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callsign-rogueone · 3 months

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what was I made for? - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x Marked!Pacifist!Reader (continuation of keep her safe) The aftermath of War Games has you questioning your purpose, and what your signet truly is. wc: 4.4k 🏷: FOURTH WING AND IRON FLAME SPOILERS (I have 50 pages left, but I just can’t do it. send help.) canon-level violence, injury, canon character death, self doubt, anxiety. oops, I made Dain tolerable again. angst, then happy, then more angst. I also skipped over a smut scene / just made a reference to it happening, so if anyone wants that as a separate post, lmk and I can make it happen 👀 thank you to everyone who liked/reblogged/commented on part 1! it means a lot to me 🫶

Riorson House is more your home than Basgiath ever has been, but it’s become foreign to you in the three years you’d spent at the college. It feels like you’re hallucinating as you wander the halls.

Maybe everything that’s happened in the last few days has been a hallucination -- it wouldn't be the first time Varrish or Carr had pushed you to delirium with the amount of pain you’d taken for others.

Maybe it’s a dream. That’s it. A really bad dream. Any moment now, you’re going to wake up in Garrick’s bed and get ready for morning formation, and you’ll forget the sight of Liam dying by breakfast, when you’re sitting across from him at the table like you always do. Violet’s screams of pain will stop playing in your ears, replaced by her laughter at one of Ridoc’s jokes.

But no matter how much you pinch at your skin, you aren’t waking up. This is reality.

“I hear you’re a mender, too,” someone says in a gentle voice, bringing you out of your daze. Violet’s brother, Brennan.

“Does it ever get easier?” You ask quietly. “Does it always hurt this much?”

“Mending becomes easier. Seeing that kind of stuff every day doesn’t,” he replies, and the exhausted look on his face tells you he’s being honest. “But it shouldn’t hurt. Tell me more about that.”

“The second person I mended was a scribe who’d fallen from a ladder in the library and broken her leg. I did everything right, the bone set properly, but my leg hurt for a week, right where she’d broken hers.”

Brennan is silent, letting you continue.

“They broke Garrick’s arm in RSC. I was able to fix it for him, and I took the pain, but they broke it again two hours later. I mended him and Xaden over and over until I collapsed. I didn’t wake for two days. They both still think it was just exhausting for me. They don’t know about the pain.”

The tears are coming openly now, dripping down your cheeks, and you bring a hand up to wipe them away with the sleeve of your flight jacket. “But it isn’t all bad. I couldn’t save Liam, but I was able to make him more comfortable in the end. I took his pain away, and let him go in peace.”

You don’t tell him what death feels like. No description you could give could adequately prepare anyone for the cold sensation that still lingers in your chest. It will likely remain there for the next few days.

“Hey,” he says softly, “We’ll figure this out, I promise. For now, just try to get some rest.”

You nod quietly, looking back up at him. “Can someone please tell Garrick that I’m okay?” You ask in a small voice, folding your hands in your lap. You’d been heartbroken to realize that the rest of the squad had left for Basgiath before you woke, leaving you here alone.

You didn’t get to say goodbye to any of them, and you don’t know when you’ll see them again. Or if you’ll see them, you think, but you push the thought away quickly. They’ll survive. They have to.

Brennan cracks a smile - everyone in the rebel cause is aware of how deeply Garrick loves you. “Of course.”

———————————————————————

“Cadet Mairi died alongside his dragon, who was attacked by a drift of Gryphon riders. Cadet Avan attempted to mend them, and died trying,” Xaden says levelly, staring down the group of professors on the dais. “They both died honorable, but preventable deaths.”

Garrick knows Xaden is lying, knows you aren’t dead — or you hadn’t been when they left for Basgiath, at least, but his friend’s words have him on edge. Have you woken up yet?

Chradh speaks into his mind, sending a wave of hot rage through him. “Relax.”

“Relax?” He echoes, irate. “You’re telling me to relax right now, when-”

Chradh doesn’t bother to argue with him. “She is safe under the care of the silver one’s brother, where she will remain until the moment is right. It is better this way. She won’t be in pain anymore.”

Chradh doesn’t elaborate further. Fucking dragons and their constant need to speak in riddles.

The rest of the quadrant spends the night drinking and congratulating themselves on surviving, but Garrick doesn’t touch a drop of alcohol. The three of you were supposed to do this together. It wouldn’t be right to celebrate without you.

———————————————————————

“We’re gonna start from square one, with something that can’t hurt you,” Brennan says, placing two halves of a cracked plate on the table in front of you.

It’s simple enough to make the pieces rise into the air, using the same magic required to make a pen write for you. You concentrate, willing the halves to fuse together. They touch, and you think you’ve done it, your heart leaping, only to fall as they crash back down to the table again, splitting into even more pieces.

Brennan touches one of the shards, and they glue themselves back together perfectly; no cracks, no trace of the plate ever having been broken. “That’s what I thought.”

“Let me keep trying,” you begin, heart pounding. Brennan can’t think you’re a failure, not this early.

“You could sit here with this plate all day and it wouldn’t change,” he says gently, confirming what you know deep down. “I don’t think you’re a mender. I think you’re something else entirely.”

You sit with the information for a moment.

“Signets take the form of our base need as a person,” he says. “We need to find out what that is for you.”

You already know. “I wake up every day grateful that Xaden bargained for our lives, but I have done too much harm in my time at Basgiath. The crown has done too much harm to Tyrrendor. All I’ve ever wished for is to fix that, to undo the pain.”

“To undo the pain, or to help move forward and grow?” He asks gently.

You aren’t sure.

———————————————————————

You go through your morning stretches, as always, focusing on your breath to distract from the pain in your side.

“Your mate has returned.” Tab says, interrupting. “Thought you’d like to know.”

You bolt upright, running through the house toward the gates, bypassing Xaden to sprint straight toward Garrick.

He wraps you in a warm embrace, resting his chin on the top of your head. You still fit together like puzzle pieces, even after months apart.

“You’re alive,” you breathe. “Nobody would tell me anything, I was worried sick,”

“Of course I’m alive, angel. Had to come back to you.”

You trace the Lieutenant’s patch across his collarbone, memorizing the shape. It looks natural on him, like it’s always been there. It sounds good, too. Lieutenant Garrick Tavis.

“I need to tell you something,” you say quietly, “I haven’t been entirely honest with you about-“

Footsteps approach. “Sorry to break up the reunion,” Felix says, “but Avan, we need you.”

There’s something in his tone that has your heart pounding. Which of your friends is it going to be this time?

“Tell me later,” Garrick says. “Go. Do what you were made to do.”

You know he means well, but his words tie your stomach in a knot. What you were made to do. Were you truly made to endure the suffering of others?

———————————————————————

Every muscle in your body feels like it’s on fire as you slump into a chair, sitting down for the first time that day. If you’re lucky, you’ll be able to get some sleep before you’re needed again.

“There you are. I didn’t see you in battle brief.” Garrick says, relieved.

“Haven’t been going,” you mumble. “They need me here. Bren’s teaching now, so s’ just me and one other mender.”

He realizes no healers had come with the riot from Basgiath. You likely haven’t left the infirmary since they’d arrived.

“Come to bed,” he coaxes softly. “You need sleep. You can't pour from an empty cup.”

Yes, you can. You have been for months.

He takes your hand, not giving you a choice. You lean into him as he leads you up the grand staircase to a room near Xaden’s. Your muscles protest every step, but you keep quiet.

You haven’t been in here for years, not since you’d left for Basgiath as candidates, but it’s exactly the same as you remember; dark drapery, bookshelves, a neat display of the knives that he hadn’t taken to school with him.

The sight has you in tears.

“Whoa, hey,” he says softly, pulling you closer, and you whimper in pain at the pressure against your ribs. He lets go immediately. “Angel, I’m sorry — are you hurt?”

You sob, the dam finally breaking and grief flooding out of you. You haven’t seen each other since that horrible day, you haven’t seen anyone from the squad you went with to Resson, haven’t had anyone to talk about it with, until now.

You shake your head, tears dripping down your cheeks. “I couldn’t save Liam. I tried, I really did. All I could do was take his pain away.”

So Xaden had told Basgiath the truth, to some degree: you tried to fix Liam, and couldn’t. The boy’s death had hurt you badly enough that Xaden wouldn’t let you return to the school.

“There was nothing else you could do. Nobody could save him, not after Deigh…”

“I know that, but it wasn’t just him. Everyone I’ve ever… fixed, I’ve taken the pain from their body into mine, and I can’t get rid of it for days.”

Garrick’s heart breaks. So that’s what Chradh meant when he said you wouldn’t be in pain anymore if you left Basgiath. Those eight-hour days of mending infantry may as well have been torture for you.

Torture. RSC. You’d healed his wounds, Xaden’s, Bodhi’s, Violet’s, time and time again without complaint, and he knew it took a lot out of you, but not that it hurt. “Angel, why didn’t you tell me? If I’d known…”

“I wanted to,” you sniffle, “I wanted to tell you a year ago when it started happening. I thought it was normal, that I was just weak, until Brennan told me that this doesn’t happen to him. He just gets tired, like everyone else does when they use their signets too much.”

You try to steady your breathing, but the pain in your not-broken ribs is too overwhelming. “I’ve spent hours practicing and I can’t even fix a broken plate. I’m not a mender. I don’t know what I am. Nobody does, not even the professors. Brennan thinks it’s getting better, but I don’t have it in me to tell him that it isn’t.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. He wants to pull you into an embrace, wants to stroke your hair and tell you it’ll be okay, but he doesn’t want to hurt you any more than he already has.

“S’ not your fault.” You sniff.

“But it’s not yours, either,” he reminds you gently. “You’re so strong, angel. You crossed the parapet, ran the gauntlet, you bonded a dragon, and you’ve endured everything else. Please don’t ever think for a second that you’re weak.”

He takes your hand in his, watching your face carefully, but you don’t wince at the touch. “We’ll talk to Brennan tomorrow, together. For now, I just want you to get some sleep, okay?”

You nod silently, having run out of tears.

“Attagirl.”

As you settle into bed next to him, freshly showered and wearing one of his warm sweaters, you swear the pain has dimmed.

———————————————————————

When Garrick takes you to see Brennan the next morning, he isn’t alone. Your professors are seated beside him, along with some of the Tyrrish elders.

Devera speaks first. “We owe you an apology, Cadet Avan. The faculty was unaware that Carr and Varrish were using your signet as a method of punishment, or that it pains you to use it.”

“And I owe you an apology,” you say quietly. “I should have come back after the War Games.”

“That was my decision,” Xaden says firmly, “and I stand by it. She was in no condition to return to the school, much less to graduate and be stationed at an outpost across the continent from her support system, while still feeling the coldness of Cadet Mairi’s death.”

How does he know that you could feel it? Had you told him in your delirium? Had Brennan told him? Had you even told Brennan?

“Your friends have effectively plead your case, and we agree that you have satisfied all the requirements for graduation from the Rider’s Quadrant.” Emeterrio says. “Congratulations, Lieutenant.”

Garrick slips your flight jacket onto your shoulders, and you notice the Lieutenant insignia has already been sewn on, to match his. When did he…?

You accept the handshake Devera offers you, still a little dazed, but there’s one more order of business to address.

“May I rejoin my old squad?” You ask the table of professors quietly. “They are family to me. I would like to ride with them again, and aid them however I can.”

They exchange hesitant looks, and your heart sinks. Do they not think you’re good enough?

“I don’t see why not,” Brennan says firmly enough for everyone else to agree — he outranks the professors with the years he’s been part of the movement.

You exhale in relief.

Garrick cheers. “The dream team is back, baby!” He pulls you into a gentle embrace, knowing you’re still in pain, but wanting to hold you close.

You laugh, not minding the ache in your ribs.

Xaden is unimpressed. “When have we ever once called ourselves the dream team?”

“We haven’t, but I’m starting now. It’ll stick. I’ll have it embroidered on your flight jacket, Xay.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Xaden replies, setting off a brotherly argument behind you.

You look to the leadership once more, bowing your head in respect. “Thank you. For everything.”

Devera gives you a warm smile. “I am glad to see you have found your place here, Lieutenant. Remember that your empathy is a gift, even in times of war.”

Empathy.

“Am I dismissed?” You ask.

“Yes, Lieutenants, you are all dismissed,” Emeterrio answers dryly, looking over your shoulder at Garrick and Xaden. The latter has the former in a playful headlock, messing up his hair.

“Human boys,” Tab says, exasperated. You laugh in agreement, leaving them in the Assembly room to sort themselves out.

It’s easy enough to find who you’re looking for — he’s the only person sitting completely alone in the mess, a textbook open in front of him that he isn’t reading. He’s gazing into the distance, eyes unfocused, but he looks up when he realizes you’re standing in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, “about what I saw in Varrish’s office. I had no idea how much you all have endured. What we are taught in Navarre is only one side of the story, but you showed me the other.”

“I’m glad I could help change your mind.”

He reaches into the pocket of his flight jacket and extends a hand. Your protection rune sits in his palm, complete with a new leather cord. “A peace offering. I stole it back from Varrish, and Brennan mended it.”

You smile, taking it from him and slipping it back over your head. “You’re turning into quite the rule-breaker, Aetos. But thank you. It means a lot to me.”

You’re about to leave, but something compels you to impart a piece of advice. “I know how it feels when people don’t want to trust you because of your family history. It’ll take a while for some of them to warm up to you, but you can make it go a lot faster if you keep yourself out of trouble.”

———————————————————————

Your first flight back with your squad is supposed to be easy, a surveying flight with a small riot, just to check their perimeters, but you can’t seem to quell your anxiety as you take off.

“We will be fine, gentle one. We’re in strong company,” Tab reassures. He stays close to Chradh, knowing Garrick’s proximity will calm you. “How does it feel to be back?”

“Good. I’ve missed this.”

“You have always enjoyed being up this high,” he agrees. “Shall we review some of our basic maneuvers?”

“Sure.” Maybe that will settle your nerves.

“Hold on.” Tab dips, practicing all the angles — banking right, left, up, down.

“Something is wrong,” you blurt, and Tab straightens his path immediately, falling back into the formation. Every nerve in your body pulses with a sensation you’ve never felt before, standing on end. “Something really bad is going to happen.”

You’re right.

“Wyvern,” Tab warns just as they come into your line of sight. They charge straight at the front of the riot, where Sgaeyl leads the pack.

You’re outmatched, nearly two dozen of them and only ten of you. You’re going to die here. At least you’ll be with your best friends.

“That kind of thinking isn’t helpful!” Tab scolds, tightening the formation.

One gets too close for comfort, spewing blue flame, and Chradh banks hard - too hard. You gasp in horror as Garrick is thrown from his seat down to the ground below.

“Dive!” You yell, and Tab follows without hesitation, making a near-vertical drop.

You’ve never been so grateful for the running landing they’d taught you last year. It had been excruciating to execute on top of the pain of unbroken bones, but it’s just manageable now after a few days off from the infirmary.

Clutching Failsafe for dear life, your only defense, you sprint toward Garrick’s limp body, ripping off your goggles.

His heart still beats, but multiple bones look broken, his breathing labored. Touching him is almost unbearable, which tells you he won’t last much longer if you don’t do something.

Deep breaths, like Brennan had taught you, to accept their pain as it entered your body, holding it before batting it away like a fly.

You still haven’t figured out how to make that work.

Hot tears roll down your cheeks, and you start to berate yourself; Why can’t you do this? Compose yourself. Garrick is going to die if you can’t pull it together. Garrick is going to die, just like Liam did, because you aren’t strong enough to fix a fucking plate.

Anger overcomes you for the first time since you’d watched your parents die six years ago. You scream, a sound like nothing you’ve ever heard before splitting the air. The pain dissipates almost instantly. For the first time in two years, your body isn’t aching, and you sob in relief.

Garrick bolts upright, gasping for breath as spring blooms across the snowy plain, trees with bare branches suddenly teeming with green leaves.

Tab roars in pride and the rest of the riot joins in, the cliffs shaking from the volume of their celebration.

“Lifebringer!” He thunders into your mind.

Your head snaps upward, and you realize that the ground is littered with motionless wyvern.

Garrick pulls you to your feet, brushing the tears from your cheeks. “Come on, angel,” he says, grinning, “we have a war to win.”

You’re still dazed as Tab brings you back to Riorson house, Garrick helping you dismount and leading you inside.

“We have a weapon,” Xaden says, actually smiling as he faces the assembly. “Something, someone, that can destroy wyvern in their tracks.”

Garrick keeps you glued to his side as Xaden tells the elders what happened, but it’s all in one ear, out the other.

You’re dismissed after a few minutes, heading back out to the mess, where your friends gather around one of the large tables in the library.

“Tab called me lifebringer,” you say, confused. “What is that?”

“I thought it was just folklore,” Violet says from a few rows down, scanning the shelves, and everyone turns to her, listening. “Lifebringers are said to influence healing and growth. In some cultures, they’ve been credited with ending famines by rejuvenating harvests, and saving the innocent from the grasp of Malek and his Death.”

“Wicked,” Ridoc appraises quietly.

“Aha.” Violet produces a thin volume, cracking it open to the right page. The illustration there looks uncannily like you.

“Only the purest of heart can be lifebringers, those who hold no malice toward their fellow man. The weapons they carry are sharp, but unused,” she reads aloud. “Garrick gave you Failsafe as just that — a failsafe. You never drew blood with it. You never hurt anyone except in challenges, when it was kill or be killed, and even then you held back.”

