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kckt88 · 5 months

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Arrival(s)

Summary:

Aemond is delighted when Vaera announces that she's with child.

Warning(s): Worry, Swearing, Threats of Violence, Pain, Child Birth.

Word Count: 1600.

Author Note: A companion piece to A Time for Grief/The Gullet & Harrenhal and the Rivers, but can be read as a one-shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“Again” shouted Aemond as he lunged forward.

“I think that’s enough for today my Prince” replied Criston as he blocked Aemond’s attack.

“No, I want to keep going” said Aemond sternly.

“You are distracted. Your mind is not focused on your training”.

“Apologise Ser Criston” muttered Aemond his shoulders slumping.

“What troubles you, my Prince?” asked Criston.

“I asked that Vaera visit the maester today. She’s not well”

“Ahh, I’m sure she’ll be fine” replied Criston.

“I hope so. I just can’t bear the thought of anything happening to her. I never thought that I would come to love her as much as I do”

“Despite whom her mother is. Vaera seems to be a good wife. It pleases me greatly my Prince to see you so happy” replied Criston.

Aemond smiled and nodded but his attention was caught by Vaera entering the training yard.

“I-Is everything ok? What did the maester say? asked Aemond nervously.

“Well-“ said Vaera as she took Aemond’s hand and placed it on her stomach.

“-What?” exclaimed Aemond his singular eye wide in surprise, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I’m with child” replied Vaera smiling widely.

“T-Truly?” gasped Aemond elated.

“I carry your child inside of me. A piece of you and me together” said Vaera giggling as Aemond quickly dropped to one knee and placed his head on her stomach.

“Issa byka zaldrīzes. Nyke aōha kepa” whispered Aemond (My little dragon, I’m your father).

“Drakari pykiros, Tīkummo jemiros, Yn lantyz bartossa, Saelot vāedis” (Fire breather, winged leader, but two heads, to a third sing).

Vaera closed her eyes at the sound of Aemond’s voice.

“Perzyro udrȳssi, Ezīmptos laehossi, Hārossa letagon, Aōt vāedan” (With words of flame, with clear eyes, to bind the three, to you I sing).

Vaera smiled as she felt Aemond rest his head on the round swell of her stomach.

“Hae mērot gierūli:, Se hāros bartossi, Prūmȳsa sōvīli, Gevī dāerī” (As one we gather, and with three heads, we shall fly as we were destined, beautifully, freely).

Ever since Vaera had revealed that she was carrying his child, Aemond had devoted himself to pouring over countless books in the library to gain as much information as he possibly could about pregnancy and how to raise a child. Apparently, he also found a book that said babes can hear sounds from the womb after the sixth moon of pregnancy. So, Aemond never missed a chance to spend time talking or singing to his wife’s stomach.

Vaera of course didn’t think too much of the advice in those ‘books’ at first, but as her stomach began to swell, and the babe began to kick, she noticed that he or she would always move around more whenever Aemond spoke.

Aemond of course was delighted when Vaera told him. She knew her husband was worried about becoming a father, given the fact his own wasn’t a very good one and it terrified Aemond most days, that he would turn out like Viserys. But Vaera knew that Aemond would be a fantastic father, he was utterly devoted to their unborn child.

Seeing his wife grow round with their child made Aemond immeasurably happy. He marvelled how her body changed and the feeling of their babe moving was something he would never forget.

The mood swings however were something else entirely.

Sometimes Vaera would scream and cry at him whenever she felt uncomfortable, she would rage and order him to stay away from her, only for her to come to him in floods of tears and drag him back to their chambers and beg him to fuck her.

Often there were times where she would sink to her knees and tear open his breeches, only for her to stuff his cock down her throat and torture him as she sucked and licked his hard cock until she’d milked every last drop of seed from him.

Quite the predicament, that of course his brother Aegon found extremely amusing.

“You do realise that she’s already with child. You don’t need to keep sticking it in her all the time” said Aegon smirking.

“I can’t help myself. Seeing her belly round with my child, knowing that it’s my seed that’s taken root. Drives me mad with desire” replied Aemond honestly.

“Drives your wife mad with desire too from what I’ve heard” said Aegon.

“Hm” muttered Aemond.

“Heard she was ordering you not to touch her anymore only for her to find you training with Ser Criston and without skipping a beat she dragged you back to your chambers and neither of you were seen for the rest of the day” laughed Aegon.

“I had my husbandly duties to perform” retorted Aemond.

“We all know how seriously you take duty little brother” exclaimed Aegon.

“A shame your wife cannot say the same” snarked Aemond.

“Easy there brother. If I wanted a lecture on decency I would have stayed with mother and grandsire” muttered Aegon.

“Hm”

Suddenly a knock at the door interrupted both Princes.

“Come in” said Aegon loudly.

“Apologise for the interruption Prince Aemond, but it’s your wife, she has begun her labours”.

Aemond didn’t know how much longer he could stand listening to Vaera’s pained wails, as he paced back and forth outside their closed chamber door.

Vaera’s labours had begun just after midday and Aemond was soon ushered out of their chambers, as a flurry of maesters and midwives surrounded his wife.

“A-Aemond,” cried Vaera.

Aemond had been ordered to remain outside as the midwives claimed the birthing room was no place for a man, let alone a Prince of the realm.

“Aemond” begged Vaera.

Aemond screwed his eye shut and clenched his fists.

“I want AEMOND” screamed Vaera.

Aemond couldn’t stand it anymore, so he took a deep breath and barged into his chambers.

“My prince. You should not be here. It is not proper” urged Maester Orwyle.

“I don’t give a shit what’s proper. My wife needs me. I’m staying” snapped Aemond gazing at Vaera who was laid on their bed as naked as her name day.

“B-But my Prince-”

“Do not attempt to remove me again maester, or I swear to the seven I will throw you out of that fucking window” shouted Aemond.

“P-Please. Aemond. I need you” sobbed Vaera.

“I’m here ābrazȳrys” (Wife) exclaimed Aemond as he knelt down beside the bed and took Vaera’s hand.

“It hurts so much Valzȳrys” (Husband).

“I know. But you can do this. I know you can” said Aemond, doing his best to reassure his wife.

“No, I can’t” wailed Vaera, grimacing in pain as a contraction ripped across her stomach.

“Yes, you can Issa prūmia. Squeeze my hand as much as you want” urged Aemond (My heart).

Maester Orwyle instructed Vaera to take a deep breath and push.

“That’s it. Issa dōna, keep going” (My sweet) encouraged Aemond.

Aemond had no idea how much time had passed since Vaera was instructed to push, even as the labour tired her, she kept going. Her red face covered in sweat and tears.

Her nails dug into his skin as she pushed with all her might.

“That’s it Princess. I can see the babes head”.

“You can do it my love. That’s it. Keep pushing” urged Aemond, grimacing slightly as Vaera squeezed his hand even tighter.

“Keep going Princess. Your doing so well-“

"Your doing it my love" exclaimed Aemond.

“The head’s out. Now just wait until the next contraction and push”

Even though she was exhausted, Vaera took a deep breath and gave one last push.

Then an ear-piercing cry shattered the silence of the room.

Aemond’s heart swooped at the sound, his lips parting in amazement as he watched Maester Orwyle, cut the umbilical cord and quickly wrapped the babe in clean cloth.

Vaera whimpered next to him, her eyes shining with relieved tears.

The babe was a boy.

Their son was passed to Vaera who held the tiny babe against her bare chest.

“Aemond. Look, our son” gasped Vaera.

“He’s perfect” whispered Aemond in awe.

His heart bursting with love at the sight of his newly born son in the arms of his wife.

“He looks like you” said Vaera happily.

The babe had a full head of silver hair, never in his life had Aemond ever seen so much hair on a babe.

However, Vaera starting whimpering in pain again.

“W-What’s happening?” asked Aemond in alarm as his son was quickly pressed into his arms.

“It-it seems as though there’s another babe my Prince” replied Maester Orwyle.

“Idañnykeā zaldrīzoti” gasped Aemond (Twin Dragons).

Aemond couldn’t believe it. His sweet wife had delivered twin babes.

“Another son” declared Vaera proudly as she gently rocked their son in her arms.

“I’m so proud of you” replied Aemond as he sat on the bed next to Vaera.

Aemond couldn’t believe it he was a father. He had two children. They were perfect. His sons. His boys.

“Congratulations to the both of you. What are their names?” asked Maester Orwyle.

“Aemon-“ whispered Vaera.

“-Yes?” asked Aemond.

“No, you daft idiot. I want to call our first son Aemon. In honour of his father” said Vaera as she gently rocked the sleeping babe.

“A-Are you sure?”.

“Of course, I think you should name our second son” replied Vaera.

Aemond looked down at the small babe in his arms and smiled. He hadn’t been blessed with as much hair as Aemon but what silver hair he did have was already beginning to curl. There was only one name he could think of. A name he’d picked out after Vaera had told him that she was carrying his child.

“Rhaegar” whispered Aemond.

“Aemon and Rhaegar” said Vaera smiling.

