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ink-flavored · 1 year

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Unnamed Dream WIP: Dragon Lore, Pt. 1

Every child from coast to coast knows the tale of how dragons came into the world.

When the universe was new, the planet a mere babe cradled in eternity, the Divine Family was small. Only the First Siblings walked the barren lands, nothing but deserts between them. Sister Nature—a capricious guardian, known as well for her tenderness and care as her sudden bouts of boredom and destruction—was the first to experiment with the spark of life.

From the limited knowledge a newborn deity has over their own powers, Nature created an animal: the serpent. In the beginning, all the serpent could do was eat, sleep, seek shelter, and race from danger. It was a simple creature, but she loved it all the same, and soon made dozens more. Astounded by the miracle Nature had brought to the blank planet, and the Divine Family soon joined in her venture to add character and color to their world. They worked together to create trees, oceans, mountains, and other things. As the world grew in complexity, so to did the Family, and it seemed as though new Siblings appeared every day.

Nature, however, was too focused creating animals. She devoted herself to sculpting life, creating flying creatures, furry ones, large ones, small ones, strong and weak and everything in between. And when the world was fit to bursting, she was happy with her work. All of her work, but for the poor serpent: her first and favorite child.

Compared to the new animals, the serpent was quite defenseless. It could be snatched away by birds, dug out of its home by foxes, trampled by deer, swallowed whole by many a creature. Taking pity, Nature granted the serpent legs to assist its flight from danger. But this did not satisfy her.

The legs helped, of course, but the serpent was still too easily snatched up or attacked without a care from the other animals. To aid it further, she added sharp teeth and deadly venom to the serpent. This still did not sit right.

The venom was a great boon, surely, but the serpent was still too small to be defended against a large predator. So she grew the serpent several times its original size, big enough to crush a boar. Still, she was unsatisfied.

The greater size and strength helped immensely, but it meant the serpent was now too slow to escape some of her faster-moving creations. So, she granted the serpent thicker skin, tough spines, sharp claws, jagged teeth, and the ability to swim. Even this was not enough.

Now fast and strong and deadly, the serpent was protected from all but the fiercest animals. It was a force to be reckoned with, and had no challenger wherever it decided to live. It commanded entire rivers, lakes, and swamps, and basked in the light of the sun every day. Nature was almost satisfied with her new beast, almost considered turning her attention to her other creations… until she had another idea for a gift.

The serpent gazed into the sky for hours on end watching the birds soar overhead. Her heart broke for it, for how could such a beast be considered the most powerful of her creations if it was banished from the skies? Such a thing was unacceptable in her eyes, so she brought her improved serpent to her side again, and set to work molding it to her vision.

Nature worked tirelessly on her task, making changes, erasing them, adding new ideas, and discarding her old ones. When she at last emerged with the ultimate creation of her eternity, she had created the first dragon, the undisputed ruler of all beasts of the land, sea, and sky.

When the dragon was released to the world, it was only too clear to Nature that this was the most beautiful of her creations. She paraded it around to all of the Siblings, now numbered in the dozens, and they too were impressed by her work. For a time, Nature was satisfied with the dragon, and even more so as it multiplied across the lands.

Soon, however, another idea came to her. If all of the Siblings contributed to her beast, it would become even more powerful! Sadly, most of them refused, concerned for her obsession. The dragons were already tearing destruction across the planet, crushing the comparably weaker animals underfoot without an effort. Frustrated, Nature decided to take matters into her own hands, and simply stole the powers she desired for her beast.

From Intelligence, she stole language, and gave the dragons the ability to speak. From Magic, she stole a spell of flame, granting the dragons the power to belch fire. From Prosperity, she stole the essence of gold, giving her dragons an obsession with the treasures in the earth. Finally, she stole from Life, and gave her dragons a lifespan of centuries.

The destruction was immediate. Unstoppable, the dragons raged across the countryside. Nothing came even close to heeding them, for as Nature desired, they were the most powerful beasts on the planet, gifted with the strength of many Siblings.

