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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 6 months

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How You Turn My World; Chapter 3

As the reality of your situation sets in, you try your best to survive in the Underground... and find a way out. Little do you know though, someone else is trying to find you.

Character; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, more shenanigans, getting more into the meat and bones of this fic

Content Warnings; Swearing

Word Count; 3.2 K

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Do not put my work into AI - I will push you into the Bog of Eternal Stench

Your night for the most part was uneventful. The horrid screaming had thankfully went in the opposite direction, away from your tree-top abode. Although throughout the night, little crowds of glowing eyes had amassed at the bottom of the tree, but they made no attempts to reach you. Even though they couldn’t reach you, you couldn’t help but feel unnerved, since all you could see was their eyeshine, and hear them chittering to each other.

Great, they’re probably pointing and laughing at the new fool in town. ‘Oh, look, Jim, a new plaything! Don’t they look stupid hanging in a tree like that? Fufufu.’ But you kept quiet, and just watched them, as much as they did you, making sure they didn’t try any funny business.

They didn’t stay for long though, either leaving due to their curiosity being quenched, or from how boring you were trying to be; silent, and watching, not moving. If worse came to worse, you would have started chucking rowan berries at them; if fae don’t like the tree, they probably wouldn’t like the berries either.

Eventually, the dark night dissolved into the dim glow of dawn, and once you could actually make out your surroundings and it wasn’t just one large mass of darkness, you started making your way down the tree. You were a bit proud of yourself, seeing that you had 1) survived the night, and 2) not fallen out of the tr—

Snap! … you celebrated too soon, since the branch you were using as a foothold gave way, and you tumbled your way to the ground. At least the fall wasn’t too high up, but it still stung like a bitch, and you’d definitely have a bruise; both to your body and your ego.

At least there was no one around to see you eat dirt.

Sighing, you rubbed your eyes, and smacked your cheeks; fighting off sleepiness. Focus; you need to get home. Read the damn book Mr. Sparkles gave you… damn prick is probably gonna call in a favour later…

With a still sore butt, you found a mossy rock that looked somewhat comfortable and sat down, opening up your ‘How Not to Die in Fairyland; For Dummies!’ book (not really the name of it, but it was damn close).

“Chapter nine; how to leave the Underground,” you muttered, flipping to the page. Weird, it’s only one page?

“While leaving the Underground is possible, it is a task that not many have accomplished.

Of the possible ways include;

Finding a portal; typically an enchanted faerie ring, or royal portal.

Finding a fae and tricking them into owing you a favour

One should leave the Underground before their thirteenth day. Should you stay beyond thirteen days you will not be able to leave the Underground, and will be a permanent resident.”

You shut the book, taking in a deep breath. What has it been, ten hours? It was hard to tell, the blurring of time. But at least you had a rough time of twelve days to find a portal — or have a fae owe you a favour — and get the hell back home. If worse came to worse, you were not above some benign trickery so you could see your idiots again.

…

Lilia had arrived home safe and sound, slept in his warm bed, and had some of his … delightful home cooking before he was due back at the castle. And while he was eating the somehow overcooked yet still raw eggs, he couldn’t help but wonder how the little Beastie was doing; how you were doing.

He didn’t technically owe you any favours, since he had given you that handy dandy book — if anything, you owed him, since you did say ‘thanks’ and everything — but curiosity is a fickle thing, and you seemed interesting. Humans typically reacted more when they ended up here, and made no proper moves to ensure that they made it back. But you, the little Beastie? Lilia saw a fire in your eyes, of both ire and determination. You wouldn’t give up easily, and while it was entertaining, he also knew that trouble could, and most likely would, follow wherever you go.

Last time a human like you ended up in the Underground… it didn’t end well (said human nearly burnt the Queen’s labyrinth down to the ground). Hopefully though, you didn’t prove to be as foolish, or as obsessed with fire as the last human. Who knows, maybe you would even escape! If you didn’t though, the court could use a new fool, and you seemed amusing enough to please their majesties whilst not incenting their ire.

“Hmm, wonder if their majesties have felt the intrusion,” Lilia hummed to himself, cleaning up his dishes. He could easily just magic it away, but the trip to the mortal realm had taken a lot out of him, so he was stuck doing some good old fashioned manual labour, not that he really minded. Doing the dishes was better than being digested by some mangy, overweight, cat.

A crack of lightning sounded outside, disrupting the otherwise beautiful and peaceful day. “That answers that question!” Lilia sounded too cheerful for what many fae considered to be a bad omen, as lightning rarely meant a good thing when it concerned the royal family.

A raven came to rest on the windowsill, eyes glowing green; a messenger.

Lilia tapped its beak, letting the message play.

“General Vanrouge, I require you to apprehend the trespasser on our land, lest they taint the soil,” the raven recited Queen Maleficia’s message. “Shall you deem it necessary to use drastic measures, so be it… To call this number back, place a coin into the raven’s mouth. To save this call—”

Lilia groaned, but coughed up a bronze coin so that the Queen didn’t send more ravens to his house on his day off. “Our guest shall be dealt with swiftly, I assure you of that.” Lilia ended his call, the raven blinked, coughed out the coin, and flew off in a ruckus of cawing.

He sighed, and cracked his back. “Hopefully our guest can understand… and not hit me with a broom this time.” With a snap of his fingers, Lilia poofed into his trademark green sparkles, and he was a bat again. Instead of being lost in the mortal realm though, he was off to find you, who was most likely lost in the Underground… hopefully you didn’t get eaten or fell into the bog again, since he doubted the Queen would want a dead(?) or putrid smelling guest.

“Beastie, Beastie, Beastie, wherever could you be?”

…

“Where the hell am I,” you wheezed. You had been walking for a good bit, since hey, the bog really smelled bad, plus you didn’t want to stick around long enough where the creature that was screaming last night decided to come back and make an appetizer out of you. So, you were walking. Where to? You had no idea, all you knew was that you needed to find a portal somehow, of the mushroom variety, or royally produced.

Currently, you were fighting gravity and making your way up a steep hill, but you knew you would be able to see over the dense forest canopy once you reached the top, and maybe, just maybe, you would be able to make sense of your bearings. Would you know where you were once you reached the top? Pfttt, no, but at least you would know what exactly was around. A sulfuric rotten egg-smelling swamp was one thing, but you wouldn’t be all too surprised if you found out there was a man-eating daisy patch or some other nonsense here.

Finally, you made it to the top of the hill, and you caught your breath before looking out towards the horizon. To the north, the sea of trees continued for what seemed forever. East, the trees made their way into a grassy plateau where there seemed to be a village of some sort in the distance; quaint. South, uh, the swamp, definitely not going back that direction, you’ve had enough of that swamp. And west, a castle, surrounded by a maze.

“An enchanted faerie ring or royal portal,” you muttered, weighing your options.

You had about twelve days left to get out of this place. You could spend those twelve days trying to find a so-called ‘faerie ring’ in the forest since those things were mushroom circles, but the chances of finding an enchanted one seemed to be slim to none. On the other hand, castles usually equaled royalty, which would equal portal. Knowing royals though, they were probably batshit insane. Also, if they felt like you were lying or trying to dupe them? Hey, they could apparently turn you into a slug or some other easily squishable being if they wanted to. And you really didn’t want to be turned into a slug… now at the moment at least.

“Forest,” you looked at the forest, “or castle?” You could also go east, but the grassland didn’t exactly scream portal potential or had any rowan trees (or any trees for that matter). “That is the question. Look for weird mushrooms and maybe get eaten by some critter, or potentially piss off some royal and end up as said critter. Hmmm.”

You groaned, and flopped down to the ground; both options weren’t all that appealing, or even guaranteed that you would find a portal. Rolling over to your stomach, you opened up the book again, seeing if it had anything that could help you make up your mind on the options in front of you.

Scanning over the table of contents, there was nothing about where to find a portal in the woods. There was, however, a handy dandy chapter on fae etiquette, including government specifications…

You looked up towards the castle again, eyeing the maze. And started coughing out into laughter at your situation. “Pfttt, didn’t I wish that the Goblin King would whisk me away from my life,” you wheezed. “And here I am! In the fucking Underground with a labyrinth?!” Your laughing subsided into a tired sigh, and you set your eyes back towards the castle. “The irony is astounding really.”

At least you didn’t have to worry about some baby being turned into a goblin… right?

No, no, you only wished for yourself to be taken away, no one else. But would that mean you would end up as a goblin? Fae? Or as some weird pet or servant to a fae? Hopefully not… and at least you had the somewhat credible book that Mr. Sparkles gave you.

Shit, I owe him a favour though… CURSE YOU SARCASM!!!!

Well, maybe Mr. Sparkles will cut you some slack, since ya know, you did save him from Grim… but you also did hit him with a broom… and insulted him… I am so fucked, aren’t I?

…

You eventually got to the entrance of the maze (the labyrinth?), and sat down on a bench outside of it, huffing and puffing. “Does everything want to–” you stopped that sentence, knowing your luck, if you said it out loud, it was bound to happen. “Never mind that…”

“Never mind what?” A voice said to your right.

You shot up and whipped your head around, coming face to face with a door(?) with a face. “I-”

“You never mind!” A second voice said, and on your left was another door, sending its counterpart a dirty look. “You know better than to meddle in such affairs!”

The right door, which was a weathered red, rolled its eyes at its neighbour. “Bah! Curiosity killed the cat-”

“But satisfaction brought it back. I know!” The left door, a brilliant blue, huffed. “Ignore them, they do this to everyone.” They sneered (if doors could sneer) to their neighbour. “Don’t you have anything better to do than trick people?”

Did I just get in between these two during something?

The red door got offended, turning even redder by some means. “Like you should be one to talk! ‘Oh my dear traveller, one of us two doors is a liar and does nothing but lie! Do not let my neighbour fool you!’ It’s the same every single time with you!”

It’s giving bitter divorced couple who for some reason still live with each other—

“I would do no such thing!”

“LIAR!”

“NO YOU ARE THE LIAR!”

You groaned, their bickering was starting to give you an all too familiar migraine. “Will both of you shut up?!”

Both of the doors tch-ed at your remark but stopped their nonsensical arguing, and you rubbed at your temple, easing away the building tension. But they turned their attention to you, looking at you with a mix of curiosity and something else… doors couldn’t be fae… right? The book didn’t say anything about talking doors… could they be portals? It couldn’t be that easy, nothing was ever that easy.

“Did anyone ever teach you any manners, mortal?” The red door huffed, turning its nose up at you.

The blue door looked at you with a similar expression, “Yes yes, awfully rude you know! Lucky it's just us though, and not the mistress. Oh ho ho! She would turn you into a newt for that!”

I wasn’t too wrong about them turning me into a slug I guess… would a newt be an upgrade in this case? Since they have bones—

“And you’re a door,” you deadpanned, “you both haven’t been polite either, ya know?” You had better things to do than kissass to two sentient doors, so no, you weren’t going to be polite. “So the sooner you tell me which way to go, the sooner I’m out of your… splinters?”

The doors grumbled but didn’t raise any objections.

“As you may have overheard, one of us is a liar,” they both said at once. “One of us will lead into the labyrinth, whereas the other will lead you back to where you started your journey.” They both chuckled, looking at you with amusement. “It is up to you to decide which is which.”

You looked between the two doors, weighing your options. “And what if I just walk into the labyrinth? What happens then?”

The blue door hummed, “Well, it would eat you!” … why did it sound all too cheerful about that?!

“So I don’t really have any other option then, do I?”

“Nope!~” They both gave you cheerful smiles, and you were half tempted to go off into the woods and find that magic portal by your lonesome. At least then you wouldn’t have to deal with a pair of divorced doors, and a human-eating labyrinth that belonged to some mistress that would turn you into a newt if she felt like you were being snippy with her.

You sighed. Of both the doors, the blue one seemed more sympathetic, whereas the red door was more harsh… “Okay, red, open sesame!”

The red door looked shocked that you picked it over its counterpart, but it opened nonetheless. The blue door grumbled that you had chosen its neighbour over it, but stayed quiet.

When the door opened, all you could see was black.

“Do you actually lead anywhere?” You threw a rock in, but no sound came out.

The red door was silent though; apparently, when it was open, it couldn’t talk. And while you didn’t miss the bickering, you really wanted answers, and the blue door wasn’t saying anything either.

Sighing, you walked forward, hoping that you had chosen the right door. Once both of your feet were over the threshold, light started to filter in. Did I choose right?! But before you got too ahead of yourself, you felt the ground give way under you, and you were falling; falling towards an all too familiar sulfuric-smelling bog.

“SHI-”

…

You were back in the bog of eternal stench, and spitting the rotten egg-tasting water out of your mouth again. And this time, Mr. Sparkles wasn’t here to make you magically smell better either. Nope, you were stuck smelling horrible until you could find a change of clothes.

Crawling out of the water, you grumbled and hissed curses towards that red door. Of course, you would end up here again! Why not! Laugh it up, Underground! Laugh it up!