Bodhi speaks next. “With most signets, the stronger the wielder’s emotion, the more powerful the ability becomes. You feel empathy for the wounded, so you can fix them and ease their pain, but when you thought Garrick was going to die, that was another level of distress, and I guess it was enough to overcome the dark magic.”

Garrick squeezes your shoulder in reassurance that he’s still very much alive beside you.

Violet closes the book, setting it down.

“I’m not in pain anymore,” you whisper, still dazed. You’ve almost forgotten what that feels like, having spent the last three years holding both your own and that of all your friends.

“You needed an outlet,” Xaden says. “Pain makes it harder to channel, and you were in pain 24/7, which is why the professors thought your signet was underdeveloped. Getting angry, and getting that energy out of your body allowed you to use the full extent of your power.”

“If I had known this earlier, do you think I could have…” you don’t finish the sentence. Everyone in this room knows how hard you’d tried to save Liam.

“Maybe,” Violet says quietly, “but that is not a path you want to go down. Trust me.”

———————————————————————

“Do you want to explain why the hallway was full of sunflowers when I went to bed last night?” Xaden asks slyly, dropping into a seat in front of you with a plate of eggs and bacon.

You burn with embarrassment.

Bodhi grins. “You see, cousin, when a man and a woman love each other very much, - ow, fuck!” He exclaims, rubbing the back of his head where Garrick had whacked him.

“At least they didn’t set the vale on fire,” another of your squadmates says, looking at Xaden and Violet pointedly. “You still owe me for putting that out, by the way.”

Your eyes widen as you connect the dots. “So all that dry lightning last year was you two…”

“Okay, changing the subject!” Brennan says loudly, not liking the way this conversation is headed. “We need to figure out how to use your signet without endangering Tavis’s life again.”

“Well, it sounds like they already found another way,” Ridoc says, grinning, but he squeaks out an apology as Garrick begins to rise from his chair.

You tug your boyfriend back into his seat by the sleeve, looking past him at Brennan. “I think I need to work a few days in the infirmary between flights,” you propose. “If I build up enough pain, I could probably-“

“NO,” the whole squad says at once, Tab included.

“Your healing is only to be used when absolutely necessary,” Xaden orders, and even though you’re on equal footing now, both newly-minted Lieutenants, you agree quietly without protest.

“See, that’s your problem,” Sloane says, and all eyes turn to her. “You defer to literally everyone. You’re an officer now. Act like it.”

“Pardon?” You ask, looking at her in disbelief.

“That’s exactly what she’s talking about,” Imogen cuts in. “Pardon? You can’t even discipline a first-year cadet. Do you really think any veteran rider will ever listen to what you have to say?”

“Enough,” you say firmly, your nails digging into the wood.

None of your friends intervene, not even Brennan. This has to be another nightmare. There’s no way they'd hang you out to dry like this. Right?

Sloane isn’t finished. “It’s a miracle you made it out of Basgiath alive. You’re too soft. If you won’t kill anyone, what are you going to do when it’s between your life or someone else’s? Their life or his?”

The mention of Garrick is your last straw. “That is enough from both of you, Cadets,” you reprimand. Thorny vines burst from the seams of the table, whipping out toward them, and they stagger back to avoid being cut.

You startle, your heart pounding against your ribs as you realize what you’ve done.

Sloane is the first to apologize. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean any of it. I just thought that provoking you might…” she doesn’t finish the sentence, looking down at the still-twitching vines covering the tabletop.

“We definitely took it too far,” Imogen adds, sounding genuinely remorseful. “That was a really fucked up thing for me to say. I’m sorry.”

Bodhi waves a hand, and the vines slither back into the table, as if they were never there.

Your eyes widen at the blood on his cheeks — he’d been caught in the crossfire. You touch his face with a shaky hand, only brushing your fingertips across the skin, and the scratches disappear instantly, leaving no trace of the harm you’d done.

Somehow that makes you feel worse.

“Well,” Garrick says in his section-leader voice, “that was certainly informative, but none of you are to ever disrespect her like that again. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” both girls answer quietly, heads lowered in shame.

Your breathing has steadied enough to speak. “I understand why you did that, but I’m not going to tell you that it was okay, because it wasn’t.”

With that, you take your plate and leave. Nobody follows you.

———————————————————————

The balcony door slides open, soft footsteps approaching.

“I want to be alone, Gare,” you say quietly.

“Not Garrick,” Xaden replies, settling down next to you on the stone floor, “and you may want to be alone right now, but you probably shouldn’t be.”

“I didn't mean to hurt anyone, Xay. You know that,” you whisper. You don’t move your gaze from the potted plant in front of you, as if you’re worried it will lash out at you — or him — if you turn away.

“I know, angel. I know.” He exhales deeply, a gentle cloud forming with the warmth of his breath.

There’s a moment of quiet before he speaks again, just the sound of the cold wind over the valley and the distant footsteps of cadets running on the trail below. “Working through this is not going to be easy, but if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

You’ve come to hate that notion, everyone’s insistence that the pain you’ve been through has primed you for more pain, different pain. Why can’t it ever end?

#garrick tavis x reader #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing reader insert #garrick tavis #fourth wing #reader insert #imagine

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esther-dot · 2 months

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Much to her surprise, marriage has only made Sansa less of a lady, not more. She doesn’t mind terribly, but maybe that’s because Jon doesn’t either.

Stone by Stone 8k

Finally, her words came in a rush. “But I seem to have built my own wall. Stone by stone, little by little, after each of them disappointed me, hurt me. And now that they are dead, I sometimes fear I may die behind my wall that no one can can walk thru.”

fire in exile 2k by @princemills

The thoughts of the others he’d lost were too unpleasant, and the thoughts of those who survived made him want to keel over like a babe, knowing he’d left them behind. It wasn’t really a choice, but it didn’t stop him from pondering his choices. From King in the North to bending the knee to Daenerys to stabbing her with a dagger beneath white ash borne from burning flesh, he’s never made the correct choice, and now he’ll burn in hell for it. Or, as Westeros deems hell: he’ll freeze his balls off at the wall, or Tormund will cut them off. Whichever comes first. - a quick study of jon and the choices he makes in exile.

watch me run right back to you 16k

Three times Jon and Sansa almost kiss…and three times they actually do.

come out of hiding (i'm right here beside you) 36k @noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth

AU after 8.05. After the death of Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow chooses to live beyond the Wall, while Sansa Stark, the newly-crowned Queen in the North, marries a Dornish prince. Three years later, when Jon finally gathers the courage to return to Winterfell, he finds that while many things have changed, one hasn't: he's still in love with Sansa. (Featuring widow!Sansa, contrite!Jon, and a cute baby.)

Homecoming 31k @theoriginalsuki

Halfway to him, she broke composure; she flew at him, an arrow from a bow, and he opened to receive her, lifting her, clutching her to the soft, neglected animal of his body. Sansa has one request of Jon, and then he can leave her forever: help her to find a husband.

Gifsets: Jonsa and Their Three Children by @kingbuckley , Together We Build Our Empire by @aureliacamargo, Future Jonsa with Children by @amandapeetshusband, In Which They Live a Long and Happy Life Together by @baelerion, To See Him Once Again by @theirwinterfell, Maybe We'll Meet Again by @thatmansplayinggalaga

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6 - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - SALTY TEENS

#jonsa #jonsa fic #post canon #dot fic list

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katealpha · 1 month

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Art by the astounding Convexpert

For those not in the know, Dragon (apparently aka Elizabeth) was supposed to have a more expanded role in Shrek 2. When Donkey drinks the happily ever after potion, it would have Dragon change into a pegasus who’d presumably have a voice role. It’s also apparent that this was scraped because they simply weren’t sure how to handle her pregnancy. That changes today.

—————

Elizabeth felt…smaller, and bloated. So much so, she let out a groan as her eyes opened up. But the sound of her own voice woke her up. It wasn’t a deep growl, but a soft, gentle moan. Like the voice of a human. In front of herself, she saw a pair of thin, long legs covered in maroon fur, with hooves at the end.

Now everything was starting to feel wrong.

With a gasp, her head raised, and she heaved to her new hooves, wondering why there weren’t claws or scales. Was this some kind of dream? As she stood, she felt a sudden wiggling feeling in her belly, which was still feeling incredibly bloated. Like she’d eaten a village of humans. Her head turned back, and she was greeted by the most unexpected news she’d ever receive. Now only was her belly bloated, but round. Her body was that of a horse with wings, which she spread out. By now her breaking picked up, especially now that from inside of her distended gut, she could feel and now see something alive moving.

“Wh…What??…What’s happening to me?..Am I..I can’t be..”

Liz said to herself in a soft voice that surprised her as the words left her lips. Liz knew she hadn’t been feeling well over the past few months even before now. It made her moody. Moody enough to lash out at poor Donkey, who she felt she needed more than ever now. But now, she was staring at the reality of the situation. Donkey managed to get her pregnant, somehow.

This wasn’t a dream, this was a nightmare.

By now, Elizabeth realized she was hyperventilating, and started to breathe more slowly. There had to be some reason for this. Was this some curse that was placed on her, some blessing, Donkey’s doing? It better not be, she thought. All she knew was that she needed to find Donkey and fast.

So, with her unborn children stirring inside, she began to walk slowly, adjusting to her new proportions. Her belly swayed to each side as she made her way up from the depths of her castle home. Once on the edge of the broken bridge, her wings spread.

“Okay…please be at the ogre’s house, handsome. I…we…need your help more than ever…”

Liz lifted a hoof back and felt the underside of her girth. An exhale left her lips when she felt something push out back against her hoof. Now she knew what it was like for non reptiles to carry their young…and she wasn’t sure she liked it. Sucking down her discomfort, she trotted forward and took to the air, set on getting to Shrek’s before her body decided that whatever was growing inside her had to come out.…

#animated movies #pregnant #pregnancy #shrek 2 #shrek #dreamworks #dreamworks animation #pregnant kink #transformation

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butterflydm · 6 months

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looking towards s3

I'm going to be doing a bit of wild speculation for s3, here, after going through the various book narratives and moments to check off what the show has already covered (including some speculation about certain plotlines having been subbed in for other ones) and so what's likely next for them in s3. Contains book spoilers through Knife of Dreams and casting and location spoilers for s3.

(for a more thorough "what's already been done", @sixth-light has one here: what's in and what's out: characters; worldbuilding)

The Eye of the World:

I think we can probably all agree that the one big thing from EotW that hasn't been covered yet is the introduction of the Caemlyn-related characters, other than Elayne -- namely Elaida, Gawyn, Galad, and likely Morgase. We know that this will happen in s3, at least to a certain extent.

They came in clutch at the last minute with giving us Elayne taking care of her 'bird with a broken wing' aka her meet-cute with Rand.

The Great Hunt:

Pretty much everything narratively important about TGH was covered this season. Some of it was remixed (Rand's 'Fal Dara' encounter with Siuan and the Aes Sedai happening in 2x7 in Cairhien instead of at the start of the arc) but pretty much everything important has been done.

And Siuan being much harsher with Rand in the show than in the books makes it understandable why Rand is not willing to trust Aes Sedai (with a handful of exceptions). imo the change in Siuan's plotline was done for three reasons: a. to set-up Rand's increasing wariness around the White Tower and Aes Sedai; b. to have a narrative reason why none of our main characters are going back to the White Tower next season; c. to set up a character arc for Siuan in s3+. Obviously, time will tell on whether or not I'm right, but those were the reasons that came to mind immediately after 2x7 and I still think they're likely reasons.

re: 'flicker-flicker' - the most important thing coming out of flicker-flicker is that Mat is determined never to 'betray' Rand, like it's implied that he did in some of the flicker worlds, and Mat has absolutely made that emotional commitment due to the events of this season.

The only important minor character from bk2 specifically that we don't get introduced to is Egeanin, I think, and again, that's a case of "if we have her, we want to introduce her when she's more narratively relevant", which would be either s3 or s4 in this case, for Nynaeve and Elayne's storyline. We also still have Egwene's introduction to Gawyn being held in reserve for when he enters the story.

The Dragon Reborn:

Elements pulled from TDR into s2:

Perrin (and thus viewers) getting introduced to Aiel culture (though through Aviendha rather than Gaul, combining two separate elements of bk3 into one introduction).

Mat being trapped in the White Tower and then released back out into the world.

Our introduction to Moiraine's spy network.

I think that Elyas being more human-apathetic plus Ishamael telling Perrin that "the more wolf you are, the more you're mine" may have subbed in for Noam and his loss of connection to humanity, driving Perrin to be wary of the wolf-connection.

Moiraine threatening Lan with a forced bond-change because she's trying to push him away.

Rand being hounded in his dreams and being lured to a site of prophecy by one of the Forsaken in an attempt to rescue Egwene.

Rand's moment of killing people and them kneeling to him (in the books, he actually sets them up to kneel; I liked the show's approach much better)

We also witnessed Mat having an actual reason for his Old Tongue memories and his fighting prowess and the show also may tie his luck into him blowing the Horn, given that he said his battle-cry, so I feel like the "archetype" he has in the Heroes is the Gambler (which I think the 'finn call him?). I really loved that all of Mat's random stuff has kinda been consolidated (and the Horn scene might be my favorite scene of the whole series thus far).

Rand being recognized as the Car'a'carn by Aiel searchers.

Elements that were not used but will happen next season: Perrin meeting Faile. I also think it's likely that Perrin will start going into TAR next season (which could give us either Birgitte or Uno | Gaidal Cain in a re-occurring role). Elayne and Nynaeve becoming Black Ajah Hunters (I'm unsure if Egwene will or if she's going to go straight to her bk 4 plotline; I suspect that she's going with Rand), which is also their bk4 plot. I do think we'll get both Perrin (via Hopper) and Egwene (via the Wise Ones) learning TAR.

Things I'm not sure we'll get:

I'm doubtful that we'll get Egwene & Elayne's Accepted tests at all:

Egwene may come across as an even better patsy/figurehead to Salidar if she's a novice

2x7 really makes me feel doubtful that The Dragon Reborn's friends will be able to waltz into Tar Valon and then waltz back out again (unless they are returning specifically to spy out the mood in TV re: the Dragon and Moiraine?)

Egwene choosing over and over to abandon Rand in the Tests feels like it would directly contradict her character arc in s2, where her motivation for working so hard in the Tower was to give herself the strength to protect the ones she loves.

@sixth-light suggested the idea that Egwene might get her "what is to come" vision in Rhuidean and I like that idea a lot -- if she goes with Aviendha to the silver rings and catches glimpses of her potential futures!

I feel like Aludra might not get introduced until very soon before we need to take the Stone of Tear (or potentially not until after Ebou Dar, when she's needed to create the dragons).

I also suspect that we'll skip Thom's storyline from this book just like we skipped his storyline from bk2 and go straight into his post-Tear bk4 storyline, since Rand is going to be doing Aiel politics and not Westlands politics next season. So my current suspicion is that Thom is going to be part of Elayne & Nynaeve's storyline (and then once Elayne and Nynaeve come back into Rand's storyline, that could be when Thom helps Rand).

This is also the book when balefire first appears (Rand uses it on Darkhounds; Nynaeve uses it for the first (and only?) time; and Moiraine uses it twice). Not sure when the show will introduce it, because I feel like it's going to be The One Way to actually kill Forsaken, so it may be held back closer to when one of them dies. I suspect we'll see Lanfear get doorway'd in s3, but I don't think any of the Forsaken will get killed off until s4 (Rahvin, if he exists) at the earliest. If Rand kills Rahvin with balefire in s4, that gives the rest of the Forsaken a reason to back off and keep their distance (especially if Moridin shows up in s5 to take the reins back over on prioritizing corrupting Rand over killing him).

What might happen in s3 but might be reserved for s4: the convergence on Tear and the various roads people take there. I feel like Tear is likely to come after the Waste and maybe even after Cairhien (Tear may be where Sammael is instead of Illian, but then Rand fails to kill him there and he flees to Illian?).

Also, as I keep noting in my reread posts (which is where I'm getting this info from) Mat is much less anti-Rand than fandom agreement had led me to believe/remember was happening in the books at this time. He dislikes The Dragon Reborn (TM) but his thoughts about Rand as a person tend to be more regretful or frustrated than fearful. So the show is doing fine there, since they've dealt with the The Dragon Reborn (TM) issue by having the whole "who is the Dragon plotline?" in s1.

The Fires of Heaven-A Crown of Swords:

I think we already covered "oh no someone else may get Lan's bond" and he'll go directly from Moiraine to Nynaeve, because Alanna has a more important forced bond to take (probably in s4). I am wondering if we'll see Nynaeve bonding Lan much earlier than in canon, maybe even at the end of s3 if Moiraine goes through the doorway and Nynaeve ends up in the same city as Rand & co.

Crossroads of Twilight-Knife of Dreams:

Guess who just got murdered! So... no Renna and no Seta. And maybe no more Suroth. The show has been ruthless with the Seanchan (not a complaint). The show is also leaning much more heavily on the friendship of the Two Rivers Five (plus now Elayne), so Mat doing any of the bullshit that he does in CoT & KoD feels less likely because this Mat doesn't have the excuse of dagger-sickness to forget what happened to Egwene in Falme. After the show made such a (beautiful! spectacular!) show of Mat being a good person at heart, even being a Hero of the Horn, which he wasn't in the books... yeah, they are not doing the book version of Mat & Tuon (thank fucking goodness). They may do a version of Mat & Tuon, but I think it will be very different from the books, if it happens.