When the Divine Family discovered what Nature had done, they were furious. They demanded she rescind her gifts, return her dragons to the serpents they had grown from, but she vehemently refused. The concept of life had been her idea from the start. She had the right to do whatever she wanted with the gift that she alone could give.

Nothing any of the Siblings said would convince her, until Death came forward. Death led Nature with a gentle hand to the realm of the dead, where she saw the hundreds and hundreds of animal souls—her children. Many died violent, painful deaths at the hands of her dragons, and each one told her a story. Faced with the destruction of her own creation, she wept.

In the end, Nature couldn’t bear to disassemble her dragons entirely, so she simply weakened them. She made them much smaller, but gave them longer lifespans than other animals of the same size. She took away their powers of flame, but left a tiny spark, so they would always be able to sense a magical presence. She took away their powers of speech, but granted them a comparably high intelligence. And while they were still dangerous, gold-seeking, and as capricious as Nature herself, she lessened their violent moods with the gift of her love.

Today, dragons are kind animals, gifted to rulers of a dozen countries for luck and prosperity. But the bones of their gigantic predecessors remain, buried deep in the earth as a testament to Nature’s regret.

#writeblr #amwriting #writeblr community #original writing #original fiction #prose #fantasy #annika talks #Unnamed Dream WIP #world building #we love a problematic goddess!!!#i was gonna post part 1 and 2 at the same time but i still dont have a name for the country or anything so im gonna just. post this now

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okamiwind · 6 months

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To you, he walks a red trail across the water, and when he meets you again, his blade will be words.

He tries to put it out of his head. Dreams are just dreams. They cannot hurt him.

The dragon soars overhead, gargantuan silver wings glinting in the mid-morning sun. Junmyeon relaxes back against the rolling green hills, the sun painting him warm. It was a nice start to his day, but the worst was yet to come.

The first day is often the hardest.

Sehun appears as if dropped from the gods themselves, and Junmyeon groans. Like the sun. Bright and lovely, but occasionally—you find yourself burned by the presence.

"I hate to interrupt, your grace, but you are due for your lesson."

The gigantic dragon lands next to him, wings wrapping protectively around Junmyeon, rearing back at Sehun with a snort. Junmyeon laughs, gingerly pulling the wings down so that he can see. Sehun, of course, has taken several steps backward.

"You fear her? Even now?"

"Yes, your grace," Sehun smiles. "For with a word, I would be—"

"Nothing?"

"Yes, your grace. Nothing."

"They do not have many dragons in the east, do they?"

"None, your grace. It has been years since... since I've been in the presence."

"Have you missed me dearly?" he teases.

"Yes, your grace," Sehun answers, deadly honest, deadly earnest. "It is hard not to miss a man such as yourself."

A dragon like me. Junmyeon smiles, petting the dragon along the thin bones stretching under her wings. The dragon snuffles happily, and he commands her.

"Mazilibas, mittitsos. Ziry raqiros issa."

The dragon immediately withdraws her large wings from around him, moving to rest behind where he lies, coiling herself into a neat circle. He stands, petting her as her eyes shut peacefully.

"Raqia?" he asks, and she growls happily. "Ah, litse rina. Sylvie rina."

"Your grace."

He looks over at him, his height and the breadth of his shoulders. He is a handsome man, even more so since his return—everyone in the Seven Kingdoms agreed—but he was insistent. Determined. He thought that the title of bravo afforded him some sort of respect. In a perfect world, it would. But this was not Braavos. He was not protected by the sea and his training abroad any longer. This was King's Landing, and Sehun was in greater danger than he knew, especially given Junmyeon's affection for him.

It was hard to know friend from foe here.

"Soves," he orders.

The dragon rises and ascends without another word. Sehun watches as she goes.

"Would you like to know her name?" Junmyeon asks.

Sehun turns back to him, appearing altogether quite confused.

"Your dragon is named Silverwish, your grace," Sehun answers.

"That's not her name, though," he says softly, staring at her as she circles happily in the clouds. "That is some amalgamation. Some untruth that we've been forced to adopt for the sake of the common tongue." He glances over at Sehun once more. "Would you like to know her real name?"

"Yes, your grace. Of course, your grace."

"Jaelagelia," he replies. "Jaelagelia sovyso gevys soves."

