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tarjapearce · 9 months

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Lips anon! Dark King Miguel and the gentle princess. The original one except Miguel is the king you dread to marry. Even more so when you meet him. He's a hulking man adorned with obsidian armor laced with gold. Cold piercing red eyes. If you weren't terrified, you would have seen how handsome he was, and that his gaze was filled with intrigue rather than hatred.

He takes your hand in armored claws, and kisses it. Now you blush.

You were to spend a good chunk of time in the palace with him until the day of the wedding. At first it's a nightmare because you are with someone who's slaughtered thousands of men, but he's gentle with you. Not exactly kind. But gentle.

Oh oh, imagine she took a little diary with her. She records her time in his lands, and he finds it while snooping in her room (checking for any weapons and such). He reads it and finds quite a bit about her. He rolls his eyes at the passage of her describing her dream man, but he is very intrigued about her wanting a bunch of children. He can give that to her, he wants many heirs too 🤭

Im such a sucker for these sort of tropes :'D ❤️❤️❤️ (Had to write this twice cause Tumblr erased the draft midway 😭😭)

You fretted in your chambers.

Despite the kingdom's overall economy and exterior political relations were thriving, the feeling of wariness set heavyly on your chest. The Queen and King had forbidden your stay at the most recent council's meeting, and when you demanded an explanation, you were met with nothing but silence and pained looks.

"Your Majesty! Come back here! You can't go inside!"

"They are hiding something from me, Lucille. I know it!"

"But you just can't interrupt!" Your maid and friend had been trying to prevent to get in the throne room. She caught your arm and looked solemn for a moment.

"You... You too?"

She shook her head and sighed, pulling you to a more private spot.

"You must be very quiet, ok?" Lucille guided you through a secret little passageway you didn't know the castle had. Hidden in plain sight that took you exactly where you wanted, a small hole on the wall enough for you too take a glimpse of the room.

Sparse, war table on a side, some guards you couldn't recognize stood next to a chair, partially revealing who sat in it. You could only get a small reveal of his arms. Dark skinned, strong arms clad in obsidian and golden that ended in a claw like gauntlet.

"Your Majesty" Your dad spoke, a slight tremor in his voice, "I think we are rushing into conclusions, ser. You'll see our men-"

"I don't want your men, neither your women. My army is more than enough and if I wished, your kingdom would be wiped out at my command."

You father stressed kn his chair as your mother just watched with keen eyes the display of power.

"We might not be a large kingdom, your majesty-"

"You're right, ser. You're like a tiny and annoying stone that got in my greaves, but I have had enough bloodshed for now"

"T-Then what is it you want, your majesty?"

You frowned at the armored man's attitude as dread crept up your bones. His gauntlet curled on his head, pondering as he slicked his soft, wavy and dark locks back.

"Surprise me, your majesty" He sneered the two last words and you swallowed.

"I will give you the most precious thing I possess, your highness." Your mother spoke confidently as her eyes were casted at the man.

"Being?"

"My daughter. The princess."

Lucille gasped and you quickly covered her mouth. His ears perked at the sound and tensed, but ignored it since he just chuckled.

"I came here in order for you to understand why I need the West passage of your borders open, not to get married." He stood and it was yout time to gasp at the size of him. He looked gigantic, your father had to crane his head up to meet his eyes.

"Think about it, your highness." Your mother pressed as she also stood.

"We can't open the passage due to political differences between our Kingdom and Erunia. It's closing wasn't to meddle in your affairs, but more like a preventive solution in our safety, in case an invasion happened. The least of things we would want is another war against a powerful kingdom we know we have no chance against. "

The obsidian clad man seemed to pay attention to your mother's words

"Sure, our Kingdom is thriving again, and economy and politics seem promising, but you must also understand we have nothing much to offer you when we are still recovering from a war. We still mourn, and we are getting on our feet again."

Your throat tightened upon her mentioning mourn. Your brother, the prince had died in battle.

"And for me to offer you, this kingdom's most precious jewel... I'll leave it to your interpretation."

The man seemed to relax slightly. Political things weren't your strength but, you didn't have to be a genius to know that tension had been rising within the neighbor kingdoms. Yours was a small one that served as a bridge among the others. Without you, the rest would collapse bit by bit.

"I offer you protection, in exchange of your daughter."

Tears welled up in your eyes. They were using you like an object. The deal was sealed, and so was your fate.

------

You had refused to see your parents after that, your mother had explained that it was for the kingdom's best interest.

"But what about me? I know that is selfish to think this way but, this is not what I want."

"It's not about what you want, more like what must be done. Your duty as a princess is to see for the people's interest, my dear. Our wishes matter little when the men think it's funny to play war."

"But mother, how could I possibly marry someone like that? Arachne kingdom is ruthless! And so is it's ruler!"

"We had no choice, my dear. Your brother... Im sure your brother would have chosen to try and wage a war against him to keep our autonomy... There is enough bloodshed as it is for now." She cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead.

"Besides, he is not that bad. He was... civil and wise enough to hear us. And now, thanks to you we have his protection and a new chance of being the kingdom we used to be."

-----------

You were set to depart to Arachne's kingdom within two weeks, and you made sure to enjoy the last bits of your freedom in your home. The wedding was set within 3 months. Or so the dark scroll the mysterious man had sent, said.

And when that day arrived, your carriage departed between sobs, anguish and heartfelt goodbyes. You didn't like the feeling of being seen as a martyr, but it gave your people hope.

----

If you had to describe Arachne's beauty you'd settle for twisted. A contradiction of many types of beauty melded in a single space. The outskirts were full of thorns so thick you thought your carriage would be crushed before even reaching the castle, but the more your caravan approached, the sceneries changed into something less harrowing to a more utopic sort of settling.

Tall towers stood proud in the different cities, but one thing you couldn't help but notice were the elite guards. Mostly clad in a light armor, red and blue, a spider-skull like emblem on their chest. You weren't allowed to bring Lucille with you, a strange petition from this... Miguel King.

Miguel O'Hara. Ruler of Arachne. Commander of an elite force with abilities that surpassed the common guard forces. Many said it was his secret to get him where he was. Despite the rumors about the kingdom being desolated and hunger stricken, witnessing the opposite with your own eyes made your heart a little hopeful.

After all he had sent a small crew of four to guard you during the trip. A blonde girl with a left side of her head shaven, a tall dark young man with braids on each side of his head slicked back with a look that pierced your soul, Another black man with many perforations in his face, with the strangest hairdo you had seen in someone, and their commander. A tall, black slender woman with a red and obsidian armor. None of you talked during the trip. But the pierced face young man and the blonde girl offered you small, almost sympathetic smiles your way.

----

Your arrival at the castle was announced. Your four escorts guided you to the main hall and kneeled before the man you had only caught a minimal glimpse of. Red eyes regarded your form, clad in a emerald green with golden trims dress.

You could notice his eyes widening just slightly as you entering the room. And then he stood. Your breath was caught in your throat and just as your father, you had to crane your head up to meet his eyes. Captivating yet full of unspeakable things. But you were certain, hatred wasn't one of them, rather wonder. He stared at you with mild curiosity.

You revered before him.

"Princess (Name) of Theleria, at your service, my lord." Sweet and soft spoken. A stark contrast of his overall aura. He noticed the small tremor in your hands and chuckled.

"Welcome, Princesa." Despite his imposing and intimidating looks, his royal etiquette shone through.

"Make yourself at home" Or so it did it's best. He returned to his work. He wasn't much for words as you were escorted to your own chambers. You certainly were swooned by the place grandeur and the elite force you had heard so much.

"Your Majesty sends his apologies, he won't be able to meet you during dinner. Would you like to eat on your chambers, or in the dining hall?" The man wore another red and blue armor, you had noticed that only commanders wore a certain type of armor.

"In my room, ser. Thanks."

He nodded with a smile and left. Your room was enormous, easily mistaken for a whole wing. You had dinner in your room.

--------

"Where is she?"

"In her room. She preferred to eat inside."

"Hm." Miguel hummed as he spreaded some map before him. Peter looking at him.

"Want me to arrange a tea meeting with her?"

Miguel's nose scrunched and he shook his head.

"Make it a lunch. I don't like tea."

"I know, coffee guy. You think her parents will keep their word?"

"They better, if not, we'll wipe them."

"Wouldn't that be harrowing for your future bride?"

Miguel arched an eyebrow at him

"Merely political affairs."

"She's pretty"

"Hm and gentle. You know what happens to gentle people."

"They get an arranged marriage with a ruthless belicist of a king." Peter couldn't help but giggle at his mortified expression.

"One more-"

"And I'm out. I know, I know pal. Get some rest. Your eyebags are packing for vacation already" Peter smiled at his annoyed sigh, then left him be.

-----

The lunch never came, as you were stood up, again. You had expected much, after all it was an arranged marriage, of course the desire of knowing eachother just for pretense was only in your imagination. However you had noticed that his gaze lingered on you for more than he actually let on.

You had been sorted through the city, to meet it's people, and so far mostly looked happy? Children ran around a fountain, merchants exposed and sold their goods, art supplies and a small leathery notebook, caught your attention. The extense array of colors had you grinning and marveling at things you had never seen before. Charcoals, complete drawing kits, turpentine, canvas made out of the richest materials.

Arachne's people were kind, welcoming and it just made you wonder how such kind of people had a blood thirsty man for a king? Not that he intentionally waged wars just for fun and giggles. Peter watched you with a lazy smile, occasionally recommending things to try. He and the blonde girl, whose name happened to be Gwen, we're kind enough to answer each of your questions. You didn't dare to ask about Miguel. He seemed too busy to be disturbed and by the way his face was always set in a permanent frown, made you wonder how would things would be in your wedding day.

He was aloof, too buried in his own world of War and battles. You couldn't help but nod with an absentminded expression at Peter saying he won't be for dinner either.

"Of course." That's all you uttered before you returned to the castle and retreated to your room. Your chest constricting tightly.

-----------

"You know, getting any sort of contact with her wouldn't hurt you." Peter spoke as he was polishing his gauntlets.

Miguel remained silent, eyes too focused on the scroll before him.

"How was the trip?"

"She was like a kid in a candy store when we stopped in an art shop."

"Something she liked?" Peter smiled and scrubbed the wax away from the gauntlet

"Paintings and art supplies. She loved the cherry pie and couldn't stop marveling at how dreamlike the city looked"

"Hm. Her kingdom is... small. Nothing much to look around. Anyways, get her what she liked. "

"Beg your pardon?" Peter blinked at him

"Told you to get her what she liked."

"Of course. "

-----

The following days you were either holed up in your bedroom, or in the gardens making small talk with the servants. They seemed good and easygoing people, and it kept you from giving into the loneliness feeling that seemed to loom over your head with each passing day.

Sometimes you'd caught glimpses of him, a small group of elite soldiers tailing behind him in scary synchronization. Your eyes would meet for seconds, but he'd just look away and continue his work.

At this point you knew what the apologetic look on Peter or Gwen meant. He wasn't showing up.

"I'm sorry."

"Have I done something to... upset him this way? To the point of him maybe finding my company repulsive? "

Peter seized you with a frown.

"I know he is a busy man, wars don't wage on their own, I know much. But..." You shook your head and sighed, "Nevermind that. I'm just being pretentious. Bid you a good evening, ser Peter."

You bowed to him and left to your room. You had refused kindly your dinner.

---------

The next day a couple of guards entered your room as you were writing a letter for your parents. They saluted Peter and left.

"Your Majesty." He bowed and guided your to the medium sized wooden box.

"A gift from the king" Your eyes widened in surprise, your cheeks growing a bit warmer.

"Thank you, ser Peter." You smiled and rummaged through its contents, small squeal upon looking at the leathery notebook you had seen before. Peter left and you wasted no time into enjoying your gift.

Papers, watercolors, oil paints, colored waxes, painting brushes, paint remover, it felt like a dream. Your chest felt giddy at the idea that showed up in your mind.

-----

You gave Peter a small box with something you had done.

"Ser Peter?"

"Yes, your majesty?"

"Could you give this to the King?" You handed him a small velvet pouch. A small canvas in it.

"Do you think he would like it?"

"I'm sure he will, your majesty" Peter smiled.

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

Miguel took the pouch suspiciously, but his eyes widened at the small painting of himself with a small piece of scroll. A fancy and curvy scribblings on it

Thank you for your kindness, my lord.

Your penmanship impeccable, years of princess etiquette and training reflected on it. his lips curved a bit. You had gotten a good angle of him.

---------

He snuck in your room as you had gone to the city with Peter and Gwen again. This time, the man with the pierced face came along.

He didn't expect it to be so you. Paintings you did, dried on the window, drawings of things that caught your interest the most; cherries, birds, nature, and kids. Not that he didn't trust you, he just wanted to see with his own eyes what you had done so far with his gift.

He was glad to find you hadn't wasted it at all. The leathery book however made him to pick it up. It was your own diary. His hands carefully flipped the pages, reading into his contents.

A drawing of him with the caption "king of Arachne and quite aloof." the latter in small letters. He sighed and flipped the pages.

The bakery man is such a gentleman! And his pies so scrumptious.

He chuckled at the little pie drawing you did. He found more descriptions in what seemed to be this type of ideal man for you. He rolled his eyes. But the last lines of the pages caught his interest the most.

After losing my brother, it has come to my thinking. I would love a big family on my own.

You wanted kids. Heirs.

The steps outside alerted him as he tossed the diary back on your bed, and soon you'd enter through the door. The way your eyes looked at him with surprise made his heart to flutter softly. He had met rivals in the battlefield, all giving him a horrifying look, begged him to not come closer. But never he had someone to look at him like you were.

His eyes softened as he walked over you. Lips pressed together, you bowed.

"My lord."

He bowed too, adding more wide at your surprise.

"Enjoying your gift?".

"Very much. Thank you." His thank you gift came into mind.

"Did you... receive mines?"

"Of course."

"Did you like?"

Sweet face looked at him, expectantly. His pulse quickened.

"Si." He mumbled and you looked at him confused for a second.

"I'll take it as a yes?" You smiled.

So so sweet.

He relaxed.

"I'll see you in the dining hall."

"Oh?"

To your surprise he looked at you as he took your hand and kissed the back of your soft palm.

"Don't be late". He left.

#miguel o'hara #t writes✨#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #royal au #arranged marriage #💋 anon #loved this so much ♡#asks and replies

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runningfrom2am · 8 months

Text

in this life or the next

summary: It's the seventy-fifth annual Hunger Games, and you were just unlucky enough to get picked; but lucky enough for this Quarter Quell to feature pre-selected teams. You get paired up with District One's pride and joy, the one and only Rafe Cameron.

pairing: rafe x fem!reader

wc: 15k (oh my LORD)

tags/warnings: its the hunger games so like... yeah... violence and gore and stuff. definitely swearing, spoilers for the og Hunger Games movie I guess (but also not bc i changed it up a bit- you'll see), reader has a special talent that i won't spoil here, Rafe is lowkey a dick at the beginning, Ward being a shitty dad (what's new). also this isn't thoroughly edited bc.. its 15k words and i'm lazy.

masterlists // nav // requests

join my taglist here

a/n: hello lovelies!! oh my gosh i have been slowly chipping away at this for actual literal months, and i am so proud of how it turned out!! i’m really glad i could finally post it by my birthday!! (i’m 23 wtf??)

thank you so much if you're going to put in the time to read this, but it honestly means a lot to me that you've made it this far. reblogs and likes would be so appreciated and let me know your thoughts in the replies! i really, really hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it. let me know if you want a part two of what happens post games, bc i think i left it at a minor baby sized cliffhanger. anyway, i’m off to eat cake now! enjoy!

Staring blankly out at the crowd in front of you, you attempt to process the echoing of your heartbeat in your ears.

"I'd like us to give a round of applause for our brave, brave tributes this year, and wish them the best of luck in this year's quarter quell!" Your attention is drawn to the woman next to you, the District Five escort, Opal, dressed head to toe in bright yellow. A universally happy color- what a joke.

The crowd is mostly silent and you can't bear the thought of even glancing in the direction of your parents. You turn silently as you're ushered back into the building from the stage, tripping slightly over your feet as the shock sets in. People are talking, possibly to you, but you can hardly hear a thing. You almost made it. You were almost eighteen- one more year and you would have been free.

You were granted the briefest of goodbyes to your family, but you were tempted to even turn that down. An action you regret not taking as your parents walk into the room, your mother with tears already coating her cheeks and your father trying to keep a strong resolve for you and your siblings.

"We'll see you soon, Bug. Remember we love you," He whispers into your hair as you sob into his shoulder. You know he doesn't necessarily mean in this lifetime.

Your tunnel vision settles back in as you're walked out of the room, glancing one last time over your shoulder only to see your dad's shoulders shaking from his silent cries as he turns his back to you.

You are quickly pushed onto the train taking you out of District Five, ignoring the other three tributes and your mentors as they talk. You just stare out the window with tired, red eyes and say a silent goodbye to the home you're already sure you'll never see again.

"Y/N..?" The girl next to you says, tapping you on the shoulder and making you jump.

"Hm?" You hum your acknowledgment, looking at the girl beside you. She's only a year older than you, and you went to school together for years; Maisie, you remember.

"I just wanted to make sure you hear them," Maisie whispers, gesturing to Opal as she starts to explain what the premise of the games is this year.

"So," she claps her hands together, clad in tacky yellow gloves. "I'm sure you have noticed that this year there are four of you, and you'll each be paired up with another tribute to compete. Not necessarily from your own District, but, anything is possible, I suppose. The exciting news is that there's a possibility for two winners this year! You and your teammate will be given a score throughout the games, and if your score as the final two is above ten, you will both be crowned victors!" The woman says excitedly- like it's a good thing.

"And if we don't have over ten?" The boy sitting across from you asks flatly.

"Well... the games shall continue," Opal explains vaguely, but you know what that means. You've seen it before.

"Okay, well, how do we get a good score?" The boy asks.

"I-" The escort starts, hesitance clear in her tone as she's quickly interrupted.

"You kill people," Your female mentor answers. She's leaning her elbows on the end of the table, standing with a knife in her hand, spinning it around like it's some kind of toy.

Your eyes drop from her form, staring down at the table in front of you, suddenly remembering your glass of water and quickly grabbing it when you realize your mouth has gone completely dry just from the idea of what's to come.

You arrive at the Capitol in the middle of the night and despite this fact, the crowds are still there. You didn't expect this, even though you've seen it on the beat-up television in your living room every year. It feels less real, somehow, when you're the one getting pushed through the crowd, not knowing what to do besides give awkward smiles to people yelling your name.

Your room is beautiful. You've never seen anything like this, but you can fully customize it at will with a remote, and this level of technology fascinates you. You spend hours flicking through different images that can appear on the walls, surrounding you in another world. Exhaustion and the sound of an artificial thunderstorm put you to sleep with the remote still resting in your palm.

"Up, up, up, my dear! We've got a big day ahead!" Opal's cheery voice startles you awake from your less-than-cozy spot on the floor. "There's breakfast on the table then we've got to get you down to prep, so hurry up, please." She says, and just like that she's gone, no doubt off to wake the other District Five tributes in a similar fashion.

"You're going to be meeting your teammates for the first time today so you can train together- gosh isn't that just so exciting!" Opal claps as you all stand in the elevator. There's a silence that follows as you and Maisie just nod, not excited about the whole idea. You're about to meet someone who will either be spending the last days of your life with you, or be killing you themselves, and you're not fond of either.

"This way you'll get to train together first, which I do believe to be a very generous act on behalf of the game makers." She adds, making you roll your eyes. How considerate. The most you can hope for is someone who is capable, and preferably someone who isn't in the twelve to fifteen age range, having seen that there were several drawn from different districts.

You shift on your feet as you try to adjust to the uncomfortably tight catsuit they squeezed you into, covered in what must be sapphire and diamond rhinestones, pinching your skin with every slight movement. Gold accents line the seams of the suit, extending out into something that resembles wings and lightning bolts protruding from your back. District Five; power. You get it, but we're the diamonds necessary? You hardly take note of the varying outfits you're surrounded with from the other kids in your district, before Opal is guiding the four of you up the line of extravagant carriages you're meant to parade out on for the people of the Capitol to fawn over.

You take note of where all of the other tributes from Five are lead, guessing based on the order of carriages that Maisie got paired up with another girl from Eleven, and the boys somehow ended up paired together. There must be some sort of personal aspect to this decision, considering you have watched those two boys fight back home. You're last, and Opal looks at you excitedly as you follow her up, and up, and up- to the very front of the line.

"Surprise!" She grins, clapping excitedly as you approach the very first carriage. "Y/N, getting paired with a career is huge. Your odds are good already, your partner has trained his whole life- he even volunteered."

"Sucks for him." You mutter under your breath as you get closer, eyeing up the boy in front of you, wearing an almost matching outfit. All the rhinestones make sense now, blending power with luxury could only mean as much.

"Y/N Y/L/N, meet Rafe Cameron. He'll be your teammate in the games." She smiles as she introduces you.

"Hi." You say quietly, taking his hand as he holds it out to you to help you up onto the carriage.

"Hey." He mutters, avoiding your gaze. It's off to a rough start for him for sure, seeing he's being paired up with someone from an outlying district must be daunting, when for you it should be exciting. Rafe did volunteer, yes, but he doesn't want to risk any kind of attachment- despite what the people of the Capitol want for their entertainment. He wants to come out alive, he doesn't care so much about who he's with.

"Okay, Y/N, remember to smile, please." Opal reminds you and you nod, looking down at her as you hold onto the handle in front of you.

You promise her with a nod, willing to do almost anything at this point to win the favour of possible sponsors. Again, your odds look better next to a career on that front, as well.

Quickly everyone is cleared away from the horses and the carriages and you start moving, catching you off guard and you stumble a little, readjusting your grip on the railing. "Careful." Rafe says beside you, quick to reach out to steady you if you needed it. You think you see the smallest of smiles on his face, but that must have just been your own mind trying to find comfort in anything around you.

"I got it." You whisper, blushing slightly. You've been with your teammate for all of a minute, and you're already proving yourself to be clumsy.

The lights hit your eyes the same time all the cheering does, being the first carriage, it's already so loud you can hardly hear yourself think. You snap out of it quickly, plastering on a smile once you see your own face on a giant screen ahead of you, you don't even look like yourself anymore. Your eyes land on the screen adjacent to the one showing you, seeing Rafe as well. He's smiling too, clearly having headed Opal's advice, or his many years of training is getting to him and he's excited. You really don't know. Then his head turns, and you turn your head as well, making dead eye contact with him for only a moment before he's looking past you into the crowds, taking in the moment.

When you finally get out of the extremely public eye and back into the building you exited from, you feel like you can finally breathe again. Not fully, in the tight, rigid suit they had you dressed up in, but more than you realized you were with all that yelling in your ears and lights in your face.

"District Five, right?" Rafe asks you as you're both stepping down and you nod. "Jeez, you don't talk much, do you?" He follows up with, taking a water bottle from someone who's walking by with them.

"I talk." You reply quietly. "Just... not much to talk about at the moment."

"The shock? Yeah, that'll do it." He nods, taking a sip from the water bottle and holding it out to you. You shake your head and push it away, making him shrug. "Shitty bust when you're not a volunteer."