One of the new interesting changes that the show appears to have done (from what Egwene said in 2x8) is make sul'dam extremely weak channelers instead of being learners. I think this has some fascinating implications re: Tuon because it means that a collar would 100% work on her. In the books, the sul'dam get tested along with all the other women to see if they are damane and if any of them have sparked, they end up caught.

It's only over long years of use that they develop their 'affinity' with their damane and this is when the collar would work on them. So, per book canon, it's entirely possible that putting a collar on Tuon during any of the books would fail to do anything, because she's still quite young and also is not 'complete' as often as many other sul'dam because of her high status. But in show canon? That collar will work 100%, because they use the Searchers to find marath'damane instead of testing every woman in the Empire every year (until they turn 25, I think it was). If the show is working backwards to decide on these changes, then it's entirely possible that this change in the way finding marath'damane is done was 100% specifically for Tuon's potential storyline down the road.

Also, I love that it means that Tuon is a weak-ass channeler, because that was always my head-canon for her anyway.

The Shadow Rising:

Elements already pulled from TSR+ into s2: Rand knows that Selene is Lanfear and Lanfear is offering to protect him from the other Forsaken and wants to work with him. And Rand also knows that "the Dark One" is actually Ishamael and the rest of the Forsaken are now out in the world. We've also learned about ji'e'toh already. TSR is also when Moghedien was introduced.

What likely won't happen in s3: I think Tear itself will be held back until after the arc in the Waste. They've already done some of the related character-work from the start of bk4 in s2 already, with Lanfear and Rand, and most of the other stuff (the 'finn doorway) could be moved to Falme if need be. Or, since we have the all characters going east, maybe it'll be in Caemlyn when the characters split up to their various plotlines (which would give us Elaida's Foretelling for Rand and Egwene meeting Gawyn) and then they wouldn't have needed to have Falme as a location shoot for s3 at all.

I do suspect that the Rand & Elayne relationship is being pushed to a later season and we'll likely get the beginnings of Rand & Aviendha instead (which makes me suspect that Elayne's storylines would get adjusted in a later season to actually give her time with Rand).

What likely WILL happen in s3: the Tower coup and Elaida taking over as Amyrlin; Rand & co going to the Waste and Rand becoming Car'a'carn while Mat gets his medallion and Egwene gets Wise One training; Elayne and Nynaeve (and Thom?) going Black Ajah hunting (or specifically after Liandrin?). Potentially we will see Rand and Aviendha catch feelings for each other as Rand and Egwene fall apart (and Lanfear stalks Rand from the sidelines, since she's not supposed to be interacting with him). And Perrin defending the Two Rivers, of course.

I don't think that we'll get Tuon this early, though we may get the prophecy (and the dread from the audience that Mat is destined to marry one of these horrible slaver people, because the Court of the Nine Moons has already been mentioned).

In addition to being a big book for Rand & Lanfear developments, TSR is wonderful for Rand & Mat as well. There are so many amazing moments for them in this book. If the show hits even a handful of these beats, s3 will be great for the Cauthor side of fandom. Especially with how Josha and Dónal are playing Rand & Mat as very handsy friends who are comfortable with physical touch.

So, what are some potential ways they could go with s3?

(I promise that any and all speculation with be at least 85% inaccurate and may be as much as 100%; does contain some casting and location spoilers for what we know about s3 so far)

Starting place in 3x1:

Option One: Falme subbed for Tear

We do Tear-stuff in Falme (doorway; maybe bubbles of evil) and then the characters split up for separate journeys.

Pros: making the most out of our current location! the characters are already there!

Cons: Have to pay a location fee for an additional season when they could instead use a s3 location.

Option Two: Caemlyn subbed for Tear

We know that Caemlyn is going to be in s3 and they might want to get the most out of their new location.

Pros: Might get Elaida's Foretelling of Rand. Egwene meets Gawyn without needing to go to the White Tower. Mat could do his 1v2 quarterstaff battle against Elayne's brothers. Means that everyone has already traveled significantly to the east during the break between seasons but they're all still together as a group, meaning we won't need as big a timeskip after this. And Elaida's Foretelling could even be the trigger for Rand & co needing to flee the city.

Cons: can't think of any but I'm sure they exist; this genuinely seems like such a good option to me that I am 100% marking it down to potentially write as a fic, if I ever get the time (I continue to collect plot bunnies at an alarming rate in this fandom!)

Option Three: Hurrying through BK3's ending (aka Tear is Tear)

This seems more expensive than it's worth, but maybe they got more money for s3!

Pros: bk3 Tear will be done, I guess?

Cons: expensive set piece and location that is then promptly abandoned so that everyone can go somewhere else

So, we've done our set-up episode and now we've moving on to: everyone goes somewhere else!

Where do they go?

Stop, Wait... Option Four: There Isn't A Set-Up Episode

This is the option for not having any set-up at all and just jumping into everyone's individual journeys.

Pros: Faster to get into the main story

Cons: No bonding time for the group as a whole; fewer character interactions; would probably make me sad

Well, we've either done our set-up or we haven't, so where is everyone going?

Perrin -> The Two Rivers

I mean, we all know it. Perrin is kinda the reason that I think we won't start with everyone already at their destinations, because I don't think Perrin's storyline in the Two Rivers is meaty enough to be stretched out over eight entire episodes.

Wondergirls -> ???

A White Tower stop-over seems fairly unlikely to me after 2x7, though there's a chance. I think it's more likely that we'll get them splitting up to go into their bk4 plotlines.

(If the Wondergirls do go to the White Tower, what is Rand doing during this time? How does Egwene reunite with Rand for her bk4 plotline?)

Verin burned her bridges with Siuan & Leane, potentially (she COULD probably talk herself out of being viewed as Black Ajah... maybe... but it's hard to see how she could talk herself out of being viewed as breaking Tower law) which implies to me that SHE isn't going to return to the Tower, and she is the one who introduces Dreaming to Egwene in the books. Which makes me lean towards the idea of Doing Tear (and the White Tower plots) in Caemlyn.

They could take some of the characters back to Tar Valon in s3 but... but that bridge between Moiraine and Siuan is so scorched right now that it's difficult to see Siuan being willing to let any of them leave the White Tower if they go there again.

Mat -> Rhuidean

Mat didn't touch the dagger, so he has no need to go back to the White Tower literally ever, especially since one of his Hero friends put the Horn away into an interdimensional pocket for later.

Rafe has implied that we will see Mat's quarterstaff battle at some point (unless he just meant that we would see Mat wielding a quarterstaff against two opponents at once, which definitely happened in 2x8), which leads me further to think about s3 starting in Caemlyn, because after that, Gawyn and Galad go off into separate plotlines.

If we assume that Caemlyn takes the place of both Tear and the White Tower for book 3 & early book 4 events, then everyone would go to their book 4 plotlines from here -- Perrin would go west to the Two Rivers; Rand & co would go to the Waste; Elayne & Nynaeve would go to do some Liandrin-hunting. We would only need five main locations for the season, at least two of which are pre-existing -- Caemlyn, the Two Rivers, Tar Valon, the Aiel Waste/Rhuidean, and whichever city Elayne & Nynaeve go to in order to hunt Liandrin (and if it's Cairhien, then they already have the location/set).

Events that I'm Pretty Sure we'll get in s3:

Rhuidean. Rand's walk through Aiel history and Mat's encounter with the foxes. Rand saving Mat's life. <3

Asmodean becomes Rand's teacher.

I do think we'll likely get Couladin proclaiming himself as the Car'a'carn and the chaos of Alcair Dal, because Mat killing Couladin is really what creates the BotRH and cements him as the leader.

The White Tower coup.

Nynaeve faces off against Moghedien... or maybe this season she will still be focused on Liandrin?

The Battle of the Two Rivers.

I think we will start to get Rand & Aviendha in this season, but slow-burn. But if they plan to do the Moiraine & Lanfear show-off at the end of the season, then you'd want the Rand & Aviendha relationship to begin to flower. And then Lanfear is out of the picture (as far as Rand knows), which would let him worry less about her killing any woman that he's attracted to.

Things that we Might Get in s3 (depending on pacing):

We might get either Cairhien or Tear at the end of the season. That really depends on pacing and I don't know how fast they plan to move through the arc in the Waste. There are really only two big Events in the Waste in bk4 -- Rhuidean and Alcair Dal; though there's also visiting Cold Rocks Hold and the attack there.

Moiraine and Lanfear's encounter with the doorway. The reason that I'm thinking this might happen in s3 is because someone (was it Rafe?) teased about a "big cast change" at then end of s3 that book readers would be familiar with. Losing Moiraine right as he gets a Forsaken as a teacher would be very intriguing.

If we are going to do the polycule (*crosses fingers hard*), then there needs to be a decent stretch of time where Elayne is actually allowed by the plot to spend time with Rand. We got our meet-cute and it was beautiful, so I have high hopes. There is also a new tor.com interview where Rafe says that Elayne and Rand have a 'huge arc' together.

For now, I think the time period after her book 4 plotline and before she gets involved in Ebou Dar seems like the best time (as opposed to just wandering the countryside for weeks because Nynaeve can't remember the word 'Salidar'). So after Rand has returned to the wetlands. I am going to speculate that s3 ends with the Battle of Cairhien while, at the same time, Elayne and Nynaeve go to Cairhien for their own story reasons. Because they've already done their book 4 plotline, and maybe part of their book 5 plotline, there's no need for them to hurry off right away. And Elayne spends most of s4 with Rand (and Aviendha) (and Mat). Elayne can help Rand navigate politics in Cairhien, and they can fall in love while being big ol' workaholics. We also could have Dumai's Wells happen here so that Rand can get rescued not only by Perrin but also by Mat, Egwene, Elayne, Nynaeve, & Aviendha. Which would just be nice.

I do think, based on the Power of Friendship vibe that we had in the s2 finale, that the show is going to be bringing our characters back together a lot more often than the books did (and I'm happy about that).

So, based on that idea... a tentative outline for s3 (I am not expecting this to end up being at all accurate, lol, just feeling some things out about a potential way things could go based on what we've see so far in terms of how quickly the plot moves and how the show seems like it's more willing to reunite all the characters, so I am going to try to get everyone to Cairhien by ep8 so that they can reunite again; we also might be doing Tear instead at the end of the season):

ep1: The opening of the season is supposed to start with a 'bang'. Would they do the Tower coup this early in the season? Siuan ended s2 in a terrible political position, having the Dragon in her possession and then losing him. And if anyone finds out that she was conspiring with Moiraine for twenty years... otoh, would they want to show us Elaida in Caemlyn first, before taking her to the Tower for that plotline?

I'm not sure how much of a time-jump we'll get, though probably a bit of one, but I'm hoping we'll get to see all the characters together in the same location, as happened in Tear in the books. This may take place either in Falme or in Caemlyn, but our characters will have a chance to regroup and mingle. We may get some of our action from the start of book 4 here -- the bubble of evil, getting rumors of trouble in the Two Rivers. If the opening episode is in Caemlyn and not Falme, it may also feature: Mat vs Gawyn & Galad; Egwene and Rand (at least) meeting Gawyn and Galad. Rand meeting Elaida and getting a version of the Foretelling. This might also have our characters meeting up with Verin and Alanna in Caemlyn, and we may get our Verin & Egwene scenes and a certain gift of a twisted stone ring.

perhaps spurred by Elaida's Foretelling, our group scatters to their future destinations. Since they are much closer to the Two Rivers than they were in the books at this time, it might be that Loial leads Rand's group through the Ways to Rhuidean, rather than leading Perrin to the Two Rivers. Egwene meets the Wise Ones in TAR and decides she also needs to go to Rhuidean with Rand.

ep2: Perrin arrives in the Two Rivers and we get a look into that situation; Elayne and Nynaeve get interrogated by a woman who is definitely not secretly Moghedien. Rand and Mat ask permission to go to Rhuidean. In order to make it so that all the characters are heading in to the same place, maybe Elayne and Nynaeve went to Cairhien to investigate Liandrin's disappearance? Since all the 'known' Seanchan were killed off in the Battle of Falme, the show may have the Seanchan take s3 (and s4?) off as they regroup before their next offensive.

ep3: They've put a pretty heavy-hitter in as ep3 in s2 and it seems likely they would try to do the same in s3 because of the way that Prime drops shows, so let's call ep3 the Rhuidean episode, where we learn about the Aiel's past and Mat finds a doorway. Moiraine goes through the silver rings, learning about what will happen to her in the future, and writes some letters (alt: Moiraine goes through the doorway in Rhuidean as well and learns it there?).

ep4: Rand & co travel towards Alcair Dal (skipping Cold Rocks Hold); If the White Tower Schism didn't happen in ep1, maybe it happens here. I'm going to tentatively put the Coup here. Rahvin arrives in Caemlyn, if he exists?

ep5: Alcair Dal & Rand trapping Asmodean as a teacher (with Lanfear's help). Couladin announces that he's the Car'a'carn and decides to march on Cairhien, and Rand already feels guilty about getting Lanfear to help him escape in 2x7 and her torching the city, so he's extra motivated to stop him.

ep6: Battle of the Two Rivers, so that Perrin will be able to start his cross-country road trip to meet back up with everyone else by the end of the season? Maybe including the 'trap' for Faile that happened in TDR and it makes Perrin realize that he has feelings for her, which he feels guilty about. Asmodean begins teaching Rand.

ep7: Nynaeve and Moghedien have a confrontation in Cairhien and Nynaeve manages to defeat Moghedien, causing her to flee (or maybe this is Nynaeve defeating Liandrin? We might want to keep Moggy scary for the moment). At the end of the episode, the Shaido Aiel have arrived to lay siege to the city.

ep8: Battle of Cairhien - Mat kills Couladin and forms the Band of the Red Hand; Lanfear finds out that Rand and Aviendha have... slept together? kissed? have feelings for each other? And Moiraine and Lanfear have their appointment at the docks when Lanfear loses it as she realizes that after all her work, Lews Therin/Rand is never going to love her the way that she wants him to.

Then, in the name of 'letting the characters spend more time together', Rand's friends maybe actually get to hang out with him in s4 before people split up again, giving us a situation where the whole group gets to reassemble to save Rand at Dumai's Wells? Hard to guess without knowing how much will get covered in s3. They've done a great job pulling in plot lines from various books so far.

s2 did an amazing job of having a handful of themes that they explored through multiple characters and storylines, so I expect that s3 will also have some themes that they will be using. Not sure what it might be yet though once we get our s3 trailer (in, like, a year or a year and a half, lol) we'll probably have a better idea, because Halsey's "Control" being used for the s2 trailer was INCREDIBLY accurate for some of s2's themes -- "who is in control?" and the idea of fear and control and trying to own someone's power were very much at play in s2.

So what character arcs might we see in s3?

I think we're going to see Moiraine & Lan firmly established as mentors to Rand throughout the season, doing their best to prepare him for the future. And then Rand is potentially going to lose both of them at the end of the season (since I think that the show might bring all the characters together at the end of the season again, we might even see Nynaeve "bonding Lan to save his life" at the end of s3).

In general, there's just... honestly gonna be so much Rand stuff that I will be absolutely overwhelmed (in a good way). TDR-TSR-TFoH are my favorite run of the books and there are just so parts of TSR that are SO good (and a lot of them are Rand).

Theory for Mat's arc in s3: I wonder if we're going to start with him choosing to take a bodyguard-type role for Rand (because of his guilt over the stabbening) and transition to taking a general/captain-role at the end of the season (which would involve more independence in the future when he needs to leave Rand's plotline) as the Maidens take over as Rand's bodyguards. TSR is such a good book for both Rand and Mat in general, so I'm really looking forward to what the show does because the show has invested so much in their relationship already.

I am so so curious about what dynamic will be established for Rand & Asmodean and how many of the other characters might know the truth about him. In the books, Moiraine reveals in her letter to Rand that she knew who he really was but agreed with Rand that perhaps there was no choice but to work with him, because she agrees that Rand needs the training.

I do think we'll see some vibes between Rand and Elayne in the first episode, but that they won't act on them. But Rand was clearly struck by Elayne tenderly healing him with the sunlight in her hair and I do think we'll get some follow-up on that moment in ep1.

We'll also be getting Rand and Egwene pulling away from each other as romance partners (but perhaps settling into being trusted friends?). And I agree with @markantonys that it makes the most sense to have Rand & Aviendha as Rand's first established romance post-Egwene, because of the way the plotlines are set-up (Aviendha is actually going to be around Rand all season) and because she comes from a culture that leaves space for adding additional partners, so you don't need to use the misunderstanding loophole for Elayne and then Min to be added to the relationship in the future.

Perrin is going to come face-to-face with his guilt and grief over his wife's death when he goes back to the Two Rivers. Especially when he begins to catch feelings for Faile. We'll also see him training in TAR with Hopper. We'll see the continuation of his struggle with Dain. I do wonder if Dain might die at the end of s3, for similar reasons to why Renna, Seta, & Suroth died at the end of s2, leaving room for Galad to become the main Young Whitecloak figure in the future. Because the Whitecloaks spend several books not really being relevant in the middle part of the series.