"What does that mean?" Sehun asks. "If your grace allows me the knowledge."

"Silverwish," he grins. "Silverwish flies like a beautiful butterfly."

"I have missed the sound of such a beautiful language, your grace."

It tugs at Junmyeon's heartstrings.

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" Junmyeon says. "A lot better than whatever bastard vulgarity you might have heard in your residency." He walks to the top of the hill, and he lets the fire of the sun paint him with heat. "Are you happy to be home, ser?"

"Yes, your grace. Eager to instruct you in the ways of dancing."

"Dancing," he smiles. "I like that a lot better than what it is."

"And what is that, your grace?"

"Getting hit with a wooden sword," Junmyeon sighs, and he cups his hands around his mouth, raising his voice. "Jaelagelia, nopot. Jas! Aderi!"

The dragon cries as she follows his order, swooping through the sky in magnificent spirals.

"Where is she going?"

"To the dragonpit where she belongs," Junmyeon says, dusting off his pants. "Now come, if you insist on testing me, let's at least get out of sight. I would hate for anyone to see their king bested so."

They were friends in their boyhood. Best friends, he would say.

Before the war. Before his ascension. And before Sehun's trip across the Narrow Sea.

It's hard for kings to have friends, even kings his age.

"You still have not learned?" Sehun says.

Junmyeon bites his lip in anger as he stands, dusting himself off from where he had fallen. Not because Sehun had pushed him, but because he had charged forward so thoughtlessly, carried off by his own momentum. Water dancing was about momentum, about seeing, about knowing which way the tides were moving. It was foreign, it was strange, and upon his return, Sehun had managed to convince the small council that it was proper for Junmyeon to learn.

If there was one thing Junmyeon knew, it was this: blood of the dragon was leaving this world. And he was among the last of them. Fire, apparently, was not enough.

"Despite the skill of my instructor, it seems I am hopeless," Junmyeon grits out.

It was hard for him to look at Sehun for what he was—a man grown, capable of much violence, learned in the ways of war. To Junmyeon, he still looked the summer child who liked to climb the towers in the Red Keep, the boy who searched with him endlessly for the cruel, twisting passageways, the boy who wished so desperately for a gold cloak at his back.

Sehun turns his back towards the coast, seabirds yelping overhead. Greystone walls enclose their abandoned theater, but it cannot quiet the crashing tides. It is a lovely day. Junmyeon would like to spend it some other way. A glass of wine, a ride over the sea. Fruit under the bruised sky.

Perhaps, he thinks, staring at the length of Sehun's spine beneath his clothing, even a stolen kiss.

"Again," Sehun instructs. "You are stronger than you know."

"All evidence to the contrary," he laughs, gripping his wooden weapon in his sword hand once more. "Shall I wait for you to strike?"

"If you wait, you die," Sehun tells him.

"What's all this I'm hearing about watching then?"

"Not watching," Sehun smiles, striking suddenly and poking Junmyeon in the gut, "seeing."

"My mistake," Junmyeon says, rolling his eyes.

He smacks Sehun's wooden blade away, and they spar like that for longer than Junmyeon would like. It wears him out, even more than his meetings and the diplomacy, more than the treaties and the tax agreements. Something about Sehun pushes him past everything. Drags him deeper into his emotion.

Sehun gets him up against the low wall once he is well and truly exhausted, Junmyeon's elbow brushing dust off the ledge and into the water beneath them.

"Let me go," he seethes. "I am exhausted."

"Fight back," Sehun tells him.

"I cannot."

"Your council," he says, arm nudging Junmyeon's against the rock wall towards the sea. "They mean you harm, your grace."

Fear leaps in his mouth.

"W-Whatever do you mean?" he asks.

The heat of Sehun's body against his, the length of them pressed together. It is terrible and wondrous. He can barely think through it.

"You must keep an eye on your Master of Whispers and the Master of Coin," he whispers. "You must keep all servants loyal to the dragon." He presses his lips low, against Junmyeon's neck. "They conspire to steal the throne from you, your grace. They wish to kill Silverwish so that she cannot bear her next clutch." He raises his eye, full of fire. "Soon, they will bring down the dragon pit and kill everything inside. Eggs and all."