“Our boys, Princes' Aemon and Rhaegar of house Targaryen” said Aemond proudly.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond x oc #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #aemond x original female character

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dedalvs · 6 days

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Hello, If you were to follow your High Valyrian's grammar the word for Dragonfire could be something like Zaldrizperzys (like Dragonstone, Zaldrīzo + dōron = Zaldrīzdōron or Zaldrizys (like Dreamfyre, Ēdrurys + Perzys = Ēdruzys)?

There are different fires with different properties in A Song of Ice and Fire. A dragon's fire is one of those, and in Valyrian, it has its own word: drakarys.

#conlang #language #valyrian #hotd #asoiaf #got #high valyrian

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cy-cyborg-draws · 5 months

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I've been taking over on my main account about how I've been doing a lot of world building lately but was never quite sure how to share any of it. I'm thinking of using platforms like Obsidian Publish for my bigger ones like my webcomic's setting eventually, but for the smaller ones like the one I'm working on right now, I'm probably going to just talk about them here since I usually make art to go along with most of the notes! I've installed a theme on this page that lets you see posts under a certain tag, so each world building setting will get its own tag!

Anyway, The project I'm currently working on right now is called Sauvias, a pathfinder 2e setting for a homebrew campaign my partner and I are planning to run.

Sauvias is a land of dinosaurs and other, much more ancient beasts. Even the people of Sauvias look quite different from those in other parts of the world. While humanoids do inhabit Sauvias too, you're much more likely to encounter one the insectoid Insavan people, the draconic Drakari people, the axolotl-like Axoli, merfolk who have found ways to traverse the land and sea and many, many more (all of whom are playable).

While the creatures and people may look different, one thing Sauvias shares with the more familiar worlds of pathfinder 2e, is that it's always in need of heroes to deal with the rising threats, magical and otherwise.

I'm eventually going to make a propper map, but I'm using this one while I learn how to actually do that lol

All of the posts I make for this project are going to be under the tags "Sauvias" and "worldbuilding" which (should) both linked on the little sidebar on my page!

[ID 1: A logo on a dark brown background with light tan text and a light tan boarder. On the left is the silhouette of a continent roughly in the shape of a triceratops head, and to it's right is the word "Sauvias". /end ID 1] [ID 2: A map of the same landmass from the logo. This map shows Sauvias's tropical south-west side and arrid north-eastern side, divided by a mountain range running down it's centre. Several of the regions are labelled, and a faint hexagon grid has been overlaied onto the image with a scale in the bottom left corner indicating each hexagon represents about 30km. /end ID]

#worldbuilding #Sauvias #fantasy worldbuilding #fantasy writing #pathfinder #ttrpg #pf2e #dnd #homebrew #pathfinder homebrew #dnd homebrew #dinosaurs #id in alt text #id included

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 5 months

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Listening to the way Ewan butchers my mother tongue 😩😭 thankfully, he swiftly made up for it with his pronunciation of “drakarys” - seems he’s been practicing 😏

#ewan mitchell

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zeciex · 1 month

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A Vow of Blood - Chapter 70: The Beast Beneath The Boards

Preview:

The striking blood-red figure of Meleys broke through the veil of darkness, her roars echoing, a primal call that resonated with all who heard it. Sunlight danced upon her crimson scales, highlighting the regal horns that crowned her head as she stepped forth from the cave’s maw. With every movement, her claws dug into the earth, kicking up plumes of dust. Meleys stretched her massive form, a snarl revealing her formidable teeth, while her flame-like eyes locked onto the crowd with a fierce, unyielding gaze. Rhaenys’ gaze found Daenera amidst the tumult, her expression just as fierce and unyielding as her dragon’s. “Release my granddaughter!” A spark of hope ignited within Daenera, and she surged forward, only for Aemond’s arm to ensnare her waist, pulling her back against him with a vice-like hold. She struggled against his hold, beating back at him as she demanded her release. “Let me go!” Daenera spat, clawing at his arm, attempting and failing to twist free. “Release me!” She writhed in his embrace, making another desperate attempt to escape, trying to force her way out. Yet Aemond’s grip only tightened, his voice close to her ear, laced with a sneer yet tinged with desperation, “Stop! Please. Stop fighting!” There was a raw, broken plea in his use of ‘please,’ a plea that resonated deep within her, tugging at her heartstrings in a way that was almost painful to acknowledge. But the turmoil within her was too overwhelming, her thoughts a whirlwind of recent grievances–the humiliations endured, the imprisonment, the loss of those she loved, and the cruel usurpation of her mother’s rightful claim. All these thoughts clashed violently within her, fueling her struggle against Aemond’s constraining embrace.... ...In this moment, surrounded by the creators of her misery, Daenera found herself whispering a command born of desperation, “Drakarys.”

#a vow of blood #mine #a vow of blood preview

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marvelita85 · 1 year

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The dance of dragons abruptally finished when Aegon ii burtned Rhaenyra in front of her surviving children, y/n and Aegon iii witnesing the atrocity as a plot against the greens to put you on the throne has already began and the arrival of Cregan Stark who became a very good friend of your brother Jacearys finished Aegon ii reign but as everyone hoped you to be benevolent and forgiven you turn vengefull and evil

The queen dowager beg on her knees for her reminded son lifes, Daeron was dead, your husband survived the battle of the gods eye but at great cost with the death of Vaghar, Caraxes and Daemon surviving too but keeping that from the greens until the right moment

Cregan wanted to put to justice everyone who intervined into the dance and put Aegon ii as king, you stayed quiet sitting at the head of the table as the reminded council argue about the posible outcomes for the traitors

- my queen it has to be done that way

- it will be done my way Lord Wyle... after all you all are traitors to my eyes and the only reason you are not dead yet is because Lord Velaryon my grandsire, is here to talk in your favor, you commited treason swearing for my uncle and dethroning my mother, who was the rightfull heir, now you have to follow orders from another queen, thats me and be aware my Lords I am here to rule and all traitors will be paid in the only coin my family knows fire and blood - everyone knew you meant what you said

You slep through the knight in your room, is been a few weeks you havent been able to be alone and cry everything you needed to and you were your mother's girl of only 7 and 10, you were waiting for Daemon to be able to be by your side, the only brother alive you had left, your cousins/sisters remained beside you and gave you strenght to keep going and do what you meant to do as queen now

- to respect the memory of my grandsire the late king I'm going to adress you as Lord hand, as you dont hold that tittle no more - your dragon rest upon the peak of the dragon pit, and as you are no Targaryen you wont have the honor of my dragon's fire but the judgment of treason to the crown and to thr 7th kindoms, whoever sit in this Throne, we all even me, I've never wanted to be born first or be queen so soon, nor I expected my uncle to kill his own sister, my husband to kill his nephew...my brother... - you tried to stop talking because emotions filled you, your brother run to hug you and did it and stoped the maid with one of your hands, he was just a kid and he saw his mother died

- bring my uncles... - you didnt say husband even you still felt something for Aemond as you've always done since you were children

His eye found your for a minute but you stoped focusing on Otto Hightower

- Otto Hightower, the Stark family has a saying that the person passing the sentence is the one who has to swing the sword after all your traitories you deserved no honor, not even mine, somone you concidered not fit for the Iron Throne just because of what I have between my legs, and because you decided I was a bastard... and maybe I am all those things but worst is to have your greed wanting to Rule when you have no right upon a throne, take the late king out of the picture to instaled your blood upon the throne

- I dont have regrets of any of my actions princess... - you smile knowing he would be stumburn till the end

- and for that your blood will be lost fotever

- your husband is my blood and you probably has some growing inside of you already

- but you are not my blood and I have no love or wish of forgivness so Lord Otto Hightower I, Visenya Targaryen second of my name sentence you to die - you knew it was terrible to let your little brother see this but it was necesary, your dragon aproached to you and as he closed more Otto realised he was going to die screaming - drakarys - you said almost wispering but your dragon Shadow knew what to do he burn the traitor and Alicent screamed, Aemond only had time to hold his mother before she touch the grown, Alicent couldnt hold tears and grab her sons arms

You the queen turn your atention now to your uncle trying so hard to avoid looking at your husband as much resenment you felt for him you also felt love and that could betray yourself and your feelings

- I thought about giving you the same end you gave my mother but after awhile I came to conclution that is something you wish for so... Im not giving you the satisfaction of all ending...you will live whatever your life might be long or short is not upon me anymore, you will serve under the knights watch - all gasp in surprise even Cregan Stark beside you, no one expected for you to decided that, for Aegon it was wost than death - I decided to let you live uncle, Ive heard your mothers plea, am I not merceful?.... he dare to rise his eyes looking at you and he regreted it instantly

- AM I NOT MERCEFUL? - your right fist holding all the rage and hate you felt in your heart

You asked Cregan Stark to make sure he arrived safe to the wall after that he was no more your responsability

But all resolution died in your mouth when it came to him, you couldnt do it as much as he deserved it as much as you wanted it was hard

- may I have a minute alone with my husband , the dragons stayed but everyone retired leaving you alone - dont you dare say a word... I'm not a kinslayer like you, I wont kill any of you but you will wish I did it, I'll be queen of the 7th kingdoms and whoever rebel sgainst me I'll reign through ashes and blood and smoke if I have to because that's who I am...a dragon

- and what would you do with me...my queen

- the council, or what is left of it who I can still trust they sujested I declared our marriage nule... and marry again, and you'll be sent to Storms end where your brother sent you once or I will make Daemon to kill you as it should have been back in the god's eye along with your dragon now you are dragonless again... and what did you gain Aemond... nothing... you lost everything

