him again before slashing at his throat. He fell and Jon would have taken his head too, had not something slammed against his side hard enough to make him lose his footing.

Jon did not mind the breath being driven from his lungs or the stinging of his ribs. He turned with a growl, and his steel met the milky white of Dawn as Arthur parried his blow, scowling.

“I said enough!” Arthur bit out, face close enough to his that Jon knew he was keeping himself from grabbing Jon by the hair and shaking him.

Jon lowered his blade. There was no one left to kill anyway.

Arthur pushed him aside, kneeling down to see to the man whose throat Jon had opened before looking up at him with severe accusation and distain. Jon met the knight’s accusing stare without shame or regret. Were it up to him, it would be Cersei Lannister’s throat he’d open next.

The quiet that came after seemed to echo, punctuated with groans, and far-away cries that were coming closer with every moment.

“Send for the maesters, now!” Rhaenys’ voice vibrated with anger. Her glare turned to Sansa and Cersei with equal fierceness. “And you. How dare you break the king’s peace in his own halls!”

“That beast attacked me!”

Jon gripped his sword again, spinning his blade and turning his body to better face the Lannister woman. She looked at him then, drawn by the motion, and eyed his sword and then his eyes, and Jon knew that she could see it clear as day that the blood of her men had not even begun to quench his thirst and it was her own he would see painting the stones red. She saw it clear and she hated it and it frightened her as much as her pride did not allow her to take a single step back from him.

Rhaenys’ lips pulled back from her teeth in her anger, as if she was ready to growl. “By the gods, woman, you will not lie to my face!”

Jon moved away to crouch by his uncle. He was not awake, but heartbeat was strong. He turned to Sansa then, tried to catch her by the shoulders, but she resisted, pressing down on Benjen’s leg with all her weight. He took hold of her arm.

“Sansa!”

She would not turn. She did not even seem to hear. Jon ripped the clasp of her cloak so that he could better see the state of her; traced his hands through the red on her neck, her face and hair, smearing the blood away, looking for a wound and, mercifully, finding none.

Of course. As his temper cooled and his fear eased he started thinking clearly again. That was arterial blood she was smeared with; too much for her to have spilled and lived. Of course.

More voices surrounded them. The thundering footsteps of guards and servants. Jon looked to Shae, the cut on her forehead, along her hairline. Searched along her body to find others.

“Are you wounded anywhere?”

Shae shook her head.

“Do you you feel dizzy, nauseous?”

“No.”

“My lady, let us take him.”

Jon looked up to see Pycelle standing over them. There were servants running about already, people speaking in all directions. He could hear Rhaenys just behind him, Arthur giving orders. Ghost limped towards them, an arrow sticking out of his right side, just at the shoulder.

Jon took hold of Sansa’s wrists. Her pulse was flying.

“Let go,” Jon urged gently. “Sansa, let them take him.”

There was a wildness in her eyes when she looked at him, her breaths sharp and shallow, only a thin ring of blue remaining in her eyes the rest eaten up by the black pupils blown wide with shock. She looked from him to the maester and to Benjen again, before she unhooked her fingers from the fabric of her cloak one by one, slowly. She stared at her bloodied hands as Jon moved her aside to let the master do his work.

The guards moved Benjen onto a stretcher.

“Will he live?” Jon asked.

Pycelle hummed. Looked beneath the tourniquet Sansa and Shae handmade. “It is not so deep that he should die. The belt was clever. Whether he will ever walk as he did, remains to be seen.”

The old man got to his feet with the help of his steward. He looked at Sansa up and down then. “And you, my lady? Are you hurt?”

Sansa also rose to her feet slowly. Jon reached for her, expecting her to stumble, afraid that she might, but she did not. Her hand fluttered to her middle as she stood, but it was only a nervous gesture she seemed to push down.

“I am well, thank you."

“I will see to your lady, then.”

“My lady stays with me.”

She spoke so bluntly, Pycelle was taken aback. But when she held out her hand, Shae went to Sansa immediately and they linked fingers together so tight it turned their knuckles white.

“Get to your work maester,” Jon ordered. “Lady Stark will see to her own woman.”

“I do not advise-“

“Get to it.” Jon barked, so harshly Pycelle took a step back. Jon spared not a look to his mutterings. He urged Ghost to sit and be still, lest the arrow hurt him more, and leaned in to take a closer look at the wound. It had pierced him shallowly on the side, shaft going through the skin and poking out the other side.

Jon took out his knife.

“What are you doing?”

He looked to Sansa, who had spoken the question. She sounded strange. Too calm.

Jon laid a hand on Ghost’s flank. Urged him to stillnes. “I will cut him and take the arrow out. It has caught him sideways, so it's not deep. It will hurt him less this way.”

With a murmured apology to his friend, slashed the couple of inches that the arrow had pierced. Ghost yelped, then growled but did not snap at him nor did he move. He bled freely, but the arrow came away whole.

“That will need sewing.”

“I’ve done it before.” Jon admitted, patting Ghost’s head.