"W-What would you have me do?"

"Kill them all," Sehun tells him. "Appoint me commander of the City Watch, and I will make sure they are never able to make good on their plans." He rests his forehead against Junmyeon's. "Have you lost affection for me, your grace? Have I lost your trust because of my years in Braavos?"

"No," Junmyeon confesses. "Never."

"I thought of you each and every day, your grace. Endlessly. Everything I have ever done has been in service to you. To your family. To your reign." He shuts his eyes, squeezing them with emotion. "My heart yearned to be by your side, but they... they were the ones to send me away." He looks into Junmyeon's eyes with such belief. Such emotion. "They wish to control you, your grace. To control your every move. Every thought. Until they are able to destroy you entirely."

It bleeds through him. The anger.

"No one controls me," he answers. "No one."

"Prove it to me," Sehun whispers, and Junmyeon lets the fire burn.

He kisses Sehun hard, pushing him to the stone floor of the forgotten theater. His body heats absurdly, all of the rage and confusion building forth into a wall of flame. He feels it licking him all over, hungry tongues of it, and he holds Sehun by the neck as he grinds his body against him, black and red, black and red.

"Your grace," Sehun whispers, pressing ravenous kisses down Junmyeon's throat as he moves his hips, "fuck."

"Such foul language from a son of the Citadel," Junmyeon chastises with a smile. "What would the maesters think of you now?"

"I was never meant for that life," Sehun answers, and he cups his hand around the back of Junmyeon's neck. "I was always meant to protect you, your grace."

"Then protect me," Junmyeon whispers, kissing him again. "Never let them get close."

"Never," he whispers, and he rolls Junmyeon onto his back, easily stripping him as he slips against him.

It feels like a fucking fight, the way they rut against one another, all those years of solitude and desperate need crashing down in an instant. They had spent so many years dancing around it. It was time to plunge in headfirst. To stop watching and really see.

"I love you," Sehun confesses, touching Junmyeon so recklessly, so hard and fast and eager. "I have always loved you."

"Love me more," Junmyeon commands. "Love me until I cannot stand it. Until my body is burned. Until the end of it all."

"Yes," he whispers. "Yes."

"Don't let them hurt me," he whispers, hugging Sehun tightly. "Don't let anyone hurt me."

"You are the dragon," Sehun tells him, and he ruts his hips, biting Junmyeon beneath the collar. "You are not hurt. You hurt."

Junmyeon cries out against his mouth, and he sees that shadowy dream, the one that chases him. To you, he walks a red trail across the water, and when he meets you again, his blade will be words.

So be it, Junmyeon thinks, coming hard and clinging harder. If I am stabbed by him, then I must bleed for him. But I am the blood of Old Valyria.

Fire and blood.

#seho fic #written for kinktober but that's fine #the high valyrian is accurate (according to my limited skill)!

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oldinformaticn · 5 years

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“ love is for children, i owe him a debt. ” is one of my Leave Favorite things tbh

#hey google how do i fight a quote #listen it's the Biggest lie any version of natasha romanov has ever had the misfortune of spewing #nat might have thick stone castle walls built thirty feet high #surrounded by a moat of acid full of mechanical sharks #with dragons soaring overhead to protect herself #but she Is Not someone that thinks love is 'for children' or a weakness #WHAT MATTERS IS THAT WE LIVED & LOVED #* ( my card says 'female character enthusiast' ) — ooc.#delete.

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symphonic-scream · 3 years

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Okay so here's the summary of what happens in the first section of the ML Genshin au. If you're overly familiar with the lore of the game itself sorry in advance cause things are gonna be different. It's a mix of wanted to incorporate new ideas and I don't remember everything exactly lmao

This of course contains Spoilers for the first three Archon quests in Genshin Impact :) so there you've been warned. Also warning: long post. I'm sorry

So the story starts with two travelers soaring through the skies, visiting world after world as they go. However their journey is cut short when they encounter a strange god in the heavens above one such world

The travelers hold out against her for as long as they can, but she gets the upper hand, capturing one of the two travelers. She seals away the powers of the other, trapping him in this world