“I hate it here,” you seethed, wringing out as much water as you could from your clothes.

Shit, the book! But the book was still dry… Fuck you, book. Fuck. You. Of course, the book would stay free of wet and stench, whereas you were now shivering, since the water was frigid, plus you were angry and embarrassed that you had been deceived.

It was no use though just sticking around here lamenting and fuming. So you hoisted yourself up and marched back to the labyrinth; and even though the trip was a good three hours, your anger and pettiness drove you forward.

“YOU-” you hissed, pointing a finger at the red door.

The red door looked at you, looked to its blue neighbour, and then back at you before it started laughing. “I see someone took a little dip-”

You got up in its face, “Fuck you, asshole.” You turned around and marched up to the blue door. “Open up,” you cracked your knuckles, not breaking eye contact. And either your intimidation worked, or your smell was so offensive that the door just wanted you gone; weaponizing the stench works wonders against prissy doors.

“Th-” You remembered your first blunder; do not thank the fae. “You are too kind.” And you stepped through the blue door, which was as dark as the red one, but once the door closed, you didn’t find yourself back in the damned bog. You were now in the labyrinth, and perhaps a step closer to finding a way home.

…

Lilia found himself in the bog, looking around for the Beastie (you). But they were nowhere to be found, save for a wet spot on the grass and some torn-up moss.

“Ah,” he suppressed a laugh, “they fell in again, I see. Poor Beastie.” At least they’ll be easier to find.

He summoned a glass orb, a looking glass of sorts, and looked inside of it. “Show me the human,” he whispered, sprinkling it with some green magic. “And show me their location.”

The glass orb multiplied into three. The first orb showed a close-up of your face, an annoyed yet determined look on your face. The second orb showed that you were surrounded by hedges. And the third and final orb showed that the hedges were actually the Queen of the Underground’s personal labyrinth.

“… at least they can’t really run off anywhere.” But this wasn’t a great turn of events. Many people, both human and fae alike, had tried their best to navigate the labyrinth. But it was a fickle thing; you had thirteen hours to reach the castle, and if you didn’t within those thirteen hours? You would be stuck within it, as one of the beings that tried to stop trespassers from reaching the castle.

Lilia pinched the bridge of his nose, “Beastie, what have you gotten yourself into?” And he turned into a bat, flying off to try and find you. While the Queen did want you apprehended, Lilia would rather it be with his own hands, and not be held liable for any further actions or decisions you made.

...