Given how Nynaeve struggled with her block this season and it's been a real obstacle for her, one that she can't handwave away by doing the Bruce Banner "I'm always angry" thing like she kinda does in the books, I think that her main struggle this upcoming season is going to be trying to break her block and that they might even have her succeed at the end of the season against Moghedien -- much like s2 featured Egwene, Mat, & Moiraine coming into their powers (or back into their powers for Moiraine), s3 may see Nynaeve, Rand, & Perrin doing that.

The fact that Siuan disagreed so strongly with Moiraine in 2x7 makes me feel that it's more likely that she will survive the coup, because now she has tons of space for a character growth arc once she's struggling with actually dealing with her own stubborn Two Rivers person in the form of Egwene.

This will be Elayne's first season as an established member of the group -- one of the reasons that I think we'll get a set-up episode at the start of the season is that it makes sense to establish what her place is within the group. And then if Thom is in her storyline, we'll be able to explore a lot of her feelings about being the Daughter-Heir and her relationship with her mother, even if Morgase isn't shown on-screen.

Given that we killed off* all the 'known' Seanchan, I wonder if that means that we'll be taking a break from them in seasons 3&4, and then have them return at the end of s5(?), after Mat, Nynaeve, Elayne, and Lan have all gone to Ebou Dar (maybe Egeanin's plotline is shifted to Ebou Dar and we see that being explored at the start of s5 before the bulk of the Seanchan attack at the end?).

(* well, Suroth might not be dead, since we didn't actually see her die and she might have gotten rescued from the water, so she might be existing in a quantum state -- dead if they can't get the actress back later on but alive if they can)

We had a LOT of plotlines in s2 -- five major plotlines (Rand, Mat, and Perrin each got their own, while Egwene & Nynaeve and Moiraine & Lan did some sharing) plus we had the villain plotlines.

I’m guessing that we’ll only have three main plotlines in s3, which will give them all a bit more breathing room — we’ll have Rand & co in the Waste; Perrin & co in the Two Rivers; and Nynaeve & co doing a version of Tanchico. I think that the White Tower coup is likely to be a plotline for one-three episodes rather than something that spans the entire season.

And now, just for fun, a WoT s2 speculation scorecard! How well did I do?

I'll go backwards in time, so starting with my most recent speculation (that I did based on the 2x8 trailer that aired post 2x7).

That shot of Rand asking "who are you?" would be to that lovely shot of Elayne with sunlight in her hair: Correct!

Lanfear and Ishamael will fall apart while the Two Rivers kids stick together: Correct!

Elayne and Nynaeve will have to separate due to only have one sul'dam outfit: Wrong!

Hopper is going to die; Perrin will kill Daddy Bornhald in retaliation: Correct!

I had, like, three different guesses for the Horn situation so I'm not giving myself any credit there, lol

Turok will die by channeling, not by sword: Correct!

Moiraine and Lan will free damane as their plotline for this episode: Wrong!

Speculation for 2x7 made after trailer that came out after 2x6:

I do a lot of vague spec, the first firm thing I say without as much waffling is that Rand will be put under 'house arrest' by Siuan: Correct!

Mat saw Rand get taken by Lan & co: Wrong!

Lanfear and/or Ishamael arranges the fire in Foregate to free Rand from his 'house arrest' by the Aes Sedai: Correct!

Egwene gets to socialize with other damane: Wrong!

Speculation for 2x6-2x8 based on imdb listings for the last three episodes:

again, I do a lot of waffling and 'maybe this, maybe that', my first solid spec is that Liandrin's son would die in 2x6: Correct!

I did think we would get the royal wedding, so I will mark that: Wrong!

Natti Cauthon would appear as part of Ishy messing with Mat: Correct!

I thought the White Tower would be a location in these last three episodes: Wrong!

Yacissa will get killed by the Black Ajah: Wrong! (very happy to be wrong; I LOVE her)

Lanfear will help Rand out as his presence creates a wedge between Lanfear and Ishmael: ...kinda? I mean, she was Team Rand the second she learned Rand existed, lol.

Rand will leave Cairhien via Waygate: Correct!

Maigan will be Pura: Wrong! (no one is Pura, at least not now, and Maigan is very dead)

Loial will get to visit Egwene in the 'kennels': Wrong!

Egwene won't be freed until 2x8: Correct!

The 2x8 cold open will focus on LTT & Ishamael: Correct!

Ishamael will experience a painful reversal of expectations in 2x8 as his plans fall to pieces: Correct!

I also speculated here that Perrin would kill Bornhald in this version but I already counted that one above.

Uno will reappear as one of the Heroes of the Horn: Correct!

Speculation for 2x4 based on the first three episodes:

Moiraine doesn't already know Rand is in Cairhien: Wrong!

Lan will show the Lanfear poem to Alanna & co: Wrong!

Liandrin will tell Nynaeve that Perrin & co were captured by the Seanchan: Correct!

Logain was deliberately placed in Cairhien to lure Rand there: Correct!

Before we got the episode titles but after the trailer came out:

Siuan's trip to Cairhien occurs in episode 6: Correct!

Rand will still be wandering around the countryside when he meets Selene: Wrong!

Moiraine and Lan will be researching at Verin's in 2x1: Correct!

Rand and Selene's main episode will be ep2: Wrong!

The shot of Lan on Mandarb in the woods will be in Nynaeve's Accepted Test: Correct!

Nynaeve's Accepted Test will happen in ep3: Correct!

Moiraine and Rand reunite in ep4: Correct! (wrong about how/why though)

Perrin meets the Seanchan in ep5: Wrong!

Perrin meets Aviendha in ep5: Correct!

Rand meets Logain in ep6: Wrong!

"We get the New Spring flashback scene, see Moiraine & Siuan happy and young, then hear Gitara's Foretelling": Close! (I guessed it for ep6)

Verin will be in Perrin's plotline: Wrong!

Liandrin will be confirmed as a darkfriend in ep6: Close! (it was ep5)

Egwene, Nynaeve, & Elayne will spend the first 5 episodes in the White Tower and the last 3 in Falme: Close! (it's more 4 in WT; 1 traveling; 3 Falme)

I did a huge post of How Does Mat Get To Falme, which ended up being hilariously incorrect as "Lanfear has him bonked over the head and then Travels him there" was not on my radar, lol. But my favored method included him reuniting with Rand in Cairhien, so I'm glad that part still happened.

Anyway, I didn't do so awful in my predictions, I think.

(In terms of 'accidental predictions', I did write a fic involving Rand being tied to a bed in Cairhien by his lover literally months before we had any clue it would be happening in the show, - and while I'm talking about randomly accidentally being a Prophet in my fics: in Voice, I had Lanfear (who we had not yet met in the show) giving solid relationship advice - "That's fear talking, not fact" & I had this line for Mat: "Maybe Mat was destined to be a failure and a disappointment, like his father. But he wouldn't just lie down and let it happen." which is essentially what it feels like we just got from him in 2x8.)

#wot s3 speculation #wot speculation #butterfly watches wot #wot #wheel of time #wot on prime #wot show spoilers #wot prime spoilers #wot s2 spoilers #wheel of time s2 spoilers #wot 2x8 spoilers #wot book spoilers #knife of dreams #wot speculation scorecard

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happynowyo · 1 year

Text

The triad, part 1

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing: Aemond x Fem!reader, Aegon x Fem!Reader (possible)

Summary: You are Aegon's twin but, despite the fact that you're five minutes older, he's still a main heir. Your ability to have visions is much stronger than Helaena's and that gives you a chance to actually see what happens with Targaryens in the future. That's why you decide to take everything in your hands so you can survive and succeed, especially with some help from your brothers.

Word count: 1,6k

Part 2

Boys will always be boys. Your mother repeated the phrase so often, using it as a simple explanation for all Aegon's and Aemond's behavior, that you remembered it like a mantra. Like a commandment that cannot be broken or challenged. What seemed like a mere excuse for a child began to make sense as you grew older. You float somewhere between worlds all the time, lost in the boundaries of dreams and reality, but still manage to notice the important things around.

People say that everyone's personality traits form in childhood and are also determined by the upbringing and the environment you grew up in. Hardly any of of you had even the slightest chance of becoming someone normal. Usual. You know that this is what Aegon asks of the seven gods on those nights when even alchohol doesn't save him from the bitter realization of his plight. Things would have been so much simpler if all of you had been born into the family of some merchant. But you were destined for something else - something far greater.

Viserys often mentions his dreams. He wants to believe that he has some kind of power that will give him support and way to believe in what is right and what is wrong. Helaena doubts that your father is really capable of seeing anything, but she doesn't question that both of you really have some power to make prophecies. Sometimes the words come to her on their own. They roll around on the tip of her tongue, waiting to slip out at the most inappropriate moment and become the property of a public that will never be able to recognize anything meaningful in them.

But it's quite different with you. More often your visions have a picture and a sound, they are like dreams - so real that you cannot always tell whether you are observing the past or the future or just dreaming something that is never destined to come true. The line is so thin that every time you wake up, you feel a ghostly frustration mixed with hope. Like a flock of goosebumps along your spine, settling in your chest with an unpleasant heavy lump. Sometimes you see things that make you want to clamp your mouth shut to keep you from screaming in genuine horror.

Someone else's memories appear in front of you like an open book, and someone else's sorrows and joys are experienced so acutely and vividly that you feel every death and every birth as your own. On rare nights you actually scream. You crumple the sheets with your thin, icy fingers and scream, staring into the pitch black of the canopy. When your emotions begin to run high, creating a kind of vacuum that squeezes your in space, seeking to crush you completely, you know you must wake up. Your body gives you the command, reminding you that you have a power over this cursed gift.

But trying to get out of the nightmare is like trying to swim out of a swamp. The sticky, murky mire pulls you deeper with every effort. And then you raise your voice some more in a presumptuous attempt to reach out to someone. To get help. To not be alone. To not be caught in the snare of fear for good. Your cry goes through the stone walls of the castle so freely, as if a flimsy piece of wood were a barrier - and Aemond hears your first, since your rooms are the only ones in this wing. He always comes, justifying himself that there is a real reason.

Aemond is attentive to everything and remembers every detail with the pedantry of a bloodhound - Otto jokes that in the future he will have a seat in the Little Council. He responds to his grandfather's offer with the arrogance inherent as every true Targaryen, demanding in advance a position for himself that has not even been offered to him yet. Aemond could compile an impressive dossier on everyone in this castle, but the folder with his oldest sister's name would still be the most voluminous.

He knows every detail about you better than anyone else. You like everything to be on certain places in your room. You like watching the sunset near your dragon. You like being the only one who can say a word and make Aegon listen, at least for a while. Amond thinks there is a certain form of control that you adore, but when he tries to talk to you about it, you only shrugs with words about how everything in life is tied up with control. Somewhere you get it, somewhere you give it away. There's only a few of years difference between you two, but Aemond looks at his sister with pure awe, utterly fascinated by you to the core and so lets any words about your madness pass him by.

When he comes to you at night to cautiously lie down beside you and take your hand unbeknownst to him, muttering aloud who he is and where you are to calm you down, he does not think at all that your mind is at the mercy of some disease, as your mother thinks. He likes to be near you, to see the real you - without that fake, empty smile, that always sticks to your lips as soon as you leave your chamber. He appreciates every moment spent together immensely.

He also likes to listen. To catch the shimmering intonations in your voice as he asks about your dreams. As a child, he marveled at how much you and Helaena can make things up, but later he accepted that some of your visions do have a connection to reality, as Viserys keeps saying. Sometimes, when the weather changes make his scars especially aching and sensitive, Aemond thinks about how he should have listened to you sooner. Maybe then he wouldn't have lost his eye so stupidly.

When he shares his regrets with Heleina, all he gets in return is a soft smile and a light kiss very close to the edge of the lumpy scar. You add to this some wise words to comfort him a bit. "Some things are irreversible. No matter how you run from them, they still happen. You got the dragon, isn't that enough? Other times you wouldn't have had even that." Aemond wants to ask a host of new questions, about the other times, for example, but his skills of observation are enough to catch the mute warning in your eyes.

He twitches the corners of his lips in agreement and doesn't argue, only holds out his hand, waiting for you to touch him first. Alicent sometimes reproaches him for being cold and distant, but it is always different with you, so every tactile contact becomes especially important and can replace hours of heated discussion. Aemond appreciates the boundaries you sets for him - they are much closer than the ones you has for everyone else. It makes him feel truly special.

A warm feeling dances somewhere beneath his ribs, causing him to instinctively smile proudly every time he notices you flinch and seek to escape the unexpected touch of his mother or Aegon. There is never any such thing with him. You doesn't question it but you recognize as well that the bond with him is far stronger than with the others at court. Aegon is your twin, for example, but most of the time both of you can barely be in one room without starting a fight within a few minutes.

Your visions make it difficult for you to keep your boundaries and trace back to when your story with Aemond began. Did you grow attached to him since childhood and fall in love more after he lost an eye in that fight? Or did you have feelings for that grown-up Aemond you'd seen in your dreams since you were twelve so you absorbed his affection and warmth, and then all you had to do was to wait for him to grow into who he was meant to be with your help?

You take this course of events as a natural progression. The attachment grows stronger day by day, and you are increasingly drawn to the fact that Aemond himself reaches out to you and stays close to you even when he has already learned to wear his armor as second skin When he keeps his distance from everyone around him, he becomes increasingly cold and withdrawn. You think that the black hole of the castle consumes him as well, but rejoice when you see that your brother is still capable of affectionate smiles and sincere interest.

It is enough for you to see what Aegon is turning into. You were never close, not even as children. He always preferred to hang around mother or find company among the children of the other lords at court. Aegon liked other people's attention, he was quite easygoing, but even as a child he felt something special about you. He had once said that you had grown-up eyes. Alicent brushed it off with a chuckle, but Aegon remembered and still holds that opinion. Your eyes are empty. Dead. As if you are always somewhere else, remaining around only as a physical shell.

Aegon sees your emptiness even now, when your mother solemnly announces the date of your imminent engagement in the middle of breakfast. He doesn't like it at all. He knows the Targaryens' long tradition of marrying their own sisters, but he is disgusted by the very thought of it. He doesn't see you as a normal girl, so he feels sorry for himself in advance in this planned marriage and goes so deep into these thoughts that he doesn't feel Aemond's sharp, piercing gaze, full of envy that only he alone can understand. Nor does he miss you leaning toward his ear, interjecting your into your mother's idle dreams of a lavish wedding.

— I will love you if you try to do the same for me.

Your whisper pulls Aegon back to reality and acts like ice water, so he blinks twice because he finally sees you. Looking straight at him, not through, as usual. Burning with such determination, as if the fate of all humanity depended on it. Or at least the fate of some Targaryens.

Part 2

#hotd #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aegon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader

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blckfyres · 1 year

Note

can i request #41 with aemond thank you!!!

btw i’m so excited about this and if you’re up for it im so down to send you more requests but i don’t want to overwhelm you 🖤

i'm alive! life got in the way but your dear author managed to get a big job! this is my first time writing smut so i’m not super happy with it, but please enjoy take on a blackwood!reader's reaction to aemond returning from storm's end with some slowburn gratuitous smut. our aemond is a tough nut to crack.

request a song prompt!

The Bloody Post

Warnings: smut, slightly sub!aemond dom!reader, choking, murder, kinslaying aftermath

WC: 4586 (i wish i were sorry)

Prompt 41: "Love will save you from misery, and tie you to the bloody post" - Love Will Save You, Swans

The palace halls were filled with a turgid emptiness tonight. Smoke hung heavy on the cold stone walls, flame from the torch sconces stuttering death rattles in the biting cold. You pulled your thick robe closer to you as you hurried, leaving a trail of hushed condensation behind you as you breathed like dragon smoke.

It was desolate nights like these that made you miss home, where your mother kept all of the hearths lit, ready for your return from the barren gardens of Raventree Hall. You would often sit at the dead weirwood, even as a girl, chattering to the Old Gods and petitioning your dreams on the necroding white bark. You did not need a reply to know they heard you – you could always feel it in the sprawling coil of the white roots, more familiar to you than your own blood.

Targaryens had their occasional dreamers, but the blood of the First Men ran thick with greensight – you, who could hear the whispers of long-forgotten gods, and things yet to come to pass. You were a long way away from home, but you could still feel that magic in your bones – thrumming, cold, knowing.

It’s how you were jolted awake tonight – dreams of a dragon’s jaws at your throat, and a mother’s screams in your ears. It’s why you scrambled out of your room before your legs had even registered moving, and how you could always feel him before you saw him. When it came to your love for eachother, neither of you had ever needed eyes.

Your feet traversed the freezing flagstones bare – you had been too hurried to find your sandals, hearing the roar of Vhagar’s return from the east wing as soon as you crossed the threshold into the hall.

Something in that roar made you sure it belonged to Aemond rather than his mount, and your already-freezing blood ran colder. You had awoken for a reason, then. You could feel him more strongly now – the sensation of cold rain spittle on his neck was keeping him anchored. Outside.

You didn’t think twice about the sudden turn you made towards the palace gates. You felt talons of broken stones slashing the skin of your soles as you walked outside, and thanked the blood you would leave in your wake. My debt for the warning, paid in full. Paid to the Old Gods in blood.

The downpour became heavier the closer you got to the palace walls, and you searched for your lover desperately through the thick, mummer’s drape of a storm.