- including you? - you were going to speak to tell him the answer he deserved but all resolution in you died whwn he kneel in front of you bowing his head - Kostilus, ñuha ābrazȳrys, gūrogon nyke arlī se shijetra nyke, iksā se mērī mēre qilōni could mōris bisa vīlībāzma, kesan obūljagon se tolvys iēdrosa pazavor naejot se greens kessa sagon pazavor naejot ao, unite īlva lentor istin se syt mirre se nyke kivio naejot sagon pazavor naejot ao syt se rest hen ñuha tubissa

(Please, my wife, take me again and forgive me, you are the only one who could end this war, i will bend the knee and everyone still loyal to the greens will be loyal to you, unite our family once and for all and I promise to be loyal to you for the rest of my days)

- Emilā naejot urnēptre nyke, iksā pazavor, lo ao nāpāsagon nyke arlī ossēninna ao nykēla

(You will have to show me, you are loyal, if you betray me again I will kill you myself)

- by the way... the witch of Harrenhall died a few days ago... she was your undoing Aemond... Alys Rivers and her bastard son are spoils of war and you should not mourn them... after all any offsprings you might have will be the heir and not some bastard from a whore - you didnt know how much it hurt your words or what that woman and her son meant in his life but you were still hurt and were going to try and hurt him even more at least a little

- will it be an end?

- maybe one day

- I've loved you my whole life and still... we destroyed eachother

- I'm broken because of what you and the greens did to the blacks we are talking as we are a different family but we are the same... we are Targaryens Aemond we destroyed eachother... one day we might learned to build ourselfs back up - you gave a hard breath in and a few tears in your eyes fight to be realised but your eyes didnt let them

- maybe is not us.... I decided to marry Jaehaera and Aegon iii when they reatch maturity...

- my niece and your brother...he is your heir...

-if we dont have children he will... and your niece the queen some day

- are we... going to have children?

- maybe

You have loved Aemond probably since you were born, the war between your family started begore that but you two didnt care about adults quarrels until he lost his eye to your brother... and you didn't really know who he became after the war after surviving Daemon's fight but maybe some of that love was worth saving

#aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #prince aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #prince aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x velaryon oc #targaryen princess #house targaryen #queen visenya #house of the dragon fanfic

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lunardragon00 · 2 months

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The Heir (Choi San x OC)

Masterlist

Genre: Fantasy , Lord!San x Princess!OC

Words: 6774

Warning: funeral scene // suggestive themes // character deaths

Authors Note: Back with another update, it is finally the moment I have been waiting to release. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it.

Chapter Six --> Chapter Seven --> Chapter Nine

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔈𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱: 𝔈𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔄𝔪𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

The sky is painted with vibrant hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over the landscape. As the sun dips below the horizon, its fading light creates a breathtaking spectacle, illuminating the clouds with fiery colors. Amidst the tranquil beauty of the sunset, the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the rocky shores echoes through the air. Each wave carries with it a sense of timeless power, a reminder of the enduring force of nature against the backdrop of the majestic castle perched atop the cliffs.

Hana stood above her father's body, her husband Wooyoung by her side, a solemn expression etched on both their faces as they gazed down at the form of the once-mighty king who now lay in peaceful repose. Hana reached out, her hand trembling slightly as she brushed a lock of hair away from her father's forehead. She felt a rush of memories flood her mind—moments shared, lessons learned, the bond between father and daughter that had weathered the trials of time.

Wooyoung placed a comforting hand on Hana's shoulder, offering silent support as they stood together in quiet contemplation, honoring the memory of the king who had shaped their lives in ways both profound and lasting. Her brothers dragon, Valarys, stood off in the corner. Next to him was her own dragon Noctis. The dragons exhibited signs of restlessness, their instincts attuned to the emotional turmoil of their riders. Despite their formidable presence, they couldn't help but mirror the unease that permeated the air. Their towering forms shifted subtly, their eyes darting with a mix of concern and vigilance, a silent acknowledgment of the somber moment unfolding around them.

There were speeches given about the King, many applauding his peaceful reign and how it saddened them that he was gone. Lords and Ladies from all over shared their condolences, Hana heard them all but did not care to truly listen. As the closing prayers came from the maestor, she knew it was time. Hongjoong stepped forward, leaving his wife and sons side and ordered Valarys to approach. With a gentle squeeze of her hand, Wooyoung offered Hana the silent support she needed in that moment of profound loss. His touch was a lifeline amidst the sea of emotions that threatened to engulf her, a reminder that she was not alone in her grief.

"You do not have to watch." He whispered to her. Hana turned to meet Wooyoung's gaze, his words cutting through the solemn atmosphere like a gentle breeze. In his eyes, she found a flicker of understanding, a silent reassurance that she was not obligated to endure the weight of their sorrow alone. With a grateful nod, Hana acknowledged his offer, her heart swelling with gratitude for his unwavering support. Though the sight of Valarys and the solemn rituals of farewell tugged at her heartstrings, she knew that she did not have to bear the burden of her grief alone. "Valarys" She heard Hongjoong command, watching his dragon approach her father's body.

"drakarys" As the command echoed through the somber air, Hana felt the weight of impending farewell pressing down upon her. The word, sharp and resolute, sliced through the silence, heralding the final departure of her father's spirit to the realm beyond. Feeling the warmth of Wooyoung's embrace enveloping her, Hana sought refuge in his comforting presence, seeking solace amidst the tumult of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her fragile resolve. She buried her face against his chest, seeking refuge from the heart-wrenching sight unfolding before them. With each breath, each gentle stroke of his hand against her back, she found a lifeline amidst the tempest of grief, a silent reassurance that she was not alone in her sorrow.

As Valarys obeyed his master's command, unleashing a torrent of flame that consumed the physical vessel of her father, Hana closed her eyes, shutting out the sight of devastation as tears mingled with the silent whispers of farewell. In the midst of her overwhelming sorrow, Hana felt as though the weight of the world had descended upon her shoulders, crushing her beneath the burden of her grief. The loss of her father, a towering figure in her life, echoed the ache of previous wounds, reopening the scars left by the absence of her mother.

As tears streamed down her cheeks, each droplet a testament to the depth of her anguish, Hana found herself adrift in a sea of memories, each one a poignant reminder of the love she had lost. The echoes of her parents' laughter, the warmth of their embrace, lingered like ghosts in the corridors of her heart, haunting her with their bittersweet presence.

Amidst the tempest of her emotions, Hana clung to the fragments of her shattered resolve, seeking solace in the embrace of her husband's unwavering support. In his embrace, she heard footsteps approach them, boots heavy as they touched the ground. Wooyoung lifted his head, acknowledging the approaching figure, while Hana remained lost in her grief, unaware of the presence drawing near.

Sensing the solemnity of the moment, Wooyoung intercepted the newcomer with a subtle shake of his head, a silent signal that now was not the time. The figure acquiesced, retreating with a heaviness in each step. Unaware of the identity of the visitor or the exchange that had transpired, Hana remained cocooned in her sorrow, her tears a silent testament to the depth of her loss. In the embrace of her husband's comforting arms, she found solace from the tumult of emotions swirling around her, finding refuge in the warmth of their shared sorrow.

---------------

As Hongjoong stood alongside Arya and their young son Joon, the weight of grief bore down upon him like a leaden cloak. Each passing moment seemed to stretch into eternity as they awaited their esteemed guests, all gathered to pay their final respects to his father. In the quiet moments between, Hongjoong's mind raced with a torrent of questions and uncertainties. What would happen next, now that his father was gone? How long would he have to mourn before the weight of kingship fell upon his shoulders? Despite the tumult of thoughts that swirled within him, he found solace in the presence of his cherished family, their unwavering support a beacon of light amidst the darkness of his grief.

As Seonghwa approached, a comforting presence amidst the somber gathering, Hongjoong felt a sense of relief wash over him. Among their circle of friends, Seonghwa had always been a steadfast companion, a source of strength and support during the most trying of times. Seonghwa hailed from House Park of Rosethorn, a place of unparalleled beauty and natural splendor. The lush greenery that adorned the landscape, the vibrant fields of blooming flowers—it was a sight to behold, a testament to the bounty of nature that flourished within the fertile lands of Rosethorn. Despite the allure of its picturesque surroundings, Hongjoong couldn't deny his discomfort with the region's humid climate. While he appreciated the beauty of Rosethorn, the oppressive humidity proved to be a challenge for him, limiting his visits to shorter durations.

"My prince-" He bowed. Hongjoong bowed his head as well, a sign of respect between the two men.

"Lord Seonghwa, thank you for coming."

"Of course, my deepest condolences your grace. Your father was truly a remarkable man. His reign was a peaceful one, every land in the realm grew stronger during his rule. May yours be just as good." Seonghwa stated.

"Thank you my friend, your words move me deeply. While you are here, there is a matter I wish to discuss with you." Hongjoong removed himself from his wifes side.

"Why don't you go find Hana, I'm sure she and her husband are under the tent." Arya nodded and lifted Joon to carry him away, giving her husband privacy.