You just stare at him, taken off guard by the comment. "That being said..." He leans in closer to make sure no one else hears. "I've been waiting my whole life for this, so don't ruin it for me, yeah?"

You pull back away from him and just nod again, not wanting to get on his bad side already. He won't be the one to kill you, probably, but it would still be nice if you spent your final days without your teammate hating your guts. "Thanks, darling." He smirks, patting your shoulder and brushing past you to go to the elevators.

The next day, bright and early yet again, you have your first day of training. You're sure Rafe won't even need it, but you certainly will. Your mentor told you he will likely be using it to size up the other tributes, especially considering there is a staggering amount of them this year, and you will need to focus on survival skills. Only survival skills, if you had to pick one thing- and your mentor drove that into your head until it was all that was echoing in your mind when you entered the training center.

After the trainers speech which ironically tried to do the same thing, you beeline straight for the fire making station. You're shocked to see almost no one else listened, definitely none of the boys, mostly lining up to show off their physical strengths, likely to try and intimidate each other. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't working.

You look up as you hear echoing laughter coming from the other side of the room, eyes scanning over the wall lined with silhouette targets, and racks with an array of weapons before landing on your teammate, laughing away with the other career tributes over a joke you didn't hear. He's got a spear in one hand, leaning his weight on it as his head drops back with laughter. You shake your head to get back on task, rolling the rough wood in your palms in hopes of making a spark. Good to see at least one of you is having fun, especially in your final days.

After a few minutes you get it, sitting back into your calves where you were kneeling on the ground, taking a breath of relief as you're satisfied with your success. You glance around to see how others are doing, giving a small smile and wave to Maisie when you see her, reading a book about different edible plants and trying desperately to memorize every image. You watch as Rafe takes the same spear he was leaning on before, hurling towards one of the targets. A direct hit, right in the chest, slightly right of the centre. You jump a little at the sound it makes on impact, looking finally at the boy who threw it.

He's pacing, huffing and looking a little frustrated with himself. A little to the left would have been perfect, but it was a kill shot nonetheless. There would be no coming back from that, and you count yourself lucky that it likely won't be you in place of the target in the games.

You quickly put out your fire and try again, making sure you've got the hang of it. You'll sit here all day if you must. After three more successful attempts, you're satisfied for the day, deciding you'll return to that station tomorrow and try again. You get up and brush the dirt off your knees, trekking over to where they have supplies to make game traps. You've never done this before, but there's no better time to learn, especially since your teammate has shown no interest in survival skills so far today.

"What are you doing?" Suddenly Rafe is standing behind you, as you're once again kneeling on the ground attempting to get the trigger on your bladeless trap to work.

You jump a little, startled by someone talking to you. "Uh, trying to make a snare, I think." You answer, turning to look up at him.

"Looks good." He nods, crouching down next to you. "Uh, isn't there supposed to be a blade or a spearhead or something on that piece?" He says, pointing to it.

"Well, yeah, I just didn't want to stab myself by accident." You laugh slightly, trying the trigger again- and this time it works, snapping forward into his arm.

"Ouch, yeah, fair enough." Rafe chuckles, rubbing the spot on his arm where the wood made contact.

You just nod and begin to reset it to test it again. "What if you can't get any of this shit in the arena?" He asks.

"What, a stick?" You ask, hitting the trigger one more time, sending the stick into his arm again, which he had decided not to move.

"Ow! Yes, a stick. We don't know what it will look like." He rubs his arm, examining the trap you built closer now.

"Then we're screwed I guess." You joke, leaning back on your calves again, watching him dissect it piece by piece to figure out how it works.

"So, is this like, your thing?" Rafe asks, and you tilt your head at him as you think it over.

"My thing?" You ask, unsure entirely what he meant. "I've never made one before, if that's what you're asking."

"Really?" He seems shocked by this.

"Uh, yeah, really. Unfortunately for you, you got paired up with someone who has zero survival or combat skills."

Rafe looks at you, a smug grin crossing his features. "Ha ha, very funny." He clearly thinks you're joking, but you're definitely not.

"I'm serious." You say, confused as to why he doesn't believe you.

His smile falters, replaced with wrinkles of confusion on his forehead. "But- I just watched you look at the instruction book for no more than like, three seconds before sitting down to make this."

"And..?"

"If you've never done it before it's supposed to be harder than that."

"Well, I've seen other people do it on TV and stuff every year for like, ever." You shrug. "I've just got a good memory, I guess."

Rafe nods, looking at the deconstructed trap in front of him for a moment, thinking about the implications of this. How far does this go? Could he use it? He'd never dreamt of having to work in a team in his games, but maybe it would benefit him after all. "Come with me." He stands up, and you follow as he paces over to two big screens, covered with a large array of different symbols.

"Try this, I just want to see something." Rafe says, standing next to you with his arms crossed as you quickly look over the screen, reaching down toward the one in front of you. You notice quickly that the screens mirror each other, all the images placed in the same spots as they are above. You look up at your teammate briefly who nods at you and then you tap one, watching it disappear from both screens before you tap the matching symbol. It's a matching game.

Your eyes are locked on the top screen as you tap away at the bottom one, quickly making all the images disappear one by one. It takes you no more than a minute to get rid of them all, and then a timer appears on the screen replaying your every move in real-time. Forty-two seconds. Were you really going that fast?

"Neat." Rafe says to himself, nodding as he watches it replay on the screen. That was impressive, sure, but his mind is straining to find a practical implication for this in the arena. "Go back to survival stuff. Learn as much as you can." He settles on, turning and walking off back to where he was before, returning to combat training.

The four days of training fly by insanely fast, and that's likely due to your dread of what's to come. you've got through everything in survival no less than three times, and you're pretty sure last night you dreamt of plants and making a fire. Not surprisingly, Rafe has left you pretty much alone the whole time, but you did watch from a distance as he cycled through every weapon the training center had to offer, proving he's almost mastered every last one. Of course, with over ten years of training, anything less wouldn't make sense. What scares you is the other careers showing a similar skill level to that of your teammate, but he seems to be on good terms with them. Again, maybe this would be a good thing in the beginning of the games.

You sit down for your last day of making fires and fishing hooks, working solely on memory since day one, you're feeling pretty confident that the elements or exposure won't be what takes you out- but you don't know if that's a good thing or not. You just hope your death will be quick.

"Y/N, c'mere." Rafe is suddenly calling to you, motioning for you to join him in the combat area. Not seeing much of a choice, and not looking forward to another day of doing the same thing over and over, you listen.

You make your way over, avoiding the gaze of other tributes who are looking at you like you're about to make a fool of yourself. It's possible you are. "I want you to learn how to use this." He says as you walk up, holding out the handle of a knife to you.

You take it, turning the sharp blade over in your hand. "I thought you were the weapons master." You joke, looking up at him briefly.

"Well, I need you to make fires and shit so you have to stay alive somehow, and if we get separated or something I need to know you can at least defend yourself. These are good from a distance and up close, but remember that any weapon you have they can take and use against you. So keep distance whenever you can." He answers, pointing over to the target about fifteen feet away. "So, throw it."

You look over to where he was pointing, adjusting your grip on the handle as you nod, taking in the information he's dumping on you. He is probably right, especially since you don't think he plans on protecting you himself. Why would he? If you die, he can still win without you.

You lift your arm over your shoulder, closing one eye to narrow down your aim before throwing it hard towards the target, which the knife bounces off of and clatters to the ground. You and Rafe both turn at the same time to look at the group that's laughing at you, the clang of the metal on the cement echoing loudly in the vast space.

"Don't worry about them. They're not there." Rafe is quick to grab another one, handing it to you the same way. "Try again, this time, hold it like this..." He says, grabbing your hand and placing your fingers in the correct spots on the handle. "Keep your wrist tense and straight, don't flick it or anything. Yeah, like that." He nods, taking a step back.

You look over how you're holding it, committing the feeling and finger placement to memory before raising your arm again. You throw it again, and this time it sticks, but your aim is off and it ends up in the target's leg. You look over at Rafe, unsure if you're hoping for approval or just satisfaction. "That's perfect." He nods. "Not a death blow, but that'll buy you time to get away. which is all you need."

"Okay." You agree quietly.

"Would it help if you watched me?" He offered, already grabbing a new knife while you nod. "So, you want to follow through with the throw, your shoulders should end about here if you're doing it right. You get more power that way, and better aim." He explains, standing with one foot forward, parallel to the target.

You step back to watch his strategy, noting the way he held the blade and his form when he aimed to throw it. He lets it fly from his fingers as his shoulders fall forward, smirking to himself as it hits the bullseye circle, right in the chest.

"You got it?" He asks, standing up straight again. You nod in response and he's handing you yet another knife to try again.

You go back and forth for hours, not caring that you're keeping anyone else from practicing. You're not the best at it, but it's become muscle memory now, and every time it sticks, most of the time hitting the silhouette somewhere. You tried the moving targets briefly, the gold, pixelated figures running at you quickly. You were immediately overwhelmed, and Rafe ended up having to step in to help. He said after that the minimal skill you had would be good enough to get away, and that is all you would need. You just have to focus on that.

You didn't talk a lot, besides taking a few short breaks to gather the knives and his arrows as Rafe explained the pros and cons of every weapon they had present, showing you briefly how to use some of them. Mostly how to defend yourself against them. It's hard for him to sum up years of training in one day, but he's dead set on the idea that you won't need most of it- just having to focus on keeping the two of you sheltered and fed, he can handle the rest; hopefully.

You sit outside the training center next to Rafe, waiting for your name to be called. It was the youngest female tribute from his district first, so if you had to guess, you would be third and fourth to go, which doesn't buy you a lot of time to decide what to do to best show your skills.

"What are you gonna do?" You ask, whispering in the deathly quiet room.

"Huh?" Rafe hums, leaning closer to hear you better.

You clear your throat, before speaking this time, unsure if you were clear enough. "What are you gonna do? Like which skill?" You clarify.

"Oh, uh..." He mutters, adjusting how he's sitting as he thinks about what to say. "I'm just going to cycle through some different weapons, different distance targets, I think. My mentors want me to show like, a variety of what I can do."

You nod at this, making a mental note of that. Maybe you should do the matching game and then try the knives. Opal told you that you would be scored both individually, and as a team. You hope you won't bring down his score too much, since you know he's aiming high. You planned on going for a mid-level score, not to be seen as a threat but also not as an easy kill. A perfect six would be your ideal score. "What about you?" Rafe interrupts your thought process.

"I'm not sure." You answer honestly.

"You should do your survival stuff. That will improve our team score, if we show them we have strengths at both." Rafe suggests. That's not actually a bad idea. Your individual score will likely be lower, but that's a risk you're willing to take.

"Yeah, I'll do that."

You ended up scoring a six, the judges obviously not seeing you as any kind of threat. This is what you expected, though, and you were correct about your group score as well. Rafe and you together scored a ten. On his own, he scored a ten, so you hadn't affected it in the way you feared. This left you reeling over the idea of other tributes seeing you both as a threat as you stand in yet another extravagant dress, waiting in line to be called out for your interview. The games were tomorrow, and the last thing you wanted was to get in front of a crowd and subtly plead with them to let you live, to send you gifts, and to give you their sympathy.

So far it's been in the same order they called everyone for assessments yesterday, which means you would be next. Rafe stands behind you, arms crossed in a suit that looks more expensive than any you've seen back home in all of your life, but he looks comfortable in it. Your dress is once again covered in rhinestones, and your waist is cinched in so tight you can hardly breathe as it is, so you're not looking forward to going on stage.

"Our next tribute, welcome to the stage from District Five, Miss Y/N Y/L/N!" You hear the familiar voice of Caesar Flickerman calling you out and some guards usher you forward onto the stage, very briefly glancing over your shoulder at Rafe.

You're quick to smile as you turn back around, giving a small wave to the host and then out to the audience as they cheer for you. For a brief moment, you feel as if they don't plan on watching you die as early as tomorrow, you feel as if they're rooting for you. "Hi!" You say as you get closer and Caesar stands up to greet you, shaking your hand and giving you a quick hug before gesturing for you to sit down across from him.

You look around the large theatre, spotting every camera you can. Your family is out there watching, somewhere, and you know they'll see right through this show you have to put on. You wish they wouldn't. You can picture so vividly your living room back home, with your parents and siblings scattered across the couch and the floor watching you with bated breath, they can see you- and on some level, you can see them too.

"Miss Y/L/N. Thank you for being here." Caesar sighs, reaching out and patting your hand where it sits on the armrest next to you.

"Well, I didn't have any other plans for the night, so..." You shrug, making him laugh. Laughter echoes from the audience and you smile, hoping that your plan to win people over is working.

"What? A beautiful girl like you?" He asks after he's done laughing. "You weren't planning on spending some of your free time with your teammate?" As if you got even a minute of free time since you've been here.

"Well, I guess we'll never know." You chuckle, looking back at the boy where he stands in the wing, giving you a small smile.

"Now listen, Y/N, Rafe is..." He has to stop after mentioning his name as cheers erupt again, laughing as he waits for the audience to quiet down. "Your teammate is, as you may have guessed, a popular face in the Capitol right now. Are you feeling lucky about your pairing?"

Rafe crossed his arms as he watches intently, feeling smug about his odds, especially now knowing the Capitol's opinion of him. He knows his dad is back home watching, full of pride that his son has become a fan favourite.

"I am." You answer honestly. "He's very talented."

"And handsome, don't you think?"

"I mean, who am I to argue with the people?" You joke, waving your hand dismissively as you hear the cheers pick up again. "Besides, his looks won't save us. We will save ourselves." You add seriously.

Caesar nods in acknowledgment, showing that to an extent, he agrees with you. "Well, I hope that you are right, dear." He smiles, getting up to signal you've run out of time. You stand as well, taking his hand as he holds it up above your heads. "It was so lovely to meet you, and may the odds stay ever in your favor. Y/N Y/L/N, everyone!"

You smile and thank him quietly, waving to everyone with both hands as you walk across the stage to exit on the other side. You take a few deep breaths as you step into yet another waiting room, watching the screen as Rafe is called out right behind you.

Rafe sits down on the chair across from Caesar after his introduction, which allows a few moments for the audience to quiet down. He smiles proudly as he rests one of his feet on his other knee, bouncing his leg with anxiety. He hopes it's interpreted as excitement. "Rafe." Caesar smiles at him, sitting back down as well. "I'll be honest, I have been so excited to finally meet you."

"It's good to meet you too." Rafe grins, chuckling slightly at the few whistles he gets scattered from the crowd.

"You got a fabulous score, how are you feeling about that?"

"Really good, yeah. Obviously I've been waiting my whole life for this opportunity, so it feels amazing to see it all paying off." Rafe answers, focussing on keeping the confidence in his tone.

"We can tell, can't we?" Caesar laughs, riling up the audience again, making Rafe laugh to himself as he softly shakes his head. "Yeah, yeah. So, with all this planning you've been doing, how do you feel about getting paired up? You probably expected to be going in solo."

"I did, for sure, but I don't think this is a bad thing." Rafe admits.

"Oh, getting along well with your teammate?" Caesar asks, a hint of suggestion in his tone.

"Yeah, we get on really well." Rafe exaggerates your relationship a bit, knowing it will earn you more sponsors, and maybe keep other tributes away from you in the games. "At least I think we do, I'm not fully sure about her thoughts on me, though."

"You scored incredibly well together, despite Y/N having a fairly average score on her own. What are your thoughts and feelings on that?"

Rafe chuckles as he leans forward a bit, pointing out to the audience as he speaks. "Don't underestimate her based on the score. I won't give you any spoilers, but trust me, don't overlook her. She's got as good a shot as any of us. Maybe better."

Caesar makes a surprised expression as he nods. "Well okay! Does she have some sort of secret weapon we should be worried about?" He chuckles, gripping the armrests and looking around as the audience laughs.

Rafe just shrugs in response, smirking slightly, which you can tell the audience just eats up. You're trying to decide if this is good or bad for you, though, as you watch, gnawing at your nails in anticipation as you stare at the screen.

"Okay, alright, don't spoil anything then." Caesar laughs. "It'll make for a better show, and I can get behind that."

After a moment of waiting for the cheers to die down, Caesar speaks up again. "Rafe, if I can ask, I know your father has a lot of influence in your district- how is he feeling about your selection for the games?"

You furrow your brow a little bit as you look at the screen, finally learning something interesting about your teammate. If he's from a prominent family in District One of all places, that would certainly explain his attitude. Rafe, on the other hand, doesn't want to talk about his father at all- but of course they would bring him up.

"Yeah, of course." Rafe replies, shifting in his seat. "He's thrilled, it's a huge honour to be here, and to be the first out of his children to be chosen is really special to me. I just hope I can make him and my sisters proud, he's always encouraged us to volunteer."

"I'm sure that you will." Caesar smiles at him. "I hope I will have the honour of hosting one of your sisters on this stage one day, as well."

Your stomach churns just watching this. How can any father who loves his children want this fate for them? This was your father's worst nightmare. You watch as Rafe nods with a smile, and you can see behind his eyes that he doesn't want that, not at all.

The audience cheers as they both stand up, shaking hands before Rafe leaves the stage, a cocky smirk on his face as he waves and winks at the audience. Before Rafe makes it down to the waiting room, you're grabbed an escorted out, heading for the elevator back to your room.

You can't eat, but you know you should. This will likely be your last meal for a while. You decide on just taking a large bowl of fruit and toast to your room, trying to get it down slowly with all the nerves, while you have a bath. Your parents never let you eat in the bath. It's hard to get out knowing this is likely the last bath you'll ever have.

The morning goes by in a blur, you feel Opal's arms around you as she hugs you goodbye and wishes you luck. You know you'll need all of it. You stare down at the ground in front of you as you're pushed onto a plane, of sorts, along with all the other tributes. Once you're sat down, you look around at everyone else. You remember all of their names as you scan over their faces, but you wish you didn't. You get stuck on one of the girls from District Eleven, Hope, who was only thirteen.

She's shaking, and you can see that from where you're sat down the row from her. She reminds you of Rue, the tribute from last year. Her death was a tragedy, it broke the hearts of everyone outside of the Capitol and the career districts. Hope's curly hair sat in a bun on top of her head, and tears fell down her cheeks as she sniffled. She got paired up with a girl from Twelve- the lengths the Capitol will go to to make a mockery of last years games will never cease to amaze you.

"Hey, you look a little pale." Rafe whispers, leaning close to you. You didn't even notice him sit down on the other side of you.

You shake your head slightly, looking down at your knees. "I'm fine."

"Don't think about it." Rafe instructs you, holding his arm out for the tracker to be injected as a guard approaches with the device.

You wince as you hear it get shot into his arm and he chuckles, shaking his arm off to ease the sting. You raise your shaking arm as they hold their hand out expectantly to you. You don't know what it is they're putting in you, but you've never been fond of needles. This is a million times worse. "It's not that bad," Rafe tells you, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel pressure on your forearm, followed by a sharp, stabbing pain. You bite your tongue to keep from making a sound, dropping your arm onto your lap as they quickly walk away.

"What did they do?" You ask him, trying to keep a steady tone.

"It's a tracker, so they know where we are in the arena." He explains quietly. You were the only two talking, and you notice it's earning you glares from several other tributes. Rafe notices this as well, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms, taking this time to size everyone up.

The plane takes off, and before you know it, you're landing at the arena on the outskirts of Capitol property. You wonder if you're close to the ocean, not that you'll get to see it anyways.

You're paraded off of the plane, still trying not to let it show how afraid you are of what's to come. You make the briefest of eye contact with Maisie as she's pulled towards a different hallway, and neither of you have it in you to smile anymore.

"We've gotta get supplies, that's our first move." Rafe says to you as you're led out of earshot of other tributes, into your own hall.

"My mentor said to run." You reply quietly.

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head. "Your what, one mentor said that? Cool. I have fifteen that are still alive and well enough to show up every year. I think we should get supplies." He tells you firmly, but you know that will get you instantly killed, maybe not him, but you stand no shot. "Just stick with me if you want to live."

You just nod a little bit, glancing at him again briefly before you're directed into a separate room across the hall from him. His pedestal will be next to yours, which is a bit of a relief. Your stylist quickly instructs you to strip, and then she helps you into the uniform you assume you'll all be wearing. It's exactly the same as last year, you notice this quickly, but with a '75' logo embroidered on the chest where the District Twelve tribute had her pin placed. Katniss, you remember her name was. She had volunteered for her sister, and at the time you contemplated heavily on whether or not you would do the same. She was so, so close to winning- to getting to see her sister again, but she and the boy from her district, the final two tributes, ended up committing together rather than giving the Capitol their Victor. It was an admirable stance, but you couldn't imagine what that was like for her family, and his.

You step off the concrete floor once you're dressed, instructed to get into the pod that will lift you up into the arena; a glass elevator. Your stylist says nothing to you as they walk out of the room, the glass door sliding shut in front of you. Your knees get weak as you realize you are totally, completely alone, and likely no more than twenty minutes from dying. You think of your family, your siblings, your dad- and the last words he said to you. You'll see him soon.

Your thoughts are halted when the elevator starts to move, lifting you up as the ceiling falls away and you can see sunlight coming through. You squint and shield your eyes as you try to look up to get a better grasp on your surroundings before you can even see anything. Once trees come into view you're frantically looking around, trying to process as much information as you can, and quickly. It's exactly the same as last year, but from what you can tell, flipped in reverse, and made larger to accommodate twice as many tributes. Or everything on camera last year was flipped. There's a silver cornucopia in the middle with the timer that's immediately counting down and supplies inside and scattered around the field in front of you. Rafe is to your right, and a boy from Seven on your left. He scored a six, the same as you, so he's not the biggest threat to you immediately.

You adjust your stance, getting ready to run once the timer hits zero. In what direction, you don't know yet. Rafe wants you to run to the supplies, but statistically, the most deaths will happen in the next five minutes and you don't want any part of that. The supply bags and weapons spread out on the grass are all the same too, by the looks of it. The closest bag to you got picked up by the girl from Seven last year, and it didn't have much of anything helpful. If you're remembering right, it had a rope and some matches, and that was it. It definitely would be useful, but you know you can do better. There should be a bag four pedestals to your right, with a water bottle, an emergency blanket, a fire starter, a first aid kit, and a knife. Right now, that's the one you have to get to. That's your best bet.

Ten, nine, eight... The timer ticks down to the final seconds as you look over at Rafe, who's already looking at you. You point to the bag as your eyes land on it on the other side of him across the field, and he looks at you confused. He's closer, he has a better shot, but you know he won't take it.

Rafe is confused, following your finger and spotting the bag. Why would you want that one specifically? There are others closer, he doesn't feel like now is a time to be picky.

Four, three, two...

Your ears ring with shock as the clock reaches zero, and you're watching most of the other tributes booking it for the center. No one has seen your bag yet as you jump down, beelining across the field and narrowly brushing past Rafe in your move for the small backpack. He stops to let you pass, almost crashing into you head-on. He doesn't have time to worry about you, so he continues on his path to the middle, but he's lost time. Precious time that he doesn't have to lose right at the beginning of the games.

He gets into the bloodbath that the cornucopia has already turned into, looking back over his shoulder quickly as he grabs at any weapon he can get his hands on. He quickly has to sacrifice the blade he just grabbed when he hears footsteps quickly approaching from behind him, turning quickly and plunging it into the boy's chest. He doesn't think to look at who it was.