Some time passes. Our traveler has spent his time trying to survive in the wild in this new world, and has now fished a strange creature up out of the sea. Some floating cat thing, that insists he's not a cat. He calls himself Plagg

Our traveler is blond, with striking green eyes. His outfit is very strange, looking kinda like,, a thick leather armour type stuff but softer. There are dark stars on his shoulders, wrists, on the belt, and in the centre of his chest, and his shirt cuts off at the base of his ribs. Pants are much the same, boots ending just below the knees, and he's got some fancy golden gloves and padding on the knees

The traveler explains what he remembers of his story to Plagg, introducing himself as Adrien. He's not of this world, and he's going to find his identical cousin Felix, who was taken by a strange god, no matter what it takes

Plagg decides to be his guide in this world, which he calls Teyvat, and agrees to help him find the god and his cousin. He explains that Teyvat is divided into seven Nations, each under the rule of one of seven gods called Archons, collectively "the Seven". The land they're in now is called Mondstadt, the nation belonging to the Archon of freedom. And Anemo, the element of wind

Plagg leads Adrien into a small valley, a statue resting in the middle of a small lake right in the centre. The guide calls it a Statue of the seven, this one modeled after Barbatos, the name used for the Anemo Archon. Plagg believes there's a chance the strange god could be one of the seven, so perhaps praying to the statue may give them some answers

However when Adrien gets close, he's infused with a strange power. He now has control over Anemo

This is odd to Plagg because in Teyvat, only humans with something called a vision can use elemental abilities. Visions are gifts from the Archons, used to show who has earned their favour through what's usually some inhuman feat or something like that I guess

The statue left more questions than answers, so Plagg decides they should try to find the god in person in the City of Mondstadt. However on their way to the forest that will lead to the city, a dragon flies overhead

Plagg decides a dragon is too much work to deal with and suggests they turn back, cause maybe your cousin will show up on his own- wait - hey come back here-

Adrien marches on, interested in meeting a dragon. He walks carefully through the trees, stopping short when he spots the dragon and a shorter figure

The person slowly approaching the dragon has their back to Adrien, with pinkish-red hair, wearing a somewhat fancy looking grey hooded jacket, black high boots, and dark cyan trousers. On their left shoulder, attached to their lapel, is a spring green/seafoam?? Kinda? Idk- coloured gem

Their hand is outstretched towards the dragon, who growls lowly as the figure shushes them. Adrien leans in to see better, snapping a twig beneath his boots. At the sudden noise the dragon shoots off into the sky, flying off. The figure whips around to face Adrien, summoning a sword from thin air (vision users can just do this?? There's really no explanation that I've cared to read haha). The figure turns and runs off into the woods after staring at Adrien for a moment

Adrien and Plagg continue on their way through the woods, coming out the other end with no other issues. Once they exit the forest, a woman is calling for their attention

She's dressed in for the outdoors, emerald kinda green overalls that are cut like shorts, white,, idk kinda like tights but thicker?? And brown boots, the same colour as the pretty much useless belt around her waist, where a bright green gem and little pouches rest. Under the overalls is a navy collared shirt, soft fabric, button open at the top, a brown half jacket (cut like a crop top) open over it. Dark hair in two pigtails, bright blue eyes

She introduces herself as Marinette, an adventurer assisting the Knights of Favonius, who protect the city, with keeping monsters at bay from the city. She asks Adrien what he and his, cat? ("IM NOT A CAT!") Are doing outside the city, and he tells her he's looking for his cousin, and maybe Barbatos

Marinette explains that they haven't heard from their god in years, and only recently have they gotten any sign that the Archon actually exists, with the first Anemo vision to be given out in ages and the dragon attacks

Adrien helps her clear out a little monster camp before they head into the city, with Marinette planning on taking Adrien to see the Acting Grand Master to see if she can help

But OH NO DRAGON ATTACK. Adrien hears a voice and suddenly he's got boosted abilities, flying (using a wind glider) up with the dragon, chasing it away from the city by blasting it with Anemo energy