As Hongjoong and Seonghwa walked through the quiet grounds of Dragonspire, the weight of impending responsibilities hung heavy in the air. The breeze carried a somber tone, echoing the gravity of their conversation.

"My father has passed, Seonghwa," Hongjoong began, his voice tinged with a mixture of solemnity and apprehension. "He named me as his heir."

Seonghwa nodded, his expression reflecting the understanding of the weighty burden placed upon his friend's shoulders. "Yes, your grace," he replied softly, his mind racing. Hongjoong continued, his gaze steady.

"During my Father's reign, your uncle Takashi served as his hand. I fear me and him never got along," Hongjoong admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of regret. "He was a self-interested man, always testing the boundaries of respect and decorum." In Hongjoong's younger years, Takashi was very harsh to him. At times, he would cross the line of how one should behave when in the presence of the Kings son. He was a self interested man, but Hongjoongs father always found a way to put in back in his place. Takashi knew how to push his buttons, he knew what would make Hongjoong act irrationally. He had almost made Hongjoong draw his sword after a comment was made when Arya and his engagement was originally proposed.

Seonghwa listened attentively, his heart heavy with empathy for his friend's struggles. He understood the significance of the decision weighing on Hongjoong's mind, the delicate balance between duty and personal convictions.

"So you plan on taking a new Hand?" Seonghwa inquired, his tone gentle yet probing, seeking clarity amidst the uncertainty. Hongjoong nodded solemnly.

"Yes, and I request your council on the matter," he affirmed, his voice steady with resolve. "You have been a steadfast friend and advisor, Seonghwa. Your wisdom and loyalty are qualities I hold in high regard." With a sense of anticipation, Hongjoong reached into his coat pocket, retrieving a finely crafted pin bearing the emblem of the Hand of the King. Its intricate design spoke of authority and trust, a symbol of the profound responsibilities entrusted to its bearer.

"Lord Seonghwa of House Park," Hongjoong spoke with unwavering conviction, his gaze meeting Seonghwa's with unwavering resolve. "If you accept this offer, I would like you to take on the position." Seonghwa's heart swelled with a profound sense of honor and duty, his mind racing with the weight of the decision before him. In that solemn moment, he understood the significance of the trust placed in him, the gravity of the role he was being asked to fulfill. With a steady hand and a heart full of determination, Seonghwa accepted the pin, his voice resonating with unwavering commitment.

"I accept this honor with humility and unwavering loyalty, my prince," he declared, his gaze meeting Hongjoong's with steadfast resolve. "I will serve you and our kingdom with integrity, wisdom, and unwavering dedication." Hongjoong's smile softened, a flicker of relief dancing in his eyes as he beheld the unwavering commitment in Seonghwa's gaze.

"I trust that you will, my friend," Hongjoong echoed.

Under the canopy in Dragonspire's courtyard, Princess Hana and Prince Wooyoung stood alongside Wooyoung's brother, Yeosang. The atmosphere was heavy with grief as they engaged in polite but subdued conversation. Hana's usually vibrant demeanor was muted, her eyes betraying the depth of her sorrow despite her efforts to conceal it. Wooyoung, too, felt the weight of the loss, his concern evident as he exchanged words with his brother and wife. The somber air enveloped them like a shroud, casting a pall over their surroundings as they struggled to navigate the aftermath of King Kang-Dae's passing.

"How has Sunseth been?" Wooyoung asks, wanting to hear about his childhood home.

"The same as always, father has taken a trip to Essos to see the Unsullied." Yeosang stated. The Unsullied was an army of trained young men. The slave masters of that region mold them into killing machines, teaching them to be fearless and hold no emotion, they were experts in the field of battle.

"I've always wanted to see what they're like. You hear so many stories of them and their ruthlessness." Wooyoung replied.

"Yes, perhaps you and Hana can visit some time. The architecture is truly a sight worth seeing." Yeosang says. In Astapor, every structure in the city- the walls, the streets, and even the great stepped pyramids that dominate the bay shore- are all constructed of the same red brick, hence its moniker "the Red City". An old saying describing the city runs; "Bricks and blood built Astapor, and bricks and blood her people".

"We were discussing of taking a trip to essos sometime within the year. It would be- " Wooyoung is quickly cut off by his wife.

"I have no interest in seeing slaves." She states. Both men look at her, shocked at her abrupt interruption. Done with the conversation, she quickly steps away and decides to walk the beach. Wooyoung looks out to her, worry etches his face.

"She's not taking it well, is she?" A new voice pulls him out of his gaze. Before him and his brother stood Lord Jongho and Lord Yunho. "Her father just died, how do you think she should handle it?" Asked Yunho.

Wooyoung's brow furrowed with concern as he watched his wife's retreating figure, her abrupt departure leaving a palpable tension in the air. He exchanged a troubled glance with his brother Yeosang, both sharing a silent acknowledgment of Hana's evident distress. Yeosang's gaze shifted to where Hana walked along the beach, her steps heavy with the weight of her grief.

"She's struggling," he admitted softly, his voice tinged with concern. "She's always been close to him," he murmured, his voice heavy with sorrow. "His passing has left a void in her heart that I fear may never truly heal."

Lord Jongho's voice carried a note of understanding as he addressed Wooyoung's worry. "Grief is a heavy burden to bear," he remarked solemnly, his eyes reflecting empathy. "And each person carries it differently." Yunho's gaze lingered on Hana's solitary figure by the shore, his expression tinged with compassion.

"She will need time," he said softly, his voice laden with wisdom. "Time to mourn, time to heal." Wooyoung nodded in agreement, a silent vow echoing in his heart. "I will be there for her," he vowed quietly, determination coloring his words. "No matter how long it takes."

Hana walked along the shore, the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the sand providing a soothing backdrop to her thoughts. The salty breeze tousled her hair as she strolled, her gaze fixed on the endless expanse of the sea stretching out before her.

With each step, she tried to clear her mind, to find solace in the tranquility of the coastline. Memories of her father flooded her thoughts, his laughter echoing in the recesses of her mind, his wisdom a guiding beacon in her life. But now, he was gone, his presence a void she struggled to fill. The weight of her grief pressed down upon her, a heavy burden she carried with each footfall along the shore.

Lost in her thoughts, Hana wandered further along the beach, the soft sand shifting beneath her feet. The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting hues of gold and crimson across the sky, a poignant reminder of the fleeting nature of time. As she walked, Hana found herself drawn to the water's edge, the gentle lapping of the waves beckoning her closer.

"I hope you don't plan on walking out there." Hana turned, startled by the unexpected voice, and saw Lord San standing before her, his figure stark against the backdrop of the beach. His presence caught her off guard, disrupting the solitude she had sought along the shore.

"I didn't mean to startle you," San said, his voice soft with concern as he approached her. "I saw you walking along the beach and thought I'd join you, if you don't mind."

Hana's gaze lingered on him for a moment, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. She hadn't anticipated encountering him here, not in this moment of solitude when she sought refuge from the weight of her grief.

"It's fine," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of hesitation. "I was just... trying to clear my mind."

San nodded understandingly, his expression sympathetic. "Losing a loved one is never easy," he remarked, his tone gentle. "If there's anything I can do to help, please don't hesitate to ask."

Hana studied him for a moment, noting the sincerity in his words. Despite their past differences, she couldn't deny the genuine concern in his demeanor.

"Thank you, San," she said quietly, her voice tinged with gratitude. "I appreciate your offer." They stood together on the shore, the waves crashing against the sand. The rhythmic sound of the waves provided a backdrop to their silence, filling the air with a sense of tranquility. After a moment of quiet contemplation, San spoke, his voice carrying a gentle cadence.

"The ocean has always held a special place in my heart," he began, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun dipped low, casting hues of gold and crimson across the sky.

"The sea has a way of soothing the soul, don't you think?" Hana nodded, her gaze drifting out to the endless expanse of the ocean. "Yes, it does," she replied softly, the weight of her sorrow lifting ever so slightly in the presence of the serene landscape. "There's a certain peace here, amidst the chaos of our lives."

After another moment of silence, Hana decides to speak again. "I hear you are to be married. To Lord Mingi's sister, correct?" She asks, San nodded his head.

"Yes, but the wedding will not be for a while." He responds, before prompting another question. "And how is your marriage to Wooyoung? Going well I hope." Hana's gaze softened as she considered San's question.

"Our marriage... it has its challenges," she admitted, her voice tinged with a mixture of reflection and uncertainty. "But we manage, as best we can." San sensed the weight behind her words, the unspoken truths lingering in the air between them.

"We're both trying," she replied, her voice gentle yet resolute. "In the end, that's all we can do, isn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose." He responds, the two continue to walk the beach. The sun dipped lower and lower, the sky darkening as it went. San decides to break the silence once more. "How are you feeling?" Hana's steps slowed as San's question pierced through the quietude of the beach. She cast her gaze out to the horizon.

"It's... difficult," she confessed softly, her voice carrying the weight of her grief. "Losing my father... it's like a part of me has been torn away." San nodded in understanding, his expression reflecting the depth of her sorrow.

"I can't begin to fathom the pain you must be feeling," he murmured, his tone filled with empathy.

"It's a wound that will take time to heal," Hana replied, her voice steady despite the tremor of emotion that lingered beneath the surface. "But I will carry his memory with me always."