Your legs became victim to the biting cold, as numb as his resolve felt to you. You needed to find him before his family did. He needs me. You thought, as your wet shift slithered against your legs. He won’t be able to wash the blood from his hands by himself.

Out of both breath and heat, you surveyed the grounds again. Lightning struck two leagues north of the castle, illuminating the grounds and the tall figure you suddenly noticed stalking towards you. You watched Aemond lurch closer, you – a phantom in his path. He could walk right through me, you thought. And I would let him.

You had barely registered the distance he had closed before you felt Aemond’s freezing hands grip the hair closest to your scalp– desperate, stinging, a shipwrecked sailor clinging to dissolving driftwood. The little breath you had left was crushed against him like a paltry sacrifice.

Your voice was little more than a guttural choke as you grabbed his shoulders. You hoped your grip was iron – you couldn’t feel your hands.

“What is it, what’s happened?”

Aemond stared at you, and his silence was as telling to you as the whispers of your gods. But you needed to hear it, gods, you needed to hear him say it. You needed to know what to fix - for him to tell you where to sew his flesh, even though you could see the gaping wound.

Aemond watched you implore him with your eyes, unable to do much else than bask in the overwhelming comfort of your presence as he gripped you, the same way he used to imagine gripping dragon reins as a boy. You were two rusted anchors clinging to each other for dear life so you wouldn’t fall apart. You were sure that your nails had pierced through his leathers by now, how could they not have?

Another bolt of lightning illuminated the tableaux in front of you again, and this time you could see the state of of the prince clearly. His naked eye was half-crazed, his silver hair a matted ash, and arms trembling as they held his hands to your head. You had never seen him panicked before, not like this.

Aemond’s arms dropped from your hair - gone was the strength he had to hold them up. They tumbled down your body, and his hands gripped whatever of you they could find to keep afloat, drowning you as he held you. He didn’t know what he needed, he just needed.

Your lover’s sudden cold touch pulled you back to the present, your mind suddenly sobered – you needed to know what you had to prepare for.

“Aemond.” You barked, ripping his hands off of your form.

The panic in you rose like bile, shrouded in your demand. You weren’t sure if the roaring in your ears was Vhagar’s or your own.

Aemond took a deep breath through his clamped teeth, breathing between his teeth as he yanked you towards him once more, gripping you even tighter than before.

He shook his head like a child in denial, and dread gripped your lungs like a tourniquet. You struggled against the steely muscles of his arms, looking up desperately to read his face.

“Storm’s End,” He searched your eyes for a wisdom that evaded you. “Luke.”

It was the first time he had called his nephew by the name used by the boy’s mother. A mother’s love, transfigured to an uncle’s guilt. And that’s when you knew. Perhaps, If you were honest with yourself, you knew the moment you awoke - your gods have never deceived you. Denial. You thought. A pretty, pretty thing.

The prince began to scramble at your silence, though brusquely, justifying it to himself just as much as you under the bluntness of his tone.

“It was an accident. I only meant to scare the boy, and Vhagar –”

Only. You gripped his leathers again, like you were trying to tear at his skin. You wanted to howl at him, rend his flesh like a wild animal, to peck at his eye like the ravens on your weirwood – rage. Rage at his arrogance, his stupidity, his pain, his projection.

But all you could do was sob, move your attention up to hold his weathered face in your hands, and hate yourself for the gentleness of your touch.

He needed you, and you would carry him as you would his sins, paint yourself with the same brush and blood-red paint. He would not be alone. Tonight, you would fix him, and tomorrow, you would break him down again – repaired, reborn.

This is what love is, you supposed. Getting blood on your own hands because you can’t help holding theirs.

Aemond pressed his forehead to yours in desperation, as if to meld into you to make you see, understand. You would never forgive it, but he knew you would face the seven hells with him, hand in hand.

You caressed his face through your tears, and pressed your lips to his suddenly, needing comfort in him just as much as he needed you. You forgot your own hatred for vulnerability when it came to Aemond. Aemond, who would raze kingdoms and caress your cheeks with gentle thumbs in the same breath. Love. You thought. All it is is your blood on the line and your head on the block.

You caressed your lover’s eyebrow with your free thumb as you kissed him slowly, and you felt the tension in his body dissipate at your tenderness, your acceptance of him despite his sins. But the tenderness was little match for the violent need you both felt.

Your lips danced against his in their usual battle, and he clutched at the soaking underclothes that clung to your body. You felt him fight tears of his own, his despondency turn into desire. Aemond pulled you against him tighter, like he wanted to dissolve into you, consume you. He got like this sometimes – all gnashing canines breaching lips, and moans more violent than dragonsong. But you couldn’t let him succumb yet. Not here.

You stopped him with a flat palm to his chest, an action that usually made him crack a smile. Dohaeris, you would whisper wickedly, before he pushed you down to devour you from under your skirts.

He didn’t stop kissing you this time, a man too starved to serve. But you needed time with him – away from the tumult of war councils and the retribution the gods might strike down on him, a kinslayer.

“They’ll be looking for you,” You murmured against persistent pecks against your lips, letting his fervent kisses wash that ugly word away, if only for tonight.

You looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to steer you through the hidden tunnels of the castle to his chambers. He ignored you, lips harsh against yours once again, hands rending the robe from your shoulders with a snarl as if its mere existence offended him. You did your best not to arch into his touch – it was liquid wildfire.

You knew that he would fuck you right here if you allowed it, and your core clenched at the thought. He grunted in victory when he noticed your reaction, and moved his attention to your collarbone and neck – he bit and kissed languidly, in the way he knew made you writhe.

You fought the urge to yank his head back and claim his mouth with your tongue, your body was beginning to betray your sound mind – you weren’t sure if the wetness between your legs was the rain or your own.

“Aemond.” you said weakly, tugging at his hair to try and reveal his face to you.

Aemond grunted against the valley of your neck, licking a hot trail up to your ear to distract you. He needed your hands on him now – he would break apart without them, crumble to ash.

“Aemond.” you commanded, nails digging into the scruff of his neck to get his attention.

He pried himself away from you with a hiss, tenderness rearing its head at the familiar, steely stubbornness of your gaze. He could never deny you, not really.

“Unless you want the entire palace to see me bare,” you challenged, eyebrow raised.

You stepped closer to him, hand on his chest once more. You reached up to caress his neck, lips against his ears in a whisper that you were surprised was not lost in the storm. “Or am I not yours?”

Aemond stared at you for a moment, your heaving breasts and wild eyes, the way the rain hung from your lips. He knew exactly what you were doing, yet he never had the strength to resist you. You, his conniving, feral love.

Aemond hummed without a word, taking your wrist and pulling you with him towards the unsuspecting wooden door you would often use.

If it were any other time, you’d have the strength to smile. You could always rely on your lover’s jealousy, if nothing else.

The walk to your chambers was a short one through the passageways, though this time you made the journey in complete darkness. Something about his unusual lack of restraint had you wetter than ever before, and now you were the one dragging him behind you, his hand protectively on your waist as if you’d disappear if he ever let go.

You weren’t certain about how you got so close to your bed – it was all a flurry of tongues, teeth, and desperation. You had never felt him move this fast before, save in his sparring matches. The prince’s need was palpable, a forest fire raging in the blood, forcing him to burn and lick like flame.

Faster than you could register, Aemond moved behind you and gripped your back against him, hard.

His pale palm was firm against your throat and clear in its instruction. You sighed at it, arching your neck back against his shoulder - bare and willing against the jaws of the dragon.

The prince’s other hand held your lower half flush to his clothed cock, and began to rock you against him. The friction was all-consuming, and you suddenly understood how the clash of battle could be glorious. You cursed his leathers for the distance they put between the two of you, and began to blindly move your hands behind you to free him from them.

Aemond snarled at the feeling of you trying to weave your way through his grip. Insolent. He readjusted his grip with a hiss, moving the source of his pressure to your clit as he continued to grind. He needed you still, to tame something, someone — he fumbled for control as if he were holding water with open fingers.

The dual friction ended what little control you had over your hands. Your eyes rolled back as they would during your visions, but the only god you saw this time was a dragon, devouring what little restraint you had left stored in your neck and shoulders.

Aemond groaned at the feeling of you jolting against his cock, sharply lapping at your ears and neck and biting what resistance your muscles dared present into submission. You fought to keep your head clear, grappling for a tether in a thick fog of pure want.

As your mind cleared, you began to feel the tremble in his hands, how his eye refused to open, his unwillingness to remove his leathers. A struggle for control.

You felt your resolve strengthen against his blunt bites to your temple. No. You thought. Not this time. Not like this. He needs me.

You took a deep breath, a final bolster before you tore yourself from his grip and whipped around at a speed that mirrored his own.

The dragon may have strength, but the raven has cunning and speed.

You watched his pale face balk in shock, lips parted and eye wide and heavy. Before he could revert back to his scrambled dominance against you, you brought your soft, uncalloused fingers to the sliver of scar tissue that peeked out from his eyepatch.

You stroked the raised, pale flesh with your thumb softly, and feeling the muscles jump, unused to contact. His eye began to flicker closed slightly, nostrils flaring. You watched him fight against his reflexes, unravelling like a half-tamed serpent.

When you replaced your lone thumb with two fingers, Aemond’s breathing stilled entirely, and for a moment you worried you had gone too far. The candlelight of your room was suddenly oppressive, seeking the reflecting glint of the sapphire underneath the eye patch.

You fought to remain eye contact, and swallowed at the intimacy of the gesture – somehow you felt like the one laid bare, as if the jaws of the dragon were stilled and coiled to strike. The metallic scent of danger did little but strengthen your resolve, and you pressed your lips to his, still parted in shock.

You caressed him as you always did, lulling him into the familiarity of your embrace to calm him. The kiss did little to dampen the fire between you, try as you might – there was always something within the both of you yearning for the other, like fire and blood.

“Ñuhon,” You whispered into his mouth, your rudimentary Valyrian holding a rustic beauty he had yet to find in even the libraries of Oldtown. “Ñuhon se sȳz.” Mine. Mine and good.

Aemond growled under the praise, and tried his best to mask his desperate, preening sob with a low grunt. Your core clenched at his response, fighting the urge to guide his fingers into you.

You shook the thought from your core. Not tonight.

You continued to caress his scar as you kissed him, paying little mind to the tense coil of his balled fists and thrumming heartbeat. You could feel him slowly softening into your languid ministrations, a low pant forming at the apex of his burning lungs as you continued to touch his scar.

You moved your other hand to massage his scalp in encouragement. Your movements were repetitive, deliberate – it was as if you felt afraid to frighten a stray cat. You felt his neck erupt in gooseflesh when your tongue grazed his bottom lip, the tension in his muscles stark against his involuntary preening.

Still fighting me.

Your kisses were plush and languid with the promise of wildfire. When you opened your eyes to meet his, he simply stared at you. Your eyes were probing, imploring in a way that made him fight the urge to panic.

You sighed as you ran your hands along whatever lands you could reach: chest, fangs, fingers, lips, talons.

“Ivestragī nyke,” you whispered, thumb soothing the sharp contours of his eye. Let me.

There was a long pause before you saw him nod, almost imperceptibly.

You pulled him to you once again, and this time, his hands moulded against your curves in silent submission. You sighed as you felt his tension dissolve in a way that made you want to sob.

You began to move him against you, wings in the wind, and he moulded himself around you like a wave to the moon.

His forehead slowly dropped to rest against yours heavily, exhausted, as you began to unbutton the stiff leather of his doublet. You would burn it in the morning.

You rubbed your nose against his in comfort, your heart straining at the relieved huff he let out.

You struggled slightly against the latching of his leathers, hands still freezing from the storm. But he was patient, eye closed and almost serene.

His skin looked more pallid than usual in the candlelight, and you observed the stark contrast of skin between the two of you as your hand found his bare chest. You imagined this was how he felt taming Vhagar as a boy — raw muscle, the touch of the untouchable.

You felt Aemond’s abdominal muscles tense at your cold touch, and then relax slightly at the feeling of your full lips on his chest.

Aemond felt your tongue against his flesh, a violent gentleness that took his breath away. It felt like the old gods rather than the seven – primordial, familiar, scorching. Devastating, but gentle nevertheless — as gentle as wildfire could be.

You marked your territory slowly, kissing and licking whatever bare, scarred skin you could find in front of you until you felt Aemond’s muscles begin to tremble in earnest.

You lost yourself in the act and in his warmth, whispering whatever broken Valyrian you could remember under your breath as you mapped the contours of his flesh: Dohaeris. Serve. Nuhon. Mine. Rapa. Soft. Gevie. Beautiful. You suddenly knew how Aegon the Conqueror felt when he looked out on his lands.

You tore your lips from him with great effort, finally looking up at his face when you felt him let out a long-held breath.

You felt the slick from your mouth leave a trail connecting your lips to him, and your stomach jolted when you saw the way he looked at you.

His eye was heavy with something you didn’t recognise, and his cheeks flushed. You licked your already-wet lips and felt your own face grow as hot as your core – he had been watching you the entire time, with a religious reverence and a hard cock.

The sight of him more wrecked than you had ever seen him, his scarred, bare chest and straining leathers ignited something deep within you – perhaps that dominance, that aggression that your parents had tried so hard to cull.

You stared at him through heavy lashes, pushing his shoulders down with a nod of your head. Aemond heeded your instruction without argument, sitting at the edge of your ornate, mahogany bed without his eye leaving yours.

There was something deeply erotic about the way he was looking up at you, and you both knew it. Your chest was heaving under your damp shift, now eye level with your lover as you stood over him. You wanted to break him, and then make him again, like a god. There was a pulsating power in the air, and it belonged to you. Is this how dragons feel?

You observed the way his lips parted in need – had it been any other night, he would have pulled you flush and taken your nipple into his mouth with a desperate urgency. But this time, he simply waited for instruction, single blue eye begging as violent need consumed him from the inside out.

Your fingers weaved their way into Aemond’s scalp as you kissed him with a sudden ferocity that you had little strength to fight, relishing in his grunt as you climbed and straddled his lap. You didn’t wait to remove his trousers, swallowing his groans of relief as you loosened the ties to relieve the tension.

He could have sobbed when he finally felt your hand make contact with his strained cock. He could already feel the tip weeping, and could do little to stop the flow of precum that escaped when you began to lick at his ear and neck as you pumped him.

“Ñuhon,” You repeated in unison with his strangled grunts. “Aōhon.” Mine. Yours.

He did not need to hear anything else but that broken phrase for the rest of his life.

He clutched you like he did Vhagar’s scales when he claimed her when you began to remove his eyepatch. Your hand never faltered on his cock as you stared at him, pupils dilating when you revealed the sapphire nestled deep within sensitive scar tissue.

You felt all that he did, he knew. He could see it in the way your pupils swallowed your irises whenever you would swipe a thumb over his tip.

Those eyes will be my undoing, he vowed, finally closing his open eye and letting it roll back into the blackness where the Stranger no doubt waited for him.

You relished his hiss of ecstasy when your free hand yanked at the hair close to his scalp, punctuating the pull with the squeeze of your hand on the tip of his cock. Aemond finally let out a strangled moan, all grunting restraint forgotten.

“Ivestragī jikagon,” Let go. You commanded, feeling yourself gush onto his drenched leathers at sight beneath you. You couldn’t stop yourself from rutting against his thigh, joining his moans to create a symphony that sounded closer to dragonsong.

You felt something ignite in you when you remembered his eyepatch in your hand. Spurred on by the prince desperately fucking himself into your hand beneath you, you quickly placed it over your lover’s head and guided it to sit around his neck. Pretty, you thought.

Aemond’s eye snapped open at the sudden sensation, eyes darkening as you slowly started to pull the leather tight. The pleasure that shot through Aemond almost winded him, his groans built from the pit of his stomach as you began to choke him.

“Kessa,” Yes. He repeated it like a prayer, though it still sounded too much like a command for your liking.

You couldn’t look away from each other as you began to fasten your pace on his cock and wind the strap tighter. Aemond’s pupils were blown and his teeth bared, your instruction forgotten as he began to desperately tug your core over to his cock.

You felt his entire body tremble and his cockhead darken even more – he would not last long, judging by his desperate need to sheath himself in you. You ignored the agony between your legs, that desperate ache to ride him – your work was not done.

You nipped at his shoulder in reprimand at his attempt to put you off of your strategy, punctuating the bite with another tug at his neck. You relished at his flared nostrils and his wrecked gaze. His eyes were pleading, desperate, adoring. If you didn’t know better, you could see tears begin to form.

“Ivestragī jikagon, Aemond.” Let go, Aemond.

He growled at that, defiant until you shifted your weight to hover your core over his cock. The sound the prince let out was more dragon than human, and it made you tighten your leash and hold his gaze — daring him to disobey you and fuck up into your warmth.

Gods. You groaned at his heady glare. You would need to be quick, your own resolve was becoming little more than dornish sand.

You weaved both hands into your lover’s silver hair and you straddled him, carefully holding your weight. You lowered yourself slightly and slowly with a hiss, until his cockhead barely breached you, nestled in the very opening of your walls.

The prince cursed within a groan. Aemond’s grip on your hips was bruising – the wetness between your legs did nothing to put out his fire. He groaned at the heat, legs shaking at being held over the edge like this.

He almost toppled over as he felt your tongue on his scar and your core clenched around his tip.