Cannon's echo around you, and you're counting how many internally as you get to the bag, reaching down to grab it as you run past, trying not to slow down. You look back over your shoulder, hoping to spot your teammate somewhere, but you can't see him. You're scanning the area, blocking out the blood you see flying and scattered along the silver metal of the cornucopia. You can hardly hear any screams over the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You can't help but watch as the girl from Three jumps on who is supposed to be her partner, a girl from Twelve, snapping her neck in a second. Within moments, she just drops to the ground next to her- another cannon following. That makes a strong incentive for working in teams. At least Rafe won't betray you early on.

You freeze up for a moment, stopping to scan your surroundings. You still can't find Rafe, taking in the number of bodies scattered around the cornucopia and a few tributes running into the tree line. At least some people were smart. Something flies past your head, making you jump back a step as you look up ahead of you. Within an instant, you're being tackled back by the body of the boy from your district.

"Y/N, fancy seeing you here." He chuckles darkly while you try and fight him off.

"Don't!" You squeak out, him pressing his forearm down against your throat on the ground.

"I've wanted to do this since the second they called your name." He growls, shoving you down again.

"We can help each other, Jack..." You say weakly, clawing at his arm.

"You don't need me. You've got your career boyfriend- and whatever your secret weapon is." He scoffs. "You don't have a secret weapon, Y/N. He's bluffing and he won't convince us."

You gather all your strength and knee him in the crotch, scrambling to get away as he fumbles for just a moment. "God- you are a bitch!" He shouts, grabbing for your ankle just has you pick up the knife he had thrown at you. You grip it the way Rafe had shown you, quickly shoving it into Jack's leg. You just needed to get away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" You exclaim, backing away quickly. Jack doesn't say another word, cutting his losses and getting up to make an escape for the woods. You hope he ends up okay.

You make your break for it as well, running back towards the woods as you once again scan your surroundings for your partner.

Suddenly you're on the ground, having run straight into the side of one of the pedestals and falling over it. You yelp with the sudden impact of the ground, scrambling to get up and continue when suddenly someone is grabbing your jacket, slamming you into the pedestal again. You scream, trying to shove them off, but they're much stronger than you. "Jael! Wait, wait- Jael!" You make out your own voice yelling the boy's name, which makes him falter. He's the oldest tribute from Eight- he seems shocked you even know his name.

In the moment when he loosened his grip, he jerks forward and then falls over you, a cannon booming making you gasp as you panic to get away. Rafe is quickly running towards you, slinging the bow he just used over his shoulder and yanking the arrow out of the boy's back. "Y/N, let's go!" He shouts, motioning for you to follow him as you continue toward the tree line, both of you keeping an eye on what's happening behind you as you disappear into the woods.

"Let's stay close, but not too close," Rafe suggests as soon as you feel safe enough to slow down, your chest heaving with the exertion of energy and boost of adrenaline. He glances at you briefly, then does a double take. "You okay? Are you hurt?"

You shake your head, coughing to ease the stinging in your throat. "I'm fine. You?"

"Good," Rafe answers, slowing his pace to match yours.

"We, uh, I think we should go the other way." You say, looking around to try and mentally place where abouts you are.

Rafe stops and furrows his brow at you, seemingly frustrated by your resistance. "Why does it matter?"

"The arena, it's the same as last year. Exactly the same. Just, scaled up a bit." You explain. "We should head south, that's where the river is. We'll need water soon."

Rafe laughs slightly, his demeanor changing as he places his hands on his hips and looks at you. "No shit," He says, truly surprised and impressed that you could tell. A lot of the games tend to look like this, and he would never notice a repeat arena down to the rivers if it punched him in the face. Your 'secret weapon' is already paying off. "And you could tell that right away?"

"Yeah, I mean, I guess so. The bags were all the same, everything was laid out the same. I bet there's a river down south." You nod, having a sudden realization. "We should get to that cave- the one the tributes from Twelve holed up in last year. That'll be a good, stable shelter. We can pretty much wait it out." You say, starting to walk in what you believe is the right direction.

"No," Rafe replies, making you stop in your tracks. "Unless you want me to have to kill you in the end."

"Oh, right." You forgot about that part, keeping score. "We're still going to need somewhere to sleep, though."

"Yeah, we'll find it anyways." Rafe nods, carrying on in the direction you started heading. You follow a few steps behind, keeping a bit of distance in the somewhat awkward silence that fell over you two after his comment about having to kill you.

You walk in the thick of the woods for about an hour before you feel like you're reaching the river. You can feel it under your feet, the soil is slightly softer, and the trees a little more green.

Cannons interrupt your thoughts a few times in the hike, totaling up to twenty-three by the time you reach the riverbank. "You were right." Rafe chuckles, mentally disparaging any skepticism he faced during the long, quiet walk.

"Thank god." You giggle, dropping your bag and crouching down to dig through it, hoping for a water bottle. You were right, everything you expected was accounted for.

"Why that bag?" Rafe says, already sitting down on the rocky water's edge to rest for a moment.

"Huh?" You question, unsure you heard over the shuffling of the bag while you zip it up.

"You pointed to it, during the countdown. Why did you want that one?"

"Oh, uh, like I said they all looked the same as last year, and I hoped I remembered what was inside." You say, laying down to reach into the water and fill up the bottle.

"Were you right?"

You nod with a small smile, sitting back up and holding the bottle out to him as you cross your legs.

"That's actually insane." Rafe shakes his head in disbelief as he takes it, downing just about everything in it before handing it back.

You take it and refill it again for yourself. "I'll choose to take that as a compliment."

Rafe wouldn't admit it, but at this moment as he's watching you drink, he's grateful that he got paired up with you. But now, that it's been shown on national television that you know the arena in and out, he wonders what obstacles the gamemakers will desperately throw your way.

"We should keep moving. I feel like a sitting duck out here in the open, I don't like it." Rafe mutters, checking his attitude as he stands up. You're quick to fill up the bottle again, following behind him yet again as the arrows in his quiver rattle together against his back walking over the rocky and unstable terrain, knife gripped tightly in his hand.

You wonder to yourself how he's feeling about leaving behind his predestined alliance of the career pack, but with the factor of most of them being paired up with other districts, it was already too unpredictable. You wouldn't have stuck around either.

The sun started to set as you followed the river upstream. You didn't want to settle without some kind of shelter, and you were committed to finding that cave before you could relax. You could tell that Rafe had the same idea, his steps ahead of you gradually picking up speed with the bow still gripped firmly in his palm.

"It's a beautiful sunset." You speak your mind before thinking, desperately wanting to fill the silence.

Rafe just hums in response, looking up only briefly before training his gaze once again on the ragged rocks at his feet and continuing on. "What's it like in District One?" You ask.

"Fine." He replies coldly. You aren't sure what you expected, but this response was pretty on par. You knew you had almost no chance of survival, so it would at least be nice to get to know the person you spend your final days with, even if he would be the one to kill you in the end.

"I've never been, but I've heard it's... nice." You've only ever heard about it from the perspective of other bitter individuals from Five, jealous of the cushy lifestyle everyone knew they must have lived.

"Yeah." Rafe agrees, clearly not wanting to discuss it.

"What are your sister's names?" You ask, deciding to push a little bit. It's not like he can kill you just yet.

Rafe sighs, but answers anyways. "Wheezie and Sarah."

You're shocked that he answered at all, but you could tell in his interview that he has a soft spot for them. "Cute." You nod, smiling to yourself. "Is Wheezie a nickname?"

"Yep, it's short for Louise."

"That's adorable." You grin, shaking your head.

"Hey, look. There." Rafe says, changing the subject and pointing down the rocks, where there's a small opening under a ledge.

"That's it!" You exclaim, deciding to drop the topic of his sisters in favour for finding your shelter for the night. You rush past him, watching your step as you climb down into the small cave.

Rafe quickly draws his bow, slowing down and peaking into the cave and bracing himself for your screams. How could you be so careless in a game like this? He doesn't understand your lightheartedness, your somewhat positive attitude, and your ability to make small talk despite the circumstances. "Hey, careful!"

"It's perfect!" You call back out as you look around, and Rafe steps down carefully, looking around more carefully than you had. He relaxes once he's satisfied that there's nothing down there waiting to kill you.

"Nice, okay." Rafe nods to himself, and you both get to work making a small fire near the entrance, hidden from view.

You take off your jacket and roll it up, using it as a makeshift pillow as you lay next to the fire, staring at the orange flicker of the flames you made.

Rafe is sitting across from you, knees tucked up to his chest as he does just the same. His mind is absolutely reeling- he needs to find something to eat, and soon. That will be the first thing you'll do in the morning, he'll have to employ your help to find something edible. "How are you with making traps?" He asks.

"I can do it." You reply, sitting up and leaning on your elbow so you can see him. "I'll set some up in the morning."

Rafe nods a little bit. He already knew you could, of course, but he's wondering about the logistics of how they work. "So like... hypothetically, would they work the same if you made them bigger?"

"Like... human-sized?" You ask, catching on to what he's suggesting. It's not ethical- but nothing about this game is. For you, this would definitely be preferable to fighting other kids to death over and over again.

Rafe nods, adjusting how he was sitting and crossing his legs.

"Yeah. I can't see why not." You answer. "It would be harder since I've never done it, but I think it could work."

"Then I say we try it."

The next day, you wake up as the sun rises and the light beats down on you from the entrance of the cave. You didn't sleep comfortably, that's for sure, waking up twice throughout the night to the sound of the cannon. That's twenty-seven. You wonder how many teams have already reached their ten-kill quota, you imagine someone in the career pack already has. Both times when you were startled awake, Rafe was standing at the cave entrance, bow drawn as he squinted into the darkness, hoping that whoever was out hunting other tributes wasn't nearby.

You sit up slowly, stretching out your tired limbs as you look over to see Rafe, fast asleep with a blade in his hand. You should let him sleep, and get to work on finding something to eat, and making some traps.

You grab one of the knives Rafe somehow collected from the bag laying next to him as quietly as possible, sneaking outside and taking in your surroundings. The sound of the river flowing and the smell of morning dew was amazing- you wish you could truly enjoy it in different circumstances.

You quickly get to work tracking down something to eat, landing on a few different plants you know to be edible. You're trekking through the woods near your cave when you come across an apple tree- making you pause as you look it over. It looks out of place- and maybe no one got close enough to it in the games last time that you wouldn't have seen it, but that seems unlikely. It must be new; it makes for the perfect place to try and set up a trap for the next hungry tribute who would be unfortunate enough to wander too close to your hideout.

You're digging a hole in the ground with your hands, avoiding the roots of the tree and sticking in some sticks you sharpened when you hear a twig snap behind you. You freeze, hoping that by some miracle, it's just an animal. You slowly turn your head to try and look, picking up the knife from the ground next to you and holding it tight.

"Just me." Rafe's voice relaxes you, and you stand up, brushing off your knees.

"You scared me." You admit as he takes to looking down into the hole you just dug.

"That looks... awful." He chuckles, patting your shoulder. "It won't kill, but it'll slow someone down enough that I can finish the job."

You nod slightly, staring into the dirt as well. You hated the idea that you were crafting something intentionally to bring harm to another person, but realistically you have no choice. "We'll set up more, along the riverbed and closer to the career pack. We can't monitor them all at once, though- can you make more fatal ones next time?" Rafe asks, pointing back towards the river to accentuate his point.

"That depends, how many arrows can you spare?"

The next few days saw the death toll rise to thirty-six. You kept track every night, scratching their numbers and names into the walls of the cave despite being able to remember anyway. You viewed it as a small memorial, Rafe saw it as a timer ticking down to when he'd have to kill you.

Your first trap had worked on one person, their screams of pain from a cut-up leg summoning your teammate back to the apple tree. He insisted you stay behind as he finished what you started. You had to reset several other traps as well, closer to the cornucopia.

Rafe would never admit it, but he was really starting to like you. He didn't want to hurt you- he was worried the traps wouldn't do enough. The passive approach you so preferred wasn't what he expected, and he knew his dad would be disappointed in him. But Ward would never understand.

He sighed as he poked at the fire with a stick, leaning his head back against the rocky wall of the cave, another cold night ahead of you.

You had your head laid on his lap, his thigh replacing the thin material of your coat that you had been using the last few days.

"How old are your sisters?" You ask out of nowhere, prompting him to look down at you. He had thought you fell asleep a while ago.

"Why does it matter?" Rafe replies, and you just shrug a little bit.

"Gives us something to talk about."

"Fifteen and Eleven." He relents.

"Hey, me too." You smile a little to yourself.

"You have sisters?" Rafe asks. He never asked much about you- he didn't really want to know, in the case he had to kill you.

"Yep. And a brother." You nod, sitting up a little bit. "He's older though, he aged out last year."

Rafe finds himself clenching his jaw. He can't hear that- to see you as a little sister. He doesn't want to imagine what it would be like to see his sisters face the same fate. "Lucky guy." He says quietly.

"Why? I thought it was a privilege, and all that." You chuckle.

"Well, yeah, but not for most. For the outlying districts like you."

"At least you get it." You agree. "How does it feel? Now that you're here, I mean."

"Scary." Rafe admits, throwing caution to the wind now with what his father will think. "Not what everyone tells you it'll be like."

"Is that because of me?" You ask after a few moments, and he nods slightly.

"Not in a bad way, though. It's just different. I expected to be on my own, to die alone, or kill my allies if I had to. Now... I don't know that I have to. Or if I even could." He can practically hear his father shouting at their large screen at home, or storming out claiming he was an embarrassment. He was told his whole life to never show weakness, to 'be a man', but now, at the end, that doesn't matter to him.

"I won't take it personally." You giggle softly, voice shaking as you try to make light of it. "My family won't either, I don't think. Maybe my dad, at first, but eventually he'll understand. They'll forgive you." You try and ease his mind, knowing that in the case that Rafe does win without you, he'll have to face your family in the next month or so during the victory tour.

"I wouldn't ever expect him to." Rafe tells you, tossing his stick into the flames now. He feels sick hearing you talk about it like it's inevitable- but if he has anything to do with it, you'll be coming home with him.

"They're good people." You assure him.

"Don't say that." Rafe chuckles, shaking his head. "I would never forgive myself."

"Okay, fine. They're awful. Just... the worst." You smile, looking up at him and resting your chin in your hand.

"That's better. Thank you." Rafe laughs, poking your forehead and gazing out onto the river as the flames illuminate the water.

In the morning, you're awoken to something brushing your leg. You groan and roll over, head landing once more on Rafe's extended arm underneath you. At least he was finally getting some sleep, pretty much unable to close his eyes since you set foot in the arena. You feel the brush again, followed by something moving on your arm, several things, suddenly, and your eyes fly open and look down when you remember where you are. You let out a scream, scrambling to sit up and pushing yourself back against the wall.

Rafe wakes up quickly, scrambling for the bow next to him when he realizes it won't be any help. You're surrounded by and quickly almost covered in a sickening combination of snakes and spiders.

You're still screaming, trying to shove the creatures off of you. "Come on- come on!" Rafe is yelling at you, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the exit. You don't get the chance to grab your back and you regret that as you're jumping into the river in attempt to get the spiders off of your skin and out of your clothes.

You're breathing heavily as you come up for air, and Rafe is quickly there, brushing his hands over your hair to make sure every last spider is gone. He looks back at the entrance of the cave, chest heaving like yours as the bugs and snakes spill out of it. It sends a shiver down his spine- he was never a fan of snakes.

"I guess that's the gamemakers telling us enough was enough." He sighs, gently pulling you towards the shore again a safe distance away. "Are you bit?" He asks once you're a safe distance away.

"I don't think so..." You reply, hiking up the ankles of your pants to look at your calves and over your bare arms as you sit on the shore. "You?"

Rafe shakes his head, doing the same. "It was probably just a warning. We have to move." He quickly lowers his pant leg over the puncture wounds in his leg, hoping you didn't see. If it gets worse, he'll tell you. The bite itself didn't hurt much, so if it's going to be fatal, he's glad he won't have to hurt you.

Rafe helps you up, leading you up towards the tree line. "They probably want to push us in toward the other tributes, I think we should go with it before they throw something worse at us." You, the two of you now left with nothing but what you had on you, along with Rafe's bow and a few spare arrows.

He nods. "It's our best move anyways. How many tributes are left?"

"Twelve including us." You answer quickly. "There's Avril, a boy from six, Maisie, she's from my district, most of the careers I think are still in it but not their teammates," You begin to rattle off the list,

"I don't want to know names." Rafe cuts you off, and you understand why. He's been doing all the dirty work, and part of you knows it's because he's hoping to have time to learn names and feel guilty about it later. Right now, he can't afford to see them as human.

"Right." You agree. "It doesn't really matter, anyways."

"Do you know scores?" He asks, walking alongside you now.

You nod, beginning to list off all the remaining tributes and their scores, from lowest to highest. The lowest being you- and the highest being ten, shared by Rafe and a boy from district two.

After hearing two more cannons that day, and checking all the traps you had set, you're circling back to the river to be near fresh water before you set up camp again. You don't have your water bottle anymore, or anything to set up any kind of shelter with, you do your best. You set up a fire, Rafe insisting that if it draws other tributes to you so be it- he's ready for this to end just as much as you, but you don't want to rush into your death or an ambush. It's safe to say you won't be sleeping tonight.

You didn't sleep, but at least, curled up under a tree, the night sky was beautiful. The stars seemed realistic, and you wondered if somehow they were real. Between the two more cannons that struck overnight, you still wondered if you were somewhere near the ocean, or somewhere closer to home. While you're sitting next to each other in a peaceful silence, both admiring the vastness of the night sky, you hear a ringing sound coming from above.

Rafe quickly stands, reaching for the small silver pack with a parachute before it hits the ground. He's quick to open it as you stand up, looking into the container. You grab the small card, tilting it into the light of your fire to read it.

For our Y/N,

Keep fighting. Please come home to us.

Love You Always, Dad

Tears form in your eyes almost instantly, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. "It's just a water bottle and some kind of granola bars... or something." Rafe says, turning the water bottle over in his hand.

He looks up at you, frowning when he sees how upset you look. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." You quickly shake your head, wiping your eyes. "Uhm, it's from my dad."

The fact that your family could spare enough money to send you something in the games at all was amazing to you. You heard horror stories of the astronomical prices of trying to send something from outside of the capitol, without the status and funds of a sponsor.

"Oh." Rafe replies, handing you the tin and bottle now, taking the card from you gently. He reads it over slowly, and over and over again. His family had seemingly endless amounts of money, and they had sent him nothing. He knew his father viewed it as cheating, and that you shouldn't need any kind of help to win. If he loved him, though, that wouldn't matter. He should be willing to do anything he could to keep his son alive. The way your parents did.

"My mom made these." You sniffle, grabbing a small bar from the container in her hand. "They're my favourite, she only makes them on birthdays or special occasions." You explain.

"That's... that's really nice." Rafe says, putting the card back in the tin. He doesn't know how to handle this, or what to say.

You smile sadly as you sit back down against the tree, placing the tin on your lap as Rafe joins you. "Here." You hold the bar out to him.

"They're for you." Rafe shakes his head, pushing it away.

"They're for us." You insist, holding it out to him again. "They wouldn't have sent two if I wasn't meant to share."

"Thank you." Rafe smiles genuinely, for the first time in weeks as he takes it. He's starving, having eaten only small amounts of meat and plants over the last week or so, so he's quick to take a bite. It's sweet, more so than he expected. He never thought he could enjoy sugar this much.

"No wonder they're reserved for celebrations, hey?" You giggle, having intently watched his reaction.

Rafe nods. "Yeah, it's really good. Super sweet." He says, mouth still full. You grin, satisfied as you take a bite of your own.

The night flew by so quickly, you're feeling as though it must have gotten shorter. The sunrise went by fast too. You're guessing the gamemakers and the viewers were getting antsy. To be honest, you were as well.

Renewed with your energy the sugary baking your parents had sent, you set about gathering food and water, while Rafe goes on to check a few of your traps to see if they needed to be reset. He could do it on his own, but he liked watching you do it, working the ropes between your fingers and tying intricate knots, pulling back on the stick used to trigger the arrow. By the afternoon, having taken a mental note of the amount of cannons that had fired. It was a few, at least. You must be getting down to the end. He prayed it wasn't you, but the cries of some kind of mutts in the distance right before the cannons lead him to believe that you were fine- but he should be getting back soon anyways.

You were wandering down to the water, reluctant to leave your camp, but you knew water was a priority. You were just filling up the new bottle when you heard a scream. It sounded like a boy. You quickly look back over your shoulder, noticing it was nearby. Toward the apple tree. You stand slowly, looking around as you attach the water bottle back to your side with a carabiner, reaching instead for the knife Rafe had left with you. God, you hoped it wasn't him. The absence of a cannon gives you hope, though.

You quietly head in that direction, watching your step so your presence isn't detected. When you get closer to the tree, you hear crying. Painful crying, as you're faced with the reality of the trap you set.

You watch from behind a tree as the boy from eight tries to pull his leg up from the ground, screaming out again as the sharp sticks dig into his flesh. You should go get Rafe- you feel guilty, but you can't kill him yourself. You turn quickly, and before you can get a step away you're face to face with one of the other careers- a sword held up against your neck.

"Don't move." Blake says, a smile that can only be described as evil spreading over his lips.

You try and scream out for help, hoping Rafe was still in earshot but a hand is quickly covering your mouth. "Not yet." He whispers, shaking his head. "We've got a plan, it'll be fun. You wouldn't want to ruin that, right?"

As Rafe gets back to your small camp, he expects to see you there waiting. He scans the trees above him, wondering if you had climbed up for some reason. He calls your name when he doesn't see you, brow furrowed. You definitely should be back by now. As he's heading down to the water to look for you, he hears a cannon, which at this point wouldn't bother him- if it wasn't for the scream that followed after. It was you. No doubt in his mind that it was you. With his bow drawn, he's moving quickly towards where he heard your voice, throwing caution to the wind.

You scream again, crying as the tip of the sword is dug into your shoulder, laying down next to the apple tree. You can't help it- but you don't want their trap to work. You don't want Rafe to come, so you bite your tongue until you taste blood, hoping to keep quiet. "It'll only get worse for you if you don't scream, Y/N/N." Blake scolds you, digging in the blade more. "He has to hear you." He adds through gritted teeth.

You hear a twig snap just outside the small clearing, and Blake is quickly turning to look with the sword still pinning you to the ground. "Rafe it's a trap!" You shout, hoping that it's him.

Rafe steps out then, into full view with his bow drawn as he aims at the boy in front of him. When they first met, he knew they would have been good friends if they met anywhere else. "You won't shoot me." Blake chuckles, and Rafe quickly readjusts his grip.

"I will." Rafe says sternly, pulling the string tighter as Blake moves the sword to hover over your chest. Over your heart.

"If you shoot, the last of my energy will go into killing her. I don't think you want that." He shakes his head, smiling smugly.

"I don't care." Rafe says, making your heart clench. You know that you're friends, at the very least. He does care. He's bluffing- you have to believe that.

"If you didn't care you would have shot me already." Blake calls it, and Rafe tenses up, looking down at you only briefly.

"Then what do you want?" Rafe spits.