Tags; @afunkyfreshblog, @cheezy-moon, @eynnwwyjth, @ithseem, @lucid-stories, @ryker-writes, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

~~~~~~~

Author's Note; After a little break from writing this fic, I'm back! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter, even if it was only for the pay-phone/raven and the divorced bickering doors!

If you liked this, do check out my masterlist for more content!

#twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge x gn reader #now we can get into building the relationship between these two fufufuffufufu #mr sparkles = lilia | beastie = reader #i wrote 1K of this back in September and the rest in the past two days #too be fair i was feeling a bit burnt out so i did need to step back a bit #but i've been feeling inspired again!!! yippee!!!!#raven; mmmmmm MONEY!!! 'to continue your call-'#*sad trombone noises* reader ended up in the bog again; will they ever smell good again?!#a break from the horrors i'm writing for the twst murder mystery au; back to the labyrinth au!!!#twst labyrinth au #and my fun tags have returned too!!!!

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luxaofhesperides · 5 months

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We Are Robins meeting to Signal apprehending Danny ; requested by @zylev-blog!

“Hey, Danny. How are you feeling?”

Danny gives Duke a tired smile, his head falling back against the wall. He’s sitting up today, which is good. It’s definitely an improvement from the many days Danny was unable to do much but lie down and grit his teeth through the pain as Duke checked on the gunshot wound. It’s a good thing Danny’s a meta with a healing factor, or nothing Duke could have done would have saved him.

As it is, the wound was severe enough to keep Danny vulnerable and unable to move on his own without making it worse. Though Duke has looked, he hasn’t had any luck in finding whoever did this to Danny. He hasn’t brought it up to the rest of the We Are Robin gang, but only because Danny only let him help if he kept it between the two of them.

What’s another secret? If it lets him stay close to Danny and make sure he’s healing well, then he’ll keep quiet and carry on the search by himself. He’s got plenty of practice in doing things on his own.

“Busy out there?” Danny asks as Duke sits down next to him, dropping his backpack onto the ground.

“Yeah, it’s tough with the cops after us, but someone needs to help Gotham and with Batman gone…”

A pained expression crossed Danny’s face. Eyeing him carefully, Duke opened his backpack and pulled out a few protein bars and sports drinks for him. Once Danny takes them and began eating one, Duke takes out the first aid kit, always kept at the bottom of the backpack, and sets it in front of Danny.

The most he can do is offer supplies and company at this stage of Danny’s healing. He gets twitchy and tense when Duke tries to tend to his wound, and seems to have plenty of practice in patching himself up.

He didn’t answer when Duke commented on it once, so Duke let the matter drop.

Metas may have legal protection, but that doesn’t stop people from targeting them. Duke has no intention of pushing Danny into remembering unpleasant things while he’s already wounded, hiding out in the upper corner of an abandoned warehouse taken over by a group of homeless people. Most aren’t inside during the day, choosing instead to be out with the rest of the city, which leaves them alone.

Duke keeps an eye on the ground floor of the warehouse, making sure no one comes in while Danny tends to his wound. When he peeks back, he can see that it’s much smaller than it was the night Duke found him, crawling down an alley with one hand clutching his side, tears slipping down his face. There had been so much blood that Duke was sure he had just stumbled upon someone dying and froze, horrified.

And then a shout down the road prompted him to move, hauling Danny up and helping him into the warehouse to hide.

For a normal person, if it didn’t kill them, the wound would still be raw and bleeding, larger than any gunshot wound he’s seen before. But Danny’s wound is closing up quickly, no longer bleeding, the edges a healing pink.

It doesn’t look like it’s going to scar, either.

“Think it’ll be all healed up by the end of the week?”

Danny glances up, then continues covering it with new bandage, large enough to cover the entire wound. “Hopefully,” he says. “Then I’ll be out of your hair and can figure out a way to get home.”

“Your folks gonna look out for you?”

“Probably. I’m not planning on telling them, though, since they’ll get way too overprotective. The only reason they’re not tearing Gotham apart looking for me is because I came here with my godfather and he told them we’d be gone for two weeks. Can’t believe he tried to kill me on day one…”

“Your godfather tried to kill you?”

“Yeah. Not personally, or anything, but he definitely hired the guy who shot me. Though he also yelled at him for shooting me? Not sure what that’s about, but I never trusted the guy and he didn’t try to help me afterwards when I ran away, so. You know.”

Duke wants to have a conversation with Danny’s godfather. Maybe bring the other Robins along to make sure the message sinks in: Don’t touch Danny.

But Danny, acting so casual about his godfather trying to kill him, would be unhappy about it, and Duke would really rather be able to take care of him than be shut out for trying to take control of the situation.

“Shit, man, that sucks,” he offers, instead of prying for details so he can hunt down his godfather. “You want a hug or something? I can’t really do much else, but if it can make you feel better about all this…”

Danny brightens and shoves the first aid kit away, his shirt (one of Duke’s old ones he offered up to replace the bloodstained one) falling to cover the bandage. “Please. I would love a hug, dude, I don’t remember the last time I felt so lonely.”

Carefully, Duke wraps his arms around Danny, leaning back so Danny could relax fully and not worry about holding himself up. Danny sighs into the hug, going fully limp as he drops his forehead onto Duke’s shoulder.

“Thanks for this. And everything,” Danny says some time later. He doesn’t move to pull away, so Duke stays as he is, watching the weak sunlight slowly move across the warehouse as it spills in from dirty windows.

“You don’t need to thank me. I mean, I’m a Robin.” He brings up a hand to tap a finger against the R embroidered into his jacket. “It’s what we’re here for.”

It’s been years since he saw Danny. After he was fully healed, Duke helped him get to city limits, watching as he boarded a bus and disappeared down the road, leaving his life just as suddenly as he entered it.

After spending so much time together, quiet hours of stillness just looking out for each other, his life feels emptier without Danny in it. He knew it wouldn’t last, that Danny would go home eventually, but it didn’t make the parting any easier.

Even now, as Signal, taking a break from going on missions with the Outsiders to spend some time with the Bats, his thoughts drift towards Danny, wondering if he’s alright. In his darker moments, he wonders if Danny’s godfather has tried to kill him again, if he’s succeeded. In calmer, happier moments, he remembers Danny’s quiet stories about his family, his town, all his dreams and hopes for the future, remembers the easy company and how Danny didn’t look at him with pity when talked about his parents, just quiet and contemplative.

Sometimes, he can’t resist the urge to look him up, but there are so many Danny’s out there that he doesn’t know where to start. He never got Danny’s last name or learned when he came from.

It’s not like he can just ask the Bats for help finding a guy he knew for two weeks before he ever joined them. They’re all busy with their own missions, and definitely don’t have time for Duke’s reminiscing.

“Just caught sight of the truck entering city limits,” Oracle says in his ear. “It’s heading towards the Coventry.”

“On it. Any movement from the mobs?”

“None yet. I expect this to change soon. Red Hood and Black Bat are patrolling nearby if you need backup.”

“Got it. Signal out.”

His comline shuts with a little click, and then he’s grappling over the roof tops, keeping an eye on the roads in search of the truck. He doesn’t have time to think of Danny anymore, not when a shipment of new, experimental weapons is passing through Gotham. Spoiler had heard a few whispers of it and Red Robin helped find more solid details; the mobs are all looking to take the shipment for themselves in an attempt to get the upper hand in the nonstop fight for control of Gotham’s streets.

It’s passing through during the day, visible and a good move to keep from being ambushed at night, but it’s not enough to stop mobs hoping to take out their competition with new weapons. Duke enters the Coventry just as his comline beeps once and Oracle begins giving him specific directions, along with a brief description of what the truck looks like.

Apparently, the weapons are being moved in a U-Haul rental truck. That is… certainly a Choice™ to make for moving weapons around the country.

He follows it from the rooftops, but nothing happens. The truck passes through the Coventry without incident and takes a turn that keeps it away from Crime Alley and the Bowery. It gets to the middle of East End then pulls to a stop in the parking lot of a diner.

Two people get out and stretch, then head in to get something to eat.

It would be the perfect time for someone to break in. Duke pulls the light over himself, manipulating it to make him disappear from sight as he looks down from the edge of the rooftop, tense and prepared for anything.

He almost doesn’t see it at first. It’s just a flicker, a flash of color, a shift in the shadows across the street. But he does see it, even if he can’t find it again, and drops down from the roof, creeping towards the truck.

Duke waits, holding his breath, off to the side of the parking lot.

A minute passes. And then a figure materializes out of thin air, floating right behind the truck. All Duke can see is white hair and a black body suit; they’re either a meta or an alien, but either way, Duke is ready to take them down.

The figure lifts their hands and a bolt of neon green energy hits the truck, melting the back and leaving a large hole that gives them direct access to the weapons. And then they shoot again, destroying the weapons.

“Phantom!” someone shouts, and the truck driver comes tearing out of the restaurant, a white gun in his hand. His companion follows, her gun also out, and the begin shooting.

Phantom dodges the blasts, then vanishes from sight. He reappears behind them a moment later, tackling back of them into the side of the truck.

“No you don’t!” Duke say, rushing forward as he pulls at the shadows around him then sends them racing towards Phantom, restraining them. The driver and his companion collapse onto the ground, groaning weakly, and Duke grits his teeth. “O, send someone to look after the people moving the weapons. Apprehending an attacker now.”

He doesn’t wait to hear a response, tightening the shadow’s grip on Phantom, who struggles fiercely.

“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” he says, pulling Phantom closer to him.

Phantom doesn’t answer. They just scream, the force of it making Duke fall back. His shadows dissipate, and Phantom flies up.

“Get back here!”

Duke gives chase, dropping in and out of shadows, throwing some at Phantom in the hopes of catching him again. But Phantom is fast and it takes all he has to keep up as they cross Gotham.

He thought Phantom was flying around blindly, but the way they move across the roofs and then through the streets are too confident, too focused to be anything other than someone with a destination in mind. But where? Where could they be going? If they’ve been in Gotham, then Duke would have heard of them.

A flying, powerful meta with a multitude of powers? Yeah, he would have known about them.

Phantom flies through a wall and Duke curses, going onto the roof and looking around, waiting to see them fly out. But they don’t and Duke finds a broken skylight to drop in from, landing on the support beams of the warehouse, well above the ground.

He knows the warehouse, he realizes suddenly. It’s the warehouse Danny hid in while he was healing. Duke hasn’t been back in years.

“Just listen to me, please,” a voice says behind him, and Duke tense, spinning around to face Phantom, floating just out of reaching distance. “Those weapons are dangerous. No one should have them, it’s why I had to destroy them. Please, you can’t let them get those weapons out.”

Duke stares. Something about Phantom is familiar. The shape of his face, maybe. His voice. Maybe it’s just because he’s in the warehouse again, with someone pleading for his help.

Maybe it’s all in his mind.

“Danny?”

Phantom flinches, floating back a few inches. “What— How—”

“What happened? Is it your godfather again?”

“My— Duke? Is that you?!”

He definitely shouldn’t be doing this, but Danny’s here. Danny’s here in front of him, needing help, and he doesn’t need the Signal. He needs Duke.

He pulls off his helmet and lifts his bare face to Danny.

“Oh,” Danny breathes. “Well. I guess I should have known you’d be a hero. Can you help me one last time?”

“Yeah, of course Danny. Tell me what you need.”

“Those weapons, they were first made to kill me and others like me. It’s a whole thing I don’t have time to explain. But they’ve been changed to affect humans, all types of people, as well. I can survive a few hits from those weapons, but for most people, it would kill them instantly. I need to destroy all of them and stop any further production before the rest of the world gets a hold of them.”

“That’s why you—”

“They have to be destroyed,” Danny says. “And the people making and selling them need to be stopped. I can’t do it on my own. I’ve tried, but…”

“I’ll help,” Duke says, “I’ll help. This is a big enough problem to bring the Outsiders into it. Or the Bats, but they like to stay in Gotham.”

Danny floats closer, looking painfully relieved. “Really? They’ll be able to put an end to this?”

Duke reaches for him. “Yeah. they can do it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Danny’s feet land on the support beam as his hand meets Duke’s. They balance above the rest of the warehouse, drinking in the sight of each other. Duke rubs his thumb over Danny’s knuckles in soothing circles and watches as the tension begins to fall away from Danny’s shoulders.

“Duke,” he whispers, “I’ve missed you—”

The door below is kicked open, and a gunshot rings out.

Moving on instinct, Duke tackles Danny, wrapping him up in his arms as they fall off the support beam. They hit the ground hard, rolling a bit, and Duke tucks Danny into his chest, bodily protecting him.

“Narrows!”

The Red Hood stands over him, menacing, a gun pointed at him.

“Hood?” He loosens his grip on Danny. “What the hell was that for?”

“Thought you needed back up. You chased after our guy and lost your helmet, I think I’m right to be a little worried about you. So, who’s this?” There’s a hard edge to his voice, and Duke realizes with a sinking heart that all anyone else sees is an aggressor, a meta who attacked a truck full of weapons, attacked two people, and had to be chased down by the Signal. Jason’s seeing a threat and acting accordingly, putting Duke’s safety first.

And with his helmet off, identity clear, Danny’s even more dangerous now that he has this knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispers to Duke. He doesn’t have time to ask for what? before Danny’s shooting another beam of green energy at Jason then taking off, flying through the roof and out of sight.

“Shit,” Jason mutters, straightening up from where he ducked to avoid being hit, then puts his gun away and kneels next to Duke. “You alright? Why’d you let him go? I thought you had him.”

“I’m fine. He’s not… He wasn’t going to hurt me. He just needed help.”

“Sure. And what are you not telling me?”

“I knew him. He’s a good person, but he’s been in danger for a long time. This was him trying to protect others from what he went through.”

Jason takes off the helmet and stares at him. Then he sighs and reaches a hand down to help Duke to his feet. “Alright,” he says, “Let’s head back to the truck. You have until then to convince me that they’re the problem, and if they are, then I’ll help you blow up more of their weapons.” He claps a hand on Duke’s shoulder, then pulls his helmet back on. “Grab your helmet. We’re wasting daylight, Narrows.”

There’s nothing else he can do, no way to search for Danny when there are other leads to chase, so Duke grapples up to the catwalk where his helmet landed and grabs it.

Just before he puts it on, he sees a flicker of white just outside the window he’s facing. He ducks his head to hide a smile. It’s almost like he’s stepped back in time; Danny’s here in Gotham, needing help and asking for it in the warehouse.

And though so much has changed in those years, there’s still one thing that Duke will ensure never changes: he’s Danny’s hero. Above Robin, or Signal, or anything else, Duke is Danny’s hero.

This time, he has the power to actually help Danny. He’s going to make sure no one ever hurts Danny again.

“Let’s go,” he says, jumping back down to Jason, helmet on. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dp x dc fanfic #prompt fill #my writing #gotta be honest i do Not know much abt the We Are Robin movement. have yet to read those comics....#also this definitely deviated a bit from your prompt. sorry!! still hope i got the main things you wanted to see #duke being dannys hero is something so special to me...#also it is his parents selling weapons and blueprints and things to the giw which is then given to the military for new weapons #a truly terrible pipeline #duke and jason and whoever else joins will find the source of the weapons. break into the fenton home. and dannys just there eating toast #in his pjs like. um hi guys did u need something? (and staring at duke like DUDE HELLO WTF??)#a mess of a situation :) not gonna write it bc i know it would get away from me and get so long #thanks for the prompt!!