When he lands Marinette asks him what the hell he just did, and someone else steps in, claiming they were about to say the same thing. This woman has orange cat ears sticking out of bobbed orange hair, and is wearing glasses over teal eyes

She's got a simple, dark blue jacket on over a light blue collared shirt, a brown vest between the two. Dark pants, tall metallic, silver boots, a small kinda waist cape?? Idk what they are but she's got one and it's white and furred. A pale baby blue vision hangs from the side of her belt

This is Sabrina, one of the Captains with the knights, Marinette explains. Sabrina escorts the two of them to the headquarters of the knights, claiming the Acting Grand Master wants to speak with them

The Acting Grand Master has long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, and tired blue eyes. She wears a long dark coat, an orangey brown vision just off the right shoulder. Under the jacket is a dark brown, thick blouse and vest combo. Her pants are a pale brown, and her boots are the same as Sabrina's. Her clothing looks rather lavish

The Acting Grand Master, Chloe, she insists they call her, listens to Adrien's tale. She explains she can help once things calm down with the whole dragon thing. He wants to help, but she can't just let him in for liability reasons and strikes a deal. If he can locate the one citizen that didn't check in and confirm their health after the attack, he earns honorary knight status

The knights and adventurers head out to seek out the temples of three of the four winds while Adrien and Plagg look for this missing person. They follow traces of Anemo energy, leading them to the roof of the knights headquarters where they come face to face with the figure from the woods, the missing citizen

The citizen attempts to run, but they stop her and say the knights are looking for her. The figure cautiously introduces herself as Alix Kubdel, watching the duo cautiously

Plagg speaks first breaking the silence, asking her about what she was doing with the dragon. You know, the dragon that attacked the city? Got an explanation for that?

Alix hesitates but explains that she was trying to calm down the dragon, bond with it. When asked why, she finally explains that she's the New Anemo Archon, and she's still getting used to what she has to do

New? What do you mean new? Plagg kinda hounds at her, Adrien apologizes, and Alix says the last Archon died, and she was eventually chosen as a replacement

By now the knights are returning from the temples and Adrien takes Alix in to talk with Chloe to convince her that they don't need to kill "Stormterror", the name given to the dragon by the city. Alix corrects them, stating his name is Dvalin

Alix has to reveal to Chloe as well that she's the new Archon in order to convince her to let them try Alix's "bonding plan", and they set into action. The group sets off for the lair of the dragon, to confront him headon

Adrien fights the dragon the same way as before, realizing Alix was the one that gave him the ability to do the funky blasting and flying, and then they've got him weak enough that Adrien can do some weird otherworldly healing thing on him

Apparently the dragon was poisoned by the monsters from the Abyss, and was under their orders. Without the aid of the Archon he couldn't fight it, but now that he's met the new Archon, Alix, all is great and dandy and they have a fun chat

They all head back to the city to celebrate, but they're ambushed by a group called the Fatui from one of the other nations, Schnezneya. During the ambush a woman known as Signora, one of the Harbingers who executes the will of the Cryo Archon, gets a hold of Alix

She snatches something called a gnosis from her, leaving her weak on the ground as they flee. The gnosis, uh, it holds like,, uh, the godly powers of an Archon? It's what makes em an Archon I guess? Sorta? Anyways Alix's was stolen so she doesn't have it now

And that's pretty much it. Alix goes to heal at this big ass tree and advises Adrien fo go check out the next nation, Liyue, and their Archon Morax, to see about his cousin and thats it

Adrien would do other stuff before leaving including meeting two Alchemists and helping them explore a mountain, assisting the two owners of the Harmony Tavern with some bullshit and all that but yeah

This is a very condensed version, of the events, but anymore detail and this would be that much longer lmao

If you have any questions comments complaints or whatever let me know. Sorry this was long I tried to condense it as best I could,

#ml genshin au #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous au #ml #alix kubdel #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #sabrina raincomprix #marinette dupen chang #long post

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sailorshadzter · 5 years

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Can you write a story about how Sansa has Jons baby without him knowing? Dany keeps him in kings landing and he comes backs to winterfell and sees Sansa’s son and knows its his

okay so i loved this & im sorry you sent this AGES AGO. but i finally got to it and i honestly want to do a part 2. so thanks! i hope it was worth the wait.

send me prompts

The day her son was born, she was woke from a dream of spring.