As they walked in the fading light, the rhythmic sound of the waves serving as a somber backdrop to their conversation.

"I remember when my mother passed, how I felt during that time. It was similar to this, except-" She stops walking, eyes meeting San's. "this time, it is almost worse." she says, eyes watering.

"San....I don't have my parents anymore. The two people who helped mold me into who I am, the people I looked up to the most are just.....gone." Her voice breaks towards the end. San listened in solemn silence as Hana opened up about her profound loss, her words heavy with the weight of her grief. He could see the raw pain etched in her eyes, feel the weight of her sorrow pressing in on him like the crashing waves against the shore.

"I can't imagine the depth of your sorrow, Hana," he murmured softly, his voice filled with compassion. "Losing both of your parents... it's a pain no one should have to endure."

He reached out a hand, offering her silent support and understanding as she grappled with the enormity of her loss. In the fading light of the evening, amidst the gentle lull of the ocean, they stood together.

"Your parents may be gone, but their love and guidance will always remain with you," San said, his voice a gentle reassurance in the midst of her anguish. "And you are not alone, Hana. You have friends who will stand by you, who will help carry the weight of your sorrow." As tears filled her eyes and her vision blurred, San pulled her into his arms. Hana held him tightly, trying to quiet her sobs. He tried soothing her, petting her long hair and stoked her back in comfort.

"I wish I could be there for you, seeing the pain you are in now. Knowing you never fully healed from the loss." He said, regret filling his heart. Although it had been years since their last encounter, his desire to comfort her, to be with her was still as strong as ever. In the embrace of San's comforting arms, Hana felt a surge of gratitude mingled with sorrow. His words, spoken with such genuine concern, touched her heart in ways she couldn't fully express. Despite the passage of time and the distance between them, his presence offered a semblance of solace in her time of need.

"I appreciate your kindness, San," Hana whispered, her voice tinged with emotion. "Your concern means more to me than words can say. And though the pain may never fully fade, knowing that you're here for me brings a measure of comfort I can't describe."

In that moment, as the waves crashed against the shore and the evening breeze whispered through the air, Hana found herself drawn to the quiet strength of their shared bond. In San's arms, she found a sanctuary from the storms of grief, a refuge where she could let down her walls and allow herself to be vulnerable. As he held her, she calmed down. Sobs turned to sniffles, until they eventually stopped all together. She missed him, she missed the feeling she got when he was present. It had been so long, she had almost forgotten the tranquility he offered.

The tumult of emotions that had gripped her heart slowly began to subside, replaced by a quiet serenity born of their shared connection. As she nestled against him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, Hana allowed herself to bask in the warmth of his presence, savoring the familiar comfort that enveloped her like a protective cloak. In that moment, the weight of her grief felt lighter, as if lifted by the gentle touch of his understanding. Memories of their shared past flooded her mind, reminding her of the laughter they had shared, the secrets they had whispered beneath the starlit sky. Despite the passage of time and the trials they had faced, the bond between them remained steadfast. Realizing how long they have been gone, she pulls back.

"I am sorry, I've ruined your shirt." She says, a small laugh in her voice. He chuckles, "It is alright, I do not mind." They stood close, too close to be appropriate for their stature.

"Thank you, San," she said, her words imbued with sincerity. "For being here, for understanding." San offered her a warm smile,

"Of course, you will always hold a special place in my heart princess." That statement, it reminded her of the one he had said so long ago. 'I will always love you, never forget that' It was what he said before leaving that day. The immense pain it caused her, a pain that to this day never quite healed. As she gazed into San's eyes, she found herself caught between the past and the present, grappling with the weight of what could have been and the reality of what was.

"We should head back, I wouldn't want them to worry about you." San started to turn back, but when Hana wouldn't follow him, he stopped. "Princess?" Hana, with newfound confidence, decided to confront him about what happened so long ago.

"I have been alone....." she looks to him, "You abandoned me." she continued.

"I didn't abandon you Hana, you were to be married." He says, confused on where this conversation was heading.

"Yes, I was to be married." she paused, "And look at what my life became without you." She scoffed when he didn't respond, throwing her arms up like a child before turning to walk away. "Trapped in a marriage, a drool tragedy." Before she could get far, San grabbed her arm, yanking her back to him.

"Oh, and I wonder what you think of mine by comparison." They stared at one another, caught in a standoff. "I know little of it." She admits. Caught in the charged atmosphere between them, San's grip on Hana's arm loosened slightly as he took in her words. His expression softened, a mixture of understanding and regret flickering in his eyes. Hana met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a tumult of emotions—pain, anger, and a longing for understanding. She had carried the weight of her unspoken grievances for so long, trapped in the shadow of what might have been, unable to voice the depths of her heartache.

"Do you love her?" She questioned. San keeps his gaze on her, debating on how to answer without further upseting her. "She makes me happy enough." He admits. She nods, face revealing a mix of emotions.

"Well....that in itself is a great achievement." She looks down at the sand, seeking it as a distraction. Hana shook her head before looking up to him again. This won't get us anywhere.

"I am sorry." It is now San who shakes his own head. "Don't be, you have every right to be upset with me." He says. Once again, they're both stuck looking at one another, neither knowing what to do now. Hana removes her arm from his hold, reaching her hand to rest on his cheek. When he doesn't move to push her away, she takes a step closer.

"Hana," he whispers. "You're not thinking clearly." She strokes his cheek, looking into the dark and familiar eyes she grew so fondly of.

"I am no longer a child..." She says. She moves her hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. A rush of conflicting emotions surged within him. He felt the weight of their shared history, the tangled web of regret and longing that bound them together. In that fleeting moment, as their gazes locked and their breaths mingled, San found himself teetering on the edge of a precipice. For Hana, the touch of his skin beneath her fingertips reignited a flame long suppressed—a whisper of longing that lingered in the depths of her heart, beckoning her closer to the man she had once loved. In the quiet intimacy of their shared space, she yearned to bridge the chasm that had grown between them, to reclaim a fragment of the connection they had lost.

San's heart ached with the weight of his commitments, his duties as a lord and soon-to-be husband bearing down upon him like an unyielding burden. Hana's touch stirred a tempest of emotions within him, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed facade he had built to shield his heart from the pain of the past. Their lips hovered just inches apart, a voice echoed in the depths of San's soul—a silent plea for redemption, a whispered prayer for forgiveness.

San closed the gap between their lips, surrendering to the intoxicating allure of their shared connection. In that tender embrace, he felt the weight of his burdens lift, replaced by a profound sense of liberation and belonging. For Hana, the touch of San's lips against hers ignited a firestorm of emotion, consuming the barriers that had kept them apart for so long. She cast aside the expectations and obligations that had bound her, embracing instead the undeniable truth of her heart's desire. As they parted, breathless and exhilarated, a newfound clarity settled over them—a shared understanding that their love was worth any sacrifice, any hardship that lay ahead.

"I want you" She whispered against his lips, holding him tightly, fearing he could disappear. "I choose you." He held her face and brought her to him once again. As their lips met, it was as if the world around them faded into insignificance, leaving only the electrifying sensation of their union. Hana's soft breath mingled with San's, creating a delicate symphony of longing and desire in the space between them. The kiss was gentle yet passionate, a tender exploration of the depths of their shared connection.

With each brush of their lips, they exchanged a language of love that transcended words, speaking volumes in the silent communion of their souls. Their hearts beat in unison, a rhythmic cadence that echoed the intensity of their emotions. San's hands enveloped Hana's waist, lifting her effortlessly as a joyous laugh bubbled from her lips. In that fleeting moment of pure, unbridled happiness, their laughter echoed across the shoreline, carried by the gentle breeze that danced through the air. Hana's heart soared as she gazed into San's eyes, finding within them a reflection of the boundless love and affection that enveloped them both.

As he set her back down, she pulled his neck to connect their lips once more. Hana's fingers curled around the nape of San's neck, drawing him closer as their lips melded in a dance of desire and devotion. In the sweet ecstasy of the moment, they lost themselves in each other, their souls intertwining amidst the symphony of their shared affection. Once parted, they leaned their foreheads together, not wanting to separate from one another.

"Tell me this is real." San's voice broke the tender silence, his words echoing with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. Hana gazed up at him, her eyes alight with unwavering determination and boundless love.

"It's real, my love," she reassured him, her voice a gentle whisper that echoed the depth of her commitment. With each tender caress, she sought to convey the magnitude of her devotion, a steadfast vow to stand by his side through every trial and tribulation. San's concerns lingered like shadows in the night, casting doubt upon the path they had chosen.

"What of Wooyoung? What of Alora?" he questioned, his voice tinged with apprehension.

"We will find a way," Hana declared, her voice resolute and unwavering. In that moment, she embodied the essence of their shared resolve, her unwavering faith a beacon of hope in the face of uncertainty. "All will be resolved."

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The vast library of Dragonspire, a sanctuary of knowledge and reflection. The shelves are lined with ancient tomes and scrolls, their weathered spines bearing witness to the passage of time. In the soft glow of lamplight, Prince Wooyoung sits at a mahogany desk, poring over a collection of maps and parchments spread out before him. His brow furrowed in concentration, he traces the lines and symbols with careful deliberation, lost in the intricacies of strategy and diplomacy.