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crybaby-bkg · 11 months

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Bakugou loves you, he really does, but he can’t help but be a little prickly sometimes. it’s not because he’s mad at you or anything that’s actively your fault, no. Sometimes he just likes to pick and be an ass to you because he finds your reactions funny, likes how your lip pouts, and how you huff at him whenever he pokes at you.

But it always irks you whenever he rejects your physical affection. It’s playful, the way he softly taps your fingers away from him when you wrap your arms around his middle while he cooks. You bite at his shoulder blade and he wiggles in your grasp, grumbles for you to stop fucking with him while he makes your damn soup.

And that irks you to no end, more than usual, for some reason. Chalk it up to pms or the weather or whatever the fuck, but you’re sick of it. You step beside him, turning until your butt hits the counter, folding your arms as you glare up at him.

“Well, if I can’t touch you, then you can’t touch me.” You declare childishly, and it makes Bakugou smirk at your petulance. He stirs the soup a few more times in silence, adding in more seasoning with a shake of his head while you stare him down.

After what feels like forever, he lays the spoon beside the pot and faces you with a hand resting on the counter and the other on his hip. He cocks his head at you, grinning now when he meets your frowning face.

“My poor baby,” he coos to you condescendingly, reaching out to grip your hip but you lightly smack his fingers away, same as he did you earlier. He expects that, and the next one, and the next. However, he doesn’t expect for it to last for the rest of the night, being unable to touch you.

At this point, he thinks he might be going stir crazy. He’s so used to the casual touches; squeezing your butt when you walk past, patting your cheek when you eat, rubbing your shoulders, massaging your calf on the couch. But he’s been rejected every time, and goddamn you, it’s not funny anymore.

So he blocks you in where you stand trying to leave the bathroom. To anyone else, he would look menacing, but to you, he just looks like an overstuffed teddy bear as he hunches his shoulders to his ears. He doesn’t look you in the eye, instead at your mouth, as he grumbles,

“M’sorry for being stupid. Now lemme touch you. Please.” He tacks on when he sees your eyes narrow. You stand there with your arms crossed for a few seconds, before humming and placing your hands on your hips.

“I’ll forgive you if you let me hold your boobs.” You counteroffer. His face scrunches up for a second at that.

“They’re not—you know what? Go ahead, have at it.” He tells you with a dramatic sigh, mirroring your position as he looks up to the ceiling. But as you cup his chest in your hands and squeeze his pecs and bury your face in it, Bakugou can’t help but smile a little. As long as he gets to do it back to you, he doesn’t mind one bit.

#posting all my drafts bc the lack of interaction is making me sad lol #I don’t post and then when I don’t get any interactions I get so sad like ?-&/!:&:$:&:#sorry writing has been so hard for me lately #I just needed a long break from anything creative for a while #so I’m taking baby steps by writing these #next up is a fic hopefully #bakugou treats! 🍬#—new treat in the streets! 🍫

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chatlote · 16 days

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Lights, Camera, Action!

#my art #goro akechi #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #p5r #just smthg i did as a break from comics #and also writing fics #and zine pieces #just in general smthg i drew cause i needed a break

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lord-squiggletits · 2 months

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I think the key component to my personal reading of post-Delphi Pharma is that he's trying to be a horrible person on purpose. Not "on purpose" in the way that people have free will to exercise their own choices, but in that Pharma's "mad doctor" persona is a performance he puts on to deliberately embrace how much everyone else hates him. Basically, if people already think you're a "bad Autobot" and a horrible doctor who just kills his patients for fun, why try to prove otherwise to people who have already made up their minds about you? Just fully embrace the fact that people see you as an asshole. Don't try to change their minds. Don't plead for their forgiveness or understanding. Just stop caring. If you're going to be remembered as a monster, you might as well be a memorable monster, and eke as much pleasure and hedonism as you can out of it before karma catches up to you and you inevitably crash and burn.

I mean, I guess you could just go the route of "Oh, Pharma was always a fucked up creepy guy and Delphi was just him taking the mask off," but I really don't like that interpretation because, for one, it feels really wrong to take a character like Pharma becoming evil under duress and going, "Oh well clearly he did the things he did because he was evil all along," as if somehow Pharma breaking under blackmail/torture/threat of horrible death was a sign of him having poor moral character. As opposed to, you know, suffering under the very real threat of horrible death for himself and everyone he cares about while being manipulated by a guy who specializes in psychological torture.

The second reason is that it just doesn't make sense to write Pharma as having been evil all along. I mean...

Occam's Razor says that the best argument is the one with the simplest explanation. Doesn't it make way more sense to take Pharma's appearances in flashbacks, his friendship with Ratchet, his stunning medical accomplishments, and the few we see of him speaking kindly/sympathetically (or in the least charitable interpretation, at least professionally) towards his patients and conclude "This guy was just a normal person, if exceptionally talented." Taking all of these flashback appearances at face value and assuming Pharma was being genuine/honest is a way simpler and more logical explanation than trying to argue that Pharma for the past 4 million years was just faking being a good doctor/person. I mean, it's possible within the realm of headcanon, but the fact is Pharma's appearances in the story are so brief that there simply wasn't room in the story for there to be some sort of secret conspiracy/hidden manipulation behind why Pharma acted the way he did in the past.

I just can't help but look at things like Pharma's friendship with Ratchet (himself a good person and usually a fine judge of character) and the fact that even post-Delphi, pretty much every single mention of Pharma comes with some mention of "He was a good doctor for most of his life" or "He was making major headways in research [before he started killing patients]" which implies that even the Autobots themselves see Pharma's villainy as a recent turn in his life compared to how for "most of his life" he "used to be" a good doctor.

And although Pharma doesn't know this, we as the readers (and even other characters like Rung) know about Aequitas technology and the fact that it actually works, so... if Pharma really was an unrepentant murderer, why couldn't he get through the forcefield too? The Aequitas forcefield doesn't require that a person be completely morally pure and free of wrongdoing or else how could Tyrest get through, just that they feel a sense of inner peace and lack feelings of guilt. Pharma has murdered and tortured people by this point, and put on quite a campy and theatrical show of how much he sees it as a fun game, so why then can he not get through?

It circles back to my headcanon at the start of this post that the "mad doctor" persona is just that-- a persona. Delphi/post-Delphi Pharma's laughing madman personality is just so far removed from every flashback we saw of him and everything we can infer based on how other people see/saw him before that, to me, the mad doctor act is (at least in large part, if not fully) a persona that Pharma puts on to put his villainy in the forefront.

To avoid an overly simplistic/ableist take, I don't think Tarn tortured Pharma into turning crazy. To me, it's more like the constant pressure of death by horrific torture, the feeling of martyrdom as Pharma kept secret that he was the only one standing between Delphi and annihilation, the physical isolation of Messatine as well as the emotional separation from Ratchet, being forced to violate his medical oaths (pretty much the only thing Pharma's entire life has been about), etc. All of that combined traumatized Pharma to the point that the only way he could avoid cracking was to just stop caring about all of it. Because at least then, even if he's still murdering patients to save Delphi from a group of sadistic freaks, Pharma doesn't have to feel guilty and sick about doing it. As opposed to the alternatives, which were probably either going off the deep end and killing himself to escape, or confessing to what he did and getting jailed for it.

In that light, Pharma becoming a mad doctor makes sense. It avoids the bad writing tropes of "oh this character who was good his entire life was actually just evil and really good at hiding it" as well as "oh he got tortured and went crazy that's why he's so random and silly and killing people, he's crazy" and instead frames Pharma's evil as something he was forced into, to the point where in order to avoid a full psychological breakdown and keep defending Delphi, he just had to stop caring about the sanctity of life or about what other people might think of him.

Then, of course, the actual Delphi episode happens, and Pharma's own lifelong best friend Ratchet basically spits in his face and sees him as nothing more than a crazy murderer who went rogue from being a good Autobot. Then Pharma gets his hands cut off and left to die on Messatine. At that point, Pharma has not only been mentally/emotionally broken into losing his feelings of compassion, he's received the message loud and clear: He is alone. Everyone hates him. Not even his own best friend likes him any more. No one even cared enough about him to check if he actually died or not. He will only ever be remembered as a doctor who went insane and killed his patients.

So in the light of 1. Having all of your redeeming qualities be squeezed out of you one by one for the sake of survival and 2. Having your reputation and all of your positive relationships be destroyed and 3. People only know/care about you as "that doctor who became evil and killed his patients" rather than the millions of years of good service that came before.

What else is there to do but internalize the fact that you'll forever be seen as a monster and a freak, and embrace it? People already see you as a murderer for that blackmail deal you did, so why not become an actual murderer and just start killing people on a whim? People already see you as an irredeemable monster who puts a stain on the Autobot name, so why beg for their forgiveness when you could just shun them back? You've already become a murderer, a traitor, and a horrible doctor, so what's a few more evil acts added to the pile? It's not like anyone will ever forgive you or love you ever again.

Why care? Why try to hold on to your principles of compassion, kindness, medical ethics, when an entire lifetime of being a good person did nothing to save you from blackmail and then abandonment? Why put yourself through the emotional agony of feeling lonely, guilty, miserable, when you could just... stop caring, and not hurt any more?

#squiggposting #pharma apologism #i'm sure the doylist reason for the writing is just that pharma was a designated villain #so since he's a villain and 'crazy' it's fine for everyone even the good guys to treat him like complete trash #i just think from a watsonian perspective taking a sympathetic approach is way more interesting and logically consistent #what i mean is like. from a meta perspective one of the best ways to show that a character is super evil and not worth saving #is when even the good guy heroes. the ones who are supposed to be kind and compassionate and wise. see him as dirt #and this is also kind of a necessity in most plots bc TF is the kind of series that just needs action villains and long-term antagonists #so not every villain is written or has a plot to be made redeemable. and pharma is one of these bc he's not important or a legacy character #so from a doylist (meta) perspective you could read the autobots' disregard of pharma as a sign of #'this guy is not meant to have your sympathy as a reader. pay no attention to him'#but from a watsonian (in universe) perspective it paints a miserable picture of pharma being utterly forsaken by the ppl he served alongsid #and like yeah i'm super autistic about pharma so of course i view him with sympathy but like #the idea of being a loyal and good person for years only to be subjected to a Torment Nexus of #being blackmailed into breaking all of the oaths you held sacred. under threat of you and all your comrades dying horrible torturous deaths #then when your comrades find out about it they focus solely on the 'harvesting organs' and not on the 'blackmail' part #and then you get literally left for dead by your comrades and best friend hating your guts #and then you get rescued by a guy who uses you as a test subject for his evil machine #this is a fucking nightmare scenario like pharma could hardly be suffering more if the author TRIED to make him suffer #and for me it's like. the evil pharma did can't be decontextualized to what drove him to that. as well as the question of like #how easily ppl can write someone off as evil and turn a blind eye to (or even find satisfaction in) their suffering bc theyre evil #and either brought it on themselves or it's just karma paying a visit #like. i feel like if pharma WERE a shitty doctor and a terrible person his whole life then the delphi situation would feel like karma #but the way it's written and the lore retroactively put in makes it feel more pharma getting thrown in a torture carousel #and THEN becoming evil. but then being treated as if he was always evil or was some sort of bad apple #bc like i'm not opposed to LOLing when a villain gets a karmic torture/death related to the wrongs they committed #but in pharma's case it feels less like karma and more like endless torture + being abandoned by ppl who should have been more loyal

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krenenbaker · 6 months

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Trick or Treat~!

Pairing: Che'nya x Floyd (could be read platonically or romantically)

Summary: It's finally Halloween night, but Floyd is in a bit of a slump. However, the arrival of a curious companion may just make the Halloween party a bit more interesting for him.

Notes: This is my first attempt at something following a prompt - specifically, "Trick or Treat" for the 2023 TWST Rarepair Halloween event. I'm trying to get more comfortable/practiced with writing prose (which is why this wasn't posted on the 30th... oops), and only vaguely ended up following the prompt. I'm fairly happy with how this little piece turned out, though!

Tags: @dove-da-birb, @azulashengrottospiano, @inkybloom-luv, @eynnwwyjth, @officialdaydreamer00 (please let me know if you'd like to be included or excluded from future writing of mine, or only want to be included in specific types of creations)

Floyd wanted to take a break.

It was Halloween, and all he had done the entire week was work, work, work. Getting costumes ready, decorating, helping with their dorm's presentation, plus cooking and serving at the Lounge, all on top of normal classes?

Sure, it was fun, especially getting to show off Octavinelle's cool setup, and 'taking care of' those misbehaving visitors. But now? Everything felt draining and boring, and Floyd simply wanted to leave, which sucked because the actual Halloween party had just started!

Maybe he should just ditch and go back to his dorm; being in a funk when everyone else is having fun around you is not enjoyable. He slumped down on a bench and unwrapped a sweet he had picked up earlier, before wrapping it up again. Ugh, not even in the mood for that candy he wanted only a few minutes ago.

As he shoved the sweet back into his pocket and was about to get up from the bench to leave, Floyd heard a rustle behind him. Someone was quietly humming, and… laughing? The sound gradually moved to his side, towards the empty side of the bench.

“Trick or treat~”

Floyd turned to face the voice. "Listen, man, I'm not in the mood to—” he froze, staring at the figure beside him. “Hang on a second, where's your body!?"

A toothy smile came to the face of the head that currently floated beside Floyd. "Oh, it's here.... or maybe it's there." A pair of hands materialized on either side of this boy's head, followed by the rest of his body.

“I'm just kidding. Mind if I take a seat? I’d like to rest up before I keep purrowling around and startling people.”

Floyd blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “Uh, go for it.”

This guy was... weird, and it was hard to tell if he'd be annoying, or interesting. "You don't go here, do ya? At least, I’ve never seen you before. And you’re no ghost, either.”