“Kessa ao ivestragī jikagon hen bisa?” Your words were a honeyed, panted command. Will you finally let go of this?

It was all too much for him. Your wanton acceptance of the ugliest part of him, the way you fit perfectly into his hold. He found himself nodding slightly, begging, and the overwhelming feeling of acceptance wormed its way through his core.

Something about the ease of it after all of these years was infuriating. He could do little else other than adore you, and beg for his destruction at your soft hands.

“Yes, yes I –” He shuddered as you began to let more of him in, the scorching warmth of you enveloping his cock until you were fully seated.

“Fuck,” You whimpered, feeling him completely fill your walls, everything you had.

You threw your head back as you began to ride him, sobs escaping you at the sheer feeling of fullness and the sound of him begging, babbling in Valyrian.

He watched you, enraptured as your hips began their familiar, snake-like dance against him. In his haze, he wondered how you, his anchor, had your palms anchored onto his chest.

You smiled at him slyly, something unspoken resolved during the whole affair – it felt lighter. He felt lighter. “Would you like to be released, my prince?”

You punctuated the address with a swivel of your hips, a clench of your core, and a caress of his balls behind you.

“Wretched woman.” He groaned weakly, gripping you for dear life as he tried to ward off his release. Impossible. “You save me from misery and tie me to the bloody post.”

His words did little more than spur you on. You lay flat against him, your chest on his as you began to ride him faster. The fire in your core was stronger than it had ever been, punctuated by your squelching wetness as you rode him. You let your lover adjust you so he could hit that sweet spot within you – he needed to please you, he always did. You allowed it, arching to allow his fingers to resume their familiar, circular position on your clit.

Your vision behind your eyes was bright white, brighter than the heavens as you felt your release chase after you. You weren’t certain your body would be here when you awoke, you were on fire. You would both be little more than ash when you awoke, and you would love each other more for it.

You felt the coil tighten past human comprehension for the both of you, an ouroboros of pleasure as you fed eachother. You saw your tears before you felt them, falling onto the prince under you like flutterings of volcanic ash.

“Let go, Aemond.”

Your final command was weak, but he followed it anyway, his eyes black and his throat hoarse as he released into you with a series of sobs and bites.

You stroked his scar as he came, barely registering the action past the involuntary shakes of your own release – white hot, powerful, older than time itself. Aemond watched you as you came, a creature, the goddess Syrax herself. Made for him, whatever he was now. Kinslayer. Made for you.

Aemond held you flush against him in the quiet aftermath, your head nestled into his shoulder. You continued to ride him slightly, slowly, wanting to drain him fully and feel it deep within you. He groaned softly as you did, attempting to get his shaking muscles under control before his grandfather came to find him. His eye felt sharper, his head clearer, and his heart lighter. Something had shifted.

You lifted your head with great effort, noting the long tear tracks on his cheeks. You have never seen Aemond cry, and you never would. But this was close enough. He met your thoughtful gaze with a serious look, searching. Almost as if he expected a recoil from him after the lustful haze. He found none, hoping his eye conveyed his gratitude — it was a weight his tongue couldn’t possibly manage.

Instead, you did as you always did. Unmake him and whatever wisdom he thought he had, while you gripped his hand in yours.

“You cannot control a dragon.”

He huffed.

“You control me well enough, my love.”

#song prompts #my fics #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader smut #hotd #hotd fics #unbowed unbeta'd unbroken #mine

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spadecentral · 1 year

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🖤 My Cat The Monster | Grim

>> requested: no >> a/n: so sorry about this bullshit; idk if this is really grim angst anymore but oh well

>> masterlist: ramshackle (misc.) >> summary: grim overblots >> reader prns: they/them >> warning(s): mentions of cuts & bruises; you replace yuu; before prologue battle model referenced

Last night you had realized that Grim wasn't... himself. You watched as he slept soundly, not talking to himself about tuna or bickering in his dream with you. You should have done something. You should have told Crowley, or someone else, at the very least. You shouldn't have kept it to yourself. You saw the blot on his gem. And yet you did nothing to stop it from taking Grim over.

What a horrible friend.

You woke up to the sound of roaring. You were covered in rubble and your bed was broken to splinters; it was a miracle that you weren't crushed when your dorm collapsed on your unconscious body.

Your body creaked and you groaned as you pushed off what you could. Your skin was torn and bruised, and your joints ached. You wanted to go back to bed for a bazillion years. But you could hear the yells of the NRC inhabitatnts in the distance, and the roars just got more and more aggressive.

Trying to stand, your skin pinched around uncomfortable pieces of concrete that had stuck to it and several splinters. After deciding against reaching for your slippers—which were Seven knows where—you awkwardly stood on your mattress. Balancing on various pieces of drywall and cement, you made your way across the broken building and safely onto the lawn.

Collapsing onto the soft grass, you heard the loud voices of your friends as they cheered and yelled your name. Tired and frustrated, tears welled in your eyes. You just wanted to find Grim so you could go back to sleep and cuddle with him.

Looking up, you saw a blur of students, half of them looking at you and the other half looking at something to their left. When you adjusted your gaze, your vision landed upon a large beast. It had the wings of a dragon, tentacles of an octopus, fingers of a human, the scales of armor, makeup on its face that looked like lace, and oh its face... the face of a cat. The face of Grim, your #1.

But you couldn't help but be scared. Its head turned to face yours, and slowly it started to make its way toward you. Frantic, you started to back up. Away from whatever that was. Because that was most certainly not your cat. The one that loves tuna and complains about everything ever.

The NRC staff and students took this opportunity to strike. Whipping out their magical pens, they all used numerous spells. You could even see Deuce's cauldron.

Hit with an excessive amount of magic, the beast's knees buckled and it fell down. It's head hit the ground with a loud thump, which made you bounce off the ground. Looking at it with a terrified expression, your eyes locked with its eyes, and all you could see in them was recognition and happiness.

And you knew then that the beast still had some of Grim in it. As it's eyes glossed over, a cloud of gray covering the color, all you could do was stare in shock.

He didn't revert to his small size at all.

Of course not.

Why would a dead animal shrink in size?

#twstnexus #twst grim #twst #twisted wonderland #twst angst #twisted wonderland angst #twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #grim twisted wonderland #twst yuu #grim twst #grim angst #twst grim angst #@.twst.works

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phoenixmakeswords · 4 months

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Started redoing chapter two of Broken Wings. I introduced Eirnin in chapter one, rather than two or three. Other changes I made(why does this sound like patch notes but for books?):

Eirnin is going to tell Aaron how to make Leo human again, rather than telling Leo.

Eirnin’s banishment is revealed in chapter one.

More banter between Aaron and Eirnin. I wanted to show how ride-or-die Eirnin is for their friends.

Completely rewrote the opening.

If you made it this far, you can have an excerpt as a treat!

He jiggles Eirnin’s shoulder gently to wake them.

“There’s still no power,” he informs them. “Adrian already texted me.”

“Thank the Dagda.” They push their eye mask up and roll onto their back. “I need a break from playing babysitter.”

“Can I sit? You can put your legs in my lap. I know. I love that he pushes everything off on you.” Aaron seems really comfortable with them. It makes me happy to know he has friends. “Even when he’s there, you’re still doing four jobs.”

“Aye, and getting paid for one.” Eirnin kicks their feet up in his lap once he sits. “I hate how he treats you and Kai. I can deal with him being a douche to me.”

“Speaking of Kai…” Aaron grins teasingly.

“Oi. I haven’t had my coffee yet. No talking people I may or may not be sleeping with until I’ve had caffeine.”

“I knew it! Salem owes me twenty bucks.” He looks like the version I knew when he grins playfully.

The look Eirnin gives him reminds me a bit of an annoyed cat. Their light brown eyes narrow grumpily.

“Why were you two wagering on my sex life?” They almost sound appalled.

“Because it was obvious something was happening.”

#my writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #lgbt romance #mm romance #broken wings and dragon dreams #urban fantasy

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eukarisparadise · 1 month

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Snake Fruit Cookie backstory headcanon

My friends and I once made a theory that Snake Fruit Cookie was the child of Affogato, who he «conjured» with the help of magic and a piece broken off from Dark Cacao. I know this sounds crazy, but listen.

Snake Fruit always dreamed of becoming a dragon, like those they were forced to bow before their entire life. Actually, this is probably why they went to serve Longan in the first place. But when they eventually managed to turn into a dragon, their appearance looked differently: Ananas, Lotus and Pitaya (I couldn't find Lychee, but I think they looked the same) were built, more or less, as we are used to seeing them in Western folklore – like lizards.

Snake Fruit, on the other hand, seemed to look more like a snake, they didn't have the wings or even the body of a dinosaur, and, nevertheless, they were signed as «Snake Fruit Dragon».

What does it mean?

Well, if you look closely, you'll see that they are depicted as a stereotypical Oreo dragon from the Dark Cacao Kingdom. I don’t think that if it had depended on them, they wouldn't have taken on the appearance that they saw in the faces of their masters – which means that they acquired such an appearance due to circumstances beyond their control. I'm making the simplest bet possible: they already were like this, it was in their nature to become a dragon that looked like this.

Because Snake Fruit themselves are not from this region. They are from a place where serpentine dragons are reflected in culture (tapestry and statues) and folklore (the tale of dragons that king Dark Cacao cut down, creating a cycle of day and night).

Now what does their supposed kinship has to do with it? Well, eh, I just wanted to somehow connect these two restless souls with too similar destinies, but different ages (I always presumed Affogato is old for some reason): both Affogato and Snake Fruit managed to achieve their goals, but failed to keep them. I can’t say anything about their external resemblance to any of them – based on their appearance, I can rather assume that this is Affogato who's the second parent of Dark Choco, but that’s not the point.

Based on some joking Twitter posts, we've concluded that most likely Choco's mother is White Lily, who created him based on her designs and research (with some help from Dark Cacao, of course), but what happened to her notes when she left to Beast Yeast? They didn't just disappear, did they? So, I came to the conclusion that no, they didn't – which Affogato could have taken advantage of.

Affogato couldn't have been unaware of the circumstances under which Prince Dark Choco was exiled: it might have occurred to him at some point to curry favor with the king by using Lily's notes to create a new heir (possibly even secretly taking a piece from him, resulting in unequal parts). No relations are implied here though: in Cookie Run, one of the semi-«official» methods of reproduction involves breaking off two pieces of dough from the parents to, when combined, create a new cookie.

He didn't take into account, though, that his half ended up disproportionately larger than Cacao's: baby Snake Fruit turned out to be almost a copy of Affogato, and he began to fear that the king simply wouldn't believe him. Add to that Cacao's deteriorating condition due to Affogato's control magic, and we have a deadlock situation: the resulting child needed to be protected.

Affogato could have known that the dragon gene might reveal in Snake Fruit one day. Considering that he himself was a mixture of Coffee Tribe and Milk Tribe residents, and the resulting child clearly reflected his Milk ancestors, it was safe to assume that Dark Cacao's ancestors would eventually manifest themselves too. Keeping this in mind, the idea came to him to send the child far away to Longan, the Dragon Master, to keep them away from harm. They would raise them, nurture them in their home, and perhaps something worthwhile would come out of them, while Affogato figured out how to explain their existence to the king.

Well, along with the genes of Affogato's ancestors, Snake Fruit inherited his nasty character and penchant for intrigue – unwittingly following in the footsteps of one of their parents, becoming an advisor and being cast down for it into the abyss. Hopefully, their body will wash up on the shores of the continent, where their newfound majesties can be picked up by kind people: someone must ultimately look after the king while Caramel Arrow is busy defending the kingdom, and Dark Choco hasn't come to his senses yet.

Literally the only thing that doesn't fit into this theory is Longan themselves: firstly, their dragon appearance somewhat resembles Snake Fruit's dragon form. There's no reason to assume that Longan has any connection to the Dark Cacao Kingdom (unless Snake Fruit hadn't seen their dragon form before). And secondly, Longan... well, they're chauvinist – they wouldn't accept a regular cookie into their service, even if kings were to ask them to. In that case, Affogato would have to persuade the dragons that the child is a hundred percent dragon, just not awakened yet (and by the time it became clear that it's more cookie than dragon, they would have gotten used to their service and simply mockingly called them «Snake»).

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk again.

#cookie run #cookie run ovenbreak #cr ovenbreak #cookie run kingdom #crk #affogato cookie #crk affogato #dark cacao cookie #dark cacao crk #snake fruit cookie #longan dragon cookie #dragons #white lily cookie #white lily crk

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readychilledwine · 2 months

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3 facts about your OCs aaaaaand go!

*blinks slowly* all... all my ocs?

Warning - long post

Aelia (Broken)

Her favorite holiday is Solstice Eve. She doesn't care if it's not an actual holiday. She will throw hands over this topic

She's been begging Rhys for sunken greenhouse for a while. He doesn't understand why they'd need it, but he's coming around.

Aelia can control the weather. Happy? Large snowfall. Angry? Blistering heat and humidity. Sad? Thunderstorms all day.

Rhiannon (Requiem for a Dream)

Rhiannon hates hard candy. Which works for Azriel. It's the weirdos favorite.

She's only ever had sex with Rhys. Both due to insecurities from her father ripping her wings off her back, and because when you already fuck a God, why would you settle for disappointment?

Rhiannon became so in touch with the realm during her father's imprisonment of her and Azriel that she began to be able to speak to it similarly to Azriel and his shadows. It caught Rhysand's father's attention, and he forced her to stay close to him. If Hybern so much as pissed near a log during the first war, Rhiannon knew.

Lyria Vanserra (Slow Hands)

Lyria spent 39 years being owned by Rhys UTM. She was the one who'd originally dance for him at parties until Feyre came. Their relationship is complex, loving, and so deeply rooted into both of them, Rhys may have married her had he never met Feyre.

Lyria is Helion's and Beron knows, Lucien he questions, but Lyria he knows. He found out when Lyria was 5. She was cuddling on his lap in his office and annoyed because the sun was in her eyes, preventing her from sleeping on her daddy. She ended up forcing the sun to change position and instantly fell asleep in his arms. That was the first and only time LoA saw Beron cry because of how emotionally hurt he was. Beron pretended not to know he wasn't Lyria's father until she was sold to Rhys. He loved her too much to let her go.

Lyria is also banned from the Summer Court. Cassian destroyed a building. Lyria streaked through one. That building happened to be a temple. She doesn't remember why she's banned. Only that her and Tarquin were having fun until some lady came and yelled at them.

Seren (Death of Peace of Mind)

She's my cuntiest OC in that she serves and is one.

Seren will not wear a dress that costs less than 90 gold marks. It made sewing for her a pain for her mother, but her father absolutely loved showering her with the finest silks, hand-made lace, and furs.

Seren hates chocolate. It's a trait that she's pretty sure actually runs in their family, but Rhys pretends to enjoy it so people don't judge him. Seren doesn't care if you judge her. Your taste buds are wrong. Not hers.

Aerilyn (Flight Patterns)

Aerilyn speaks 20 languages due to how often her and the dragons move. Arguably, she may be the smartest person in the room for that reason.

Aerilyn would rather sleep in the pit with her little pack than on a bed. She's snuck out several times to do it and snuck in to make sure she wasn't caught.

Aerilyn is unaware that she has powers. She thinks her relationship with the dragons is completely normal for a rider.

Kaylee Archeron (Bound by Fate)

Kaylee is heavily based off of snow-white, and I mean that. So spoiler if you know the story.

Kaylee hates wearing pants. Azriel stares too much when she does, and she doesn't get why. She's just Kaylee. There's nothing to stare at. (Besides that ass)

Elain gardens, Nesta reads, Feyre painted, Kaylee does sketches. Preferably animals, and babies. Kaylee loves babies.

Amelia Archeron (Kissed by Fire)

Amelia doesn't have hobbies. She was so busy working in the brothel that for years she lost herself.

Amelia dreams of traveling the world and far-off places. Her drawer on the dresser was painted like a map with autumn leaves in the corners

Amelia and Lucien have a close relationship. Both of them are closer to each other than they are any of their siblings. He's the little brother she always wanted. She's the big sister Lucien always needed.

Seraphina Vanserra (Lollipop)

Sera was raised UTM. She's desensitized to cruelty to where she doesn't even realize it is happening. Seraphina lacks some social skills and cues because of this as well. Cassian adores that.

Seraphina was never allowed to train her powers because she is a female and because Amarantha took them when she was young. She has no clue what she can do or who she is.

She became a hopeless romantic after sneaking out of the mountain one night and seeing the night sky for the first time. Rhysand was the one who found the 15 year old, and instead of punishing her or forcing her back inside, he told her the stories behind all the constellations.

Briar (Suprises)

Briar is the cause behind both Spring and Night losing their previous high lords and their mates. At least she feels that way despite Rhysand telling her that her father was an abusive male

Briar once asked Rhys why they weren't just one giant poly family. The answer was Mor. He said it'd be too weird.

Briar has planned the gardens of Day, Night, and Dawn since she left Spring. She has sketches laying them out every year, and Rhys keeps the old ones safe. He looks at them when she's busy and he misses her.

Irelina (Early Mornings)

Irelina is from the only Illyrian camp that does not clip wings, and she is technically the overseer of said camp. She has hands she trusts to watch it in her place so she can be with Cassian.

Irelina was actually seeing Azriel before the Bond snapped between her and Cassian. She loved Azriel too much to let him go, though, and he loved her and Cass so much that the three became a throuple.