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted you to watch." Blake shrugs. "Just makes it a little more fun, you know? But don't worry, you'll be next." You know he just wants to prove himself, somehow, not having scored as high as Rafe did. You wonder if his family was somehow similar- that he needed some kind of approval that he thought he might find through sadism.

Rafe looks down at you again, and you just nod, tears streaming down your temples to your ears. He quickly readjusts before letting the arrow fly, planting straight in the shoulder that held the sword as you quickly roll over, slicing across your chest and shoulder in the process. It was well worth it.

Rafe fires another arrow into his chest, not taking any risks and the cannon quickly follows as he rushes to your side.

"Are you okay?" He's asking, hands hovering above you as he's kneeled next to you, unsure what to do.

You nod, still biting into your tongue as blood continues to slide down your skin, dampening your now torn up clothes.

"It's not that bad." Rafe says, looking over the cuts as best he can, but you wince when he pulls the fabric away. "You're gonna be fine, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah..." You mumble, letting your head fall back against the brush below you. Rafe is quick to take his coat off, using it to push down on the deepest part of the wound on your shoulder, trying with his other hand to apply pressure to the rest of it. You try and focus on your breathing, rather than the pain, but it's hard when a significant amount of weight is being applied to your shoulder and chest.

"I'm sorry, I have to." Rafe tells you, jaw tense as he lifts his coat to check whether or not the bleeding has slowed. You didn't even realize you were crying.

After a few minutes, he's lessened the pressure a bit, still holding the fabric firmly over your skin. "You could have ran." You mumble, voice hardly above a whisper.

"I wasn't gonna leave you." Rafe shakes his head, gently peeling away his now blood soaked windbreaker.

"You at least shouldn't have saved me. Not much point in that, is there?" You smile softly, trying to sit up and Rafe is quick to help.

"There is. You have to win." He mutters.

"I'm not winning, Rafe." You smile sadly at him. "Infection will kill me if you won't, and if no one else does first."

"No, they'll fix you up. This cut will be gone in a week, the technology they have is-"

"Rafe." You grab his attention again and he looks up to meet your eyes. They seemed to suck in all the light of the sunset above the two of you, reflecting back at him in a way that makes his breath hitch. The thought is cut short, however, when you say something that breaks his heart. "Don't give me hope like that."

"Why? You're gonna go home. I mean it." He promises. "I'll make sure of it."

"I don't think we have enough." You remind him sadly, a small smile still evident on your lips as you reach up to cup his cheek in your palm. "I never expected to go home. I'm okay with that."

Your friend shakes his head softly. "That doesn't matter. You have your family to get home to, I read that note from your dad. They need you, I can see that. For me, these games are all I was raised for. I have nothing left for me after this." He admits, avoiding eye contact with you. "I could never forgive myself if I didn't get you home."

Tears are forming in your eyes again as you look up at him. The world is watching, and in this moment of vulnerability you feel that more than ever- despite the quiet sounds around you being only the rushing water in the nearby river and the birds chirping around you. "You're a good person, Rafe." You smile at him, watching as he gently raises his hand to yours, grabbing it in his own. "I hope you know that."

In this moment, you settle on the idea that you would die for him. You never understood last years tributes, honestly, how they were willing to die for each other instead of getting home to their own loved ones, but now you do. Completely.

Without a second thought, you find yourself leaning closer, Rafe doing the same as he kneels next to you in the dark. Your eyes meet once more, lips only an inch from touching when you hear a howl in the distance, and you snap your head to the direction it came from. "The Mutts... Already?" You say, scrambling to get up and ignoring the pain in your shoulder.

"I- I heard them earlier, they sound far away." Rafe says, trying to calm you.

"You heard them? You didn't tell me?" You ask, frantically grabbing his bow from the ground and handing it to him as he goes to pull the discarded arrows out of Blake's body.

"I didn't think it mattered!" He defends, trying to hide the panic in his voice.

"There were four left last year when they sent them out. I think... yeah I think that's right. There's four of us. We have to run." You say in a panic, pulling on his hand. "Our best bet is making it back to the cornucopia."

"It'll be too open- can't we climb a tree or something?" Rafe says, following after you as you're running through the bush now in the direction of the open field.

"I don't know if that will work, but I know we'll be safe there." You explain like it's obvious. "We have to risk it- and if you can get to the others first, if they have the same idea, we'll be at ten."

You're out of breath already, adrenaline pushing you through as you hear scattered barking getting steadily closer after one more cannon. Part of you wants to stop, turn, and force Rafe to take the win if you couldn't have it, but with any hope left, you have to try and get back to where this started. The traps was an unfortunate choice in how you got your kills, because you couldn't keep track of how many since by the time you got around to checking them, the body's would have been airlifted off if it wasn't a misfire. If you had to guess, though, you were sitting at eight.

Rafe is running similar calculations in his head as he lets you lead him by memory straight to the field, mind short-circuiting as he sees the silver moonlight reflect off the cornucopia.

You sprint across the open field, blood pouring from your undressed wound again with the intense exertion of energy. Rafe doesn't pass you, though, despite you expecting that he would. You have tunnel vision as you make it to the metal structure, practically slamming into it before you can even stop. Rafe is quick to lift you and shove you up, both of you looking over your shoulders as you struggle to hold onto the edge, kicking the sides to hold yourself up.

You finally get up, reaching down to help pull Rafe up. He grabs onto your arm for leverage, mostly pulling himself up and you wince as you feel the tension from his weight in your cuts.

You flop down onto your back on the cold surface as he climbs over you, immediately standing up with bow drawn as he intently scans the surrounding area. He's only got the two arrows left, which makes him nervous if that's all he has to defend the both of you with.

You try to settle your breathing, which only lasts for a moment until the sky lights up with the recap. You miss your cave, where you could contribute to your memorial, especially seeing the face of Maisie flash above you on the sky while the anthem plays.

You close your eyes, just listening to the music now until you hear barking just outside of where Rafe can see, and you're quickly sitting up. He draws the bow tighter, aiming in the direction the howls came from just as someone pushes out into the clearing. Rafe is aimed straight at them, bow string pressed to his cheek. He's getting dizzy, and quickly. His aim can't fail him now, he doesn't have that option.

You watch them, in the dark you think it's the other boy from district one, and in your exhaustion you can't remember his name. You wouldn't dare say it, anyways. He's screaming for help, a call you know you can't answer, and you watch as they stumble on their feet, shoes and hands digging into the ground as they try to get up, just ten or so yards from you by now.

Rafe wants to shoot just then, it would be as simple as letting his finger loose and the arrow would fly towards its target. It would be a merciful end for the boy he's trained with for years now, only a couple years younger than him. The muscle in his jaw is aching from the tension he's put on it when he forces himself to let go. He has to do it, for himself, if he wants to go home.

He misses. The yelp of one of the mutts tells you it landed in a paw or back, and you look up at Rafe who's already drawn his second. "Rafe!" You cry out, pushing yourself up onto your feet and standing behind him now.

He hates to admit that your empathy has rubbed off on him. Watching you every night carving seemingly endless names and numbers into the rocks that lined the space you stepped in. He recalls waking up one morning and seeing your name and his carved in as well, closer to where he laid by the fire, his underlined and yours with a heart at the end. Like a signature on the top of a math test. He had wondered if you always wrote your name like that, and in this moment as he releases the bow again, he knows he has to find out for himself.

It happened so fast, the mutts knocking down the boy and the arrow flying from Rafe's shaky hands into where he should have been right as the cannon sounds. You don't know that it was Rafe's arrow that did him in.

"No..." You mumble, clamouring forward and onto your knees again to look over as the boys body is torn apart by the mutts. "You had to have done it. You had to." You say, trying to get a better view.

In a second, Rafe's arms are around you and he's pulling you back from the edge, sitting now behind you with his arms wrapped tightly over your body. "It's okay.. it's over." He mumbles, kissing the side of your head as the sunlight comes over the trees. He's fighting off the urge to vomit, everything spinning around him now.

You sit with him, gripping onto his arms and crying. Nothing is happening, so you must not have made it to ten. You feel sick- your heart is in your throat and suddenly you're really hot, moving away from him to look over the edge again, this time incase you have to throw up. You freeze, looking over to where the boy's body once was. The second arrow was in the ground. He missed again.

Rafe sees it at the same time as you. He sighs, hanging his legs over the edge. "Shit... Y/N, I'm sorry." He mumbles, gently reaching over to rub your back.

"No, no. It's okay." You insist, sitting up next to him. "I knew this would happen."

"I'll get you home." Rafe says, sliding down the side of the cornucopia before you can stop him. He stumbles the landing, swaying in his walk as he heads towards the arrow lodged into the dirt.

"Wait! Wait, wait, Rafe!" You're sliding down after him, running to his side and grabbing his arm before he can get to the arrow in the ground.

He turns to you quickly, hand on your cheek and he's pressing his lips to your forehead. "Sit with me?" He asks, knees already giving out as he falls to the ground.

You're instantly on the ground beside him, practically holding his head up with your free hand as you search him visually for some kind of injury. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"Uh, I guess so." Rafe mutters. "Snake bite. I think."

"You didn't tell me? I could have fixed this, I could have helped..." You ramble on, his eyes dropping shut now. "Hey, eyes open."

"It's okay. Just sit with me..." He says again, smiling weakly. "Wait with me... please?"

You nod, sniffling as you fight back the tears that want to fall. "Yeah, of course. I'll stay."

Before he closes his eyes, the music starts again and your eyes are drawn up to the sky after you notice Rafe is looking first.

Then, begins a similar slideshow of faces you recognize. Ten in total. Rafe's eyes flicker with slight recollection, remembering any kills he made himself and you gasp when you see Jack. Whatever damage you had done when he tackled you on the first day must have killed him. "Rafe.." You mumble, lowering your eyes to meet his. "I think we won."

Your point is accentuated by the voice of the head gamemaker over some unseen speakers. "Introducing the Victors of the Seventy-Fifth Annual Hunger Games!"

"We did it." Rafe laughs weakly, squeezing your hand.

You fully ignore the aircraft hovering down in front of you on the grass, turning your head to look down at him. You don't say anything, neither of you do, and you finally feel your lips against his. The kiss is bad, it doesn't really work when both of you are stuck smiling ear to ear, but you don't care one bit. The only thing that matters is that you got this chance at all.

Rafe pulls away from you slowly, using all the strength he has left to lift himself onto his feet as you steady him. "He needs help!" You shout to them, and you're quickly being lead onto the plane.

"They've got really good technology," You mock what he said to you just the day before. "It'll be like it never happened in a week, okay?" You chuckle, feeling waves of happiness, worry, and relief all at once as you quickly wipe away a tear with your free hand, other arm wrapped tightly around Rafe's waist to hold him up.

He laughs, and you lean into him more, your forehead against his shoulder as the aircraft door slides shut behind you.

taglist: @bookishbabyyy @madelynie, @whore-4-drewstarkey, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @saccharinesammie, @ietss, @maybankslover @redhead1180, @suzyheartsrafe, @wpdailyminimeta, @aegons-bitch, @rafegirly, @lovelyxtommy @dee127

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puckarchives · 4 months

Text

definitely a surpise: l. hughes

blurb: in which you and luke introduce the daughter the world never even knew you had to the nhl. / word count: 1.3k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

To be fair, the decision had been made way before the two of you had even considered the possibility of being (or even trying to become) pregnant; instead, it was a comment that had sparked a long winded conversation on the dock of the Hughes Family lake house in New Hampshire, and that had you and Luke coming to a final consensus: if you were to have children together, mini-Lukes and mini-Y/Ns, the child wouldn’t be introduced into the world of the National Hockey League until they were a year old.

Now, while the decision might have sounded easy and obvious, it wasn’t until a few months later after our wedding that we had found out we were pregnant, and preparation for Hughes Baby Number 1 was quite the spectacle— one that usually involved Luke finding you in the stands of the Prudential Center, covered head to toe in clothing that hid your baby bump— right until it became a bit too obvious to his teammates, and it was decided that instead, your would spend your time watching the game either from the Center’s family suite, or from the comfort of your own shared home. Naturally, the latter won out almost instantaneously.

Despite the onslaught of media harassment that Luke and you had received in the aftermath of your absence from his games— comments from fans who mentioned that I wasn’t being supportive enough or even a good partner to him, the pregnant went as good as we had hoped— and, a few months later, Marnie Wren Hughes was born— a name that was a mix of both of our mother’s names, and whose middle name was a play on Luke’s own middle name, swapping out “Warren” for a simplified version of “Wren.”

Marnie was an angel child, truly. Sure, she was attached to the hip with Luke because of how much he had to travel for games and roadies, but she was a Momma’s Girl at heart— constantly around you, and always around in her stroller, or toddling around your office at the university.

As your baby’s first birthday came along, however, Luke and you once again found yourselves in a bit of a predicament. Just like her uncle, Marnie had a May birthday— putting it right smack in the middle of playoff season for the Devils, and leaving the two of you to think about what you could do with that. Would it be time to introduce the baby you two had and watched grow for over a year to the world? Hell, not even half of Luke’s team even knew about Marnie, despite the fact that Luke had been playing with the team for over five years now.

Despite this, we knew it was time; since it was her birthday, both your parents and Luke’s would be in Jersey visiting for her birthday party, and with the Canucks having lost in the second round of their own playoff games, Quinn would be taking a flight out to join the Y/L/N-Hughes family for the party as well, so it truly gave you the best opportunity to take Marnie out, surrounded by her family, to her first Devils game— and, for all intents and purposes, introduce her to the world her father thrived in.

When the day came, however, you readied the newly one-year-old in a tiny version of Luke’s jersey, with the “43” taking up the majority of her back. She looked, in so many ways, (but especially clad in the classic red and black colors,) like her dad; like the man who had given you the opportunity to be a mom to such an angel baby, and experience things like this in the first place.

As the game began and team warmups commenced, you saw Luke look around the stadium quickly, easily finding you and the child in your arms waving at him alongside his own family. Signaling to Jack to join him, the two skated over to where you stood— sporting the same jersey Marnie did, and the ring on your hand to prove it.

As Luke got near, Marnie, excited to see her dad, yelled in her baby voice, “Daddy!” leaving both you and Luke, who had stopped mid-skate, a bit dumbfounded. Sure she was a year-old already, but talking in full words? Especially since she had only ever called you “Mama” and Luke “Dada” before?

Seemingly pulled out of his stupor by the wiggling child in your arms, Marnie stretched her arms out toward Luke, now catching the attention of other players and audience members around you— all of which must have been wondering why this child was calling Luke “Daddy,” and where she had even come from to begin with.

Peeling off his gloves, Luke grabbed her into his arms as both Nico and Mercer came skating over, the latter obviously trying to find out who the child was. Even the jumbo screen, which usually held on to Kiss Cams and commercials, was pointed at the scene of Luke carrying Marnie in his arms, now peppering her tiny face in kisses as she babbled and yelled “Papa” over and over at him.

Pulling away from the two, you got out your phone to take a picture of the sight— the love of your life carrying the other love of your life, all while they both experienced something entirely new; Luke having his daughter at a game, and Marnie, experiencing the cheers of the game her dad gave his all to.

After the game though, as the Devils swept the Rangers 9-2 with three points from Luke and two assists from both Haula and Jack, you counted the amount of times that one or more Devils had skated to your piece of glass and waved at Marnie, catching the baby’s attention as they pseudo-met the youngest Hughes child for the first time. From Marino to Schmid, one by one the Devils found themselves cooing at the baby from across the glass— all star struck in a way at the child who had called their defenseman “Daddy,” but all enamored by her curls and Y/E/C eyes that were clearly traits she inherited from both you and Luke alike.

After, however, you were both ushered into the locker room, automatically surrounded by baby-fever induced coos from Luke’s teammates as Marnie was swept out of your arms— first by Jack, and then by Nico, and then finally finding herself back in Luke’s arms as each member shared their surprise that, one— Luke had a literal child, and two, that you both had kept it under wraps for so long.

“Well, it was a decision we both made before Marnie was even a thought,” you told Bastian, who was playing peek-a-boo with the squirming toddler, and who had asked how he hadn't known of her before tonight.

“We kind of wanted it to be a surprise, and then we just didn’t want her to only ever remember the bad parts about hockey, you know? But big day for the Hughes family now,” Luke added. “Big day, sweetheart,” he told Marnie, bouncing her up and down with one arm while she played with his fingers of his opposite hand.

“Well, except me,” Jack interjected. “Now I can finally show you guys the pictures of MarnieBear when she was a baby! God— you should see how much Lukey cried when she was born,” he said, leading off to join Nico and Lazar as he whipped out his phone, most likely pulling out the one photo he took of Luke with a newborn Marnie, tears of happiness streaming down his face as he held his little girl in his arms— her in one, and you in the other.

“Well, that was definitely a surprise,” I told him, putting your arm around his waist. The defenseman only looked down at me, smiling at both me and our daughter— yeah, it was definitely the right decision.

#luke hughes imagine #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #jack hughes #quinn hughes #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #nj devils #new jersey devils

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lilac-witch · 2 months

Text

Gossamer - Eris Vanserra x Reader

masterlist

Summary: Before his father's death, Eris had lived a false life, full of lies and deceit. But now, he had the chance to see life in its most gentle, loving form. Meaning: "a fine, filmy cobweb seen on grass or bushes or floating in the air in calm weather, especially in autumn" Word Count: 905 Warnings: None

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She was beautiful, Eris thought, as he watched his wife twirl their daughter around. She had always been beautiful to him, but in the last five years they had been free of his father's wrath, she had simply glowed with life.

The High Lord of Autumn couldn't help but think back on how different their lives had been then, and how thankful he was that things had changed for the better.

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

"She is a white devil! Sent by Kallias to rot your mind and steal our innermost secrets!" his father bellowed, flames dancing in his eyes. "She seeks to snuff out the Autumn flames so that that wretched bastard of Night might gain more power!"

Eris saw red, and the temperature in the already sweltering room only seemed to grow.

"She is my mate! She is mine, sent by the cauldron, gifted by the mother!"

His father shook his head, disgust cloaking his features.

"No son of mine will lay with a whore of Winter. No son of mine will wed a member of another court."

Eris watched as his father turned to face the hearth, his back exposed. It would be all too easy... one perfectly placed dagger, and it could all be over. She could be his, and he could be hers. There could be peace once more.

"Get out of my sight," his father hissed.

And so Eris did what he had always done. He played the ever-loyal son. But little did the High Lord of Autumn know that when the sun set, Eris was seeking aid from their most loathed enemy.

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It had taken a year, but it was finally done. Beron was dead. Eris was High Lord of Autumn.

He looked down at his father's bloody corpse. There was no feeling of remorse, no feeling of regret.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder. Eris turned to face the figure. The figure that belonged to the High Lord of the Night Court. His ally.

"Go to her," Rhysand said softly, as though he was afraid that Eris may be spooked.

Eris simply nodded, sword falling from his hand as he began speed walking through the palace. At some point, he'd broken out into a run, speeding past members of his court who would no doubt have questions. But they weren't of importance right now. His only thought was you.

And there you were, in all your shimmering glory. White hair shimmered in the afternoon sun, body clad in the blue fighting leathers common to the Winter Court.

"Y/n," he breathed.

You turned to face him, blue eyes crinkling in delight before you raced towards him.

When your arms tangled with his, Eris felt nothing but love and warmth flurry down the bond. He ran his fingers through your pale strands, pressing soft kisses to the crown of your head.

"it's done. We are free."

"Are you ok?" you asked, rubbing a hand up and down his back.

Eris felt tears begin to grow in his eyes and wrapped you even tighter in his arms.

"I have never been better, my love."

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

Eris could in fact feel even better.

It had been 3 months since the mating ceremony where he had sworn you in as his High Lady, his mate, his wife. 3 blissful months of peace and love, more than Eris had felt in his entire lifetime. But nothing could have prepared him for the joy he'd felt in that moment.

"I'm with child," you whispered, a hand placed gently over the small bump of your belly.

Eris' mind went completely, wholly blank. The world around him stood still, and only you existed in his eyes.

"Eris?"

He blinked, letting the announcement of your pregnancy sink in. This was real. You were expecting. He was going to be a father.

"You're pregnant," he managed to choke out before the tears consumed him, sobs wracking his body.

Joy consumed him. A babe. You were carrying a babe. HIs babe.

Eris let you guide his hands to your stomach so that he might feel the little life inside you. At that moment, Eris swore he would give his life for your unborn child. Mind, body and soul, he would do whatever it took to keep his babe safe, happy and healthy.

As tears kept streaming down his face, Eris knelt before you, placing a kiss on the small bump.

"Thank you," he murmured. "Thank you for this gift."

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

"My love?"

Eris was brought back to the present at the sound of your voice, your blue eyes watching him with concern.

He smiled, bringing your palm to his lips.

"Nothing to fret about, darling. I was simply thinking back on how we got to this moment."

Eris watched as a soft smile fell upon your lips. You glowed with life this cool autumn morning, like one of the dew drops on a string of spider's silk.

He placed a hand on your protruding belly, content and at peace.

"He's kicking up a storm," he muttered as he felt the small movements within your womb.

"He?" you asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Well, it's only fair my love. I'm already outnumbered two to one."

Eris watched your head tilt back, a laugh escaping those sinful lips.

Yes, his life had never been better than in this moment, but Eris had no doubt that as the years passed, life would only get sweeter.

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

And that's post number two of the weekend! I hope you have all enjoyed Gossamer and Opalescence. They were so fun to write. A word of warning, content may be slow over the next week and a half. I have two tests and an 800-word essay due :( But as always, I will do my best to get content out, just please be patient with me:)

Just another reminder to please send through any and all requests you might have:)

#acotar #rhysand #eris acotar #eris vanserra #eris x reader #autumn court #night court #winter court #kallias #beron vanserra

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elaratyrell · 7 months

Text

The Lost Boys {Aemond x Reader, Aegon x Reader, Cregan x Reader, Jace x Reader}

-> Part One {Introduction}

*All images found on Pinterest*

Warnings: Language, mentions of drugs and drug use

*Divider from Firefly Graphics*

Synopsis: Wanting a fresh start after her divorce, Rhaenyra and her two sons, Jace and Luke travel to Dragonstone island to live with her father Viserys. While Luke seems happy enough reading comic books and attending the nearby amusement park, Jacaerys seems to resent his new life here. That is, however, until he meets you. The catch? You're part of a gang of vampires. And Jace becomes their newest target.

"We're almost there."

"You said that an hour ago," Luke groaned, slumping back against the car seat.

"Well now I know we definitely are," Rhaenyra replied. "Look." She pointed to a rather large, faded billboard depicting a long pier leading out to the sea, the words Welcome to Dragonstone Island adorning the board in large white letters.

"What's that smell?" Luke asked, his white German Shephard, Arrax, sniffing the air intently.

Rhaenyra inhaled deeply "Sea air," She sighed with contentment.

"Smells like death," A voice piped up from beside Luke.

"Well look who finally decided to wake up," the younger boy teased as his older brother, whose gaze was focused on behind the billboard, where the words Murder Capital of the World had been spray painted on in scarlet. Jace simply grunted in response, earning a sigh from his mother.

"Look, there's an amusement park right on the beach!" Luke exclaimed. "Mum, can we go there?"

"Maybe later, Luke. Your grandfather's expecting us and I'll need help unpacking our things."