The cat-like boy shook his head, his jewellery jingling softly. "I'm just passing through for the festivities and collecting treats. Scaring some people, too. That’s loads of fun. And it's always nice to see my friends let loose."

Floyd had a vague memory surface. "Ohh... you must be that RSA boy who's friends with Sea Turtle and Goldfishie."

"'Sea Turtle' and 'Goldfishie', hey? Those are good names for my green and red friends. Cats are known for liking fish." He leaned forward, his grin growing. “Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Floyd nodded, “Floyd Leech. It's nice to meet you, too.” He looked curiously at the boy beside him, taking in his shaggy hair, piercings, and impish smile.

"You're not what I expected.” Floyd smiled, "But you seem fun, Catfish. I didn't think Goldfishie would get along with someone so... interesting."

Che'nya's eyes lit up slightly. "Catfish? Heh heh heh, most people call me Che'nya, but I guess that works. And I’ve heard some… interesting stories about you, too."

He stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back with his arms behind his head as he sighed. "But yeah, I don't think Riddle could shake me if he tried."

"I'm almost jealous." Floyd tipped his head slightly. "Most of the time, Goldfishie likes to swim away before I can play with him."

Che'nya laughed, "Well, if you're wondering, he 'swam off' that way." He pointed off to the side. “Just don’t be rough with him. I don’t like people mistreating my friends.”

Floyd looked off into the crowd where he had pointed, and let out a small laugh. “Alright, good to know. Maybe I’ll find him later, if I feel like it”, he smiled and sat back. “And Goldfishie’s stronger than he looks, but I guess you’d know that.”

Che’nya nodded, then leaned closer with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, I bet we could do something that would really surprise him.”

Floyd turned slightly towards Che’nya, and flashed a smile. “Yeah, we probably could. I think we should talk more in the future, Catfish. You seem pretty fun.”

Che’nya grinned, “You seem pretty fun, too.”

"Well,” he stretched his arms above his head. “I think I’m going to go and find some more treats… and play some more tricks tonight. I'll catch you around, Floyd."

With a haunting giggle echoing in his ears, Floyd watched as the boy beside him faded into nothingness, just the same way he had arrived.

What a weird guy.

Floyd unwrapped the candy he had pocketed earlier, then popped it into his mouth. Maybe this party was worth staying at after all.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst rarepair halloween #rarepair halloween #floyd leech #che'nya #artemiy artemiyevich pinker #che'nya x floyd #krenenbaker's :)#krenenbaker's creations #and now... for the ramble-y tags #first: I desperately need more people to write Che'nya and Floyd interacting. their dynamic would be so damn silly!!#second: I had SUCH a hard time figuring out Che'nya's speech patterns - he really doesn't have many lines in canon!#I based some of his lines on the Cheshire Cat's lines in the 1951 film. I think they fit?#and I have no idea is this feels at all natural or in character for either Che'nya or Floyd... but there was an attempt :)#I need to practice writing more stuff like this #I also went through about 4 different possible ways their conversation could have gone before getting this down #here... it's almost like Che'nya's taking a break from tricking AND treating at the NRC Halloween party #that's how I'm saying the prompt applies at least #anywho... I GOT IT FINISHED! I WROTE A THING!!#and I'm going to write more. that IS a threat ^v^

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mxxnlightwriting · 5 months

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reminder that more often than not, it's important to take breaks from writing instead of forcing yourself through it. listen to your body and intuition.

i say this as someone who writes almost every day. sometimes, that isn't sustainable. sometimes, you need to take breaks from your projects because you're tired from working on them. i have to admit that understanding when to stop and take a break is a skill in itself, but with time, you will master it. you've got this. if not today, then tomorrow.

today, you rest. tomorrow, if you feel like writing, great! if not, rest a bit more. you know yourself better than anyone else. so trust yourself to know when to get back into writing. and don't punish yourself for not doing it.

#writing community #writers on tumblr #writing advice #writing positivity #writers of tumblr #writeblr community #writeblr #this post is from me to me #i have been working on the same wip for 40 days straight and need a bit of a break #i am still writing but have decided to take a step back and not force myself through things #it's obvious i am tired and my surroundings (and this time of the year) are draining me #so i prefer to go slowly instead of trying to get it all done at once #because i don't want to burn myself out #so i will be strategic like a mushroom

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fictionadventurer · 8 months

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There's something about reading really great writing that's so relaxing. You can just sit back and let the words wash over you, knowing that you can trust the writer.

#random thought of the day #books #part of the reason i'm not getting writing done today was because i spent most of my free time reading from books i've let sit for too long #i haven't been able to sink into good fiction for a while #so elizabeth goudge felt like a spiritual experience #cleansing and uplifting #it always takes me a while to get into her books #there's a learning curve of a couple of chapters to adjust to the style #but once i break through it's bliss #it becomes easy as breathing #there's nothing quite like what she does #i love books that understand that goodness isn't boring or trite #you don't need to have 'darkness' and 'grit' to be complex #like one bit that took my breath away was the talk about sallie and david's marriage struggles #they're both good people who love each other #but they also have their differences because they're human and that causes struggles #not marriage-breaking struggles just nuanced life struggles #and i'm not sure i've seen something like that in a book before #it's a good marriage they married the right people but that doesn't mean life is perfect #goudge uderstands that marriage isn't happily ever after--heaven is #and a good marriage is two people partnering up to help each other reach that goal #it's so much more adult than any 'complex adult' work i've seen

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jade-of-mourning · 3 months

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sorry sometimes i think about mako and my heart hurts so much. this kid raised himself and his brother on the streets in homelessness and utter poverty from eight through fifteen, promptly after seeing the violent death of his mother and father. he turned to the triple threats because they couldn't survive as a pair of wretched kids without any adult support, and the environment forced him to turn into the exact character that killed his parents in a terrible twist of irony. and after sheer-fucking-luck hits and they aren't homeless anymore, their livelihood wavers on the outcome of what's a literally game to everyone but them; and after things are finally starting to look up and their team is going places and things just might be okay, his gradually stabilizing world unceremoniously expands and everything goes to shit.

and the city that chewed him up and spat him back out, ruined him as a child and took away his ability to stay afloat in a true sense of normalcy as an adult — when it's on the verge of destruction and falling to pieces before his eyes, he gives himself to save it with the full expectation to die. he went from the kid who didn't and couldn't care about anything outside of himself and his brother, to finding redemption for his younger self in his police work despite its injustice against him, to willingly sacrificing himself to a world that had never loved him.

he's a desperate people pleaser, socially and emotionally stunted for the adult he had to be as a kid, unable to navigate interpersonal relationships easily yet still trying his damned hardest. he's intensely and entirely devoted to the things that matter to him and for so long it was only him, bolin, and ensuring their survival — yet by the end, that devotion has expanded to protecting the rest of the world. he starts out entirely self-reliant and ends in trusting the people he cares about to know their own needs, to be able to take care of themselves, to be okay without him despite having spent so much of his life defined by his role in others' well-being.

just. what the fuck i'm such a big fan of this fictional guy and i'm unashamed about it at this point. also let him cry please (if you won't i'll do it i'll let him cry)

#lychee's brain trash #mako lok #mako tlok #sorry for the shitpost i don't do a lot of those i realize #how tf did this guy not had a massive break down in canon at any point #nd like;; he never shows resentment for the unfairness of it all #he doesn't ever use his past to excuse any of his choices/actions that are influenced by it #which is pretty intrinsically linked to his relationship fumbles #he just quietly holds himself accountable and probably mildly despises himself haha #as much as i don't care for the love triangle it really does make complete sense in accordance to his backstory #anyway this is just a roundabout way of me expressing my salt at people writing him off as a malicious asshole lol #i literally cannot articulate the intense complex things his conjured up existence makes me feel #this does not even scratch the surface there is SO MUCH #i need to actually write the fifty fics that exist to my brain otherwise all these thoughts will never see the sun #trust that one day the avatar!mako au will emerge from my drafts;;;#and. you know. that one shot i've had in wip for the past 2.5 years #and the four other oneshots that will probably never be converted into actual words

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lauraneedstochill · 1 year

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I won’t fall for someone who can’t misbehave

summary: Aemond is betrothed to the sweetest girl in the Seven Kingdoms. She's smiley, soft and kind-hearted. Until she isn't. (or, alternatively: "No one took your side when you were a kid. But I'm doing it now.")

pairing: Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader (her House is not specified) words: 9000 +

warnings: slow (!) burn, attempted harassment, Aemond is in pain 70% of the time (headache and all that) and has no clue how to act around someone he's clearly in love with.

author's note: I'm working on 3 fics at the moment, and it's taking forever to finish (yay for my poor time management skills!), so I whipped up something short(er) for starters. I'm a bit more comfortable with sharing this one because I feel like it's actually more of my style (wow, that sounds kinda pretentious). Rhaenyra is the queen here but I barely mention the blacks (not out of spite, I just thought it wouldn't add anything to the story). also, I don't think women would be allowed to misbehave like that... I don't care ;)

Aemond knew of the preplanned betrothal even though everyone around him was ridiculously mysterious about the subject matter. He's been made aware of the upcoming visit of some noble family, and the preparations were quite extensive. Then he overheard Baela telling Jace that the expected guests will bring their daughter. The middle one. It wasn't very hard for Aemond to put two and two together. His wedding was long overdue, and Alicent was eager for him to make his choice. But he dreaded the mere thought of it.

Aemond's never been very good at courting women, but mostly due to the lack of trying. He's used to them looking at him with fear and suspicion as if he's some kind of wild animal ready to attack at any minute. Getting sidelong glances did hurt him growing up, but with time Aemond learned to benefit from it, using his fearsome image as a shield. No one ever dared to try and break it to see what was underneath. But now he is faced with the inevitable change that's approaching his life at the speed of a storm wave. To him, taking off the eyepatch won't be nearly as excruciating as giving into the vulnerability of letting someone in, opening up to someone. He's never been afraid of much but that? That was terrifying.

The anticipation made Aemond nervous. He knew he should probably ask around and try to gain any information about his soon-to-be wife, but it felt wrong. Not knowing felt even worse. No matter how good of a fighter he was, fighting the uncertainty seemed like a challenge. Aemond spent his nights tossing and turning, wrapped up in blankets as insomnia was clinging to his body. He tried to busy himself with training, but his usual easy victories brought him no satisfaction. He's been winning for so long maybe it was time for him to lose. Except not to his training partners but to a stranger, who in time will get a permanent place in his life.

His rides with Vhagar, which usually brought him peace, now had the opposite effect. The old dragon acted annoyed and disgruntled for no reason, huffing and grumbling at every turn as if she could sense his own frustration. You can’t tame your emotions yet I’m supposed to listen to your commands? Silly boy. If Vhagar could speak, she would probably tell him that, Aemond thought. And he blamed himself even more.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, the headache came back. As usual, it started with a feeling of pounding heaviness in the back of his head, which then spread further: into his temples, forehead and down the hateful scar. Within a couple of days, the pain gets so bad, he has to grit his teeth to keep a straight face, and he's barely able to shove a few bits of food down his throat. But it's a topic he never brings up, it's a humiliating secret that's just between him and his mother. When he lost his eye, for the first month the pain was close to unbearable. The maester kept telling him that it was caused by the healing of skin tissues and assured that the intolerable feeling would go away. It never did. His scar was something he learned to cover up, and the bright red stripe faded slightly with time, but the pain lingered. Aemond opted to think that it only contributed to him becoming more resilient, yet that argument didn't withstand the test of time. The pain receded for some short periods, but then it'd always come back, and he could never get used to that, no matter how hard he tried.

He can only hope it will get better by the time the guests arrive. But the gods seem deaf to his prayers, and the night before the event he doesn't get a wink of sleep. He goes through his day in a daze, skipping the training session to hide in the library instead, although he can't bring himself to focus and read more than a single page. When the time comes for him to walk into the dining hall, it's the last thing he wants to do but he forces himself to go. Festive ornaments, tables laden with the finest dishes, bright-colored clothing of everyone around him blend and blur into each other. He takes deep breaths and counts his steps, gathering all his strength to sit down and not wince at the movement.

All it takes is one look at him for Alicent to understand what's going on.

"Aemond," she approaches him, whispering. "What's wrong? Is it the headache again?"

Aemond doesn't want to admit it, but he lacks the energy to deny it either so he just nods. She gives him a regretful look, gently squeezing his shoulder.

"Should I call for the maester? Maybe he will be able to come up with something to ease the pain."

"I don't think we have time to fuss over me," he declines with a pain-stained voice. "I was under the impression that we're expecting someone to join us today."

Alicent sighs. She knows better than to fight his stubbornness, but she hates how helpless it makes her feel. Aemond hates that feeling, too.

"Please don't tell me you require motivation," Aegon's voice is loud as it is but right now it sounds deafening, and Aemond sharply exhales. His brother flops on a nearby chair, bringing his ignorant attitude with him.

"Undoubtedly you've interacted with women before," he chuckles, completely unaware of Aemond's suffering. "Try not to scare her with your creepy stare, and maybe she won't run away."

Alicent briefly closes her eyes in annoyance. She glances around, making sure not to attract any attention, and then grabs Aegon by the chin, forcing him to look at her.

"Enough with pestering, I need you to behave yourself," her voice is tinged with irritation. "Just for one evening. Can you do that?"

Aegon's body stiffens up, the smug look disappearing from his face.

"As you wish, mother," he mutters, and she lets go of him. Alicent shoots another glance at Aemond before leaving. Aegon gives his brother a side-eye but says nothing.

Aemond is exhausted, anxiety's bubbling in his chest, and he thinks he has a few more minutes to compose himself yet that time passes in the blink of an eye. Before he knows it, the guards at the door make the announcement, and he sees a group of unfamiliar faces. None of them are of his age, though, and for a moment that realization brings him some comfort. But then he notices a female figure in the distance as she's approaching the entrance.