Across the room, Princess Hana steps in. Noticing her presence, Wooyoung sits up straight. "Hana, did you need something?" He asks. Hana looks behind her before stepping forward.

"There is a matter I wish to discuss with you." Wooyoung sets a scroll down, standing from his chair and approaching her. "Yes, what is it my dear?"

Hana meets Wooyoung's gaze, her expression serious yet resolute. "It's about us, Wooyoung," she begins, her voice steady despite the weight of her words. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, about our future, about where we stand."

Wooyoung's brow furrows with concern, sensing the gravity of her tone. "Go on, Hana. Whatever it is, you can tell me," he urges, his voice laced with both curiosity and apprehension. Taking a deep breath, Hana gathers her thoughts before continuing.

"I... I feel as though we've drifted apart, Wooyoung," she admits, her words tinged with sadness. "Our marriage.....we've become bound by duty rather than love."

Wooyoung's expression softens, his eyes reflecting a mixture of understanding and empathy. "I've felt it too," he confesses, his voice gentle yet tinged with sorrow. "The weight of our responsibilities, they've pulled us in different directions. But that doesn't mean we can't find our way to each other."

Hana nods, her heart heavy with emotion yet hopeful for the future. "I want to believe that, Wooyoung," she says earnestly, her voice tinged with determination. "But it has been five years, we need to be honest with ourselves, with each other. We can't continue pretending that everything is fine when it's not."

Wooyoung reaches out, his hand finding hers in a gesture of solidarity and support. "You're right." he agrees, his gaze unwavering as he meets her eyes. "The court will not take this kindly, how do you propose we go about this?" He asks.

Hana considers Wooyoung's question carefully, knowing the challenges that lie ahead. "We must approach this with caution and diplomacy," she replies, her voice measured yet resolute. "We cannot disregard the expectations of the court, but we also cannot ignore the truth of our own hearts."

Wooyoung nods in agreement, his expression thoughtful. "We'll need to be strategic in how we navigate this," he acknowledges, his tone echoing her sentiments. "We must tread carefully." Hana places a reassuring hand on Wooyoung's arm, her touch a silent affirmation of their unity in the face of adversity.

"Together, we will find a way forward," she assures him, her eyes reflecting unwavering determination.

"Wooyoung...we may have to take drastic measures." Hana states, hesitant to approach such a topic. Wooyoung looks at her quizzically, before finding understanding. "How would we do it?" He asks.

"We would have help, if we are to do such a thing, we will need an audience." She says. "It's a risk, but one we must take if we are to forge our own path."

Wooyoung's gaze softens, "I see," he murmurs, his tone thoughtful. "It won't be easy, but if it means securing our future together, then I'm willing to face whatever challenges come our way."

Hana smiles, a mixture of relief and determination coloring her features. "Thank you, Wooyoung," she says, gratitude evident in her voice.

In the dimly lit corridors of Dragonspire, Lord Yunho walks with purpose. Each step echoes against the stone walls. Lost in thought, Yunho rounds a corner and nearly collides with Lord Jongho, who wears a troubled expression.

"Yunho, there you are," Jongho says, his voice tense with urgency. "There's something you need to know."

Caught off guard by Jongho's demeanor, Yunho braces himself for whatever news awaits him. "What is it?" he asks, his tone edged with concern.

"It's Wooyoung-" Yunho waits for him to continue, but when he doesn't, he urges him to continue.

"Wooyoung? What about Wooyoung, has something happened?" Jongho swallows hard, he shakes his head before urging Yunho to follow him. The two men race to Dragonspire's throne room, when they enter, every working person and court members still present crowded the room. Confusion filled him, hearing some people chatter, some sobbing made him feel uneasy. A loud voice boomed throughout the room, startling almost everyone.

"WHO DID THIS? REVEAL YOURSELF." It demanded. The air crackled with tension, every eye fixed on the source of the commanding voice. They pushed through the crowd, their hearts pounding in their chests as they sought answers amidst the chaos. Before them, Dragonspire's throne stood empty, the courtiers whispered amongst themselves, their voices a symphony of confusion and fear. In the center of the room, Prince Yeosang, stood with fury etched across his features. His gaze bore into the assembled crowd, demanding accountability for the turmoil that had shaken the kingdom to its core.

"Who dared to betray the prince?" Yeosang's voice thundered, resonating through the cavernous hall with a fierce intensity. His words hung in the air, a challenge to those who dared harbor secrets in the shadows. Mingi stood next to Jongho, posture stiff and eyes on alert.

"What's going on?" Yunho asks him, hoping to gain some insight as to what took place. Mingi made eye contact with him, he opened his mouth to respond when the throne room doors burst open, Princess Hana rushing through them. Mingi was quick to act, running to her and stopping her from going further. "What is the meaning of this?" She demanded.

As Mingi intercepted Hana, the tension in the throne room surged to new heights, every eye fixed on the unfolding confrontation. Yunho's heart quickened with apprehension, his gaze darting between Mingi and Hana, his mind racing to grasp the gravity of the situation. Mingi's voice rang out with authority, his tone firm yet tempered with concern.

"Princess, you must remain calm," he urged, his words a plea for restraint amidst the chaos that threatened to consume them all.

Hana's eyes blazed with determination, her resolve unyielding in the face of uncertainty. "I demand answers, Lord Mingi," she declared, her voice echoing with a steely resolve that brooked no opposition.

"Prince Wooyoung......he's dead." Upon hearing this, Hana collapsed. Mingi tried supporting her to stand, but her legs gave out. The words hung heavy in the air, each syllable a dagger piercing the hearts of those who heard them. Mingi's expression darkened with sorrow, his features drawn tight with grief for the loss that had befallen them all. Hana's anguished cries echoed through the throne room, a haunting lament for the shattered dreams and fractured promises that now lay scattered at their feet. Yunho moved forward, his steps heavy with reluctance, a silent offering of solace in the face of unbearable sorrow. As Mingi attempted to support her, Hana's grief consumed her, her cries wrenching at the hearts of all who bore witness to her pain.

"We will find the man who did this...this....act of treason." Yeosang's declaration cut through the somber air, his words ringing with a steely resolve that echoed the collective determination of those gathered in the throne room. His voice, filled with righteous fury and unwavering conviction.

"Come princess, you should not have to witness this." A serving carefully took her out of Mingi's hold, leading her back to her chambers. Once inside, the serving girl was quick to run a bath.

"Here princess, let me help you-" Hana swatted her away, refusing her touch and demanding she be left alone. The girl bowed and announced she would be back with hot tea once Hana was done. When the girl leaves, Hana forced her tears to stop. She quickly wiped them away, stripping herself of the nightgown she had worn. 'Might as well take advantage' she thought. She laid herself in the tub, the heated water warming her body. Footsteps could be heard behind the room's door, moving quietly as to not make noise. The door opens and shuts quickly and softly, before the person makes an appearance before her, kneeling to be eye level.

"Is it done?" She asks, he nods. "Yes, he should arrive in Essos by tomorrow." She gives a hum of approval before leaning back. "You made quite a performance my love." Hana felt his hand stroke her hair and looks back to him.

"Good, we have them right where we want them." Their eyes meet, a shared understanding passing between them in the dimly lit chamber. As they bask in the aftermath of their meticulously orchestrated deception, a sense of triumph courses through their veins, fueling their resolve to see their plans through to fruition.

"We must remain vigilant," he cautions, his voice a whispered reminder of the dangers that lurk in the shadows. Hana nods in silent agreement, her gaze fixed on the flickering candlelight that dances across the room.

"The game is far from over," she murmurs, her words a solemn vow to see their ambitions realized. "But for now, let us savor the sweet taste of victory." With a tantalizing grace, she leans towards her lover, her eyes aflame with a mixture of desire and triumph. The ambient light casts a soft glow on her features as she pulls him in for a kiss.

Hana's lips, soft and inviting, meld seamlessly into San's. The warmth of the embrace ignites a firestorm of sensation that courses through every fiber of their beings. The world around them fades into the background, leaving only the intoxicating exchange of passion. As their lips part, a shared understanding passes between them, reflected in the soft smiles that paint their faces.

With a playful glint in her eye, Hana drags a teasing finger under San's chin. The gesture is laden with unspoken promises, a silent acknowledgment of the clandestine victories they've achieved together. "Strip for me," she whispers, her voice a sultry invitation to revel in the pleasures that follow their triumphs.

#ateez #choi san #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #ateez imagine #ateez x reader #choi san x reader #choi san x OC #GOT #game of thrones #house of the dragon #hotd #TheHeir

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blueking00 · 1 year

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#bg3 #baldurs gate oc #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #oc drakarys #dnd #dnd oc #d&d #sorcerer #half elf #original character #if you know you know 😏

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unusual-raccoon · 6 months

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Lines in the Sand (Ch. 3) | by Unusual_Raccoon (JaceLuke)

@saintbehemoth, @greeksorceress, @livinginafantasysposts, @andromaxeoftroy, @bimyself06, @mondstaub1 Warnings: Dark Jacaerys Velaryon, Politically Savvy Jacaerys Velaryon, Possessive Jacaerys Velaryon, Obsessive Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra), Codependency, Anal Fingering, Dom/sub Undertones, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Allusions to Disordered Eating, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra) Lives, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Valyrian Culture & Customs (A Song of Ice and Fire), Summary: Part 5 of A Brother's Love Daemon has returned to Dragonstone and brings with him more than Lucerys ever could have wished to know. WC: 3,5k Ao3 Link

The entirety of the castle seems to rejoice at Daemon’s return, their foothold in the Riverlands secured with Harrenhal being taken from the Greens. Their black and blue quartered banners now hung from its gates.