"Fine," Luke sighed, scratching Arrax behind the ears as Rhaenyra pulled into a gas station. He eagerly clambered out of the car with Arrax, running into the station to fill up his pockets with snacks.

"Are you okay?" Rhaenyra asked as she got out the car, looking at where her eldest son was resting his head on his propped up arm, the window rolled down halfway.

"I'm fine." Was his response.

"Look, Jace, I know you're still upset by the divorce-"

"I'm fine."

"Things sometimes just don't work out," Rhaenyra continued, resting a hand on his forearm. "Harwin and I-"

"You don't need to explain your break up to me." Jace interrupted. "If it's what you had to do, it's what you had to do."

Rhaenyra lightly squeezed his arm. "I understand how hard that's been for you, Jace. And I understand if you feel any sort of resentment towards me, or your father. But who knows, this could do you the world of good. Fresh sea air, a change of scenery... I'm sure you can even find somewhere you can ride that... contraption-"

"Vermax is a motorcycle, mother," Jace mumbled.

"The fact that you named it," Luke said as he got back into to car with Arrax, his voice slightly muffled by the candy bar he was shovelling into his mouth. "Just makes it sound even more crap."

"Luke, language," Rhaenyra chided before turning back to her eldest. "Yes, I am aware, and even though I personally wouldn't invest in such a thing, your father seemed more than happy to provide you with the money, so who am I to argue? That being said," She held up her index finger. "No gangs-"

"I know, you said that back in King's Landing." Jace rolled his eyes, turning his face away from Rhaenyra, ending the conversation.

"He looks dead."

"Luke, don't say such things," Rhaenyra gasped, getting out the car.

They had pulled up to an old manor house at the top of the hill, the stone walls crawling with ivy and moss, the red paint on the front door peeling from age. Sat there in an old rocking chair on the front porch was an old man, his stringy silver hair tied into a braid, a shotgun resting on his lap. He was clad in a red and black plaid shirt and ratty blue denim jeans faded with age, a pair of black slippers on his feet. He was slouched over slightly, his eyes half closed and mouth slightly agape.

"Father," Rhaenyra murmured, her hand resting on the old man's shoulder. "Father," She repeated, her voice raised slightly as she gently shook his shoulder.

"He's dead."

"Luke, he's just a deep sleeper." Jace rolled his eyes.

"He doesn't look like he's breathing."

"He is."

"If he's dead, can we move back to King's Landing-"

"Luke!" Rhaenyra exclaimed. "That's enough."

"Playing dead," The old man rasped, opening his eyes. "And doing a good job too, from the looks of things."

"Father," Rhaenyra let out a deep exhale of relief, her hand held to her chest. "Thank goodness."

"It is good to see you." Viserys smiled, slowly rising to his feet with his daughter's help to embrace her. "I will get a pot of tea ready while you unpack."

As Viserys shuffled inside, Luke shared a look with Jace.

"Well... Grandpa's a loon."

"Just get the boxes." Jace muttered, dragging a hand through his curls as he opened the trunk of the car, grabbing one of his boxes labelled weights, while Luke eagerly grabbed his own, black capital letters scrawled comic books across it.

"This... is actually kind of cool." Luke admitted as they walked into the house. There were two worn black leather sofas in the centre of the living room, red throws and cushions scattered across them. Mahogany shelves were pressed against the walls, decked with dragon ornaments, old leather bound books and various silverware. Guns were mounted on the walls, as well as two wooden stakes crossed over in an X shape above the mahogany dining table. It was cluttered with various other bric a brac, but it still held a sense of charm.

"I suppose," Jace murmured, walking upstairs to take his box up to his room.

"That's my room!" Luke yelled, pushing past Jace to get into the larger of the two guest rooms.

"I saw it first!" Jace protested.

"I got in the room first."

"I'll flip you for it," Jace said, placing the box on the floor.

"...Okay..." Luke mumbled, letting out a small shriek and Jace grabbed him, lifting him into the air and turning him upside down.

"Heads or tails, Luke?"

"Neither!" Luke yelled, elbowing his brother in the crotch and landing on the floor in a crumpled heap.

"You little shit!" Jace exclaimed, staggering downstairs after his younger brother.

"Mother! Help me! Someone help, there's a monster after me!" Luke cried out, sliding open the door to the kitchen and running inside, Jace right on his trail.

Luke smirked at his brother, opening the door to the fridge so Jace ran right into it. The older boy let out a small groan, grabbing ahold of Luke and pulling him into a headlock.

"You're gonna pay for that, you little-"

"Rules!"

Both Jace and Luke jumped slightly at the voice, turning to see Viserys standing in the kitchen doorway, those pale eyes of his twinkling in the fading sunlight.

"I have some rules around here," The old man continued, reopening the fridge and pointing to a shelf labelled Old Fart. "This shelf is mine. I keep my Iron Island beer and double stuff oreos in here. Don't touch my shelf."

Jace and Luke shared a look, the latter twirling his index finger around his temple.

Crazy.

Jace nodded, returning his attention back to where their grandfather was now pointing outside to a fenced off field.

"Second rule," He continued. "You can go anywhere except for my special field."

Luke shot Jace a confused glance, mouthing the words 'Special Field?'. Jace raised his first two fingers to his lips in a smoking gesture, making his expression clear in realisation.

"Third rule," Viserys slammed his cane down on the ground to get his grandsons' attention as he led them into the living room. "Every Wednesday the mailman brings the tv guide. Sometimes the corner of the address label's curled up. Don't rip it off. It'll rip the cover and I don't like that. Rule four, don't go exploring the caves and stuff round these parts. It'll kill you. And don't join gangs." He hobbled over to a locked door. "Final rule, stay out of here." He added, unlocking the door and opening it ajar before stepping inside, closing it again behind him.

"Well... should be fun living here." Luke murmured, his gaze travelling to the stairs. Before he could make a break for it to steal the larger room, however, Jace grabbed him, pulling him back and digging around in his pockets for a coin.

"Heads or tails?" He asked, letting go of Luke for a second to flip the coin into the air and catching it in his palm with ease, turning it on the back of his hand, the other concealing it from sight.

"Heads! No, tails. No, heads? Actually-"

"Pick. One."

"Tails?"

Jace removed his hand, his lips quirking up into a triumphant smirk at the dragon head staring up at him.

"Fine," Luke sighed in defeat, before spinning on his heel and charging upstairs. Jace yanked him back by his shirt, throwing himself into his own bedroom and slamming the door shut, pushing Luke out of the doorway.

Jace exhaled, picking his box off the floor and placing it down on his bed, adorned with what was most likely a hand sewn quilt of scarlet and ebony. He stood there, enjoying the fleeting moment of silence after having to deal with Luke in the car for the past seven hours.

Unfortunately, it was fleeting, and soon enough Jace heard a hurried knock on the door.

"Jace!"

"What now, Luke?" Jace pulled the door open, glaring at his brother.

"Grandpa doesn't own a tv. He owns a tv guide and yet he doesn't. Own. A tv. And this place has no mall, no proper cinemas... no MTV..."

"You'll have to survive on comic books then. There might be one in town," Jace sighed in response.

"I don't think that'll be enough-"

"Well what do you want me to do about that, huh?" Jace suddenly exclaimed. "You want me to drive you back to King's Landing? And do what? Leave you there on the street? Or maybe all the way to the other side of the country where dad had to move?"

"I... no I..."

"Just go and unpack," Jace sighed, pushing past his younger brother to go back downstairs. "The sooner you unpack, the sooner you can go down to that amusement park you've been babbling about."

"So, are you boys going to check out that amusement park tonight?" Rhaenyra asked as she wiped dry the plate Luke had given her with a red checked dish cloth.

"I guess," Jace murmured, picking up another dirty dish to wash.

"Um, you promised you would take me," Luke pointed out.

"Your grandfather tells me there's a concert on. Some... rock band I believe. Perhaps you'll enjoy that Jace."

"Maybe."

Rhaenyra sighed, giving up her attempt to engage in conversation with her son, instead drying a hand to turn up the volume on the old stereo sat on the windowsill.

"Remember this one?" She asked softly. "We used to dance to it all the time."

"Yeah," Luke smiled, quickly drying his hands to take Rhaenyra's, allowing her to pull him to the centre of the kitchen to dance. Jace kept his gaze focused on the dish he was washing as Luke twirled Rhaenyra around, the both of them laughing.

He glanced in their direction to see Rhaenyra beckoning him over, but he just turned away again, cheeks flushed slightly in mild embarrassment as he dried the last dish, wiping his hands clean.

"Come on Luke," He sighed. "Let's get going." He muttered, walking out pf the kitchen to grab his jacket, ignoring the hurt look Rhaenyra sent his way.

Jace pulled on his shoes and shrugged on the leather jacket his father had gifted him, patting its pockets for his motorcycle keys.

"Luke! Let's go!" He called out, already walking out the door to where his motorcycle was parked against the porch, gleaming a blood red in the dim porch light buzzing overhead.

"I thought we were taking the car," Luke wined as Jace swung his leg over to sit on the bike.

"We can take Vermax... or you can walk," Jace replied.

With a slight huff, Luke reluctantly climbed onto the bike behind his brother.

"Hold on."

"I'm fine, I do not need to- shit!" Luke immediately grabbed his brothers jacket as he revved the bike's engine, the tires squealing slightly as he drove away from the manor.

"So, where do you want to start?" Jace asked as they made their way along the boardwalk.

"Amusement park. Then maybe that comic book store we passed," Luke replied.

"Great, have fun."

"Wait! Where are you going?" Luke grabbed his brother's arm.

"To the concert," Jace replied, shrugging his brother off. "I'll meet you back here in a couple of hours."

"B-but..." Luke glanced around. "Fine..." He sighed, walking away in the opposite direction to his brother.

The music practically vibrated from the makeshift stage at the base of a small grassy hill as Jace navigated his way through the swarming crowd of various goths, punks and druggies, his hands rooted firmly in his jacket pockets.

He ascended the hill, turning to look at the crowds swarming around the stage. Broken bottles of vodka and beer littered the ground, the faint scent of weed lingering in the air. The people around him were swaying from intoxication, passed out of the ground or dancing to the music, swarming around the stage.

He felt himself stand up slightly straighter as he laid eyes a pair on the outskirts of the crowd. There was a young boy, no older than ten maybe, with long white hair reaching down to his shoulders and bright violet eyes. He had a stone faced expression, and was deathly pale, clad in a black band tee, ripped black jeans and a grey jacket.

But it was who the young boy was with that piqued his interest.

It was you.

He watched as the boy led you through the crowds, his hand tightly holding yours. You were dressed in a white puff sleeved summer dress that fluttered in the breeze, the skirt coming midway down your thigh. It had a sweetheart shaped neckline that exposed a hint of your cleavage. On your feet were a pair of white wedge sandals. A pair of dainty ruby earrings hung from your ears, and your hair was loose.

You were stunning.

A vision.

Despite the sea of people cheering to the concert, Jace only saw you.

He felt his cheeks heat up slightly as your gaze met his, his staring having been discovered. He broke out of his trance enough to give you a small smile. Your eyes crinkled slightly, the corner of your lips twitching in a fleeting glimmer of a smile that soon faded as the boy pulled you further into the crowd.

As though hypnotised by you, Jace felt himself step forward, and then another, soon following you into the swarm of swaying people.

He felt his pace quicken as he found himself in the harsh lights of the fair ground. He strained to spot you through the bustling crowds, cheers and screams of joy ringing in the air, the scent of cotton candy and popcorn lingering in the air. It was as though you had vanished in thin air.

"Jace?"

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and Jace jumped, spinning to see Luke standing behind him, half eaten cotton candy clutched in one hand.

"Are you okay?" Luke asked.

Jace opened his mouth to reply, but a flash of white out of the corner of his eye had him grab Luke's sleeve and drag you in your direction.

"Jace, what the- where in seven hells are we going?"

"Nowhere," Jace muttered. "Just stay quiet."

"Well we're obviously going somewhere," Luke mumbled, struggling to keep up with his brother's brisk pace, his gaze locking onto your retreating figure. "Are you following that girl? Jace, are you stalking-"

"If you're not going to shut up, you can go somewhere else." Jace snapped, releasing his grip on his younger brother.

Luke looked across the street where turquoise neon lighting was flickering the words 'Great Second Hand Book Store'.

"Actually, I do."

"Fine, see you later," Jace called over his shoulder, not paying attention to his younger brother, too entranced by you to focus on anything or anyone else.

Jace kept a safe distance between you and him as he followed you, close enough to keep you in sight and far away enough for it not to look... suspicious.

He came skidding to a stop as you suddenly turned to face him, your hand still clasped in the young boys.

"Are you following me?" You asked, your voice quiet but with a sharp edge to it, your gaze burning into his.

"W-well... well I..."

"Did you need something?" You prompted, raising an eyebrow. "Do you have something you want to say?"

"Uh... well yeah..."

"Then talk."

"I just... I just wanted to... to say..."

"Jace! Mum's here so I'm going home with her. She told me to tell you that you need to be home before grandpa locks the house up at midnight."

Jace hung his head as Luke tugged on his sleeve. "Okay, Luke. I'll see you later," He muttered.

"Okay. Here, look!" Luke suddenly pushed a comic book into Jace's hands. "I got a new one."

"That's... that's really great..." Jace replied, pushing Luke's hand away. "You'll have to tell me about it later."

Luke nodded, glancing over at you and the young boy. You had your gaze focused on Jace, eyes glittering in amusement. Your companion, however, had his gaze focused intently on the comic book in Luke's hands. Almost protectively, he held the book closer towards his chest, an action you seemed to notice. You let out a soft chuckle.

"Don't mind him. Maelor's just a big fan of... vampires..." You said, voice faltering slightly towards the end. Maelor simply squeezed your hand lightly in response, tugging at your sleeve lightly. "Nice talking to you." You murmured to Jace before Maelor pulled you away from the two brothers, leading you down the street.

"Oh... did I interrupt something?" Luke asked, grinning at his brother who shot him a small glare.

"Jace? Luke? There you are," Rhaenyra breathed, rounding the corner, "What's taking you so long? Now, come on, we're going-"

"I'm staying. I'll be home later. Before midnight, I promise." Jace said, already hurrying off in the direction you went, fainty hearing Luke snicker to Rhaenyra "He met a girl."

Jace rounded the corner, his smile fading as he caught sight of you, surrounded by four boys all on motor cycles.

One of the boys, the leader he assumed given he had the largest motorcycle and was at the front of the pack, turned to look at Jace. He had long silver hair tied up in a bun, one eye a vivid blue and the other a cloudy white. He was clad entirely in black leather, resting forward against his bike. His lip quirked upwards into a small smirk as he laid his eyes on Jace, tilting his head to the side as he looked him up and down. Upon deeming he wasn't a threat, he sat properly upwards on his bike, also black, hands resting on the hand grip, the three other boys following suite.

Maelor, the young boy you were with, had clambered onto the silver bike of another boy, with long brown hair tied half up, a graze of stubble dotting his face. He looked tall, and was certainly more physically imposing than the first guy, but he didn't have that same coldness in those storm grey eyes of his. He shot Jace a lazy smile as Maelor wrapped his arms around his middle, starting up his bike.

Jace's gaze then settled on the boy that was nearest to you, perched upon a gleaming gold bike, a rolled up joint hanging from his lips and a hand firmly planted on your waist in a way that made Jace's fists clench. He, like the supposed leader of the gang, had platinum hair, although it was shorter and slightly more dishevelled than the former's. Two small gold hoop earrings gleamed in his ear, and he had a slightly glossed over look in his eyes.

The effect of whatever he was smoking, no doubt.

The fourth boy seemed slightly younger than the others, maybe around Luke's age, with curly platinum hair and a cheeky smile on his face as he revved his cobalt and emerald bike.

The first boy turned to you, tilting his head in a gesture that said come here, and you immediately tore yourself away from the one perched gold bike to sit behind the leader, your arms wrapping tightly around his middle and your chin resting on his shoulder.

The four bikes roared as they spun a circle around Jace before speeding down the boardwalk, and the last thing Jace saw before they disappeared into the night was the small flash of a smile you sent his way.

Masterlist

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #spooktober #house of the dragon au #Aemond targaryen #Aemond targaryen x reader #Aemond targaryen imagine #Aegon Targaryen #Aegon Targaryen x reader #Aegon Targaryen imagine #Jacaerys Velaryon x reader #Jacaerys Velaryon #Jacaerys Velaryon imagine #Cregan Stark #Cregan Stark imagine #Cregan Stark x reader

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danibee33 · 9 days

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The Queen’s Guard- Chapter 5: Leap

knight!simon riley x queen!reader

cw: dark themes, suicidal ideation, suicide attempt, *read at your own discretion* take care of yourselves & know that the world is better to have you in it🫶🏻

word count: 3.6k

[<<<chapter 4]

It’s quiet, when you step out onto your balcony. Peaceful. Finally.

The days had come and gone, three, to be exact- after Johnny and Simon had become privy to the king’s violence towards you. And, much to your chagrin, they didn’t seem to believe when you told them you would be fine, that these things happen, and you are not naive enough to believe that they would have never happened to you at some point.

It is a woman’s place in the world, after all, to serve her father, her lords, her husband, her king. Even a queen does not see any favor in this regard, at least not in a way that matters, no, not to you-

”Do you pity me, Ser Simon?”

Your question stumps him for a moment, as he watches you closely, following three paces behind you- no more, no less. He’s watched you stroll through the stables like this, nodding your head so politely, greeting the hands and lords, alike, with a kind smile.

And ever so often, you’ll peek over your shoulder- though, he doesn’t imagine a world where you could possibly think he wouldn’t be there when you cast your fleeting glances.

But pity you? No.. he only pities the king isn’t here right now, so that he could show the man how it feels to have a much stronger hand wrapped around his puny neck-

The thought brings a sneer to his face, one he’s glad you cannot see.

“No, My Queen.”

You stop in front of Johnny’s horse, a tall, leggy beast; his color such a deep chestnut, it almost looks red in the sunlight, save for a perfect white blaze that runs from his forelock to his muzzle-

“I suppose I should be grateful.” You hum with amusement, though your expression is anything but, “Some of us get a taste on our wedding night, hm.. At least I got a few years of peace. If you can call it that-”

He reaches forward without thought, a large, black clad hand coming down tenderly to rest on your forearm,

“Don’t say that-”

A quiet clatter from just outside reminds him of how unduly this might look, how familiar he’s let himself get with you. Simon’s never been one for physical touch, but the small, terribly chaste moments have only grown in abundance. A graze of your hand here, or a brushing of your shoulder there.

He just can’t seem to be close enough to you, and he loathes himself for it-

You watch him step back to a respectable distance before he continues speaking lowly, close enough for you to hear, but far enough to excuse if anyone were to see; you think about how sweetly the tickle of his breath might feel against your skin, and his next words do nothing to chase those thoughts,

“No one deserves that, least of all, you, My Queen.” It’s so hard to keep your eyes forward, your hands feel too idle, your body far too wired, too aware of his proximity, “When a man touches a woman, it should never be out of anger, it should never be to cause pain, or inspire fear.”

His tone dips into a growl at the end, one that causes a deep shiver to creep up your spine and your hair to raise on end,

“No.. Do not be grateful for that- a man’s touch should be kind and gentle, it is a man’s duty to protect and reassure, to give comfort, and pleasure.”

That same shiver turns impossibly hot now, your skin prickling with such a deep-seated desire to know exactly what he means, to know the implications that were implied. But, you could not know, and you know he couldn’t give that to you, try as he might. You wouldn’t let him.

His words ring in your head now, just as loud as they did hours ago. Painfully clear and repetitive, the feelings they brought with it wrapping you in a shroud, one that you can’t quite decide if you like or not- because you can’t tell if it brings you a sense of caring, or if it just reminds you how alone you are in this situation.

But when every direction you look in feels wrong, like a dead end, how else are you suppose to feel? What else can you do?

The winds pick up for a moment as you stare out over the gardens, bringing with it a thick wave of petrichor; the storm moving close enough to scent the air and fill the sky with brilliant flashes of lightning in the distance.

How fitting..

This is good, no one will be out, and the rain will come soon enough to wash you clean of your sins-

Maybe a part of you will stay here with the gardens. You did always enjoy when your mother’s maids would tell their enthralling tales of ghastly apparitions, of the souls who either chose not, or could not, move on to the afterlife- so they stay behind to haunt amongst the living.

The gardens were your solace in life, so perhaps you could find peace in them again- if you could not move on. Or perhaps, your soul might find its way home, where you can watch over your sweet Johnny, see your family grow old.

Poor Johnny.. He’ll be so heartbroken..

Sharp nails dig into the skin of your palms as you scolding your own traitorous thoughts. That’s not what you needed right now, not when you must be resolute and sure. Yes, he will be heartbroken, but he will be alive, he will live out his days just as you made him promise.

And he had promised to go home today, promised to settle the matter of his inheritance and speak with his father- though, it was surely not a one-sided promise. Johnny had only, reluctantly, mounted his horse after you also promised to come visit in two weeks time, just long enough for you to make preparations.

You hated lying to him, you really did, every second of it made you feel ill to your stomach- but, he’s gone, on his way home, safe.

But Simon..

He is standing his post right now, right there. Exactly where he should be. You could go to him, you could demand he take off his helmet so that you may finally, finally see his face, so that he could be the last thing you see before you go-

No, you could never demand something like that of him. What ever reasons he has for hiding his face are his own.. and what would you do if he did remove it, anyway?

Would you ask for a kiss? Or, just that he hold you, truly hold you, just one time-

You can’t help but to smile at your own innocent foolishness; a kiss? To be held? What silly whims..

You did write him a letter, too. And it was difficult, trying to articulate the feelings you have for him, for this man you’ve never seen, this man who by every right, you should not feel anything for- but, you wanted to try.

Because you hope, maybe, that your words will give him some comfort. You don’t want him to feel guilty, or like it might have been his fault- and you have a feeling not many people have expressed such things to a Ghost..

A quiet laugh erupts from your chest then, followed by a choked sort of sound, wet and syrupy and thick in your throat at the terrible, awful idea that one day you might be ghosts together. Right back in the gardens, walking among the fragrant flowers and tall hedges, you might find each other again-

With that thought, and a deep, shaky breath, you lift the skirt of your nightgown and step up onto the lower stone surrounding, lifting your legs up and over the intricate railing one at a time. A hearty gust of wind whips your hair back and forth, and you gasp as you truly take in just how high off the ground you are, your hands gripping the iron beneath them with every bit of strength you have to muster.

But, you don’t feel scared.

You feel an odd rush of excitement, no, that’s not right- it’s far more nuanced than that. And perhaps, it’s just that this is undoubtedly the most reckless and thrilling thing you’ve ever done. The small taste of freedom intoxicating, having rarely, if ever, made a single decision for yourself that was selfish in every facet.

It is a shame, you think, that it took so long. And what if, you don’t do this? Will this confidence still be here tomorrow? Or days from now? Months, when your king is back-

No, no.. don’t do that.

You feel the softest splash of a raindrop on your cheek, then another, more after that. It’s still unseasonably warm out, making the cool liquid feel refreshing against your feverish skin, and the stormy breeze a reprieve.

But, if it all feels so wonderful, like a child again, simply playing in the rain, why do you feel the salty heat of tears mixing with the raindrops?