When she walks in, the music goes quiet, and Aemond hears people gasping. It seems like every man in the room has his gaze on her. And she certainly is a sight for sore eyes. She moves with a gracious pace, the silky fabric of her dress flowing downward with every step. It's not too revealing, but it hugs her body in all the right places. Her hair is up, and he can see the waves of her collarbones peaking through. A half-smile is plastered on her face, but she doesn't seem to be nervous. If he was to take a guess, he would've said she was tired. But she won't let it show, keeping her head high and being seemingly unaware of the attention she got. Maybe she's used to it just like he is, Aemond thinks. Although people usually glare at him for a completely different reason.

"Someone is about to get a piece of cake," Aegon elbows him lightly, his voice low.

"Someone needs to shut up," Aemond snarls, earning a laugh from his brother. That catches her attention, and her gaze lands on Aemond. When their eyes meet, her face softens, smile growing wider. He tries his best to force a wan smile in return, but his stomach turns in discomfort. He can already imagine how people will react: a stunning woman like her with a man like him, what a tragedy. That thought stings, his anxiety growing stronger. The headache gets worse, and he tightens his grip on a cup of wine that he hasn't even tasted yet. Aemond can't help but wonder if she knew she would have to marry him. If it does bother her as much as it bothers him.

The members of her family are greeted as guests, with no mention of a possible betrothal. Her name is the only one he catches — and then silently repeats it a few times. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, the sound of it breaking through his clouded mind. She's seated next to him, as expected, and he notes that her dress compliments her eye color. Aemond is thinking of a way to start a conversation, but she beats him to it:

"You gave us such a warm welcome, but I must admit, I'm surprised by the scale of it. I hope it wasn't too much of an inconvenience?"

When her words reach his ears, the buzzing in his head stops, and Aemond turns to Y/N, astonished by his own reaction. It's not the naivety of her question, nor the friendly tone of it. It's just her voice. Melodic and mellow, it feels soothing among the loud noises they're surrounded with.

"I assure you, your family was simply welcomed with the respect you deserve," he answers pensively. His throat is sore, but he can't steel himself to take a sip of wine, afraid that it will make him sick. He wants her to speak again.

Aemond asks about her family, letting Y/N lead the conversation. She's easy to talk to and she gives just the right amount of information before jumping to another topic. At any other time, he would've really enjoyed the flow of it, yet now he is growing weary. The headache is still there, but her voice does bring him some relief. That's until she abruptly stops.

"Are you feeling alright?" she sounds worried, and the same emotion is written on her face. Aemond tries to blink away his exhaustion.

"I apologize if I'm not exactly the best at keeping you company. It's been a long day," he knows he should've come up with a better excuse. He feels like he can hardly function at this point.

She keeps her attention on him for a few more seconds. Then Y/N moves her eyes to the other end of the table, where her family is seated. She makes eye contact with her father and gives him a big yawn. It's obviously and comically fake but it works: her family finds an excuse to leave earlier. Aemond knows that now he also got a chance to escape soon after. He feels a pang of guilt knowing that he's the reason their conversation was cut short, but Y/N doesn't make a big deal out of it.

"We shall continue on the morrow when we are both well rested," she smiles reassuringly at him before leaving.

Aemond seriously doubts that he'll get any rest as his head feels like it's gripped in an iron vise again.

The next morning he drags himself out of bed later than usual, the pain now dull but present nonetheless. He sits with his face in his hands, breathing in and out, until he's almost numb. The almost leaves a sour feeling in his mouth — or maybe it's the nausea, he doesn't know nor does he care. He's been handling this for years, he can survive another day.

Aemond decides that since he is to be wed, he should make an effort for it to work. He thinks about his duty, his mother, about Y/N, who traveled all the way to the King's Landing for a man she's never met before. Aemond thinks of everyone but himself because there's only so much he can do without draining himself completely.

He missed the breakfast already but hopes to find Y/N within the perimeter of the castle and rushes out of the bedroom. He's passing by Helaena's chambers when he hears someone laughing. And it's not his sister. Aemond debates if he can deal with kids right now, but chooses to give it a chance and quietly walks in. Helaena has embroidery in her hands but seems more focused on a sight in front of her, and he follows her gaze. Y/N is sitting on the floor with her back to the door, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are on either side of her, their cheeks plump and pink, tiny fingers grabbing her dress. She's reading to them, and it's a tale they've heard many times before, yet the kids are listening attentively, occasionally making noises of excitement. Aemond doesn't need to speak gibberish to know that they are fascinated by the melody of her voice and the playful tone she uses to make the story more engaging. He leans on the door frame, his body relaxing at the sound. Jaehaera puts her head on Y/N's shoulder and eagerly turns the page, making her laugh again.

"You are an impatient little thing," Y/N giggles.

"That she is," Helaena agrees, and when Y/N turns to her, she is surprised to see that Aemond joined them.

"Pardon me, I didn't hear you coming in," she stands up in a hurry, both kids are instantly glued to her. "Your sister was kind enough to keep me company."

"I asked her to come by after breakfast, and they haven't left her side ever since," Helaena explains, sounding very pleased.

"Would you mind if I steal this new friend of yours?" Aemond asks while keeping his eye on Y/N, waiting for her reaction. Her face flushes but he sees no indication of discontent. Aemond grudgingly admits to himself that it brings him something akin to joy. But it fades, absorbed by his numbness.

"Make sure to be on time for dinner," his sister nods, calling for the nanny to take the kids.

It takes a little bit of persuasion but eventually Jaehaerys and Jaehaera let Y/N go, and she follows Aemond out of the room. Y/N mentions that Helaena wanted to show her the library, and Aemond agrees to take her there. Along the way, he strikes up a conversation in attempt to compensate for their last one. As she's telling him about her morning, her voice seeps into his mind like honey, and Aemond tries to concentrate to take the right turns and not trip on the stairs.

When they walk into the library, Y/N pauses, looking around in awe. This woman makes men turn around after her, yet she is so easily impressed by the simplest things, Aemond thinks. The prince wonders if she'll ever be impressed by him.

"This is where you study?" she's admiring endless rows of shelves, and Aemond gives her an affirmative "hmm".

"How many of these have you read?"

"Quiet a few," he is modest as ever, and she shoots him a curious look.

"I wonder what are your preferred subjects."

"History and philosophy," he doesn't mean to sound so terse, but whatever interactions with women he's had before, that experience obviously didn't turn him into a lady's man.

"Would you be so kind to share your favorite books with me?" when Y/N glances at him, there's a sparkle in her eyes. It looks like she's actually interested to know more, as if she does want to know him. His immediate response, however, is to distance himself, and he takes a step back.

"I'm afraid there are not enough hours in the day to name them all," Aemond opposes, hands clasped behind his back.

"Please, take pity on me, I need something to help me pass the time," she presses the matter further but does so very gently. "Name just a couple."

He gives into her pleading tone and reluctantly agrees but they don't stop at just a couple. They end up spending the day roaming in the library, lost in the labyrinth of shelves and books. She's never too pushy with her questions, she's making small jokes, she doesn't take offense at his cold demeanor. Behind his mask of feigned indifference, Aemond feels like someone is hammering at his left temple, and the pain echoes through his whole body. But he doesn't dare to leave Y/N hanging for the second day in a row.

The prince is too preoccupied with his internal struggle to notice that she's growing worried about him again, and by the time they come back for dinner, her face expresses an alarming concern.

"I must apologize if I tired you out with my relentless chatting," she says, almost whispering, when they're seated.

"You did not, no need to fret," Aemond states. I must apologize that you are to marry a man who can't curb the pain that's spilling out of him, he thinks.

Food is tasteless in his mouth. Y/N is sitting on his right, and Aemond's body can't adjust to the foreign feeling of someone being in his close proximity. He's so accustomed to being on his own, he doesn't know how to unlearn that.

Throughout the whole dinner, Aemond can feel his mother's gaze on him. Later that evening, when a maid brings him a cup filled with the milk of the poppy, he decides against taking it.

He regrets it the very next day.

When Aemond tries to lift his head off the pillow, he feels like his skull is full of rocks. They're rolling from side to side as the pain rumbles, and for a few minutes he can't hear anything else around him. That's why, when Aemond opens his eye, he's startled at the sight of his mother standing in the doorway.

"I did knock but got no response," she gives him a look that's a mix of concern and suspicion. She suspects that he's unwell again and it concerns her. He wishes she never knew of that burden of his.

Aemond moves up in his bed, clenching his jaw. He knows his mother well enough to realize she must've had a reason for this early visit. Alicent proves him right when she speaks:

"The queen went into labor a couple of hours ago."

He absentmindedly hums, not knowing how to react. His mother continues, with a hint of hesitance:

"There will be a feast when the baby is born. We thought... Rhaenyra and I, we thought it would also make for an occasion to do the announcement. About your betrothal."

Her words come as no surprise to Aemond. It is what's expected of him, it's about his duty and his responsibilities, but this time he doesn't want to think of that. He wants to be left alone, to drown in the layers of blankets, to go back to his short-lived slumber.

"The day Y/N arrived, I asked the queen to postpone the announcement. To give you some time to get to know each other," Alicent takes a few steps towards his bed. "It seems like you're getting along quite well?"

"I could think of no better woman than Y/N," Aemond admits and it is true. What he doesn't say is that he can also think of a dozen other men who would be more deserving of her, more than he is.

Alicent catches the discreet sadness in his words but doesn't know what caused it. She eyes her son with undisguised empathy.

"Her father implied that she is content with the betrothal, too. I thought you'd be happy to know," Alicent gives him a lax smile. "I shall let you go back to sleep," she adds and leaves.

Aemond knows he'll get no sleep now. He repeats the well-known routine of deep breaths with the minimum movements, scraping up the remains of his strength before leaving the room. He goes straight to Y/N's chambers, wondering if his mother visited her, too, and how that visit went.

To his surprise, Y/N is nowhere to be found. A maid informs him that she left the room a few hours ago. He can't find her in the library and she isn't in Helaena's chambers, either. He searches for her in the courtyard and then goes back to roam through the corridors, peering into every room on his way. He's lost in his thoughts until he hears Y/N calling his name. Aemond turns around — and there she is, at the other end of the hall.

"I've been looking for you," she skips towards the prince, beaming. He could never imagine anyone being this happy at the sight of him. She stops when they're only a couple of meters apart, her smile glowing.

"We must've passed each other, because I've been looking for you, too," he confesses. Y/N seems very pleased with herself though he isn't sure why.

"I think the weather calls for a walk," she blithely suggests. "Would you like to accompany me?" — as the words leave her mouth, she reaches out a hand to him. For a moment Aemond's looking at her baffled, and then hesitantly takes Y/N's hand. Her skin is soft, fingers warm, and she intertwines them with his own. That gesture comes so naturally as if they've done it before, yet Aemond clearly hasn't. The feeling of holding someone's hand is unusual to him. But it seems enjoyable.

By the time they get to the garden, Aemond finds that her hand fits perfectly in his. He's blushing profusely. He also notices that his headache receded a little and he can't help but think that Y/N was the reason for that.

"Your mother came to me this morning," she informs him as they are walking hand in hand. "I assume she talked to you, too?"

"She did," Aemond confirms. "Am I right to guess we had the same conversation?"

"Well, mine was about uniting two great Houses," Y/N mimics a man's voice, and Aemond grasps that Otto was there, too. "Your grandfather gave a very convincing speech".

"He had a lot of practice while being the Hand of the King. Maybe he misses having an audience," the prince chuckles and she laughs. Aemond holds a pause and then adds:

"Forgive me if I'm being too blunt but I wonder if the conversation was of unpleasant nature to you."

"It was not," she slows her steps. "I know what's expected of me and I will perform my duty. But if I'm being honest...," she turns to him, and the tenderness of her gaze tugs at his heart. "I am glad that it's you," Aemond feels a flare of an unknown emotion deep in his chest. "We'll make a pretty good team. Wouldn't you agree?"

Aemond lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He looks down at their hands and then back at Y/N.

"It seems so," he tells her, a slight smile in the corner of his lips. There's a moment of comfortable silence as they make a short stop in the shade of the trees.

"But I shall give you a warning," Y/N says with a mischievous grin. "My siblings take any celebration very seriously. Every single relative of ours will come to the wedding, and most of them won't shy away from enjoying a cup of wine... Or two".

"Can any of them outdrink Aegon?" he jokes, and Y/N bursts into laughter.

Aemond gets carried away by their conversation once again, losing track of time. While she's listing her relatives, adding innocuous remarks about each of them, the prince is enthralled by the warmth that radiates off her. Her presence alone calms the storm of his insecurities, lulling his fears to sleep. She does that so effortlessly, it's almost intimidating. But there's a certain thrill to it, too — the thrill of being close to her, sharing laughs and stories, and Aemond clings to that feeling.

He enjoys the moment while it lasts; until his headache predictably creeps up on him a few hours later. He can't tell if Y/N senses that something is wrong but she's the one to suggest returning to the castle. Aemond gladly accepts it.

On the way back they're greeted by one of the guards who notifies them that the queen gave birth to a girl. Y/N lightly squeezes Aemond's hand.

"Tomorrow is a big day then," — and the prince knows exactly what she means. The fragile bond that they only started to get the hang of will soon become public knowledge. It won't be their secret anymore but rather an over-discussed gossip.

"There is still time for you to plan an escape," Aemond jests half-heartedly.

Y/N looks puzzled for a second, but then shakes her head:

"Only if you're planning one. We are in this together, remember?" her thumb brushes over his. "It's all about teamwork."

Aemond savors the last fleeting minutes of their day. He barely touches the food at dinner, the pain in his head intensifying but he pushes through. When the time comes for them to part, he doesn't want to. That feeling is alien to him and the prince is clueless about its nature. But he knows that with her any misery will be bearable.

When Aemond walks into his chambers, he notices a little jar on the bed table. It's the one that the maester used to bring him the ointments in, and the prince sighs. The maester doesn't grasp the extent of the problem but occasionally would suggest a thing or two to help with the pain. They've tried using cold packs, then the warm ones, tried massaging his temples, then drinking cinnamon tea, then adding some ginger that's known as a remedy for reducing inflammation... Nothing has worked so far.

But he should make an effort.

Aemond barely glances inside the jar and tosses away a piece of paper with the instructions scribbled on it. The prince already knows it all too well: he applies a thick layer of whatever that concoction is on his scar, involuntarily wincing at the cooling sensation. It smells of herbs and feels oily but absorbs into the skin pretty fast.

For some reason, his mind goes back to his mother's words — "I thought you'd be happy to know". Aemond is unsure what happiness means. The happiest day of his life is forever chained with the worst one, smeared with blood and pain that he's been carrying through the years.

But now that he met Y/N, he questions if there's more to life than what he's been through so far.