Irelina once had to correct someone for calling Cassian "Irelina's husband." Cassian promptly told them they were correct, and that was his name.

#elizabeths.updates #send anons #send asks #get to know my ocs

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anarchytaken · 1 year

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Ruler of the End

TWST x Male Reader

Ender Dragon Male Reader

This blasted hunter-!

The ruler of the end roared at the green hunter and his friends before firing a row of hot fire of violet. With a pump of his wings, he ascended to the void-less sky, the pillars of obsidian that held the ender crystals, their beams of light healing him at every attack that was shot at him. The dragon glared as one of the hunters shot an arrow at him, missing him by an inch as he flew past.

How idiotic.

He swooped down, sky diving before barrel rolling against his adversaries, battering them with his sudden attack before he was up in the skies again. He had heard the screams of frantic panic and fear as two of them were nudged off the island and into the void. The Ender Dragon had smirked at the development, How delightful-

A sudden pain shot itself from his spine before attacking the rest of his nerves, making him wince. A wither potion, he had realized as his wings falter in their flight, inevitably slowing him down.

This gave the hunter and his remaining friends to fire their shots, arrow after arrow, doused in any potion that’ll damage him. The ruler checked his health bar to see his health right in the middle, dwindling at every attack and every wince he makes at the wither potion’s effect.

A frightening realization made itself clear, My ender crystals-!

After taking a look at the obsidian pillar, the dragon saw towers made from different materials, built to climb the pillar that now held nothing in their cages. WHEN-

CHINK

A pain not so miniscule made itself known in the ruler’s body, lurching at the feeling. His eyes went down to see a scale slipping off before it followed by another as more arrows hit his body. He glanced at his dwindling health bar, his time is almost up.

But that doesn’t mean that those hunters will live.

The fire in his heart blazened so bright with rage as his resolve hardened itself like an iron fortress. Those hunters took his parent before he was born, and the endermen under his rule took care of him in his growing years yet they suffered under the provocation and mistreatment of the hunters from the Overworld. The dragon remembers how he witnessed one of his guards being slaughtered by one of them just to become an ingredient to be used.

That guard was also the endermen who would play hide and seek with him. . .

His heart now riddled with anger and sorrow, the dragon swooped down one last time for the grand battle.

If I burn, they burn with me.

A row of flames, a batting with his tail, claw marks scratched on broken netherite armor and bleeding torsos. In exchange, a shot from a bow, a parry from a sword, the sound of vials being broken before the effect of the potion does its magic on your body.

It wasn’t until a good amount of his scales were chinked off, blood from open wounds dipped down, and a broken wing that he looked at the dead corpses of the friends of the smiley mask hunter, their faces contorted into fear. The ruler of the End let the signs of smug smirk show.

All that’s left was the green man himself.

He stood surrounded by your purple flames, casting shadows to his haggard form. His sword broken, his armor of the strongest metal cracking - on the verge of being destroyed. But amidst the destruction and the trail of corpses in front of him, his posture wasn’t one of fear. His hand gripped the handle of his unusable sword tightly before he switched it with an axe, his shoulders tensed, and if the dragon strained his ears, he would be able to hear rough and angry breathing.

Behind that painted smile was a man of vengeance.

And so was the Ender Dragon.

The dragon curled his lips into a cruel smile as he readied to meet the angry hunter, “Come and face me, Dream!”

Dream let out a battle cry, for his friends or out of anger, the ruler wasn’t sure. But all he knew was when he started running towards the hunter of green, his axe raised high as the dragon bared his teeth before the two clashed.

*-*

When the Ender Dragon was meeting his final moments, he managed to get a good look at the mangled corpse of the green hunter with the mask before he fell to the ground of end stone, closed his eyes, and died.

Hoping his citizens will take care of his kin.

How strange.

His paradise of rest was only for 30 seconds at best before he found himself thinking again. Is death supposed to make you sleep? Make your consciousness numb from all senses so you can float in a sea of nothingness?

If so, why was his death so short!?

Surprisingly, the dragon felt his hand twitched from the lack of movement before it hit something hard-

HE’S STILL IN HIS BODY!?

The Ender Dragon shot his eyes open to see himself surrounded by red velvety cushions, but behind them was something akin to wood. He wasn’t a foreigner to materials grown in the Overworld, his endermen tutors have brought him there to learn of the different realms and biomes. Though, he couldn’t discern what type; Oak, Dark Oak, Birch, he doesn’t know. He was in an enclosed space. . . An enclosed space! A dragon does not belong in something as small as this box! He deserves to be in the open air!

He tried to move when something soft and silky restricted his movements, strands of hair curtaining his face. Hair? He must be in his hybrid form then, that’s how he was able to fit in this small enclosure. But. . .Wasn’t he supposed to be dead?

The realization had his heart lurched up to his throat. The new and unfamiliar surroundings clogged up his throat, his head felt woozy as his ears started ringing. The space closed around him, making him feel smaller than he was before. His heart lurched again at this, confusion, anxiety, this claustrophobia was too maddening. He couldn’t breathe-

He needed to get out.

Resisting the restriction of this fabric, he clawed against the cushioned wood in front of him, desperate to get out. Questions flooded his brain as his circuits were going haywire with anxiety and fear, from the unknown or the lack of understanding how he is here, he’s not sure.

What he does know is that he has to get out! What happened to him!? Where is he!? How is he alive!? How is he alive!? How is he alive!? How is he alive!? How is he alive!? How is he alive!? How is he alive!? How is he alive!? How is he alive!? -

Click

That sound alone was able to quiet his thoughts and stop his actions, a creak sounded as the door of the enclosure opened slightly, letting in a ray of light to filter through the small gap. His heart bursted with hope, relief, and desperation.

An out!

As fast as he ever went, he pushed himself out of the enclosure, and spread his wings, (ignoring the sound of ripping and tearing), before flinging himself into the air with a gust of wind from his wings. His tail, now not suffocated, wriggled with joy as the feeling of freedom settled in his bone.

It wasn’t until his senses became acute and started working, his eyes taking in the dark room with floating coffins, an array of eerie green lights, a three layered fountain in the middle, and a giant mirror with a pale mask. Inside the room was an ocean of creatures that wore the same black and purple clothing, exempting the one tall man with a bird’s mask and a hat and a strange creature that resembled a cat. His ears twitched at the sea of voices that gasped or screamed in shock and fear, all ranging from high to low, gruff to soft, from loud to a whisper.

And his nose. . .

The scents he’s inhaling are familiar yet not quite. It’s as if animals and humans were mixed into one, and there’s a scent of something inhuman yet not beastly. Something entirely new.

It was this that had his previous joy of freedom sink to his foot and let dread, confusion, and another load of anxiety wash in.

This was not his world.

Of course not, he was supposed to be dead.

The two facts alone were enough to make his inner primal instincts take over. Stressed, he roared at the creatures in the room, eyes turning to aggressive slits. Screams shot through the air as the dragon dove among the sea of creatures, making them avert into a path before the said dragon swooped up back into the air. Of course, this was for show. What the former ruler of the end was doing was trying to find a way out.

These are different from my world. I need to be careful, they’re capabilities are possibilities. Where’s the out? Where’s the ou- My Ender, I’m such a zombie head.

Amidst his panic and confusion, he did not notice the giant double doors with grand designs at the back of the room. No one needs to take a guess that that’s the exit. His heart was filled with relief before something tied his wings together, resulting in him diving head first to the ground. The loss of his wings was restricting as he squirmed around to reach his back to undo the binds when a deep voice of a man stopped him,

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, lizard.”

Anger flared in his chest, how dare he call him, the Ender Dragon, a lizard!? He’s nothing like his distant cousins, who crawls around and licks their eyeballs- how disgusting!

He snarled at the culprit, who turned out to be one of the hooded creatures. Underneath the hood was an exceptionally handsome man with tanned skin and dark brown hair, a scar over one of the two sharp forest green eyes that seemed to glare down at his being.

The ruler of the end snarled in return, still insulted at his remark, but nonetheless asked him, “ Where am I!?”

At this point, a crowd started to form around them. A tall and beautiful blond human with amethyst purple eyes came beside the brunette man and remarked, “Ah, so the lion decided to catch bigger prey. Now, I see how lion beastmen are.”

“Shut your mouth, Schoenheit.” snapped the brunette.

Came up as a short human, under the hood were strands of rose red hair and large eyes of blue that completed his doll-like face, which only twisted into an unpleasant angry scowl, “How dare you not only disturb the entrance ceremony but also delay the schedule!?” With a wave of his small stick, he shouted “Off with your Head!” before something clasped and locked around the dragon’s neck. It was suffocating and more annoying than his wings getting tied.

Well, this is nothing but what annoys him the most is that none of them are listening! He spoke in the same language as them, which he figured was Common, but they not only ignored him but that small human had the audacity to collar him!?

The disgrace!

A voice shouted amongst the sea of hooded creatures before they made a path for the man with a bird mask and a top hat, clocks and keys hung from his dark and elegant clothing, clacking as they hit each other. Was this a new species?

The man looked down at the captured Ender Dragon, “How surprising, not only do we have a magicless call from the Dark Mirror, but also a dragon fae! Oh, this day keeps on surprising me.” Said the bird man.

An adult! The dragon thought, finally someone mature and reasonable! “Excuse me, where am I!?”

But, much to his dismay and anger, the bird man ignores him as he starts berating the dragon, “ What you did was utterly impatient and reckless! Do you know how much damage you could’ve caused!? Ah, I could tell this one will. Be a handful.”

“Don’t start complaining, headmage.” The beautiful blond human deadpanned.

The chatter around the dragon was starting to make his head hurt, his ears ringing, and his anger elevated. He needs answers, he needs them now or else he’ll go crazy! What is this place, who are these creatures, what are they!?

He was back to square one, when he was trapped in that coffin, wondering how he was alive and breathing and how he was here. His chest hurt from breathing to harshly, heat boiled from his throat as smoke huffed out of his nose, his eyes shaking from stress.

The lights, although the room was dim, were hurting his eyes, and he wanted nothing but to pull at his dark strands that were in his face. A storm of emotions, uncontrollable and untameable at the moment, boiled and rose to his throat when he noticed the bird man asking him something,

“My, are you okay?”

That was when he let out an ear-splitting, deafening roar that made every creature in the room cover their ears. But within this roar, was an order in the form of the Enderian language mixed; it asks for the help of his people.

And in response, a scream shot into the room before a thwack followed.

The familiar static-like popping of enderman teleportation followed by a glitchy inhuman scream had the dragon ruler almost crying. The room was thrown into confusion again as they were faced with the endermen, creatures that the ruler now knows the creatures here are not aware of existing. And they all made the mistake of looking at their eyes, the key to provoking them.

The Ender Dragon watched as the creatures in hoods tried to fend off the teleporting creatures of the end, shooting beams of energy, only to miss when his citizens teleported away before appearing behind them and attacking.

The dragon then felt hands working on removing his binds, followed by a reassuring voice speaking in Ender, “My lord, it is a relief to see you alive.”

Nanny, the dragon shouted in happiness, internally.

“ Nanny, it’s so great to see you again. But I’m lost.”

“I as well. We all saw you die from the wounds of that human hunter, but to see you alive in another realm. . . How peculiar yet strange.”

The snap of the binds had the former ruler stretch his wings quickly, turning to his nanny for a thanks. The female enderman only bowed her head before disappearing once more. With new strength, the dragon took hold of the collar around his neck before snapping it off in half, as if it was made of a fragile material.

Alarmed screams were ignored as the ruler of the End shot to the air and rushed towards the double doors, slamming them open before flying through the corridors. They were elegant in design, pillars to hold the structure of the building, dark cobbled stone as wall, and torches alight with flames of green.

Hurried footsteps were behind him, but he never faltered in his flight for the open skies; and what a discovery to find an open courtyard. The sight of trees, its greenery, and a stone well had the dragon’s heart soar as he shot up into the dark sky above, laughing as he spun in the air before hovering over the building he just came out from. Violet eyes scoured the land he was on; the building he came out of was one of the many buildings from this vast land area.

Small buildings are scattered amongst the green forest, some with pathways of dirt or stone. Some buildings were bigger than the others, a coliseum at one side, and a wooden cottage - wait it’s bigger than a cottage - amongst the trees, with a dirt path leading the way.

And in the center of the attention was a giant castle with multiple layered floors, its towers pointed and the aesthetic gothic and wicked. But this. just confirms the dragon's suspicions; this was not his world.

Confusion filled his head again when the beating of wings stopped him from thinking again, “ My, this is a surprise.”

A voice, deep and enchanting, spoke, making the dragon turn and his breath hitched. The stranger was an ethereal man with dark strands that fell over his shoulders, lime-green irises that seemed to glow in the night time, encompassed in his sharp eyes. His skin of pale white was a good contrast to his dark locks, his facial structure probably sculpted by the hands of the gods themselves.

But the most striking thing about him was the horns and wings he had, horns curved a bit back colored black, his wings’ skeletal structure was a light shade of black while the flaps were a leathery obsidian color.

A dragon, just like him.

Stunned, he was struck speechless.

The stranger did not seem bothered by his lack of response as he began circling the Ender Dragon, intrigued as his eyes analyzed him. The dragon licked his lips from how dry it was, watching as the dragonling finished his analysis before meeting his eyes, “ I’ve never met another dragon fae until now, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything.” he said.

Dragon fae? The former ruler of the End scrunched his brows together as he finally spoke, “Fae? I am no fae, I am the Ender Dragon.”

The supposed dragon fae widened his eyes, “An actual dragon then,”

The said dragon nodded, “Yes, I am.” he then tilted his head, “Do you have a name? I would like to know the first person who managed to have a proper conversation with me.”

The beautiful stranger hummed, cupping his face in thought, “You do not know who I am?”

Furrowing his brow, the ender dragon shook his head, “No, I am from another world - much different from this one - and have no knowledge of this place or who you are.”

The stranger widened his eyes at the revelation, “How amazing, a dragon from another world,” then with an alluring smile, “Very well, my name is Malleus Draconia, a student of Night Raven College.”

After the introduction, the ruler then explained his situation, earning the dragon fae - now named Malleus’s understanding. The fae then led him back to the room he was in before, which was called the Mirror Chamber.

When they arrived, the endermen were still attacking, the hooded creatures were now behind a barrier shield conjured by some of the hooded creatures he met. Ah, I forgot about them, the dragon eyed his reptile companion, who looked at the scene in shock.

“Was the Entrance Ceremony today?” asked Malleus, who then pouted, “And I was not invited again.”

“Mr. Draconia!” The brid man, who the dragon thinks is the ‘headmage’ of the school, shouted while fending off the endermen with his stick and power. “I apologize for this, but we are in dire need of assistance!”

A yelp from one of the shorter creatures was heard followed by another one cursing in disdain before a shot of light was seen, violet eyes looking to see a short hooded creature behind a slightly taller creature who protected the former.

Malleus eyed the Ender Dragon curiously, to which the dragon smiled sheepishly before having his chest before letting out a roar, grabbing the attention of the ender people.

You may now leave, thank you. he said in ender.

His people bowed towards him before teleporting away.

A cacophony of relieved sighs were heard as the barriers were removed, some of them slumped to the ground in relief.

The headmage wiped sweat from his brow before looking at him, “You! What spell did you use to summon those creatures!? And why did you fly out of the mirror chamber!? Did the teleportation magic leave you confused with amnesia or-“

“Headmaster,” Malleus interrupted, “I believe there has been a mistake. The dragon here is not of this world and is supposed to be dead.”

The headmaster choked on his saliva.

Chapter 2 3 4 5

#x male reader #ender dragon reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #minecraft #ender dragon

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deadmenandthedivine · 9 months

Text

DEAD MEN § the DIVINE

chapter six: bound in old magic

Maetilda Targaryen, First of her Name, was supposed to be many things. What she became was entirely different.

table of contents

trigger warning!!! this fic contains many graphic topics and depictions. such as but not limited to: dead parents, abusive parents, toxic family systems, incest, medieval misogyny, forced marriage, threats of assault (sexual § physical), actual assault, imprisonment, kidnapping, murder, blood/gore, uxoricide, familicide, PTSD and other neurodivergence. i will do my best to update as i go along, but please let me know if i have missed anything!

word count: 3959

There were cliffs and hills as far as the eye could see. Rocky, rain cast shores. The eastern shores of Westeros were not kind to the ships in its seas. Yet she was not traveling by ship, she was soaring through the skies as if she were on dragonback, but there was no dragon beneath her either. She was flying and weightless and free. Her unseen wings carried her over mountains and toward the northern side of one of the shore’s peninsulas, passing over a port city as she flew. It was breathtaking. The lands passed by in a rush beneath her, yet no wind blew its way through her hair. It was such an easy feeling. No troubles, no responsibilities, no discomfort. As she neared a grand, old concentric castle situated a safe distance from the shoreline and its crashing waves, the gray clouds dropped and thickened into heavy fog. The land felt familiar, like she had been there before. But it was not Dragonstone or any land in the Free Cities that she recognized. It was not Braavos, too cloudy to be Pentos, too far North to be Volantis, not far enough from the shore to be Norvos or Qohor. Her brain scoured every corner within itself to fish for the name of the Keep and town below. None of them matched, none of them felt even close to correct. She had not seen the shore, not from what she could remember.