And why can’t you tell if they’re out of sadness, or relief, or some horrific mixture of the two?

“My Queen.”

At the sound of his voice, the droplets no longer feel good or refreshing, and the wind does not help the burning in your skin because the heat has been replaced with an icy dread. He was not suppose to be here, he shouldn’t have left his post, there couldn’t have been a good reason to, and you told him, you made it very clear that you were not to be disturbed tonight-

“My Queen, don’t move. Let me-”

“No.”

You still haven’t turned to look at him, you can’t, not if you wish to keep the resolve you’ve forged. Because you know, one look at those damned eyes and you would crumble at his feet.

“Go back to your post, Ser Simon.”

He steps closer as you speak, the sound his movements muffled by your voice, and the now howling winds that blow wildly around you. This is something he never imagined to see, not now, and certainly not when you had left him outside your chambers door.

He knew you were grieving seeing Johnny go- no matter the forced smiles, he knew your expressions, he could read you like a book. But, this..

Once again he finds himself internally cursing his own ineptitudes because how could he make the same mistake again? How could he not see that he let a monster into your room and locked you in with it.

“Come down, and I will.”

You bark out a laugh, your fingers growing fatigued and your legs beginning to tremble as you hold on,

“Do not forget your place, good Ser.. You do not command me, and I have no patience for your bargaining.”

The words feel like the most bitter of poisons on your tongue, but you ground them out anyway. If you could just push him away, if you could make him go- then you can finish this. You can save him, save him from yourself, and the stain you would leave on his name, his very life.

“You’re right.. I’m sorry, My Queen. But, please-”

Simon can feel the edges of his nerves fraying in every direction as he speaks that one helpless plea, his knees feel weaker than ever before, his fingers twitch and clench together, longing desperately to reach for you- to pull you away from danger, pull you into his arms, and never let you go because he cannot lose you. Not when he’s only just found you. And certainly not like this.

He would drop to his knees and vow all over again, vow on his life, that he will make you see how worthy you are to be in this world, and that it is the world that is not worthy of you. But, he’s also seen this before, seen good soldiers lose battles that are quiet, invisible to everyone around them. Hells, he’s been to the depths of his own mind, and it nearly saw the end of him-

“No, Simon.” Your voice is surprisingly confident and steeled as you squint against the rain, your nightgown clinging to your goose pimpled skin and your hair stuck in thick strands across your face, “I do not want you to be here. I relieve you of this responsibility- and please know, that this is of no fault of your own. You are good, and kind, and you have been-”

A small sob wracks through you, knowing that you are just prolonging the inevitable, knowing that all you are doing now is subjecting him to your own unguided anguish.

So, so selfish.. He will be better without you-

“Look at me,” He calls out your name, and you almost give in, almost.

“No. NO. I cannot do that, and you know I can’t. I can’t live like this, but if I stay, or if I run, people I love will be hurt- and I cannot see that happen. I cannot live my life in fear of my husband’s hand. I do not want to be his plaything, or his broodmare, but I have nothing else! This is all I was ever meant to be- it’s all I’ve never known, but you can’t possibly understand.”

Slowly, you pry one hand open, and that thrilling rush of terror and anticipation floods you again, the ground below doesn’t look so far away now, and the gardens are right there, a pretty view-

”I’m so sorry.”

“No! LOOK. AT. ME!”

Something in his voice, in the unwavering, undeniable authority and desperation makes your head turn without permission. Through the mist and shadows, you see his familiar armor glinting in the sparse, pale rays of moonlight that have fought their way through the clouds. But, that’s not what makes your eyes widen, and your jaw to go slack.

It’s his helmet hanging loosely from the tips of his fingers, his face- his face- bared to you, dark hair matting to his forehead under the weight of the water, amber eyes intense and focused,

“Simon..”

You blink in surprise when he thrusts the helm towards you suddenly, his dark eyebrows furrowing as he all but glares back at you, and gods, you wish you could just see him better- see the soft angle of his nose in proper lighting, and the dark scar that runs across the bridge of it,

“Take it. It is yours now.” He demands, stepping close enough for you to reach for it if you choose, “I swore my life to you, and I meant it, every word. To defend you from harm or threat.”

One more step.

“To obey your commands. To defend your honor and your name. To counsel if requested, and remain silent and steadfast at your side otherwise. To never wed, take no land, and father no children.”

Again, he pushes it closer, looking down at it with anger and fondness before looking back up to you; and the most errant thought crosses your mind of how many people he’s ever actually had to cast his eyes upward for,

“My life is yours, My Queen. I.. am yours.”

No. No. You can’t, and you shouldn’t- and yet, your hand reaches forward, your fingers shaking, and your cheeks so covered with tears that you don’t know where they stop and the rain begins.

The steel is cold and wet, and you hardly feel the weight of it at all as you stare down at the angular cutouts for his eyes, wide and sharp; the raised crest that runs vertically from the peak of his face shield to the very back. You’ve always thought his armor to be such a beautiful amalgamation of elegant lines and aggressive angles, which seeing his face now, you can see how it matches him so perfectly-

A very unladylike shriek parts your lips the moment your fingers find purchase, Simon using your hold on his helmet to jerk you forward, and in the blink of an eye, a strong arm loops around your waist as he pulls you up and over the railing,

“Simon! No!”

But, it’s too late, and his hold on you is too strong. It doesn’t hurt, and it doesn’t feel angry, or out of spite- quite the opposite, in fact. While his arms are unmovable, he has you clutched to his chest with an arm around your torso and one supporting your legs as he carries you into the dry warmth of your rooms, helmet long forgotten on the cold stone outside.

“You can’t-”

He sets you on your feet, but his hands don’t stray far- and now that you’ve lost your height advantage you’re left in awe at how large he looms over you, holding your arms before he’s yanking the soaked gloves off between his teeth,

“I can.” Simon growls, placing a wide palm on either side of your face, calloused thumbs gently wiping the rain and tears away, “Go on, little queen, tell me what I can’t do, and I’ll show you exactly what I will.”

Your lip quivers pathetically as you look up at him, “He will kill us for this..”

You have no doubts of this, it is one of the many reasons why you wanted to leap from that balcony, so that you did not have to live this insidious façade anymore- because you couldn’t, you couldn’t have Simon at your side and not have these thoughts, these feelings, insatiable and unquenchable. And to know he could possibly feel the same-

“The king’s head would fall before he ever laid another hand on you.”

The air around you itself seems to grow hot and heady at his words, at the minuscule distance between his lips and yours; lips that are scarred and flushed a deep pink, so beautifully offset from his pale skin,

“You’re a mad man.” You whisper.

And, oh, the way those lips pull into a smile you have longed to see- his eyes crinkling around the edges. It is not a handsome smile, no. It is willful and amused, and broad, and wonderful, as a laugh rumbles through him,

“Now that, My Queen, I am..”

But maybe it is you who are the mad one, or it could still be the adrenaline pumping through your system, hazing your mind and your inhibitions, or that now prevailing desire to simply make decisions for yourself- to be selfish.

Either way, you’re the one who leans forward, wrapping your arms around his neck in order to pull yourself up enough to crush your lips against his. To finally feel everything you’ve dreamt of, the wonders you’ve fantasized, all of them centered around your guard, your dark knight. And here he is, right at your fingertips, his mouth moving so naturally, so perfectly in sync with yours.

Kissing Simon is unlike anything you ever felt with your King, it is reverent and gradual, like he wants to learn you, to know you intrinsically, intimately, to worship you first and foremost- the way his hands hold you so tenderly, his fingers tangling in your mess of wet hair, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss slowly and thoroughly.

But, too soon, he pulls away; sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as if to savor just the taste of you, his eyes darker than you think you’ve ever seen, and your name spoken like a quiet prayer, begging you to relent, pleading for you to keep him a honorable man- as honorable as a man like him can be.

“Please, My Queen..”

You look up at him again, his hands still holding your face as you lean away, letting your own hands slide over the sleek surface of his spaulders all the way down to hold his wrists, feeling his skin hot and damp under yours,

“You’ve felt the same things?” You ask meekly, ashamed of your own lack of self-esteem.

Simon tilts his head to the side, eyes darting back and forth with not only disbelief, but concern and wonder, another smile tugging up the left corner of his mouth. It’s softer this time, one that only serves to make you melt further into him as he speaks,

“Yeah, sweet girl, I have. I hadn’t felt anything for a long, long time before I met you. Got to know you from afar, got to see the way you treat those around you even when they don’t deserve it-”

He leans down to press his forehead to yours,

“You called me good, and kind, but I couldn’t disagree more. Because it’s only for you. You showed me what humanity can be, you gave me hope in what I’ve fought for my whole life, since I was old enough to wield a sword. I’ve won wars for old wretches, and young bastards, who’ve never even seen the soil on a battlefield..”

You hang on to his every word, relishing in his thick accent, memorizing every sound to his voice because you don’t think he’s ever spoken so much in one sitting,

“But you.. little queen, have given me a hope I thought was long lost. A hope for somethin’ more, a reason for the atrocities committed at my hand.”

He kisses you this time, it’s quick and soft, but somehow even better than the first one, somehow you feel more behind it, you feel so much of him that it steals the breath from your lungs,

“I’m goin’ to get you out of here. I swear it.”

thank you for being here 🥹

[chapter 6>>>]

#fic: the queens guard #medieval au #cod mw2 #but make it medieval #i swoon for them #this one’s dark #call of duty #simon x reader #knight!ghost #im down horrendously bad for this man #simon ghost riley #i can just hear the way he says my queen and it ruins me every time #simon riley x reader #reader is the queen #and i love her #also on ao3

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aifsaath · 6 months

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Behold the last drops of the dragonblood in Our Fathers Clad In Red!

Jaehaera Targaryen, the ND goth bby and the current owner of the most scathing side eye. 7 yo

Nissa Nissa, her dolly (5000 yo)

Aegon "Aeg" Targaryen, the saddest bby ever and the Big Kid in charge. 10 yo

Bakkalon the Pale Kitten, lives in a shared custody between Jae and Aeg. 1 yo

Gaemon "Palehair" Waters, sunshine personified and the physical copy of Aegon the Elder. 6 yo

Jonquil the Cat, Gaemon's best friend. 2 yo

#aegon ii targaryen #baela targaryen #jaehaera targaryen #aegon iii targaryen #gaemon palehair #our fathers clad in red #Aife draws!#fire and blood #asoiaf

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gwenllian-in-the-abbey · 3 months

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While @aifsaath and I are working on getting the next chapter ready, since it's been awhile, have a snippet from chapter 7 of Our Fathers Clad in Red, in which Baela and Rhaena get into an argument that has been brewing since Rhaena arrived:

Baela had known it was coming, ever since Queen Alicent had made a remark at dinner. “There will be other young men,” the dowager queen had said. “When my gooddaughter has birthed an heir, you will be free to marry.”

“I didn’t know,” Baela protested. “Not until I saw you dancing with him at my wedding.”

Rhaena stalked across her room, collecting Morning and cradling the hatchling in her lap. “I’m surprised you noticed anything at all, as busy as you were making moon eyes at the king.”

Baela scowled. “And what do you mean by that?”

“It means you put on a big show of sacrificing yourself for peace, for the good of the realm.” Rhaena rolled her eyes. “For Aeg’s sake, you said. But admit it, you couldn’t wait to whore yourself to the usurper! What is it Baela, if you couldn’t be Jace’s queen, you decided you’d take the first man who offered up a crown?”

If it hadn’t been for the dragon in Rhaena’s lap, Baela might have slapped her sister. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You think I married him for power? To be queen?”

“Well it certainly wasn’t for his looks, was it? Lady Arryn says it’s doubtful he can even perform.”

Baela felt her cheeks heat. “Shut up, Rhaena. Don’t speak of him like that.”

Her sister’s eyes widened, and Baela knew she had given herself away. Rhaena was her twin, the one person who knew her better than anyone. “You don’t mean to tell me you care about him?”

“It’s not like that. He is not— You don’t know him,” Baela stammered. She wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t force herself to say the words and disavow him. “There are things you don’t know—”

"Then tell me.” Morning climbed from her lap to curl about her shoulders. “How can I know if you won’t tell me? You keep saying there’s more, that there are things I don’t know, but you can’t tell me anything, can you?”

“Some things are not mine to tell.” She shook her head. It was true that she was not at liberty to speak of Jaehaera, but there were things she could say, surely. “Did you know that our stepmother put a bounty on the head of Aegon’s youngest child, and a mob tore him limb from limb? Did you know an angry mob of smallfolk chased Aeg and our stepmother out of the city?”

“Aegon,” Rhaena mocked. “How sweet of you call him by name.”

“We are married! Do you expect me to call him 'the usurper' in the bedroom?” Baela flounced into a chair, her feet sore after the long day spent mostly standing. “And did you even listen to what I said, or were you too busy being outraged that I dare to call my wedded husband by his given name?”

Rhaena frowned. “I’d— I’d heard about the mob. A group of religious fanatics, they killed the dragons, and poor Joffrey—”

“Yes, the shepherd,” Baela said impatiently. “But it wasn’t just the shepherd. It was the city. It rose in revolt against her, in under six months. The policies were dreadful— Rhaena, she wasn’t a good queen!”

“And whose fault was that? If she’d taken the throne unmolested, none of the rest would have ever happened. They all brought it upon themselves!”

“Perhaps,” Baela conceded. “But 'ifs' make no difference now. Aegon had his reasons for seizing the throne. I won’t stand before you and defend them, because the truth is, none of us knows what would have happened. But you know how father was. Tell me he would have left our cousins unmolested, that Aegon was wrong to fear him. Look me in my eyes and say it.” She held her sister’s gaze, forcing herself to stand her ground. “He’d killed for much less, Rhaena.”

@evabluepark888 @dr-aegon @emilykaldwen @ @branwendaughterofllyr @prodogg @maryonaccross @aleksandravill @alexandria-millie

#our fathers clad in red #gwenllian writes!#aife writes!#baela targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #baegon #post dance fic #f&b fic

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allgirlsareprincesses · 7 months

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Love At First Sight (2023)

Okay, we’re going to talk about the new Netflix romance directed by Vanessa Caswill, Love At First Sight, because I’m seeing almost no chatter about it and that cannot stand. Full disclosure, I’ve never read the book on which this movie is based, The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight, so I’m reacting only to the film (which I’ve now seen 4.5 times in 2 days).

The Surface Reading

It’s a perfect, tight, adorable little RomCom that’s heavy on the Rom and light on the Com, with a wrenching dash of angst and the most hair-twirling chemistry between two leads that has graced our screens in years. Truly, if all you want is 90 minutes of two actors being saccharine precious cinnamon rolls, look no further!

There are simple takeaways here, like that chance can only take you so far, but in the end you have to choose to love. Or that change and loss are part of life and you can’t run from them. Or that London is a massive labyrinth of eccentric people that probably looks 400% cooler onscreen than it is in reality (I wouldn’t know, I’ve never visited, so this and the 90s Parent Trap are the extent of my knowledge about the city, sorry).

Anyway, I adored how straightforward the story was - that the narrator (played brilliantly by Jameela Jamil) tells you directly in the first two minutes that it’s a story about love, fate, and statistics. She then repeatedly describes every development as it is happening, the characters’ histories and internal monologues, and all the context you need to follow the thin but fast-paced plot. The writing, performances, and production design are all solid, allowing the audience to get lost in the romance as it unfolds.

BUT if you’re slightly unhinged like I am and you’re always looking for more layers in your media, HAVE NO FEAR! There is in fact more going on in this little movie than you might expect.

Color Theory

For starters, the use of red and green in the film is fascinating. Yes, I realize the action of the story takes place a few days before Christmas, so you might assume it was just a seasonal aesthetic choice, but if you look closer, you can see very carefully selected shades of red and green repeating throughout the film. The red is a cool, deep rose color, sometimes pink, while the green is cool and dark, like oxidized bronze rather than emerald. Further, while they appear over and over, these hues are rarely used in a purely decorative or festive way. Instead, they play a role in the separation and coming together of the couple. On a color wheel, red and green are complements, perfect opposites that are never adjacent but always joined in the middle.

The title card during Hadley’s introduction is literally a green stripe over a red stripe, then the hallways of the airport are green, and of course Hadley’s ever-important backpack is a rosy red. As the couple grow closer on their flight, the light turns pink. Once in London, a green van takes Oliver one way while a red taxi takes Hadley the other. At her father’s wedding, Hadley is dressed in red (“the color of a bruise” she calls it), contrasting beautifully against her green jacket. Upon realizing Oliver’s true purpose, she chases after him on an iconic red double-decker bus. Meanwhile at the living memorial, Oliver’s father is dressed in red while his mother wears a faded green, as if to say she is already beginning to fade away. The event is decorated with green drapery and streamers, and there are even stacks of red and green chairs in the stairwell where Oliver begs his mother to receive treatment.

Hadley gifts her red and green bouquet to Tessa, and when she is driven away, a green-clad narrator returns the red backpack to Oliver. Wandering London alone, Hadley exchanges her painful red heels for a pair of green trainers (“sneakers!” she insists), and tries to call her dad first in a red phone booth and then on a phone from a stranger sitting in a cluster of red chairs. Finally, Oliver chooses to pursue Hadley to the wedding reception which is lit in pink, and where they finally share the long-awaited kiss.

There are many more examples, but in general we see that green indicates separation and loss, while red symbolizes joining, intimacy, and (what else?) love! It lends the film a gorgeous, subtle aesthetic without being garishly festive, and shows the lovers’ emotional journey from lonely childhood to vulnerable, loving adulthood.

Death and Rebirth

Speaking of which, there’s plenty of rebirth imagery too! When Hadley and Oliver meet, they are both still children, struggling with the impending loss of parental security through divorce and death. Thus, when they board the plane, it is as if they enter an underworld or womb, separated from their families and remade as new adults. They emerge on the other side into a hallway (read: birth canal), as each must still confront their own dying childhood before they can join as full and equal partners. Hadley journeys to a bright, red-strewn celebration of life, while Oliver must enter a dark green commemoration of death, his fear driving him deeper to hide in another hallway. Here his mother comes to find him, begging him to emerge into life, but Ollie still can’t confront her death alone.

Thankfully, Hadley travels to this underworld to find him, bursting into the memorial like a bright red flower. Even the bruise metaphor works, acknowledging the pain they are both experiencing at the changes in their lives. But Oliver still refuses to face his fears, trying to take a shortcut around death to life with Hadley. Still, she knows he’s not ready (likely because she’s not yet, either), and gently pushes back. And so, Oliver returns to the underworld, and Hadley walks off alone until she descends barefoot through a soggy riverside tunnel (birth canal again!). Finally, she calls her father and admits she is “lost.” When he arrives, Hadley at last gathers the courage to ask why he ended their old life, and to tell him how much it hurt her. But as Oliver predicted, she forgives her dad and even begins to accept his new bride.

Back at the memorial, Oliver is reminded by Hadley’s red backpack - his unaddressed emotional baggage - to be honest about his pain. In at last openly mourning his mother and his own childhood, Ollie takes a step into adulthood, just enough for his family to nudge him that extra bit to go after Hadley. And so, the family delivers him to his bride, who has meanwhile learned to dance again, even through her heartbreak. With one last confession, the two consummate their love with a kiss, bathed in pink light before an open door.

Happily Ever After

There’s so much more, with the hand-holding, numbers, Shakespeare, Dickens, the music, and beyond, but the point is that this cute, charming little romance is actually very deliberately constructed. It follows timeless patterns and motifs which we instinctively understand through visual and auditory language. And the narration plays a huge role in this as well, not unlike the prologues and epilogues of the Bard’s plays in that they state the story’s lessons plainly: that we cannot always be prepared for unwelcome surprises, but that we can make the choice to love every day.

Anyway, Vanessa Caswill deserves all the flowers and if you haven’t seen her gorgeous adaptation of Little Women (with all due respect to the marvelous Greta Gerwig and Gillian Armstrong), please do yourself a favor and watch that after you finish this!

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ofduskanddreams · 1 year

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ERIS VANSERRA

Eris appeared atop our knoll, clad head to toe in silver armor, a red cape spilling from his shoulders.

Eris snorted, pouring himself a goblet of wine from the decanter in the center of the table. "I'd forgotten why I was so relieved when our bargain fell apart the last time." Rhys shot him a warning look. Eris just drank deeply.

Those hounds were the best in Prythian... Gray and sleek like smoke, they could race as fast as the wind... Eris, Cassian knew, had twelve.

"Get that pitying look off your face," Eris snarled softly. "I know what sort of creature my father is. I don't need your sympathy."

------(paintings are all licensed under creative commons)

#eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar edit #acotar moodboard #i know they are #greyhounds #but it works #my edits #acotar #acotar fandom #acotar quotes #well technically #acowar #and #acosf #litedit

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wintermelonbear · 2 months

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Maybe Meant to Be

Pairings: Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Damian Wayne, Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Adrien Agreste

Summary: Adrien finds out about his soulmates entire secret life, and realizes maybe he doesn't know as much about her as he thought

“GET IN THE CAR!” Adrien’s arm was yanked towards a sleek black SUV by the spotted heroine. He quickly jerks his head to the side to see his parents and Madame and Monsieur Dupain-Cheng being ushered into the car by a boy not much older than him clad in grey and red.

Before he’s even buckled in the car starts off with a loud screech against the pavement. He can hear his father’s shoulder as it hits the side of the car. “With all due respect Ladybug and Robin, what business does our family have with the Teen Titans?”

“Where is our daughter?!” Sabine is basically in tears at this point and whips out her phone to check for any messages from Marinette. Swiftly, Adrien whips out his phone as well to see if there are any missed calls from his soulmate while he was stuck in his most recent photoshoot.

A slight look of panic crosses Ladybug’s face until she gives them some reassurance, “Marinette is safe, there’s no need to panic, I promise!” Strange promise to make given their behavior a mere minute ago insisting the Agrestes and Dupain-Chengs drop everything and flee.

The dark-haired teen boy chimes into the conversation with the click of his tongue and gives a quick glance to the rear-view mirror “Tt, we cannot discuss anything in detail here it could jeopardize the safety of Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng and your own safety.” He tears his gaze from the mirror and puts it back onto the long stretch of road as Ladybug’s elbow digs into his side. Ladybug lets out a hiss, and most likely with the intent of keeping it a secret from the inhabitants of the car she bites out “Robin! Why would you say that, they are going to freak out and worry. What’s wrong with you, you heartless bastard.”

“Oh? I am heartless now? You certainly did not feel that way last night when–” a hand clamps over his mouth before he can complete his thought. “That’s enough. You know what you did and why this is happening.” Touching a comm in her ear Ladybug switches straight into a commanding tone “Titan B1 and B2 reporting to OG can you get us permission for the west warp gate at coordinates….” She turns to the center console of the car and flicks a switch unveiling a panel of controls that rivaled every sci-fi fantasy movie Adrien had ever seen. “Alright everyone buckled in? Get ready to hold on the ride can be a bit bumpy. Also, you may want to close your eyes because it gets quite bright.” True to her words, once they entered the tunnel in front of them instead of being met by darkness it was like they had walked into the sun itself. By the time Adrien opened his eyes again he was in front of a large building that melded into the surrounding storm.