While he is laying in bed, Aemond wonders if can consider Y/N his friend. If she will ever be more than just a friend to him.

And then, before he knows it, the prince is fast asleep.

He wakes up feeling like a new man. At first, he mistakes that feeling for the remnants of his dreams that he was enveloped with at night. He shakes off his drowsiness and looks at the ceiling, catching a glint of sunlight that seeped through the curtains. That's when Aemond realizes that the pain is gone.

He sits up, bewildered, waiting for any sign of discomfort yet nothing happens. He waits for a couple of minutes — and then for up to thirty, but his head is clear and doesn't ache at all. His eye shifts to the jar on the bed table, and Aemond makes a note to extend his gratitude to the maester later. Suddenly the upcoming festivities don't seem so torturous anymore.

He doesn't get a chance to see Y/N throughout the day as everyone is preparing for the feast. When Aemond walks into the hall of the Iron Throne, he takes in the decorated surroundings. Unlike the last time he was here, now he wants to remember every detail, knowing that this evening would be of great importance.

The room fills with people, but Aemond patiently waits for her alone. He spots Y/N the second she steps in. Her dress is violet, the material bright and luminous, and it puts her into the spotlight yet again since she's the only one wearing that color. As soon as she takes her place at the table next to Aemond, her hand finds his. He's getting used to that way too fast. It's hard not to.

The first round of toasts goes to honor Visenya, the newborn daughter of the Queen. Rhaenyra willingly tolerates the sweet talk, generous with her smiles and appreciation. At some point, when the timing seems right or maybe when her cheeks are already aching, she gives a nod to Alicent, and Aemond knows what it means. As she starts her speech, he ruefully releases Y/N's hand.

But right when they're standing up, with everyone around cheering and staring, Y/N lightly presses her body against his, and Aemond feels how tense her back is. That's when it dawns on him that she's well aware of the attention but she doesn't really like it. Instinctively, he puts his fingers on her waist, his touch respectful and delicate. She breathes out and briefly rests the back of her head against his shoulder. For a moment it feels like it's just the two of them.

That feeling doesn't go away.

Usually, he's not the one to take part in dancing, but he does so for her. Aemond feels out of practice and he can't tell if that's what makes his head spin or if he's getting tipsy from the intimacy of their dance. Her moves are elegant, well-rehearsed, her body follows the rhythm of the music with ease. He doesn't remember when was the last time that silly activity brought him so much elation. Did it ever?

Time flows by in a blur, and they eventually take a pause after going into a fit of giggles at the sight of Lord Velaryon trying to improvise a move and failing, only to amuse his loving wife. Y/N suggests going out for a while and Aemond is keen on following her but then his mother catches up to them, her hand and her gaze are on him in an instant, pulling him away.

"Aemond, you've been dancing," she can't hide her bewilderment, a timid smile on her face.

"Should I not? Seems like a suitable occasion," Aemond chaffs with a tilt of his head.

"It is, indeed," she doesn't let him go just yet, and he discerns the hidden meaning of her words, the apprehension she fails to conceal. Aemond wants to grant her some respite, at least for the rest of the day, so he tells her with plain-spoken sincerity:

"I can assure you, this isn't a cause for your distress."

But then he quickly finds a cause for his when he doesn't see Y/N around. He goes searching for her in the crowd, then leaves the room altogether, coming out into the hallway.

Aemond hears her before he sees her — and she isn't alone. It takes no effort to recognize the second voice, which belongs to no other than Jason Lannister. As the prince rounds the corner, they come into sight, and Aemond has a very bad feeling.

He missed the start of their dialogue, and the look on Y/N's face is unreadable. She's oblivious to Aemond's presence and he decides to watch them. He tells himself that he'll never allow her to get into trouble. There is something very tempting in having a chance to save her from anything; as if he feels the need to prove himself to her. He tries not to entertain that thought.

"... It's not too late to change that, don't you think," Ser Lannister purrs, his tone sickly sweet but arrogant.

"It is. Which I have no regrets about, ser", when Y/N talks to him there's not a hint of friendliness in her voice.

"Your approach may be short-sighted. The proposition of mine wasn't of a frivolous kind," he's circling her, the manner of his movement is borderline predatory.

"I believe you will soon find a lady to welcome your advances but I would very much prefer to drop this conversation," she recapitulates.

Aemond tenses up, feeling like this is the moment for him to step in. Then he looks at Y/N and realizes that something is off. Her face expression changes — but it's not a look of fear. By the rising of her chest, he detects that her breathing sped up, eyes are shooting daggers at the man in front of her. She's looking, for the lack of a better word, positively furious.

But Ser Lannister, apparently, is not very good at reading signs as he comes improperly close to her.

"I can be very persuasive," his fingers fall on her back — and then go lower. "I think you should appreciate the attention while I'm this generous and..."

He doesn't finish his sentence. In about two seconds his face is suddenly slammed into the nearby wall, the hand he put on her is now twisted behind his back. Y/N uses her free hand to push right between his shoulder blades, pressing him into the stony surface.

To say that Aemond is shocked would be an understatement.

Right at this moment, she looks like a different person. This side of her he's not acquainted with but it only adds to her appeal. The change is barely perceptible: she's still maintaining her posture, keeping up the face of a woman who knows her worth. But Aemond catches a flaming spark of defiance that threatens to shutter her restraint. He can sense her anger from far away despite her doing her best to contain it.

"I do not know what kind of attention you are used to, but you're forgetting your manners. Next time you dare lay your hand on me, I will not hesitate to break it," her voice doesn't lose its usual softness, but now has an added layer to it. It sounds sharper, bolder. It sounds like she's not afraid of anything.

Y/N lets Ser Lannister go, taking a few steps back and smoothing her dress. He's frozen at first, but then slowly turns to her.

"You didn't... You did not just do that," there's a visible red mark on his cheek that will undoubtedly turn into a bruise.

"Did what, ser?" her tone is laced with coldness.

The man looks at her in disbelief, his face is a parade of emotions — from shock to annoyance to anger.

"You will not get away with this," he scowls, nettled.

"You're telling me that you're considering letting everyone know you were overpowered by a woman? Sounds hard to believe," Y/N seems unfazed.

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he roars:

"You, insidious wre...!"

This time Aemond is the one to interrupt the man:

"I suggest you watch your tone when speaking to my betrothed," Y/N flinches at his voice, turning to face him, and Aemond slackens his pace a little.

"Shouldn't she watch hers? She's talking to a lord," Ser Lannister exclaims lamely, his arrogance instantly toned down a notch.

"And I see no wrongdoing on her part. Care to explain what got you into this situation?"

"It was a... a simple misunderstanding," his excuse is so pathetic that it makes the prince sneer.

"And what was the matter in question?" Aemond comes closer to the man which makes ser Lannister evidently uncomfortable. He carefully contemplates his next move.

"I only wanted to extend my congratulations on her betrothal," the man fakes a smile. "Mayhaps I expressed myself poorly".

"You should opt to choose your words more wisely next time," Aemond looks down on him. "Perhaps you are needed somewhere else?"

"I shall rejoin the celebration then," ser Lannister eagerly agrees and bows out way too quickly.

Aemond can barely wait for the man to get out of sight before turning to Y/N. Even though the prince witnessed the whole thing, he can't stop himself from asking:

"Did he harm you?"

"He didn't get a chance," she mumbles, avoiding his gaze. She looks so embarrassed, he wants to offer her some comfort but isn't sure how.

"Dare I say we've got enough interactions for one evening?" Aemond tries to lighten the mood yet she only offers him a half-hearted smile.

"I'll escort you to your chambers," the prince suggests, and before she can argue he adds: "I know you can stand up for yourself if needed. But I insist."

Y/N doesn't move an inch.

"...You are not mad at me?" she's looking at him with doe-eyed sincerity, clearly upset. Aemond is mad at himself.

"I'm thinking about cutting his arm off," he says under his breath, but she catches it.

"Aemond, there's no need!" Y/N gasps and he sees a glimpse of a smile on her lips.

"I will have to disagree," he starts but then she grasps his elbow and Aemond's hand — finally — clings to her again.

"I don't want you to get in trouble because of me," Y/N confesses.

"And I don't want you to get hurt," his fingers caress her arm through the lace material. Y/N's cheeks heat up and Aemond finds it adorable.

"I think I... I was the one who did some damage," she complains.

"You must imagine my surprise," Aemond drawls, teasing.

"Oh, Gods," a quiet groan leaves her mouth. "That was not very ladylike of me."

Y/N covers her face with the other hand, her grip on his arm loosening. Aemond dithers before gently brushing her palm away from her face.

"You did the right thing and you have nothing to be ashamed of," he enunciates each word. "He only sets an example of unseemly behavior."

"I'm afraid I wasn't too far off," Y/N remarks, her voice relenting.

"Hmm, you're certainly not to be truffled with," he retorts, earning a faint laugh from her as they start walking, arm in arm.

"May I inquire how did you... master that very handy skill?" Aemond ventures to ask. That image of her — brave and unapologetic in her anger — will be forever engraved in his memory. Aemond is apprehensive about voicing his curiosity, uncertain of her reaction but when she answers:

"My father taught me that," her tone is surprisingly impish.

"And how did you manage to talk him into it?"

"Talking didn't help much, actually," Y/N grins. "And then I broke my brother's nose and my father decided he should find a way to guide my enthusiasm."

"How old were you?"

"Nine," she looks so satisfied with herself, Aemond can't hold back the laugh.

Y/N joins him and they fall into the comfort of each other's company. But then her smile wilts.

"There was a time when I was the youngest child and my siblings... They weren't very nice back then," she blurts out. Aemond feels his heart sinking.

"What did they do?"

"Oh, it wasn't that bad, honestly, they were only teasing. It's just um," she's looking for the right words or maybe for an acceptable explanation, but there isn't any. "It was very tiresome mostly. I could never understand the reason for them being mean."

Aemond is yet to tell her the story of him losing his eye, and the memory pops back into his head in a flash. He knows exactly what she feels, his own sense of helplessness fresh in his memory. And it still stings the same, and Aemond loathes that.

While he revisits the past, unwillingly slowing his pace, Y/N spots the change in his demeanor within seconds. She sees his facial features congealing, his fingers clenching, and she comes to the only conclusion she can make.

"Is it the headache?" her voice is suddenly quiet, and Aemond comes to an abrupt stop. The question catches him off guard, words stuck in his throat and his mouth agape. He doesn't know how to react nor does he understand how could she possibly know that. Y/N is quick to clear up his confusion:

"I noticed not long after we met and then your mother confirmed my suspicions. I am sorry that I didn't ask you directly, I thought... I didn't want to sound intrusive," she explains coyly.

"By asking about my health?" he finds his voice again. "I am to become your husband, you are free to ask such questions."

"We've only known each other for about a day back then. Surely, you're allowed to take more time than that to open up to someone," she kindly points out.

A day. Up until now the only person who's known about his pain was his mother, and for years no one else ever questioned his well-being. And it took her a day to notice that something was wrong.

"Did the ointment help?" she asks hopefully. For a second he thinks he heard her wrong but the shadow of concern on Y/N's face tells him otherwise.

"That was your doing?" he can't hide his amazement, and it elicits a laugh from her, sonorous and dulcet. Aemond likes the sound of it, he really does.

"I've been fortunate to obtain the knowledge required," she informs him.

"And what kind of witchcraft is it?"

"It is not," she playfully elbows him. "It was something my grandfather taught me. He used to have an ache of a similar nature. No one could understand the cause of it, and it only got worse with age. But my grandmother refused to sit idly by and one day she found a way to ease his pain," Y/N has a dreamy expression on her face but it melts into a wistful one. He guesses that both of her grandparents passed away.

"After her death, he wouldn't let anyone help him. It took me months to persuade him and eventually he let me on her secret," her smile is bittersweet. "Then he died, and I never thought the recipe would come in handy ever again."

Aemond hates seeing her wallow in sadness. He puts his palm on top of her hand in an attempt to offer some consolation. If there was a way to free her of that grief, to take at least some of it upon himself, he would've done it in a heartbeat. But his touch is enough to bring back the cheerfulness in her voice.

"I should mention that your maester did help, too, although he was reluctant at first," Y/N reveals.

"And I presume that it also took some convincing?" Aemond thinks of the maester's face that always looks like he is surrounded by imbeciles.

"I shamelessly boosted his ego," she wrinkles her nose. "Told him there was no way anyone would ever be as skilled as he is, and that my attempt was merely a gesture of goodwill."

"But I wasn't just that," Aemond cordially protests.

They already reached her chambers but he doesn't want to let go of her hand. He wants to tell her that meeting her was like taking a breath of fresh air after being held underwater, like finding a source of light in the pitch darkness of the night or feeling the warmth in the dead of winter. Aemond wants her to know that she's been a saving grace for him, but he's somehow at a loss for words, his thoughts jumbling together.

"It was way more than that and I...," never in his life had he gotten this tongue-tied and flustered. Yet she treats him with the same kindness and with no sign of prejudice, listening closely and keeping her eyes on him. Her gaze is disarming enough to make him say the first thing that comes to mind.

"I must admit, you exceeded my expectations," Aemond breathes out.

It immediately feels like the worst, the dullest choice of words possible, and he wants to sink into the ground right this second. But then he sees her natural smile, genuine and bright, blossoming on her face again.

"I am glad to be of service, my prince," she murmurs the last part, and his heart skips a bit.

He didn't register the moment Y/N came a bit closer, but she isn't shying away from shortening the distance. There's something enamoring about her trusting nature but that's not what draws him in. For the first time, he experiences an unfamiliar feeling that tightens his chest, makes his breathing rapid. His gaze slips over her face, down from her radiant eyes to her smile, framed by the lips that look as soft as freshly bloomed flowers. The feeling melts into an urge — he only needs to take a step, to lean his head forward just a bit and...

Aemond inhales deeply. He thinks they are in no rush, he thinks it would've been disrespectful and naive. He's mostly afraid to misread the situation, to scare her away.

But he wants to make his intentions clear. Aemond runs his thumb over her knuckles, brushing them one by one. And then he takes her hand to his lips, planting a kiss on it. He allows himself just this flicker of bravery before straightening up and releasing her hand. When he looks at Y/N, her gaze is directed at him already. It feels like a particular question is hanging in the air; they let it dissolve for now.

"I shall bid you goodnight," her eyes linger on him for a second before she turns away.

As Aemond watches her go, he is certain he wants them to be more than just friends.

Lucerys's name day comes in a about month, and by that time Aemond's routine has changed drastically. It might look the same: he wakes up with the sun, flies with Vhagar, he trains regularly, he spends his free time reading — except now Y/N is a part of his every activity.

She's never nosy or clingy; he's the one seeking her company at all times. She's an early riser, too, and they're always the first ones at the breakfast table: he asks her about her dreams, they make plans, they poke fun at Aegon, who is perpetually sleepy, and Y/N can effortlessly hold any other conversation with his family which only makes him ever so pleased.