When he turned to see her, Sansa was pressing a hand chief at the cut on Shae’s head. Shae pressed it against her own skin and kept it there. Sansa whispered something to her that Jon did not catch, before casting her eyes around, lingering on the headless corpse that was being taken away, on the man without an arm whose bleeding one of Pycelle’s helpers was trying to stop. She did not flinch nor look away. At the centre of the storm of movement and sound of the aftermath, Sansa Stark was completely still and silent. Jon knew she must be in a state of shock, but when she finally met her eyes, there was terrible awareness there.

“Where are my men?”

“To the nearest room that will take them.”

She blinked at him. “Were any of them dead?”

“I do not think so.” He stopped one of the servants. “Post one of your boys with the maesters. Have him take news to lady Stark of her men’s condition.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“Then go to the barracks and find officer Grenn of my personal guard. Tell him he is to make his unit ready and meet me in the courtyard as soon as he is able.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“Ser.”

Sansa’s voice stopped the young man, his brown eyes glancing quickly to the blood smeared on her before they found her face again.

“You will find Sandor Clegane in the barracks as well. Tell him that Lady Stark requires his presence, as a matter of urgency.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“I will not be spoken to as if I were some common wench!”

“You will answer the questions asked, madam!” Rhaenys ordered, hand gripped right around the hilt of her sword as if it was taking all her patience not to raise it. “Or i will relinquish the courtesy of asking them and have you arrested this very moment as a woman of blood.”

Cersei Lannister took a step towards the princess. If that was meant to be a threat, it had little effect. Jon saw a muscle twitch on Rhaenys’ face at the Lannister woman’s nerve and met her advance with stillness and a raised chin that dared her to come any closer. The Lannister woman did not.

“I was robbed and attacked. My men were slain in this very hall, yet the Stark girl and her whore are allowed to go free while I am threatened?” Cersei Lannister’s lip curled back in disgust. “Has this kingdom fallen into into tyranny? Does Rheagar’s law no longer govern, even under his own roof?”

“As I informed your ladyship before you set your men upon us,” Sansa said then voice void of any feeling and deeper than her usual sweetened tone. “Whatever your accusation, it is against the king’s law to throw a noble lady in the black cells.”

“She is a foreign whore!”

“Enough!” Rhaenys’ face was set in harsh lines, eyes glinting with barely suppressed anger. “You will both be confined to your rooms. No one may be permitted in or out and you will leave your confinement only at the king’s order, and none other. Ser Arthur, I charge you with lady Lannister.” She handed the sword to a passing man, looking to Sansa. “I will escort lady Stark to her apartments myself.”

“I demand justice, princess.”

Rhaenys turned the full force of her disdain on the Lannister woman. “And I pray that you have it, my lady. But only when the king’s law gives it to you and not a moment sooner. And you will certainly not take it with your own savage hands.”

Ser Arthur stepped in front of Cersei. “After you, lady.”

“You do not command me, knight.”

Arthur remained impassive. “You can walk. Or be made to walk. I leave the choice to you.”

Cersei smiled, and it was an ugly thing. “I will have blood for this.”

When she’d turned the corner, Rhaenys came to stand in front of Sansa.

“I will take her.” Jon offered.

“You will not.”

“The king will have questions, princess.” Jon insisted. “You are better equipped to answer them than I.”

Rhaenys clenched her teeth. “Yes indeed, I am the one better equipped to explain to the king why you beheaded two men in his halls and opened the throat of a third when you could have easily disarmed them.”

“I will arrange a guard and keep the post until the kingsguard arrives.” Jon went on in the face of her anger. He leaned in close to his half sister and lowered his voice a fraction. “Let me do what I am meant to do. You alert the king, before he hears half a dozen false accounts of what happened here.”

“I do not know what happened here.” Rhaenys said through gritted teeth. She caught sight of something over his shoulder then and Jon did not have to turn to know she was looking at Sansa mostly because he knew she was just behind him, but also because of how his half sister’s downturned mouth twisted into a scowl. When she looked back to Jon her eyes were alight with renewed anger. Her words were a low hiss. “Keep her to her rooms and have her maids clean her. I will not have her appearing before the king like some slaughtered lamb.”

Jon mirrored her expression. “And why would that displease you?”

“Fuck you. There is no need for more of a spectacle. The carnage you left here will set the whole of king’s landing ablaze.”

“You think i give a fuck about any of it?”

Jon towered over his half sister, yet she did not seem to see or sense the difference of their sizes when she met his outrage with her own. Jon opened his mouth but Sansa spoke sooner, drawing the attention of both dragons to her and away from each other.

“If it please you, your grace, princess, I am ready to retire.”

so that is it. the action scene is choppy cause i havent edite yet, but that is where its going. this was a very long way of saying, i AM working on it, and very much want to finish it. its just been slow because ive gone back and edited so much.

thank you for still caring and for asking.

#jon snow #sansa stark #jonsa #actuallyjonsa #dragoncourt au #how ruthless are the gentle #idk if actuallyjonsa is still a tag #but nevermind.#anonymous

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