With a grunt, Robin pulled the car into park and swiftly unbuckled himself. After going around the car to open the door for Ladybug and then Marinette’s parents he finally decided to speak up again “Welcome to the Fortress of Solitude, please follow us.” “It’s not as scary or depressing as it sounds, I swear.” Ladybug cheerfully chirped. “This next part you’ll have to close your eyes, here I have blindfolds for everyone. Oh, and put on these cloaks, it's cold.”

Adrien understands that Ladybug is known to be a friendly hero, but the overfamiliar way she was touching all of them felt oddly reminiscent of a certain girl in his life. So much so he struggles to not lean into her touch as she drapes the last cloak around him.

From this point on for the next 15 minutes all the civilians could sense were the beeps of machinery and mild arguing between the teen heroes as they worked through security clearance. After one last heavy door slamming behind them Ladybug begins to remove their blindfolds. “Take your time opening your eyes, they’ll need to adjust to the lighting in here.” Peeking through his lashes Adrien could see Ladybug nervously glancing at Robin as he gives her a stern look with his arms crossed.

“I think it’s time you tell them.” This voice is unfamiliar enough that Adrien fully opens his eyes to see the statement came from an older hero, Nightwing. Looking around the room he sees that it is set up like a living room with a large couch in the center, a dining table to the side, and a kitchenette with counter seating in the far back.

“We just got here we should let them get comfortable first!”

“You’ll just keep pushing it and we don’t know how much time we have until Blue Beetle gets here with his family and we have to do this all over again.” Robin gives Ladybug a pointed look.

Jabbing Robin’s chest Ladybug chastizes him. “Well, we never would have been in this situation if you weren’t an untrusting jerkwad to begin with!” Robin begins to straighten up his posture to look down on Ladybug and he opens his mouth to retort-

“WOAH! OKAY THERE! Let’s calm down.” Approaching them with his hands in front of his chest Nightwing positions himself between them. Wrapping an arm around the black-haired teen he “Robin, let’s give Marinette some time with her family.”

With her eyes wide open Ladybug growls out “You’re really living up to your name right now.”

With one last glance back Robin bites out “And keep your morals away from me. I don’t care about being nice and friendly like you do. Tt.” With that last remark he quickly turns his head and leaves the room with Dick.

Fuming, Marinette nearly forgets her identity being outed until she is met with the shell-shocked faces of her parents, her soulmate, and her soulmate’s parents. With a nervous chuckle, Marinette whispers, “well…haha funny story…I can explain?” A light envelops Ladybug and as the illusion cast by the Miraculous’ glamor falls, and a sheepish Marinette is all that is left standing. Seeing Adrien’s disbelief written across his face with his mouth agape she lifts a glove-covered hand to his face to close it and brings her hand back to chest level to peel off the black kevlar glove donning the hand and reveals a mark Adrien has known front, back, and sideways since he first got it at the age of eight. “Well, I’m not sure who is going to collapse first because my dad looks like he has just seen a ghost and you’re questioning everything right now so how about we sit down.” Marinette guides them to a plush couch in the middle of the room. “Let me get you guys some refreshments. Give you time to think about this, I’m sure you all have a lot of questions.”

By the time Marinette returns with a tray of tea and some prepackaged sweets Adrien is the only one left upright. Gabriel had his head in his hands with Emilie leaning over to rub his back, and Tom was folded into the arms of Sabine as she comforted him.

“How long?” Adrien’s sudden inquiry nearly has Marinette dropping a glass onto the sterile floors of the fortress.

“Oh okay straight into it. We’re 17 now so about…one, two,....five years?”

Adrien’s eyes immediately flooded with hurt.

Immediately, Marinette knelt in front of him and took his hands in her so that their soul marks made contact. “Hey, listen to me for a second okay, and this goes for everyone on this couch right now. It’s not like I left you guys in the dark because I don’t trust you or because I don’t love you.” Looking around she makes eye contact with everyone so she knows they’re tuned into her words, “There’s so many reasons why, honestly, I never wanted you guys to find out about my secret identity. It’s not safe for you guys to know and I don’t want you to feel any worry when I have to be out there fighting.”

“How did this even happen? When could this have started? How did you get powers?” With his hands holding a fistful of his own hair each, Gabriel can’t help but let out rapid-fire questions.

“I CAN ANSWER THAT!” Tikki flies out from where she was hiding in Marinette’s zip-up jacket.

“AAHHH!!! BUG-MOUSE THING?? WHAT IS THAT?”

“That is so rude. I am not a that. I am a god, a Kwami to be more exact! Why do you humans always react like that.”

“Guys this is Tikki, the kwami of the Ladybug miraculous, she represents creation itself and through my earrings, she grants me powers. I have been in her care for the last five years. She is my best friend and closest ally.”

“I love Marinette! I would never let something bad happen to her.” Tikki exclaims as she flies up to hug Marinette’s cheek.

“When I was 12 I met a man, the one you would know as Fu, at the time was guarding the Miraculous, a set of jewelry that much like my earrings can grant people power beyond what's normally possible for humans. He said the stars had told him I was to be the next guardian. It was written in my soul.” Marinette takes a deep breath before continuing her tale. “Honestly it took some convincing until he pulled out a slab that detailed what my life would be like as a hero. From then on he began to train me to take over as grand guardian and when I turned 16 he officially handed the role down. That's why you guys haven't seen him in a little over a year. Every time, for the last year at least, that I was “at Grandpa Fu’s” I was actually going on missions or training with the Teen Titans.” Breathing out, Marinette continues, “The reason why you’re here is because someone broke into the Hall of Justice last night, we’re not entirely sure who yet, or what information they obtained. The only thing we do know is that the Teen Titan’s folder was breached and because,” She begins to grit her teeth “Batman and his spawn –you know him as Robin– are nosy little pricks the folders included information about our members’ families and close associate. So we grabbed you guys in case they were able to obtain that level of information and wanted to use your safety as leverage.” Puffing out her cheeks she mumbles, “I know they could probably figure out my family without the listing, and I know he didn’t do it maliciously…but I am still mad at Robin. Even though he’s my best friend…”

At this point, a calmer Robin has re-entered the room nursing a mug and a volume of manga titled “I Chose You.” Adrien recognizes that story, while the content made him mildly queasy it was extremely well written with a moving story. The only thing that he didn't sit well with was the main theme of the story itself. The story follows a young woman Mako, her soulmate Ryo, and a young man Akito. The story is comprised of a love triangle between the three main characters until Mako defies fate and chooses Akito as her partner, hence the title. While it has won many accolades it continues to be a controversial title to many romance readers as very few people in real life choose to go against fate and be with someone who isn't their soulmate. Adrien himself can't imagine a life without Marinette by his side.

Without acknowledging the civilians Robin plops himself right next to Marinette and continues reading his book. Adrien makes a few attempts at conversation only to be met with silence and Marinette's reassurance that it's not his fault.

After a bit more chatting Nightwing jogs in, “Hey guys sorry to bother you, but Jaime is going to need this room next.”

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

As they walk down the barren hallways hovering over Ladybug’'s shoulder Adrien whispers into her ear, “So, who is he exactly? I know he’s Robin, but…”

“Who am I? I'm simply the better option.” Robin looks back at Adrien with a gaze sharp enough to cut steel. The better option for what? Marinette? Adrien is literally her soulmate. It's written in the stars for them to be together.

“Oh hush.” Marinette chides Robin before turning back to them. “We got into a fight the other night so I may have been harsh with him, but despite his asshole exterior and mainly asshole interior, he’s actually quite the decent guy once he starts to care about you. Very much giving the grinch who stole Christmas.”

“DAMIANNNNN!” A voice booms from a distance as Robin and Ladybug facepalm. A flash of blue and red tackles Robin as Robin brings his fist onto the head of what looks like Superboy.

“Identities you dunce! This is her civilian family.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose Marinette sighs.

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

A few hours later the Agrestes and the Dupain-Chengs are sitting across from the Reyes family who just learned about Jaime’s superabilities and double life. The Agrestes act as translators for the Dupain-Chengs who have much weaker English skills. They talk about the shock they’re under and concerns for their children’s safety.

Nightwing tries to reassure them. “Your children are in safe hands I would never let them get hurt if it is in my control. Being a part of the Teen Titans gives powerful young adults the chance to use their powers for the greater good and train for when they’ll be needed in larger-scale attacks. I know you are concerned, but your children are extremely capable heroes.”

“Got it.” With those words Damian projects the CCTV footage he's been analyzing onto the wall and continues typing away on his computer. On the wall is a clip of a group of ten individuals clad in all black running down a white pristine hall and then the footage cuts to those same individuals in a control room.

The teen heroes in the room clamor around the projection. “So then what are we waiting for, why aren't we leaving now?!” The Blue Beetle is clearly worked up, most likely because of the endangerment of his family.

“Well normally we would need to figure out who these people are who breached, but considering Robin’s personality I’m sure he already has an answer,” Marinette answers with an air of confidence, an attitude Adrien has not seen her carry since Lila entered their school.

Adrien tunes out some of the conversation from here as he realizes the exact reason why Marinette

seemed somewhat unbothered when he told her that the reason their friends don’t invite her to hang out anymore is because she can’t get along with Lila. She had friends here, not just friends, an entire life he didn’t know about.

“...the Scarlet Toad Society.” By the time Adrien tunes back into the conversation Marinette is staring intensely at an enhanced image of a wrist from the CCTV footage. “Every member of their society wears that bracelet. They’re mainly active in South-East Asia. It is weird that they made the trip to North America to infiltrate the Hall of Justice. Which means–”

“They have a target in mind. The Teen Titan folder would not be the easiest one to grab. They were looking for it.” Robin cuts her off. “But they have yet to visit Jaime’s family nor yours or the Agrestes. None of the traps in the Titan Tower have gone off either. Does anyone have contacts in South-East Asia we should be worried about?” Ravager and Superboy shake their heads.

“Wouldn’t you already know?” Jaime coldly asks Robin.

Robin opens up his mouth to retort, but before he can Marinette steps in between them and covers his mouth with the back of her hand. “He knows that this isn’t entirely your fault, but his family is potentially in danger let him have this.” Silently fuming Damian scowls before turning back to the monitor in front of him. Clearing her throat Marinette continues, “I can’t think of any contacts I have there, but I can ask The Order to keep an eye on the happenings there, you may want to do the same with any shadows you can contact. For now, I think the best thing we can do is wait. I would offer to go in undercover, but I think we’ll be needing more information first.”

Marinette turns Damian’s chair around so that he is facing everyone and wraps her arms around his neck from behind to calm him. With this action, Adrien feels his heart drop down to his stomach. “Jaime, Ravager, Superboy how about you show our guests to their sleeping quarters? Dames and I–” Damian cuts her off with a glare, “Hey, Superboy over there already outed your first name, as long as they don’t find out the rest I don’t see why we can’t call you Dames. Anyway, we will work on getting some dinner settled, you can come back here in an hour or so after getting settled. Sound good?”

“Aye Aye Captain!” Shouted Ravager and Superboy in a mock salute, and with that Damian and Marinette headed back in the direction of the kitchen while the civilians and remaining heroes shuffled into yet another hallway.

From the distance Adrien can hear Marinette shout, “Take good care of my family Superboy!”

“I’ve got Mari’s family, you can go with Jaime Rav!” Shouts Superboy. After the short tour of their assigned space, he asks them if they have any questions.

“This uh, it may sound silly, but could I ask… what’s Mari’s relationship with Robin? They seem pretty close. I think I might’ve even heard her call him her best friend.” Adrien feels ridiculous for even asking, but the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach just won’t go away.

Jon dramatically gasps, “She said that?? He’s supposed to be my best friend! They’re more like– more like– Ah! I got it! A bickering elderly couple!”

“A-Are they–” Adrien stutters out in disbelief. Marinette would tell him if she was in a relationship right? They’re soulmates, they’re supposed to tell each other everything! But…but…Adrien realizes they haven’t been telling each other everything. Marinette has been hiding being a superhero for over 5 years. Maybe he doesn’t know her as well as he thought he did.

“O-Oh! Oh gosh, I am so sorry I forgot you’re her soulmate. It’s not that they are an elderly bickering couple, they just act like it! But also maybe they…well I’m not sure if it’s my place to tell you I wouldn’t be a very good best friend if I did.” Jon looks extremely conflicted, but tries to figure out what to say so that Marinette won’t kill him on site the next time they meet. “Well you know I think if anything she would tell you! Marinette is a good person! Oh would you look at the time, we should head back, dinner could be any moment now!”

At dinner that night all Adrien could taste was the bitter realization that maybe he didn’t know Marinette as well as he thought he did.

#marinette x damian #damian x marinette #maribat #mgi civil war 2024 #damian domaniance 2.0 #daminette #damianette #mlb x dc #adrinette #soulmate au

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kckt88 · 24 days

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The Lost Dragon - Epilogue

Summary:

Twelve Years Later.

Warning(s): Character Death, Uncle/Niece Incest, Smut - Kissing, Oral Sex, P in V.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 6772

A.N - If anyone wishes to talk about the kids or any of the other characters feel free to message me :-)

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9

“-Queen Vaelys of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm-and her Consort King Aemond of House Targaryen”

In the grandeur of the throne room within the Red Keep, the air was filled with a sense of anticipation and solemnity. Vaelys stood tall and resolute, clad in regal attire befitting her coronation as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Beside her, Aemond stood, his presence a reassuring anchor in the tumultuous sea of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

As Vaelys stood in the throne room, she was suddenly overcome by a wave of memories from the past. In an instant, she was transported back to the day her mother, Queen Rhaenyra, had fallen ill.

She remembered the urgency in her father's summons, her mother was gravely ill and asking for her presence in King's Landing.

Vaelys had travelled to King's Landing with all the speed Vermithor could muster, her heart heavy with dread as she entered her mother's chambers. The Queen, once vibrant and strong, now lay deathly pale and frail upon her bed, her breaths shallow and laboured.

Rhaenyra's voice, once commanding and powerful, was now small and weak as she called out to her daughter. Vaelys rushed to her mother's side, her eyes filled with tears as she took in the sight of the woman who had been her guiding light throughout her life, now fading before her very eyes.

"Mother," Vaelys whispered, her voice choked with emotion as she grasped Rhaenyra's hand in her own. "I'm here, Mother. You're going to be alright."

But Rhaenyra shook her head weakly, a sad smile playing at the corners of her lips. "My sweet girl-I'm sorry-for all of it-tell him-tell Aemond-I’m sorry”.

“It’s ok mother” whispered Vaelys.

“T-There is s-something else you must know-I should have told you many years ago-you may not understand but you must hear it-“ gasped Rhaenyra.

“What is it mother?”

“Our histories-they tell us that Aegon looked across the Blackwater from Dragonstone and saw a rich land ripe for the capture. But ambition alone is not what drove him to conquest-It was a dream”.

“A dream?” questioned Vaelys.

“-Just as Daenys foresaw the end of Valyria, Aegon foresaw the end of the world of men. It will begin with a terrible winter gusting out of the distant North. Aegon saw absolute darkness riding on those winds. Whatever dwells within will destroy the world of the living. When this great winter comes, Vaelys-all of Westeros must stand against it- if the world of men is to survive, a Targaryen must be seated on the Iron Throne”.

“I don’t-“ muttered Vaelys

“A King or Queen, strong enough to unite the realm against the cold and the dark. Aegon called his dream. The Song of Ice and Fire. This secret-it’s been passed from King to heir since Aegon’s time. Now you must promise to carry it-and protect it. Promise me this, Vaelys-“

“Mother I-“ stuttered Vaelys

“-Put the dagger in flames and you’ll see. Promise me-p-promise m-me,” wheezed Rhaenyra.

“I promise mother-“ replied Vaelys as she squeezed her mother's hand tightly, her tears falling freely now as she whispered words of love and comfort into Rhaenyra's ear. In that moment, surrounded by the ones she loved most, Rhaenyra closed her eyes for the final time, her spirit slipping quietly away.

As Vaelys and Aemond stood side by side in the throne room, their coronation ceremony nearing its conclusion, they made a decision that would set them apart from the rulers of the past. Instead of wearing the crowns of kings and queens who had come before them, they chose to have new crowns crafted, symbols of their own reign and the values they held dear.

The new crowns, crafted from gleaming silver and adorned with intricate dragon designs that reflected the unity and strength of their rule, were placed upon their heads with great care.

As Vaelys turned towards the Iron Throne, she couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation wash over her. The weight of history hung heavy in the air, each step she took towards the throne echoing with the footsteps of rulers long past.

But as she reached the top of the steps, her gaze fell upon Aemond, standing steadfast and proud at the foot of the steps. His silver crown gleamed in the torchlight, a symbol of his unwavering support and encouragement.

Their eyes met, and in that moment, Vaelys felt a surge of determination well up within her. With a silent nod from Aemond, a gesture of reassurance and confidence.

Taking a deep breath, Vaelys hesitated for just a moment, her hand hovering over the cold, unforgiving metal.

But then she remembered Aemond's nod, his unwavering belief in her abilities, and with a final glance back at him, she took her seat upon the throne. The weight of the crown upon her head felt heavy, but she straightened her spine and lifted her chin, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

After a few moment of looking across the throne room, Vaelys looked to her brothers and sisters, who lowered themselves to one knee.

Cregan who was standing with his wife and sons also lowered himself to one knee.

The other Lords and Ladies in attendance also bowing in respect of their new Queen and her King Consort.

With a steady voice, Vaelys was ready to announce her first decree as Queen.

"I declare that my eldest daughter, Sovia, shall be named heir to the Iron Throne and Princess of Dragonstone"

The room fell silent, the gravity of Vaelys' words sinking in as the ruling lords of the Seven Kingdoms exchanged glances. But then, one by one, they once again lowered to one knee, their heads bowed in respect.

"We pledge our loyalty to Princess Sovia, heir to the Iron Throne" they intoned in unison, their voices ringing out with solemnity and solemnity.

And there, standing tall and resolute beside her father, Sovia accepted the homage of the realm, her expression one of determination and strength.

"In addition," she declared, her voice carrying authority, "I announce that my daughter, Princess Sovia, shall be betrothed to her brother Prince Daevyn, to further strengthen the bonds of our house and ensure the unity of the Seven Kingdoms."

The announcement was met with nods of agreement and murmurs of approval from the assembled lords and ladies. It was a strategic move, one that would solidify the ties between their family members and reinforce their position of power.

Sovia and Daevyn exchanged glances, their eyes meeting with a shared understanding and acceptance. Daevyn stepped forward, his expression one of determination and commitment, as he took Sovia's hand in his own.

"In furtherance of our commitment to unity and alliance," Vaelys announced, her voice ringing out with authority, "I declare that my son, Prince Aemon Targaryen, shall be betrothed to Lady Laena Velaryon, the heir to Driftmark and future Lady of the Tides."

A ripple of approval spread through the throne room as the assembled nobles acknowledged the strategic significance of the betrothal. The marriage would strengthen the ties between House Targaryen and House Velaryon, two powerful families whose union would bolster their position in the realm.

Jace nodded in agreement as Vaelys' words echoed through the hall, his expression one of pride and satisfaction. It was a match that would benefit both houses, securing their alliance for generations to come.

Vaelys' gaze shifted towards Aemond, her husband and King Consort, as he stepped forward with a solemn expression. The anticipation in the room grew palpable as he cleared his throat, preparing to make his announcement.

"In addition to the betrothals already declared," Aemond began, his voice commanding the attention of all present, "I am pleased to announce a final betrothal that will further strengthen the bonds between our houses."

He paused for a moment, allowing the significance of his words to sink in before continuing.

"Our daughter, Princess Rekara, shall be betrothed to Rickon Stark, the heir to Winterfell. However, as Rekara is but twelve years of age, the marriage will not take place until she comes of age at sixteen."

A murmur of approval rippled through the room as the lords and ladies of the realm acknowledged the importance of this alliance. The marriage between House Targaryen and House Stark would bring together two great houses of the North and the South, uniting the realm in peace and prosperity.

Cregan nodded his head in approval and acknowledgement, the betrothals that had been announced had of course been arranged in the days prior.

No marriages would take place until both were of age, Sovia and Daevyn’s wedding would wait the year as he was currently fifteen, and the others would occur in the coming years.

Vaelys watched with pride as Aemond made the announcement, her heart swelling with gratitude for the love and support he had shown their family. This betrothal was a testament to their commitment to securing the future of their house and ensuring the stability of the realm for generations to come.

As the room erupted into applause, Vaelys felt a sense of hope and optimism wash over her. With these betrothals, she knew that they were paving the way for a brighter future for the Seven Kingdoms, one built on unity, strength, and the bonds of family.

With a sense of purpose and determination, Vaelys began to name her new council members, each chosen for their skill, loyalty, and dedication to the realm.

"As Queen of the Seven Kingdoms," she declared, her voice strong and unwavering, "I hereby name my brother, Jacaerys Velaryon, as Master of Ships. His knowledge of the seas and naval strategy will serve us well in the years to come."

Jace bowed his head in acknowledgment, a sense of pride evident in his expression as he accepted the appointment.

"Lord Thaddeus Rowan," Vaelys continued, "Shall serve as Master of Laws. His commitment to justice and fairness will ensure that our laws are upheld and enforced throughout the realm."

Thaddeus Rowan nodded solemnly, accepting the responsibility that had been placed upon him.

“Isembard Arryn” Vaelys went on, "Shall be named Master of Coin. His expertise in finance and economics will help to ensure the prosperity of the kingdom."

"Prince Daeron Targaryen," Vaelys announced, "Shall take up the mantle of Lord Commander of the Queen's Guard. His unwavering dedication to duty make him the ideal candidate for this important position."

Daeron bowed deeply, his expression one of solemn determination as he accepted the honour bestowed upon him.

Aemond smiled at the expression on his younger brothers face, it had been his suggestion that had secured Daeron’s position as Lord Commander.

"As for the City Watch," Vaelys continued, "I name my brothers, Aegon and Viserys Targaryen, as joint Commanders. Their experience under the tutelage of our father Daemon will ensure that King's Landing remains safe and secure."

Aegon and Viserys nodded in agreement, ready to take on the responsibility of protecting the capital city.

With her new council assembled, Vaelys felt a sense of pride and determination wash over her. Together, they would work tirelessly to ensure the stability and prosperity of the realm, guiding the Seven Kingdoms into a new era of peace and prosperity.

"Now," said Vaelys, her voice filled with warmth and joy, "Let us set aside our duties for a moment and enjoy the festivities. Tonight, we celebrate not only the strength and unity of our realm, but also the bonds of friendship and kinship that bind us together."

The room erupted into applause and cheers as the guests rose from their seats, eager to partake in the feast and revelry that awaited them. Musicians struck up a lively tune, filling the air with music and laughter as servants began to circulate with trays of food and drink.

Vaelys looked out over the gathered crowd, her heart filled with gratitude for the support and loyalty of those gathered before her. Despite the challenges that lay ahead, she knew that as long as they stood united, there was nothing they could not accomplish.

With a smile, she raised her goblet in a toast to the future, to prosperity and peace, and to the bonds of friendship and family that would carry them through whatever trials may come.

"Enjoy the feast, my friends," she declared, her voice ringing out with warmth and sincerity. "Tonight, we celebrate the dawn of a new era for the Seven Kingdoms!"

As the festivities carried on, Aemond approached Vaelys with a thoughtful expression, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Vaelys," he began gently, "I couldn't help but notice that you didn't name your Hand of the Queen during the council announcements. Is everything alright?"