She watches him train with genuine curiosity, she never looks away nor flinches, even when he gets too competitive and rough. Her attention is flattering — and it's all on him, and it feels unusual at first, but becomes empowering and he bathes in it.

When he takes her to meet Vhagar, she's terribly nervous. Aemond jokes that meeting his old dragon will pose no challenge after she handled Ser Lannister. It gives Y/N enough confidence to pat Vhagar's snout as the beast observes her calmly. Aemond assures her that the dragon will never go against his wishes. What he wants to say is that Vhagar senses how he feels about her.

They spend evenings in the library, both absorbed in reading but always sitting close by, their arms and shoulders coming into contact more often than not. He sometimes can't help but get distracted which leads to him forgetting about his book, instead secretly watching her, his glance full of adoration.

For a while, he's oblivious to how inseparable they've become until Helaena tells him one day, while Y/N is playing with Jaehaerys and Jaehaera in his sister's chambers. When Helaena mentions it ever so nonchalantly — "You two seem joined at the hip!", it startles him. But that moment doesn't turn into an awkward one — instead, Aemond realizes that he's not scared anymore.

"I will steal her away from time to time," Helaena says, as cheery as ever.

"Bold of you to assume I will let you," he chuckles, his gaze not leaving Y/N.

"I think she’ll have the last word," his sister retorts with a cunning smile.

Aemond doesn't think twice before admitting:

"She will never say no."

"My point exactly."

The Queen plans a great hunt to celebrate her secondborn son, and a feast is being held in no time. Aemond detests those pompous events yet Y/N seems too enthusiastic about the idea, and he begrudgingly agrees to participate. He doesn't want to burden her with his weighted resentment toward Luke but, as usual, she sees right through him. Y/N asks him if he has any reservations about the upcoming celebration, and that's when he decides to tell her. Aemond doesn't want her to pity him nor does he want to upset her so he keeps the story brief: he claimed the dragon, his siblings didn't like it, things escalated way too quickly and they haven't been on good terms ever since.

She heeds his every word, then bluntly asks:

"Must you really go?"

He ponders before answering with a sigh:

"It would be rude not to. I should pay my respect."

"I wish he had the courtesy to do the same for you," she frowns.

"It would be a little too late for an apology," Aemond shrugs even though her caring tone moves him deeply.

"I still think you deserve one," she says like it's the most obvious, logical thing in the world. He wonders how obvious the reddening of his cheeks is.

"I do not wish to dwell in the past when so many great things lay ahead of me," and he only means her. Having a future with her is his greatest blessing.

She bestows him with her softest smile:

"I guess we should make the best out of the situation we are in. Maybe you will have some fun hunting."

Aemond doesn't know what was her definition of fun, but his definitely doesn't involve babysitting Aegon. Yet that's what he ends up doing as they get separated from the group of hunters and his brother gets so drunk, he can barely stay in the saddle. He babbles and whines and Aemond is on the verge of praying for a miracle when the two of them finally stumble upon a boar. The younger prince catches the animal without a struggle.

"Oh, must be good to be a boar. Wild and free!" Aegon grumbles on their way back to the camp.

"I just slit his throat. I doubt you would want to switch places with him."

"I didn't say I want to switch places," he shakes his head so vigorously, he almost falls down. Aemond moves his horse closer, grabbing Aegon by the shoulder to steady him.

"Although switching places with you sounds tempting," he sneers.

"And why would you ever want that?" Aemond raised his brow questioningly.

"You've got yourself a pretty wife-to-be," Aegon chants and whistles.

"Are you asking for me to tie you to that boar? That can be arranged," Aemond deadpans.

" 'tis won't be necessary," Aegon's quick to object. "Whatever she sees in you, those qualities are not in my possession," his frown turns into a grin and he winks at his brother.

Aemond lightly chuckles:

"You'll get no argument from me."

Leaving Y/N is not an easy task for Aemond but coming back to her might be the second-best thing in the entire world. And the first one, obviously, is being with her.

When they return to the camp, he helps Aegon down, impatiently looking around, and as his eye lands on her, his breathing hitches.

She's standing next to the hunting tent, surrounded by a group of ladies, Helaena by her side and they're both laughing as his sister unsuccessfully tries to finish her sentence. Y/N has a violet in her hair, strands of it falling down her shoulders, her smile bright against the fading evening sun. She helps Helaena to articulate whatever she's talking about, the ladies around them cackling.

Aemond admires his betrothed from afar, savoring the moment.

It amuses him that her softness is a choice, that she chooses to be open-minded and kind, even though the world around her is armed to the teeth, and she does know how to fight back. And yet, that's not what motivates her. Instead, she's an image of benevolence and generosity, always understanding and forgiving, hence why people are so naturally drawn to her. And he is no exception.

Aemond gets distracted when a couple of servants approach him and he instructs them to take the boar's carcass away.

"You had a successful hunt, dear prince," when Aemond hears the question, he rolls his eye. Turning around, he sees Tyland Lannister with a smile so forged his face might crack in half.

"As usual," Aemond answers indifferently. "Never took you for a hunter."

"I cannot appreciate cruelty," Lannister forces out. "And I am afraid I will not be able to negotiate my way out of a bear's grip. So I am here merely to control my brother's primal impulses."

The mentioning of Jason makes Aemond cautious.

"Developing some self-control may be beneficial for him," the prince mutters.

Tyland goes blanch white, taking the hint.

"I was wondering if I should address the delicate issue of my brother's sympathy toward your..."

"You should not," Aemond cuts him off. "Would be better to address his manners but it's the thing you must sort out amongst yourselves," with that, he turns away to find Y/N again.

Except she isn't there.

The ladies moved closer to the tent but she and Helaena are the only ones missing. It takes him a second to realize that the women look alarmed, glancing at the tent. Or rather inside of it.

Aemond all but runs there, going over the worst scenarios in his head. When he gets in and sees Y/N in the company of Ser Lannister, he thinks he's never been angrier in his life. If Aemond was a dragon, the lord would've been burned to a pulp as of right now.

Jason keeps his distance and his face expresses nothing but regret yet it looks like it's already too late as Y/N is glaring at him with a sharp glint in her eyes. And in the next moment, she loses her temper.

"...What am I missing exactly?" she asks Jason, her voice unexpectedly loud, and it draws the attention of some nearby men. She doesn't care.

"You've been eager to win me over, but I am yet to find a single reason why would any woman find your company endearing," she takes a step toward the lord and he shrivels under the weight of her words.

"Is it the winery that your servants built for you? Is it your herd of fine horses? You talk so much about your stable, one may think your betrothed is to marry a stallion," her smile is mirthless. Aemond hears a faint groan behind his back and recognizes Tyland's scared tone.

"But what are your accomplishments?" the tent gets deadly quiet as she continues. "Do you consider your persevering courtship to be one of them? Or your harassing of my parents, my relatives and even my maids with your never-ending propositions, no matter how many times were they all rejected? Or mayhaps ambushing me in the hallway counts as an achievement for you?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Aemond sees Helaena and Aegon, both looking stunned. Pretty much everyone around him has the same expression at the sight of Y/N. He, on the other hand, has never been more proud of anyone.

Y/N looks at Jason as if she wants to bore a hole in him, her voice getting lower but harsher.

"You want to know what prince Aemond did? None of the above," Aemond feels his heart freeze at the mention of his name. She is yet to see him but when she speaks, it feels like she's seen enough.

"The man I am about to marry has been nothing but kind, respectful and loving, fulfilling my every wish, granting me the comfort of his company and his loyalty. The man with the sharpest mind and the kindest heart — both of which you're clearly lacking," Y/N casts Jason a disdainful glance. "So from where I am standing, it looks like I'm the luckiest woman in the Seven Kingdoms."

When she feels a hand on her waist, she isn't surprised and welcomes the touch with no hesitation, knowing full well who is standing beside her. She swiftly turns to Aemond, their eyes locking.

"I would like it if we left earlier, my prince."

"As you wish," Aemond wishes he could marry her right now.

Disregarding everyone's attention, he leads her out and asks the coachman to fetch their carriage. When they are away from prying eyes, her confidence wavers a little. It only fuels Aemond's ire.

"Give me just a second," he can't help himself.

Aemond goes back to the tent — and right to the Lannisters, one of them is already scolding the other. Tyland stops his lecturing when he notices Aemond, but the prince doesn't let him make a sound.

"That was the second time your brother couldn't hold his tongue," Aemond ignores Jason and walks up close to the other man. "If you care about his well-being in the slightest, make sure there will be no third time."

"Aemond, let us not make another scene. You must think how that will look like..."

Aemond stares Tyland dead in the eyes and promises:

"I will gut him like a boar. Imagine how that will look like."

Without saying another word, the prince storms off.

Y/N already got into the carriage, fidgeting with the hem of the dress as she falls deep into her thoughts.

"Ser Lannister will not bother you anymore," Aemond says, sitting next to her.

"I sure hope so," she mumbles, looking down at the wrinkled fabric.

"Y/N, whatever he said, you should not let it get to you. I do appreciate the gesture," way more than he cares to admit, "but there's no need to go through the trouble of standing up for me," Aemond barely finishes the sentence when she retorts:

"I will."

She looks at him, her eyes burning with blazing certainty.

"No one took your side when you were a kid. But I'm doing it now," she states as her palm covers his, the touch is as warming as her glance.

Aemond thinks he is the luckiest man in the Seven Kingdoms.

He runs out of luck so fast, he must've jinxed it. They are nearing the castle when the pain on the back of his head stings so unexpectedly, he winces, his eyebrows furrowing. Y/N notices it immediately and insists he should take a rest when they arrive.

"Mayhaps you have some of the ointment left?" she wonders, leading him to his chambers. Aemond rarely allows people to coddle him but he accepts her care freely. He is also aware that the near-miraculous balm that she makes is long gone because he hasn't had a headache in a while.

When Y/N finds out, she looks devastated.

"It must steep for a few hours, I can't make it right away," her enthusiasm brittles. She glances at him in a dither, mulling over something, while he lights the fireplace.

"There is another way that I know of," she slowly suggests. "But you will need to lie down."

"Quite a vulnerable position you want to put me in," Aemond lightheartedly jests but brings himself at her disposal with no second thoughts.

She sits on his bed right next to him, the bend of her hips an inch away from his arm.

"Close your eye," she asks calmly and he obliges.

Aemond senses that Y/N leans over him and he struggles not to hold his breath at the realization of how close she is. Then he feels the tips of her fingers on his face, the touch is so light and gentle, it makes him shiver. The pattern of her movements first contours his face, then goes up to his forehead, then slowly glides onto his temples. She massages them delicately in a circular motion.

"It was probably all the noise that caused this," she presumes.

"Or maybe the fact that the man makes my blood boil," Aemond says, although his anger is completely gone by now.

"He is pissed I didn't choose him," she laughs quietly.

"Choose him?" her words peak his interest. "You had a choice in the matter?"

"My father said he would hate it if I marry someone I didn't like," her thumbs are following the lines of his cheekbones, then run under his chin, then all the way up to his hairline, right next to his ears.

"May I ask what was your decision process?" Aemond selects his words very carefully. What he really wants to ask is why would anyone pick him, out of all people.

"I've heard you claimed the biggest dragon in the world at the age of ten," he can't see her smile but he can hear it. "That was impressive enough."

Aemond takes a peek at her through his lashes:

"That can't be the only thing you've heard."

"I can distinguish valuable information from pointless rumors," she notes imperturbably.

"I bet those rumors included the stories of me being the scariest man in the realm..."

Her fingers cover his mouth and he stumbles.

"I decided I would be the judge of that," Y/N says firmly.

"And what is your verdict?" he can't stop himself from asking, his pulse speeding up.

She doesn't think for a second:

"All the people who were spreading those vile tales clearly have never met you. There isn't a single bad thing I can think of when it comes to you."

Aemond shouldn't take it to heart but that's precisely where it hits, her voice cracking his shield, her eyes telling him she will never regret knowing him, caring for him. He thinks this is what true happiness is — being with someone who will choose you every time.

Her fingers graze over the strip of his eyepatch and she pauses her movement. She isn't breaking eye contact, waiting for his reaction, for his permission or refusal. Aemond gulps, helpless under her gaze, and doesn't stop her.

She picks up the leather strip slowly, as if she wants to give him a chance to change his mind. Aemond watches her, his body still, heart rate booming in his ears. Y/N removes the eyepatch and looks straight at the sapphire that gleams brightly in the warm lighting. And then she smiles.

"What do you see?" he exhales.

"Nothing scary, that's for sure," Y/N's gaze doesn't leave his face, her index finger tracing the scar, barely touching his skin.

"Nothing I don't admire," her voice is a little above a whisper.

"Nothing I wouldn't love."

His heart is beating so fast, it feels caged and ready to jump out at any second. Aemond forgets about the headache as if it never existed. In this state of bliss, he contemplates making a very emotional decision. But she makes one instead.

Y/N lowers her face closer to his and all of a sudden he feels a touch so light, it's almost like a petal brushes over his skin. It's her lips. She kisses his face — his scar — moving tenderly from the high point of his cheek to the area under the sapphire and then right above what's left of his eyelid.

When their eyes meet again, Aemond can only think of one thing.

He surges upward, his lips colliding with hers — she responds in an instant. His chest feels like it's on fire as kissing her is the most overwhelming feeling in the world, but he doesn't want to stop, ever. Her fingers gently slide down to his neck and Aemond uses his arm for support as he sits up without breaking the kiss. He then pulls her closer, one of his hands on her lower back and the other nestled under her jaw.

She softly sighs into his mouth — and it might be his new favorite sound. She tastes like berries, her lips getting more eager, fiery, addictive, and he is dizzy with joy and longing, trying to memorize each second. The pacing of the kiss grows heated and intoxicating as they melt into each other perfectly. They only part when both are out of air, their lips tingling, swollen and craving to continue.

"I must admit," she tries to catch her breath, she can't stop smiling, her hands caressing his face, "you exceeded my expectations."

Aemond laughs, cheerful and carefree, his nose bumping into hers.

"It's all about teamwork, as I've heard," he plants a quick peck on the corner of her mouth — and on the other one. And then they're kissing again, desperately drawn to each other. He's lost in the sound of her voice, in the feeling of her lips on his.

His love for her is all-consuming. Her love for him is healing.

Turns out, letting her in doesn't make him lose. With her by his side, he always feels like a winner.

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

> the title is a quote from Hozier's song

>> I originally took inspiration from this post that lists the possible consequences of losing an eye. I also can't help but mention the extensive research that @ adderess did, which only adds to that heartbreaking yet very realistic concept.

>>> I have a playlist for Aemond 🎵 I didn't add any music in this fic BUT I've listened to "Mr Sandman" a lot, especially the instrumental version (I didn't mention it earlier in case you don't like listening to music while reading). 💕 my masterlist

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