All rejoice, all except for Lucerys.

It is decided that Mother will accompany Daemon on dragonback to their newly acquired outpost in the Riverlands. It would do the people well to see their rightful ruler beyond the walls of her keep, bold and unafraid; unlike the Usurper, who hid in his cups, between his mother’s skirts, or behind his brother’s dragon.

Mother insists on a dinner before her departure…as a family. The wording rankles like jagged stones in the soles of his shoes.

Family, family, family.

His brother’s voice is in his head, sharp teeth at his ear.

You are mine.

Yours, he thinks wrathfully. His gaze cuts scorching across the dining hall as he takes his seat with a raised chin. Platters and portions span from corner to corner of the long table, oozing opulence rarely seen in times of war. Yet, no amount of sumptuous meals could fill the space of Jacaerys’ empty seat.

Rhaena sits to his left, Joffrey upon his right, and he asks Daemon endless questions about Harrenhal. The week before that, he had asked Luke endless questions about the Vale and the North. Lucerys had entertained his younger brother’s curiosity with mild exasperation then. Now, he is angry with his brother, angry that Joffrey blindly idolizes their stepfather, and is angrier still that he had once done the same. The naive love of a fatherless boy.

The notion churns his stomach and sours his mouth, more than the rich scent of their meal does.

He shifts endlessly in his seat and feels the ache in his sore bottom regardless of his position.

Lucerys sees Baela for the first time since returning home. She has hacked her hair short, yet even that suits her. Something about it stokes his growing ire; his stepsister’s effortless beauty…

Short curls sit atop her head like a silver cloud.

She will marry him someday, Lucerys thinks, his jaw so tense he thinks it will crack; teeth will rattle loose like pearls scattered to the stone floor.

Mother sits at the table’s head, hobbled beneath the weight of her crown.

Thick wedges of a golden-crusted pie, stuffed with herb-roasted pheasant, grapes, and pine nuts are placed on each plate. It smells savory and earthen and sweet. His stomach gurgles, hunger apparent, but no ordinary flesh could suffice.

The accompanying wine served with their meal is not dulled with water, it is rather robust and tart and tastes of cherries. It looks like blood, thick and sweet.

Lucerys drinks two cups of it while pushing the innards from his piece of pheasant pie with a fork. He feels his courage nourished, fed by his budding inebriation.

He feels eyes on him and predicts his mother’s perpetually wet gaze, instead, he finds bitingly sharp violet eyes that gleam like steel and study him like prey…

Nausea burns in his throat and rage pulses in his blood.

Thin lips curl in a curious smile and Lucerys’ feels a building ache in his temples.

Drakarys, Arrax

Daemon lifts his own goblet of wine, sipping it slowly, seeming to savor the taste. Conversation is sparse around the table, all present are somber, lifeless. Save for Joffrey who talks and talks to the benefit of them all.

Lucerys cannot even enjoy the noise, he cannot enjoy a final meal with his mother before she departs, he cannot rejoice as all others do. His fingers coil tightly, his knuckles blanched white at the large signet ring that stares back at him; in its center is a three-headed dragon. It gleams under the glow of lit sconces and a thousand blushing candles in the dining hall. It’s steel grins; Mocking.

Violet eyes narrow, appraising. Knowing.

Lucerys shifts again desperate to avoid detection, wincing at the throb of discomfort that he feels in his rear.

He muddles a piece of slivered grape into a paste upon his plate with the side of his fork. He stabs a bit of pheasant meat and watches the prongs of his fork split the tender fibers.

He catches Daemon’s stare again briefly and his fingers twitch with the urge to peel away his skin, to rid himself of the prickle of his stepfather’s steely gaze. His nose curls in distaste.

What are you looking at? Lucerys thinks indignantly, what do you want?

Daemon’s ring idly taps against the side of his goblet, metal on metal, as Joffrey asks another question.

His cutlery is cast down with a noisy clatter. His hands shake. Mother, Rhaena, and Baela look at him in surprise, Daemon’s smirk only deepens.

“I am feeling unwell, may I be excused?” Lucerys asks as he stands briskly. His chair scraped against the stone floor. His words are sharp if a tiny bit slurred.

His mother’s eyes are on him, her expression is distant. She looks at him - through him, like he is Visenya like he might be on a pyre next…

The request seems to pain her. Still, his mother permits him to leave.

Lucerys feels ill within the walls of the castle, like any distance, no matter how far, is still too close.

His legs ache as he staggers onto the gray sands that lie beyond.

He cannot breathe.

The breeze is cool coming off of the bay. It is a respite from the raging fire in his blood.

The stale smell of sulfur at low tide strikes him like an open palm. He loathes the scent of the sea. He thinks of the plain dagger that sits in Jacaerys’ chambers, he can feel the phantom weight of the warm, leather-wrapped handle stuck to his palm with thickening blood…

There is no running from the feeling, the helplessness, but his legs move regardless.

The sea roars up beneath him, cold and jarring. Bellowing like the maw of a great beast, threatening to swallow him whole. The Future Lord of the Tides. He blinks the salt from his eyes like waking from a dream. His fire is snuffed out, rage supplanted by fear. It turns leaden in his stomach.

He gazes down at the nearness of the waves and is only spared its cold embrace by a small jut of slick black rock that the heels of his boots narrowly cling to…and the treated wood of a forked staff.

The limbs of ash wood hold him idle and keep him from dropping into the water like a stone.

He blinks up at dark, almond-shaped eyes, tears mixing with the sea water on his cheeks. He keens a sound of anguish and relief.

“Prince Lucerys?” The rolling lilt of Calys’ liquid High Valyrian is sun-warmed honey in his open mouth. For a moment, the taste is a reprieve that sates the endless chasm of his hunger - his want.

The young dragonkeeper stands before him, still dressed in the undyed garment of his order.

He imagines clenching white-knuckled fists in that unflattering cloth, cold and heavy from the sea breeze. He looks for the shape of Calys’ cock beneath the fabric. To fill his empty mouth with it. He yearns for a scrap of certainty to bind himself to amidst all of the wrong.

He grimaces at memories that disintegrate between his fingers like ash under scrutiny too severe.

He yearns to distance himself from a truth that hurts, it winks at him cheekily like the glint of a thousand blushing candles off the steely grin of a signet ring - his ring.

He thinks of Arrax painted in cream and gold and the lovers that sat indolently at his feet.

Would you kneel for me, if I asked? He thinks to himself as he stares into Calys’ dark eyes. The thought is fleeting, lightning quick before the yawning maw of his hunger, his want surfaces once more.

You weren’t made for standing, his brother’s voice echoes in his head, pointed teeth are at his ear, you were made to kneel.

He envisions a velvet cushion embroidered in black and red before the throne. He licks his lips and finds the skin frayed, tasting of seawater and tart wine.

“The hour is late, my prince, you should return to the castle.”

Lucerys nods, cowed and very tired.

. . .

Lucerys does not return to his own chambers, he instead seeks comfort in Jace’s.

A shiver travels through him at the brush of a finger over the mended lock. The sound of it breaking echoes in his mind.

Tut, tut, tut.

That’s the sound the bed will make when I fuck you

He toys with the mechanism. He pulls the length of wrought iron in and out of the hammered hole meant to house it, in and out.

The metal is cold, the room is cold, he is cold.

Lucerys squirms beneath the neatly made bedding. Clumps of wet sand stick to the sheets in his haste.

His boots adorn the floor.

He feels safe cocooned in a nest of blankets. The pillow smells less like Jace than it did a few days prior.

Still, he savors it - the nearness, the intimacy. His warm breath fills the pocket of darkness he hides in.

He gasps at the contrast of his hand brushing featherlight against his warm belly, skin prickling as it sinks lower.

His body feels heavier, somehow. Decaying as he is. Bits fall away with each passing day and still, he feels heavier; burdened by a weight he cannot shed.

His fingers brush his cock, and he mewls into Jace’s pillow. His arousal stirs, half-hard; omnipresent. His breath is damp in the small space.

His hips inch forward, his fingers graze the underside of his erection, and the sensation sings.

Pleasure bolts white and pure, like lightning through Lucerys’ body. His sore hole clenches.

His hands feel nothing like his brother’s. Though the scent of Jacaerys has faded to little more than a dream in his mouth, its presence upon his pillow helps dull the worst of the disparity. If he closes his eyes tight, he can think of Jace touching him - hands hardened with calluses that inspire a stinging friction. He grips himself tighter, mimicking the pleasurepain only his beloved brother could bestow.

He huffs a pathetic little sound between wet lips. His hips rutting into his hand. The head of his cock poking through the circle of his fingers with shallow thrusts.

Sticky, pre-spend dribbles over his knuckles. A tacky spot forms against the bedding.