Vaelys sighed softly, her gaze drifting away for a moment before returning to meet Aemond's eyes.

"I-I have struggled with the decision," she admitted quietly. "I know how crucial the role of Hand is, and I didn't want to risk appointing someone whose ambition or ideas could potentially bring our house to ruin."

Aemond nodded, understanding the weight of her words. He knew exactly what she was referring to — the legacy of his grandfather, Otto, whose actions had ultimately led to chaos and tragedy for House Targaryen.

"I understand," he said softly, placing a comforting hand on her arm. "It's a difficult decision to make, especially considering what happened. But we'll find the right person for the role, someone loyal and wise, who has the best interests of the realm at heart."

“-I did have someone in mind-“ said Vaelys her gaze drifting towards Alysanne Blackwood, Cregan's second wife, who stood across the hall. Aemond followed her gaze, his expression thoughtful as he considered her choice.

"Alysanne," he murmured, his brow furrowing slightly. "She's a capable woman, to be sure. But are you certain she's the right choice?"

Vaelys nodded, her confidence unwavering. "She was one of my mother’s allies. She's proven herself to be loyal, shrewd, and dedicated to the good of the realm. And given her marriage to Cregan, it would further ally us with the North”.

Aemond considered her words for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of appointing Alysanne as Hand of the Queen. Despite his past differences with Cregan, he couldn't deny the potential benefits of such an alliance, sitting alongside the betrothal of his youngest daughter to Starks heir.

"I trust your judgment, Vaelys," he said finally, his tone firm. "If you believe Alysanne is the right choice, then I'll support your decision. Together, we'll ensure that she has the resources and support she needs to succeed in her new role."

Vaelys smiled gratefully at Aemond's agreement, relieved to have his support in this important decision.

"Thank you, Aemond," she said, her voice filled with sincerity.

“Do you wish to make the announcement now?” asked Aemond.

“I believe I shall leave that honour to Issa dārys” whispered Vaelys (My King).

“ābrazȳrys” growled Aemond, hearing Vaelys call him that in their mother tongue made his blood run hot.

“Nyke gīmigon skoriot aōha mind emagon issare issa zaldrīzes, ao seek naejot fuck nykeā dāria bē zȳhon dēmalion-“ muttered Vaelys (I know where your mind has been my dragon, you seek to fuck a Queen upon her throne).

“Issa jorrāelagon-“ exclaimed Aemond (My Love).

“Be a good boy and make the announcement and I promise tonight I shall worship you like the King you are” whispered Vaelys as she leaned in and placed a kiss on Aemonds cheek.

Aemond nodded quickly, as he stood up from his seat beside Vaelys. The hall fell silent as all eyes turned to him, anticipation hanging heavy in the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice strong and commanding, "I have an additional announcement to make on behalf of our queen."

A ripple of curiosity swept through the room as Aemond paused for effect, his gaze sweeping over the assembled nobles before settling on Alysanne Blackwood, who stood with a look of anticipation on her face.

"It is my honour to declare that we have chosen a new Hand of the Queen," Aemond continued, his voice ringing out with authority. "In recognition of her wisdom, loyalty, and dedication to the realm, Alysanne Blackwood has been appointed to this esteemed position."

A murmur of approval filled the hall as the assembled nobles reacted to the announcement, some nodding in agreement while others exchanged knowing glances. Alysanne's expression was one of gratitude and determination as she stepped forward to accept the honour bestowed upon her.

"As Hand of the Queen," Aemond concluded, his voice filled with confidence, "Alysanne will serve as a trusted advisor to our queen, working tirelessly to ensure the prosperity and stability of the realm. Please join me in congratulating her on this well-deserved appointment."

With a round of applause, the hall erupted into celebration, the tension of the moment dissipating as the guests cheered and toasted to Alysanne's success.

Vaelys approached her father Daemon's chambers with a heavy heart, knowing that he had chosen to remain secluded in his grief. She paused outside the door, taking a moment to collect herself before gently knocking.

"Father," she called softly, her voice carrying a note of concern. "It's Vaelys. May I come in?"

There was a moment of silence before the door creaked open, revealing Daemon's weathered face, his once fierce eyes now dulled with age and sorrow. He nodded wordlessly, stepping aside to allow Vaelys to enter.

The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with the weight of Daemon's grief. Vaelys took a hesitant step forward, her heart aching at the sight of her father in such pain.

"I-I wanted to see how you were doing," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know these past few days have been difficult for you."

Daemon offered her a weak smile, his gaze distant as he spoke. "Thank you, my dear. It's been hard, losing your mother... She was everything to me."

Vaelys moved closer, her heart breaking at the sight of her father's anguish. She reached out to take his hand, offering what little comfort she could.

"I miss her too, Father," she admitted quietly. "But she would want us to carry on, to honour her memory and continue to serve the realm."

Daemon nodded, his grip tightening around Vaelys' hand. "You're right”

As Vaelys sat with her father Daemon, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of all the recent changes in their lives. Yet, she knew it was important to keep him informed of the decisions she had made for the realm and their family.

"Father," she began gently, "I wanted to speak to you about some matters concerning the kingdom and our family."

Daemon looked up, his weary eyes meeting hers with a sense of resignation. "Of course, What is it that troubles you?"

Taking a deep breath, Vaelys proceeded to inform him of the betrothals she had arranged for their children, as well as the members of her new council. She spoke of Sovia's betrothal to Daevyn, Aemon's betrothal to Laena, and Rekara's future marriage to Rickon Stark. She also detailed the appointments of Jace as Master of Ships, Lord Thaddeus Rowan as Master of Laws, and Isembard Arryn Master of Coin.

Daemon listened attentively as Vaelys spoke, his expression thoughtful as he considered her choices. When she had finished, he nodded approvingly, a hint of pride in his weary eyes.

"These are wise decisions, my dear," he said softly. "You have chosen well, both for the realm and for our family. I am proud of you."

Vaelys felt a swell of gratitude at her father's words, knowing that his approval meant a great deal to her.

“What of Aegon and Viserys?” asked Daemon.

"Aegon and Viserys have been appointed as joint commanders of the City Watch," she explained, her voice steady. "I believe their leadership and dedication will serve the realm well in this role."

Daemon's eyes softened with approval, a hint of pride shining through his weary demeanour. "A wise choice," he remarked. "They have always shown promise, and I have no doubt they will excel in their new responsibilities."

Vaelys nodded, grateful for her father's support. She knew that his approval meant a great deal, and she was relieved to see him taking an interest in the affairs of the realm despite his grief.

"And what of the Hand of the Queen?" Daemon inquired; his curiosity piqued. "Have you found someone suitable for the position?"

Vaelys hesitated for a moment before replying, knowing that her choice might surprise him. "Yes, Father," she said. "I have appointed Alysanne Blackwood as Hand of the Queen."

Daemon's brows furrowed in thought, but after a moment, he nodded in approval. "Alysanne Blackwood," he repeated. "An excellent choice. She is a woman of intelligence and integrity, and I have no doubt she will serve you well."

Relief washed over Vaelys as she watched her father's reaction, grateful that he approved of her decisions.

Daemon rose from his seat, his movements slow as he crossed the room.

"Vaelys," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "There is something I wish to give you."

Vaelys watched him with a mixture of surprise and apprehension, unsure of what her father was offering her. But as he reached for the sword at his side, she felt a sudden pang of unease.

"Father, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Daemon's hands trembled slightly as he drew the sword from its scabbard, revealing the gleaming blade of Valyrian steel. He held it out to her, the hilt offered in silent offering.

"Dark Sister," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Has been in our family for generations, passed down from one Targaryen to the next. And now, it belongs to you."

Vaelys recoiled slightly, her eyes widening in shock. "Father, I can't accept this," she protested.

But Daemon cut her off with a shake of his head, his gaze unwavering. "You must, Vaelys," he insisted. "Dark Sister belongs in the hands of a queen, and who better to wield it than you? You are strong, capable, worthy of its power. Take it, my dear, and let it be a symbol of the strength and courage that resides within you."

Vaelys hesitated for a moment, her heart torn between her desire to refuse the gift and her longing to honour her father's wishes. But as she looked into his eyes, she saw the depth of his conviction, the fierce determination that burned within him.

With a trembling hand, she reached out and accepted the sword, feeling its weight settle into her grasp. She could sense the power that thrummed through its ancient steel, the legacy of those who had wielded it before her.

"Thank you, Father," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

Daemon offered her a sad smile, his eyes shining with pride. "You are worthy of it, Vaelys," he said softly. "May it serve you well”.

As Vaelys entered her chambers, she found Aemond waiting for her, his eyes alight with curiosity. His gaze flickered to the sword in her hand, a question forming on his lips, but before he could speak, Vaelys pre-empted him.

"My father gave me Dark Sister," she explained, her voice tinged with emotion.

Aemond's expression softened as he took in her words, understanding the significance of the gift. He reached out to her, his hand brushing against her cheek in a gesture of comfort.

"It's a great honour, Vaelys," he said softly.

Vaelys nodded, a sense of gratitude flooding through her. She had never felt more connected to her father than she did in that moment, his faith in her abilities serving as a beacon of hope in the darkness that surrounded them.

"I will wield it with pride," she vowed, her voice steady. "And I will honour the legacy of those who came before me."

Aemond smiled, a warmth spreading through his features. "I have no doubt that you will," he said, his eyes shining with pride. "You are a true Queen, Vaelys, in every sense of the word."

“Speaking of honours-I have a gift for you” said Vaelys as she placed Dark Sister on the desk.

As Vaelys carefully opened the long box placed at the end of their bed, she couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation coursing through her veins. Inside lay Blackfyre, the legendary sword of House Targaryen, a symbol of power and prestige that had been passed down through generations.

She looked up at Aemond, her heart pounding in her chest, as she presented the sword to him. "Aemond," she said softly, her voice filled with reverence, "This belongs to you."

Aemond's eyes widened in astonishment as he beheld the gleaming blade before him. He reached out tentatively, as if afraid to touch it, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns etched into the steel.

"Vaelys, I-I cannot accept this," he stammered, his voice choked with emotion, remembering his father and Aegon once laying claim to this sword.

Vaelys shook her head, a determined glint in her eyes. "As Dark Sister rests in the hands of a Queen," she declared, "Blackfyre shall rest in the hands of a King. You are my equal, Aemond, my partner in every sense of the word. It is only fitting that you should wield such a weapon."

Aemond was speechless, his gaze locked with hers as he struggled to comprehend the magnitude of her gesture. He had never expected such a gift, never imagined that he would hold the legendary sword of House Targaryen in his hands.

But as he looked into Vaelys' eyes, he saw the depth of her conviction, the unwavering belief she held in him. And in that moment, he knew that he could do no less than accept her offering, to honour her trust and her love.

With a sense of reverence, he grasped the hilt of Blackfyre, feeling its weight settle into his hand. It felt like destiny, like the culmination of a journey that had brought them to this moment.

"Thank you, Vaelys," he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude. "I will wield it with honour, and with pride, for as long as I draw breath."

Vaelys smiled coyly at Aemond, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Now that we're alone, Issa dārys" she said, her voice a soft whisper that sent shivers down his spine, "I do believe I have a promise to keep."

Aemond's heart quickened at the suggestive tone in her voice, his pulse pounding in his ears as he realized what she meant. He felt a surge of desire coursing through him, igniting a fire that burned hot and fierce.

Aemond slowly moved his hands down his wife’s body before roughly grasping her ass and hauling her up against the door.

Vaelys whimpers, gripping at Aemond’s shoulders as he slots himself between her legs, his tongue still invading her mouth.

Aemond presses himself against the apex of Vaelys’ thighs, and he growls like an animal when she reaches down and palms his hard cock over his breeches.

“Fuck-“ groans Aemond as he begins grinding his clothed cock against her.

“Someone’s eager” whispered Vaelys as she flicked her tongue against the corner of Aemond’s mouth.

“Oh, you have no idea” quipped Aemond as she spun her off the door and carried her to the bed.

Soon their clothes are abandoned in a haphazard heap on the floor and Aemond was laid between Vaelys’ open legs moving his fingers through her dripping folds as he expertly devoured her with his mouth, his nose bumping against her pearl as fucked her with his tongue.

Gods, she tasted delicious.

Aemond loved feasting on his wife’s cunny, he could spend the rest of his days between her thighs.

“Fuck,” squeaks Vaelys as she grasps at the back of Aemond’s head, her fingers digging into his hair, holding him in place.

“Are you going to come already?” asked Aemond smugly.

Aemond alternates between using his fingers and tongue to bring Vaelys to her peak.

Vaelys arches her back as she comes, Aemond gently sucks on her pearl as she rides out the euphoria of her peak.

“Is that you done baby, or do you want more?” asked Aemond playfully, his chin shining with her slick.

“M-More, please” gasps Vaelys as Aemond reaches forward and presses a singular kiss to her pearl before he quickly wipes his chin with his hand.

Aemond smirks as he removes his small clothes , his hard cock slapping up against his abdomen, hard and heavy, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

“Kostilus issa dārys” (Please my King).

Aemond takes himself in his hand and guides his hard cock to Vaelys’ entrance, pushing in slowly, teasing her.

His wife writhes against him, her eyes lost in a haze of desire.

“Ivestragon issa ao jorrāelagon issa” muttered Aemond (Tell me you love me).

“Avy jorrāelan, nyke jorrāelagon sīr olvie issa valzȳrys” gasped Vaelys (I love you; I love you so much my husband).

Aemond lets out a pleased grunt and slams into Vaelys hard, smiling as she lets out a yelp of surprise.

The pace he sets is brutal, his hips slapping against hers.

Vaelys moans desperately, as she moves her hips to meet his, attempting to allow his cock to reach deeper within her.

Aemond gets the hint, and quickly lifts Vaelys’ legs over his shoulders, using the new angle to drive his cock even deeper than before.

“Tell me how it feels” demands Aemond.

“It’s good, so good-yes-yes” exclaimed Vaelys.

Vaelys’ praises sets something off inside Aemond as he continues to pound into her, the wooden headboard banging against the wall from the force of his movements.

“Aemond, please, I’m close”.

Aemond moves a hand down to where the two of them are joined, and rubs Vaelys’ pearl in quick circles, dragging her closer the edge of the precipice.

“Gods this sweet cunny–fuck,” groans Aemond as he marks each of his words in tandem with a rough snap of his hips.

Vaelys comes with a loud, scream, her body shaking underneath Aemond’s as his thrusts grow sloppy.

“J-Just a little longer-fuck”

Then with a loud animalistic groan, Aemond stills, leaning over his wife, his cock pulsating as he spills his seed deep inside her.

After a few moments, Aemond gently moves Vaelys’ legs from his shoulders, his chest heaving with every breath he takes.

“I-I wasn’t too rough, was I?” asked Aemond.

“No. I-It was wonderful” exclaimed Vaelys, her body shaking slightly.

Aemond smirks as he slowly removes his softened cock from her slick cunt, and flops onto the mattress.

After a few minutes, Aemond takes Vaelys into his arms and runs his nose up and down her cheek, she giggles when his breath tickles her skin.

Vaelys then moved away from him and rose from their bed. With a tender smile, she reached out, and lifted Aemond's crown from where it rested on the bedside table, its silver gleaming in the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the window.

As she held the crown, Vaelys felt a swell of pride and admiration for her husband, for the man who stood by her side, her confidant, and her partner in all things. She traced her fingers along the intricate patterns adorning the crown, marvelling at its craftsmanship and the power it represented.

“Are you ready?” asked Vaelys as she placed Aemond’s crown upon his head.

“For what-“ mused Aemond curiously.

“I promised to worship you-as the King you are. That my dear husband was just the warmup” replied Vaelys as she climbed onto the bed and descended under the covers.

“Y-You don’t have to” muttered Aemond weakly.

“Are you sure about that?” asked Vaelys, her soft fingers running along Aemond’s muscled thigh.

“Vaelys what are you-oh” gasped Aemond as he felt his wife’s tongue gentle lick the tip of his cock.

“I can always stop?”

“N-No keep going” exclaimed Aemond as his wife’s hot wet mouth engulfed his half hard cock.

“When I make a promise, I fully intend on sticking to it. Do you understand?”

“Yes-I understand fully, please Vaeryna do not tease me” moaned Aemond.

“I don’t know, you don’t seem very convincing”.

“I promise-I will remember, just please-oh fuck” huffed Aemond as Vaeryna took his cock into her mouth once again.

Vaelys smirked deviously as she continued to tease her husband, she was determined to make him beg and plead for her mercy and only when he was on the brink would she grant it.

The night was still young, and she would have her husband as many times as he was able to rouse himself.

Aemond sat at the breakfast table, exhaustion evident in the lines etched upon his face and the heavy droop of his eyelid. Beside him, their children Sovia, Daevyn, Aemon, and Rekara chatted animatedly, their youthful energy a stark contrast to their father's weariness.

Across the table, Helaena, and her children Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor joined them, along with Daeron. Aemond tried to muster a smile as they exchanged pleasantries, but his mind was still heavy with the weight of the night before.

Sovia, ever perceptive, noticed her father's fatigued state and furrowed her brow in concern. "Father, why do you look so tired?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine curiosity.

Aemond rubbed a hand over his weary eye, a tired chuckle escaping his lips. "Just had a long night, my dear," he replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

Beside him, Vaelys couldn't help but stifle a snigger into her drink, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she exchanged a knowing glance with her husband. She knew all too well the cause of his fatigue, and the memory of their very passionate night together brought a playful glint to her eye.

Aemond shot her a mock glare, but there was a hint of amusement in his tired eyes. Despite his exhaustion, he couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for his mischievous wife, whose laughter never failed to brighten even the darkest of days.

Maelor stood up from his seat at the breakfast table, his young face filled with determination as he addressed his family. "Your Graces-" he began, his voice steady despite the hint of nervousness in his eyes, "-I would like to join the Queens guard”,

Aemond and Vaelys exchanged a glance, a silent communication passing between them as they considered the young boy's plea. Beside them, Helaena watched with a warm smile, her eyes filled with pride and affection for her son.

After a moment of contemplation, Aemond spoke, his voice steady and firm. "Maelor," he said, addressing the boy directly, "Joining the Queen's Guard is a serious commitment, one that requires courage and a lot of discipline, you know that I have insisted on training them myself-I am not one for favouritism.”

“I understand Uncle-I mean Your Grace. But I would like to try. I wish to serve you and my Queen a-and the realm”.

Vaelys smiled, her expression thoughtful yet supportive. "If this is truly what you desire, if you are willing to dedicate yourself to the service of the crown and the protection of the realm, then we will accept your request," she added, her voice gentle but resolute.

Maelor's face lit up with excitement and gratitude, his eyes shining with determination. "Thank you, Your Graces," he said earnestly, his voice filled with conviction. "I promise to serve with honour and distinction, to uphold the values of the Queen's Guard with every fibre of my being."

Aemond and Vaelys exchanged another glance, a silent affirmation passing between them. They knew that Maelor's journey would not be easy, but they also knew that he possessed the courage and determination to succeed.

With a nod of approval, Aemond reached out to clasp Maelor's shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "Welcome to the Queen's Guard, Maelor," he said, his voice filled with pride. "May you serve with honour and valour, and may you always uphold the legacy of those who came before you and training begins on the morrow-I suggest you rest well”.

“Might I suggest you do the same Your Grace-and possibly abstain from such prolonged physical activities the night before” quipped Daeron smirking.

“I had a duty to my Queen-“

“-And we all know how seriously father takes his duties,” laughed Daevyn, his long silver hair swaying back and forth.

“Boy-you’re not too old for a good thrashing” snarked Aemond.

“You wouldn’t dare” quipped Daevyn.

“Oooo Father has that mad look in his eye,” laughed Aemon.

“Daevyn needs to start running” giggled Rekara dreamily.

“-I-What? Asked Daevyn as Aemond rose from the table.

“You heard your sister-you best start running boy” said Aemond.

“M-Mother” exclaimed Daevyn.

“Brought it on yourself son” replied Vaelys smiling.

“You must really want to be thrashed-you don’t seem to be moving very fast” mocked Aemond as he manoeuvred himself away from the table.

“Oh-fuck” gasped Daevyn as he turned on is heel and legged it out of the dining room.

“How long do you think it will be before he realises that I’m not chasing him?” asked Aemond as he sat back down and reached for a drink.

“He’ll probably spend the rest of the day hiding from you now” said Vaelys.

“Father-can we go flying today?” asked Aemon.

“Of course-let’s finish breakfast and we’ll go”.

“Maelach will be pleased-he’s been a little restless since we moved here” muttered Aemon.

“The pit takes some adjusting, he’ll be fine once he gets used to it, but how about we make time in your duties so that you can fly with him every day?” suggested Aemond.

“I would like that very much thank you father” exclaimed Aemon brightly.

“Kara-will you be joining us with Nova?”

“Yes please” giggled Rekara.

“Make sure you change into your riding gear first byka rūklon” said Aemond (Little flower).

“I will-“ replied Rekara softly as she looked towards Ceci who smiled and took her hand.

“I shall ensure the little Princess is properly changed Your Grace”.

“Thank you, Ceci,” replied Aemond.

“Can we come?” asked Jaehaerys and Jaehaera in enthusiastic unison.

“Of course the more the merrier” said Aemond brightly.

“Shall you be joining your father?” asked Vaelys as she looked over at Sovia.

“I was going to find Daevyn actually-we agreed to read to one another under the weirwood tree”.

“Hmmm” muttered Aemond, casting a curious glance at Vaelys who smiled.

“Just make sure to have your guard with you-“ warned Vaelys.

“I will mother-“ said Sovia as she rose from the table and left the room.

“-And no, you won’t manage to sneak off because Daeron will be there as well” said Aemond his loud voice carrying down the hallway.

Vaelys and Helaena stood side by side on the balcony, their eyes turned upwards to the vast expanse of sky stretched out before them. The crisp morning air stirred around them, carrying with it the distant sound of wings beating against the wind.

Above, the majestic forms of dragons soared gracefully through the clouds, their powerful wings slicing through the air. Vhagar, the oldest and largest of them all, led the way, her scales gleaming in the sunlight as she flew with regal authority.

Beside her, Maelach, Nova, Morghul, and Shrykos followed in her wake, their forms a symphony of movement and grace as they danced through the sky.

Vaelys and Helaena watched silently as the dragons disappeared into the distance, their silhouettes fading against the backdrop of the morning sky.

Helaena took Vaelys’ hand and squeezed it gently.

The Dance of Dragons had almost destroyed the Targaryen dynasty, but now they would flourish and live on for generations. A Targaryen was seated upon on the Iron Throne as they were always meant to be, and the dragons would rule the skies for generations to come.

A great dynasty would be born from the blood of Vaelys and Aemond.

No lion or stag would oppose them.

“-And from their blood, will come the Princess who was promised” whispered Helaena.

“Everything ok?” asked Vaelys cocking her head to the side.

“It will be” replied Helaena softly, she leaned her head on her good sister’s shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment and for the briefest of seconds, she saw her again.

A beautiful silver haired dragon, the silver crown of her great grandmother many times over upon her head as she sat the Iron Throne.

‘All hail her Grace-Queen Daenerys Targaryen’

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