As a child, she would have dreams of sprinting off the edges of cliffs, only for the wind beneath her arms to carry her far from any rocky landings. She could still remember the bliss of soaring over the Realm. She would coast through the steaming dragon nests and caverns of Dragonmount, over the islands of the Stepstones and the Free Cities, and beyond the Bay of Blackwater where the Red Keep stood. She had seen all of these places from dragonback. Whether it was riding alongside her father on Caraxes or her late stepmother on Vhagar, or best yet without either of her parents on the back of her own mount Shrykos. The warm wind of familiarity would brush through her hair as she did. She would feel the sun beating down more intensely the higher she flew. The mist of the clouds would dampen her hair and face. Yet this time was not the same. She could not feel the wind, or the sun, or the dampness of the clouds. But the familiarity twisted in her gut like the twist of a knife. It hurt. She felt broken. As the pain overtook her, she could feel the momentum under her arms begin to slow. The front of her dipped to point back towards the earth. Her feet, still locked with a pointed toe, trailed after. With the same strength and speed with which she flew, she dropped.

The fear washed over her stronger than any wave. She was plummeting back down to the ground below. Desperately, she tried to steer herself toward the unknown bay. Flailing arms, kicking feet, grabbing at any bit of air she could. She hoped the sea would catch her fall, but it was to no avail. She no longer had control of herself. She continued to thrash helplessly as she tried and tried and tried to point toward the water. Her screams and cries were muffled. No tears fell down her face. All she could do was let panic consume her as she drew closer to cliffs and hills. They were both rocky and grassy, that of land perhaps not too far North. She wondered how hard the ground would be, if more rocks lay beneath the surface of the grass. Perhaps limestone or granite, she knew she would soon find out. Her body tensed at the thought, bracing for impact. It felt like she gained speed the closer to the earth she traveled. Her body honed into a single valley. It was surrounded by jagged hills and had a single trail running through it. She watched in horror as the ground below grew closer and closer, committing the valley to memory. The impact was nothing but tightness in her chest. The echo of a horse winnie rang in her ears as she tried to launch awake into a seated position, but she couldn’t move. Her eyes snapped open to see a figure in a black cloak stood above her. A sharp, icy chill ran down her spine. The night was dark, and no fires or candles were lit. Shadows obscured the person’s identity. They were tall and slender, their right hand extended in the air. They stood menacingly still. She screamed as hard as she could, only for no sound to come out. Her mouth did not even open. Fighting as hard as possible internally to move, she could still remember the sensation of her limbs thrashing in the sky. Yet her muscles were stiff and unmoving. The only control she had was her eyes as they bore into the hole of the black cloak where one’s face should be. She could feel its gaze dig into her soul. It made the hairs on her arms stand on edge. Not able to stand it any longer, she clamped her eyelids back together as tight as she could. Inside her head, she prayed to any Gods that would hear her and asked them to send the demon away — whatever person or spirit it claimed to be. She laid frozen in terror for what felt like days.

When the princess finally opened her eyes again, the sun had come back up. Her handmaids knocked on the door before entering, they seemed a bit more finicky than normal. It set off a sense of dread in her gut, making her anxious to even leave her bed. With a pitiful groan, she rolled over onto her side. She took the pillow beneath her head with her, sandwiching her head between the feathered cushions. Her limbs ached with stiffness as she moved them, reminding her of the inability to do so the night before. Another cold shiver ran down her spine. She had no clue what sort of ghost had sought to haunt her, but she was at least thankful that a god had heard her prayers. The black cloak was no longer in her chambers. For the time being.

“Princess, what is that beneath your pillow?” Adelyn’s voice inquired carefully.

The cold shiver that had run down her spine permeated its chill throughout the room, causing it to feel ice cold. Her mind raced with possibilities. The dread within her ran heavy and thick. She had not put anything there. She had not put things beneath her pillows since she was a child, when she sneaked her dolls into bed with her. She had not felt anything there the night before, something that could have been left by the servants. The knights would not have let anyone into her rooms to leave anything there in the night either. Perhaps it had been the spirit with the black cloak, cursing her for the foreseeable future. So many questions she had, so few answers. The dread that pumped through her veins settled in her gut. She knew she needed to look. To see what the maid had referred to. With all the courage that she could muster, the princess uncovered her head to find lapis, gneiss, and agate stones scattered around where her head and pillow had been. They each had different runes carved on them. She did not recognize the symbols, but she knew instinctively what they were. Perhaps the black cloak truly had cursed her.

“I forgot I had those in my hand when I went to sleep,” Maetilda lied, forcing an airy chuckle.

“The colors of them are quite pretty.” Adelyn smiled.

“I thought so too, I saw them in a Pentoshi market.”

“I’ve only heard stories of Pentos. Is it as beautiful and sunny as they say?”

The handmaids helped the princess out of bed and over to the vanity. As the older one went to strip the bed, Maetilda gestured for her to leave it and start searching the wardrobe for a gown, “Oh yes! The weather is always favorable and the street dancers are better than legend.”

“My father was from Pentos.” Noarysa muttered softly.

“Oh, how wonderful! Does he speak of it often?” The princess asked with a bright and genuine smile.

“Only when he is drunk and my mother begs him to,” The handmaid giggled.

“That is sweet. They must love each other greatly. Do you live with them? Is your mother from the Seven Kingdoms?”

“Yes, I do. And no, she is from a city called Volantis.” Noarysa shook her head.

“They are a long way from home. What has brought them to King’s Landing?”

“My father says that too many bad, fancy men wanted to take my mother to bed. He wanted to keep her safe from them.”

“A good man indeed.” The princess mused, “Are they happy here?”

“Very much, princess. He spends his days fishing. My mother stays home to watch my children.”

Maetilda smiled as she tried to picture the brood. Adelyn continued to work at her hair. The silver honey tresses were slowly being weaved and braided into the most intricate updo the princess had sported at the Keep yet, “How many do you have? Does their father live with you too?”

“I have two, both boys. We’ve been praying for a third, a girl. My husband makes shoes and leather goods down in Flea Bottom.”

“Your family sounds beautiful, Noarysa.” All feelings of fear and dread had nearly dispersed, “What is his name? I am in need of new riding boots.”

The older handmaid emitted a contagious warmth that began to thaw the room as she spoke of her loved ones. The princess was completely enthralled by it. All three of them were aware of the impropriety of their conversation, yet it felt too sweet for any of them to stop. The princess had always spoken to her handmaids at Dragonstone in the same manner. It made the princess feel less exposed to them as they cleaned her quarters and the crevices of her body when she at least knew of their families or where they laid their heads at night. As her hair received its finishing touches and she was dressed in her gowns, she learned that Adelyn’s mother had worked in a brothel and had worked hard to get Adelyn such an honorable job. But their words soon became a background hum as memories of the princess’s dream drifted back into her mind. Where had she flown over? Why couldn’t she feel it? What did the black cloak want? When she had snapped back into reality, she was dressed in a pale red gown with deep ruby dragon brocade. It had a square neckline and exaggerated bishop sleeves. The skirt flared out with a small train. She donned her bronze dragon belt from before, as well as a bronze headpiece that resembled dragon tails. Bronze rings, bracelets, and necklaces, laced intricately with black tourmaline and onyx. She looked every bit a princess as her title suggested.

With much appreciation, she thanked and excused her handmaids. She waited for them to make it several paces down the corridor before pulling the knight at her door into the room by his armor. Ser Gunthor whined in protest at her actions. Exaggerating the hurt she had caused him as much as he possibly could. He cursed and cried up until the very moment the princess shoved the carved stones from under her pillow into his hands. His eyes doubled in size at the sight of them, encasing the stones in his fists as if to hide them from any prying eyes.

“Princess, you must tell me who gave you these.”

“I do not know. They were under my head when I woke up this morning.”

“No one came to your chambers last night.”

“So it must have been a ghost?”

The knight sighed before dropping the stones back into the princess’s hands. With frantic breaths, he began to tear at her bedding. He checked in the sheets and pillows and underneath the mattress. The princess furrowed her brows in confusion as he moved onto the writing desk. Glossing his eyes over its surface and through its drawers, opening each one to thoroughly rummage. He did not seem to find what he was looking for there either. Next, he tried her trunk and wardrobe. He ruffled through dresses and cloaks and petticoats and shoes. The princess watched him silently. He seemed to grow desperate as he started checking between the cushions of her chaise, couch, armchairs sitting around the fireplace. Still, he came up with nothing. With a continued panic, he returned to her and began checking over her exposed skin.

“Are you cut anywhere?”

She shook her head, “No.”

“If you find any new injuries that you do not remember, you tell me or Ser Eddrin. Ser Wyllam will tell your father.”

She nodded her head obediently.

“Same goes for anything new that you find in your chambers. No matter what it is — a rock, a piece of jewelry, even if it’s a damn leaf from outside.”

She nodded her head again, “Ser Gunthor, what does this mean?”

“Someone has gifted you binding runes carved in precious stones. Together, they could have a few different meanings. Among them… a more possessive love spell or a sort of claim over you. The stone suggests permanent intentions.”

“Please tell me you are trying to play a joke on me.” The princess’s mouth dropped to the ground.

“I could tell you such, but it would be a lie, princess.”

“You must not tell another soul about this… except for Ser Eddrin. You will need to inform him of this in secrecy. We will come up with a plan after the Hearing.”

“Of course, princess. As you wish.”

Unsure how to feel, she nodded somberly before tucking the precious stones in her waist pocket inside her skirt. She could feel the weight pull at her midsection as the stones sank to the bottom. Her waist pocket was the only hiding spot she knew the cleaning maids would not steal them from. Without another word, she left for her parents’ bedchambers. Ser Gunthor silently and dutifully followed behind her. The princess stewed as she walked. She paid no mind to the lords and ladies she passed who had attempted to greet her. In her stead, the knight apologized, citing a very late night of reading and having just awoken. They would chuckle in response as the two continued on their path. Not realizing her pace, the door to Rhaenyra’s chamber appeared in the corridor sooner than Maetilda had expected it to. The knights on guard knocked, opened the doors, and announced her entrance upon her arrival.

Prince Daemon had actually looked up to greet her that morning, except his greeting was a cold and angry stare. Her brothers were quiet, not even laughing. They all stared at her suspiciously, the cogs clearly turning in each of their heads. Princess Rhaenyra was the only one to spare her a smile. The family had dined with Princess Rhaenys and Ladies Baela and Rhaena the evening prior, but Maetilda had excluded herself in order to hide from them in her chambers. Ser Eddrin had read to her into the night. She could not find the strength within herself to face her family, and that morning had proved why. Her cheeks felt hot as she took her usual seat. She kept her gaze pointed at the table as the servants came in to serve them. A cupbearer filled her goblet with spiced wine. From the corner of her eye, she could see her father gripping the sides of the table with white knuckles. She ignored the feeling of his stare.

His voice finally came out in a growl, “Gōntan ao daor rȳbagon skoros ēdan vestās nūmāzma se lēkia mandia hen Rhaenyra?” (Did you not hear what I had said about Rhaenyra’s siblings?)

“I heard you well, father. I merely stumbled upon Helaena in the Godswood, and Aemond found us there. He sent Helaena up to her chambers to tend to her children and then escorted me to the training yards. Ser Eddrin saw the whole thing.”

“Ao pendagon nyke iā mittys? Gaoman daor pāsagon bona qrugh naejot ivestragon nyke mirros konir sagon daor aōha udir.” (You think me a fool? I don’t trust that shit to tell me anything against your word)

“Ser Eddrin is an honorable knight.”

“Iā sepār azantys daor rual ao naejot mazverdagon iā mittys hen aōla hae emā.” (An honorable knight would not allow you to make a fool of yourself as you have)

“The only one who makes a fool of me is you, father.”

“Ōregon aōha ēngos!” (Hold your tongue!)

“Se āeksio se ābri gaomagon daor ōregon pōja ēngos hae pōnta yne brōzā iā spinster. Ivestragī zirȳ ȳdragon hen Aemond se nyke. Kostilus kessa gaomagon ñuha brōzi sȳz.” (The lords and ladies do not hold their tongues as they call me a spinster. Let them talk of Aemond and I. Perhaps it will do my name good.)

“Ivestragon nyke qilōni brōzas ao lī brōzāt se nyke kessa emagon pōja bartos.” (Tell me who calls you such names and I shall have their heads)

“Ao daor gūrogon se bartos hen mirre se Realm, kepa.” (You cannot take the heads of all the Realm, father)

“Mazeminna skoros jaelan.” (I will take what I want)

“Iā skoros se Dārys rual ao naejot.” (Or what the King allows you to)

“Iksā doru-borto, mijegon kirimvose, se iā qrimbrōzagon naejot ñuha brōzi, tala.” (You are stupid, ungrateful and a disgrace to my name, daughter)

The princess was stunned into silence at his words. They peeled her flesh back like a knife, exposing her insides to the room. She blinked at him. There was nothing left for her to say except insults, and she knew his would only get worse. He had such a temper. One that he refused to restrain.

“Yesterday, I spotted a second son with his eye bound East. A pretty, little princess for him who comes with a castle of her own.” He seethed.

“Then wed me off to another, if you do not want him to have it. Unless you kill me or wed me yourself, the castle is not yours.”

“I have had enough.” Rhaenyra interjected authoritatively, “There will be no more speak of it. Please do not force me to separate you two.”

The room fell silent. The only sound to be heard was that of chewing and the clanking of cutlery as the six dug into the food on their plates. This seemed to be their new normal. Arguments followed by silence. King’s Landing had poisoned them quickly.

“Luke and I explored a bit of the dungeons yesterday. They haven’t changed nearly as much.” Jacaerys attempted.

“Still bloody terrifying though!” Lucerys laughed.

“Did you see any ghosts?!” Joffrey gasped.

“Oh yes, Joff! Loads of ‘em! They were asking about you actually.” Luke teased.

Little Joffrey’s eyes welled with tears, undoubtedly at the thought of ghosts knowing his name and where he slept, “No, they weren’t!”

“No, Joff, they were not.” Maetilda agreed before admitting, “Although I did see one in my room last night. It was as tall as father and wore a black cloak. It had its arm drawn back like it was going to throw something, but I could not truly see its arm. I don’t know how long he stood there for. Is there a known ghost in the castle that wears a black cloak with a hood?”

“Sir ziry ūndegon tolīmorghon, Jaes dohaeragon nyke,” It was only loud enough for her to hear. (Now she sees ghosts, Gods help me)

“We did not actually see anything. Luke was only joking. Did you truly see that, Til?” Jace’s eyebrows furrowed.

Rebelliously, the princess turned her head towards the Rogue Prince as she answered, letting him drown in her madness, “Yes, right after I woke up from a dream about an old castle on a cliffed and hilly shore. I had been flying over it and woke up when I crashed. The ghost had been watching me sleep. Gave me quite a fright.”

Her father was pale as his jaw set. From the looks of it, she could tell that he was grinding his teeth. He subconsciously chewed on his bottom lip for a few moments before he painted a snicker across his face. The princess wondered why she could not seem to close her mouth and keep it shut. Why could she not keep it all to herself? There was something about chasing the last word that came as a reflex to her, and with it, an incredibly weak filter around her family. She felt powerless to the compulsion. Such powerlessness was pitiful. She could not expect to be the lady of her own Keep if she could not keep information to herself. Under the table, her hand reached down into her skirts. Even from outside the fabric, she could feel the abnormal shapes press into her palm. It was oddly comforting to know they were still there, to hold them. As long as her family remained ignorant of the stones in her waist pocket, she still had a chance. They would know about those when she wanted them to. They would know once she had already found a solution. After which, there would be no questioning of her capabilities or intellect. Perhaps from that moment forward, she would no longer be a foolish little girl but a ferocious Princess with cunning and respect.

Daemon stood abruptly and bowed to his wife, “I have some affairs that require my prompt attention. I shall see you all in the Throne Room. Worry not, Lucerys.”

He did not wait for any response before he turned on his heel and exited through a door hidden behind one of the bookcases. Maetilda eyed the door intensely as she wondered if any of those such doors existed within her own. There were no bookcases against any walls that could have a door behind them. Her father must have known of the different passages like the back of his hand. He always seemed to be up to something, always plotting. The princess wondered what he was up to. What could possibly require his attention before the Hearing? Did it have something to do with anything they had talked about? He had certainly been upset with her for her public proximity to his nephew. More than she had expected hmm to. She thought of the names that he had called her. She wondered if he had truly meant any of them, or if it was simply his temper talking. Although it felt more as if they were both hitting below the belt. After all, the future Queen had interrupted, but he had not denied his desires to hold onto her birthright. It stung to know he didn’t deny it. He was such a greedy, self-centered man. It only confirmed to her his desires to take as much in his own name as he could. He seemed desperate enough to keep Runestone, and erase all of her connection to it. Down to her dresses. Yet he still let her wear bronze. As the princess finished her breakfast, her blood ran cold at the thought of the extent her father would go to secure her castle for himself. Certainly he would not kill her, but would he attempt to wed her?

A/N: Maetilda is big time paranoid! omg!! and how the hell did those runes get there? What the heck! Also, Daemon needs therapy.

xoxo messy

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen #hotd imagine #aemond one eye #hotd #hotd aemond #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond x fem!oc #prince aemond #hotd fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond the kinslayer #dead men and the divine

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