You’re leaking like a woman, his brother’s voice croons mockingly in his head. Yet, Lucerys sups upon his own humiliation gladly. He drinks it down, robust and tart like the wine served at supper. Something silken and warm takes root in his belly, the arch of his spine deepens and his cock twitches in the cage of his too-soft hand. His sore hole clenches, empty.

Leaking like your woman, Lucerys thinks to himself, a coquettish turn to his lips.

He pinches the weeping head of his cock, pleasurepain flashes in his belly like the kiss of glowing embers to oil.

He’s gasping, trembling, feverish on the verge of something awe-inspiring, like he might catch fire.

“Jace-”

The air is thin and every sound beyond the cover of the bedding thrown over his head is muffled.

The scrape of the wooden door against the stone is sudden and jarring, panic prickles icily like the dance of metal up his spine.

He feels trapped once more, frantically trying to right himself. He thrusts his head beyond the safety of his nest, his skin is damp and air stings bitingly cold at his cheeks.

The musk of sweat and pre-spend hangs in the air, damning proof of his transgressions.

His heart hammers hard in his chest, too hard. He is greeted by white-blonde hair and violet eyes. Thin lips curl in a smile. Those chilling eyes blink slowly, once, twice - horizontal, vertical.

His stepfather hums a quiet laugh to himself like he is reminded of something humorous while standing in the doorway of Jacaerys’ bedchambers.

“I thought you might be in here,” Daemon says after a moment, pleased with himself. Lucerys’ arousal withers and dies, his stones ache.

Nausea burns thick in Luke’s throat. He didn’t want Daemon to think of him. He didn’t want Daemon to think of him in Jace’s room.

Lucerys can only hold the bedcovers beneath his chin with trembling hands. His trousers are still around his knees, he wants terribly to fix them.

“Your mother and I shall depart for the Riverlands soon,” He adds, eyes narrowing for a every moment Lucerys remains mute.

He takes a single step into Jacaerys’ chambers and Lucerys draws his knees to his chest with a gasp. He clutches the bedcovers tighter over his modesty.

He glares at his stepfather with tears brimming in his eyes. His throat aches with the effort it takes to keep from mewling. Still, Daemon is unperturbed, he steps closer.

“You worry her, you know that, don’t you?”

“Mother has more important things to worry about, she’s the queen, we’re at war-”

Daemon laughs at that. A snide little bark.

“And who do you think she is waging this war for? Herself?”

His teeth pull at the inside of his cheek to keep quiet. Luke can feel the pressure of his blunt nails digging into his palms through the thickness of Jacaerys’ quilt.

“You aren’t eating…” It isn’t a question, but an expressed observation. The concern sounds very inconvenient in Daemon’s mouth.

“Why?” He asks.

Daemon raises a white-gold brow. He taps a ringed finger against his chin, the steel flashes and Lucerys’ gaze burns. He blinks slowly, once, twice - horizontal, vertical. Lucerys’ ire swells and sinks quickly, angry and ashamed to have been baited so easily. His cheeks pulse with mortification.

“Did he command it of you?” Daemon asks, his white-gold head lowered as he speaks while he admires his ring - He - like a tiny piece of Jacaerys is still stuck upon it.

“No, of course not. The thought would terrify him.”

The words clash - they do not belong together. The thought of his brother, his Jace being terrified of anything is beyond outlandish. The poison drips from Daemon’s mouth with certainty though.

“Jace wouldn’t-“

He bites his tongue, he tastes copper.

“Is that what he would have you believe?” Daemon asks wryly.

He takes a step closer and the space of Jacaerys’ rooms seems to shrink. Serpentine black stone coils tight around him; squeezing the life from him.

Lucerys shifts back upon the bed, knees to his chest, trousers sagging down his shins. He pulls the quilt with him.

“He is many things, your brother, but fearless is not one of them.”

Lucerys glares at his stepfather, glares so hard he feels an ache in his temples.

He recalls the iron box that resides neatly upon a shelf. He recalls the dagger that sits within it. His fingers clench for the warm leather-wrapped handle. He had already maimed one uncle with that dagger, he thinks he could do it again. He imagines cleaving the boring little blade into Daemon’s throat, he imagines opening a crescent across the white flesh to match the smug curl of Daemon’s thin lips. He would sever that silver-blond head from his broad shoulders and present it in an offering to Jace when he returned home.

A token of his love.

His hole clenches around nothingness and he winces at the soreness he feels there.

A hand reaches for him suddenly, shattering the fantasy. A lock of his hair is held prisoner between Daemon’s fingers where he looms beside Jacaerys’ bed. Lucerys trembles, tears wet his cheeks, feeling as ferocious as a lamb.

Daemon’s violet eyes gleam like steel. He worries the dark hair between his fingers idly like he’d done it a thousand times before. There is mild curiosity in the touch. Disgust and arousal evident in the turn of his lips.

“You’re more her than anything else…it is a blessing.”

Her. Mother. Rhaenyra. Targaryen.

Else. The reality sits like a sword through the gut. Bastard. Strong.

Lucerys shivers, feeling the phantom caress of pointed teeth at his ear.

You are mine. Our mother may have borne you, but you ceased to be hers from the moment you left her womb.

His brother’s voice rings in his head, he presses his thighs together and imagines Jace still thrusting between them, just as he had that day in the godswood.

Yours, Lucerys thinks stubbornly. Head tilted in a silent defiance.

Daemon leers at him. He blinks slowly, once, twice - horizontal, vertical.

“What has he done to you?” Daemon asks with a restrained sort of glee. Nausea burns in Lucerys’ throat. The taste of bile and salt that washes upon his tongue reminds him of his brother.

A slight tug upon the curl between Daemon’s fingers pulls Lucerys’ head and he yelps, thighs pressed together. He no longer feels Jace between them.

“I-” Lucerys stammers, a hiccuping sob claws up his throat. He pulls back, ignorant of the pain that stings from the curl pulled taut between Daemon’s fingers. Lucerys’ hips shift down, and away, his bare bottom presses firmly to the bed regardless of the ache that he feels as a result.

Daemon’s smirk deepens.

He inhales through his nose, the musk of sweat and pre-spend still hanging in the air.

“You should eat,” Daemon remarks as he releases the lock of Lucerys’ hair from his hold. He absently wipes a hand upon his trousers like Lucerys is some flea-ridden animal. Like he is not quite human.

“If not for your sake,” he says, “then for his.”

Then quietly, his stepfather turns to leave. The building ache in his temples worsens and he imagines scrambling from the bed for Jace’s dagger. He imagines plunging it somewhere vital, into Daemon’s lower back for a kidney, or in the side of his neck for thick artery. He imagines making Rhaena cry again by orphaning her completely.

I know he’s your father, but he hurt my brother. You’ll forgive me, you always do.

Daemon idles by the bedside table nearest to the door, where the half-full sleeping vial resides. He produces a vial of his own from a velvet purse. It is a small stoppered glass bottle. The stain of the glass makes the color of the contents impossible to tell. He wants to inspect it, but wouldn’t dare show Daemon any hint of attention.

“He’ll know what to do with this.” his stepfather says.

He taps a finger against the corked top, a ringed finger, with intention.

“Lucerys?” Daemon calls, twisted partially to face him from his path to the door.

“Do be patient with your brother,” he intones with a tilt of his head, an everpresent smile curling upon thin lips, “he is a slow learner.”

He listens to the echo of Daemon’s footsteps as he leaves, absorbs himself in the quiet, in the absence of him as though it had never been. But he had been there. He leaves Lucerys with a glass bottle upon the bedside table and a hateful fire lurching in his veins.

. . .

He listens as his mother and Daemon eventually depart. The dual cries of Syrax and Ceraxes echoing in the dark sky.

He is nearly certain he can Arrax’s chittering call blending into the noise. The noise that he drifts off too with sand in the sheets and his trousers around his ankles.

He had not touched anything since Daemon left, not even himself. He feels petrified, like a insect stuck in amber.

Lucerys lays in the dark, his breath visible in the air. His grip is firm on the edge of the quilt.

His sleep is unbidden and heavy, like being pulled under water. He doesn’t want to sleep. He wants to slide the wrought iron bolt into the locking mechanism. He wants to fetch the dagger from Jace’s box.

He wants to feel safe in his home again.

The bed tilts beneath him. Weight settles over him. A solid cage of flesh and bone.

Daemon.

They hadn’t left, they hadn’t-

He thrashes in the dark.

You’re more her than anything else…

He’s gasping for air, his limbs are too heavy. He never got the dagger.

A hand presses over his mouth, his breath rushes hot and frantic against Daemon’s knuckles. Tears leak from the corners of his closed eyes. The grip tightens just short of painful.

“Don’t scream,” a voice warns in a whisper.

When the hand pulls away, he sucks down wet breaths, blinking through teary eyes in the dark.

He whimpers in anticipation of steely violet eyes that cut him to his core. Eyes watch him like prey. He coughs, phlegm sticks uncomfortably in his throat, clogging up his airways.

It is so dark, that even when his eyes adjust what he finds is darker than his closed eyes, darker than the night sky.

His chest constricts and he cries harder than before.

“Jace?”

. . .

A/N: A hard-earned birthday gift to myself. return of the king 👑🙌.

#my writing #jaceluke #jaceluke agenda #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #jacaerys x lucerys #hotd fanfic #hotd #my fanfic: a brother's love

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