Laughter had floated along the warm breeze, the sun shining overhead as children played in the godswood. They wrestled in the melting snow, wolves and boys, while the little girls stood on the side lines, cheering the boys on. Somehow, in the back of her mind, she knows those children belong to her. There's a boy with dark curls and Stark colored eyes, he's the oldest of the bunch. Then there's the boy with Tully touched auburn locks, the second born that comes close behind the oldest. The oldest of the girls is small and dark, she's like the grandmother she's named for and the aunt she idolizes. Then there's the other two, a boy and girl with eyes the color of spring violets and silvery hair that catches the sun.

The first wave of labor pain is what startles her awake and she's unable to stop the cry of surprise, of pain, from leaving her lips. Brienne is in the room at once, the door thrown open without any sense of formality- it's been left behind at the sound of her lady's pained cries. At the sight of Sansa sitting up, doubled over in pain, Brienne knows what is happening and she's out the door, shouting for the maid that was making her way down the hall at that very moment. "The queen's time has come!"

Fear grips her but she swallows it down, focusing instead on the prospect of holding her child. She knows he will be her Prince of Winterfell- they will call him the Young White Wolf, a boy named for the uncle he'll never know. A child born of the wolves, the stories will say, born in the first year of his mother's rule. For one single moment, she can only wonder about the other children she has dreamed of... But then another wave of pain takes her over and the door to her room bangs open as maids filter in and suddenly, there is little else for her to think about besides the pain of labor.

Except for him.

She thinks of Jon even as she's bearing down, birthing the child he helped create. Sansa wishes he were here now, she wishes he even knew there was a child at all. She thinks of Jon as she feels the child slip from her body into the hands of the maester, she thinks of him as the babe gives his first angry howl at being thrown so rudely into a bright, new world he doesn't know. She thinks of Jon as they hand her the baby for the first time, where even now at two minutes old, the whole room knows the truth of his birth. He is a Stark born child, even in infancy he is his father's copy. "Robb," Sansa cries softly as she cradles her son to her chest, naming him as she had always intended, though she wonders if Ned would be more appropriate, given his looks. But the room melts at the name and beside her bed, Brienne drops to her knees, swearing to protect the child as she's always protected Sansa.

She thinks of Jon as she peers into her son's perfect little face, wishing with all of her heart that he was there.

If only, if only...

[ x x x ]

"I have news from the North."

It is Tyrion that speaks and Jon looks up from where he sits in his solar, at first annoyed by the interruption but it fades as his words settle on his brain. He's been here, trapped in King's Landing as he once was trapped at Dragonstone, all these months since Daenerys had conquered it with brute strength. On the back of Drogon, she had soared through the skies, belching flames and smoke until there was little left of the capital but rubble. Those who had survived the massacre now lived in fear of the tyrant queen. "News?" Jon questions, absently rubbing the back of his head.

He misses home, he misses Winterfell. He misses her.

Jon thinks back to the last time he saw her, the morning of his departure from Winterfell. She had been so beautiful that day, bathed in the morning sunlight, wrapped in furs. He had longed to kiss her that morning, to remind her of where his heart so truly belonged... But they had been stumbled upon and instead, he had embraced her as any good brother might have embraced his dearly loved sister. When she had slipped from his arms, he felt empty.

"There is a rumor that your sister has given birth to a son."

The goblet of ale Jon had been reaching for suddenly clangs to the floor and Jon curses, dropping to the floor so he might mop up the amber liquid, though it's done more to hide his face than clean the mess. "That is quite the rumor," Jon finally says when he's recovered from his shock enough to control his features. He rises back up, settling himself back into his chair and setting the now empty goblet onto his desk. "My sister remains unmarried."

Tyrion smirks, eyebrow arching as he climbs into the chair that sits before Jon's oak desk. "They say the child is sired by wolves." The imp explains, watching Jon's face for any sign of what he knows must surely be the truth. That the child born to Sansa Stark is Jon's own child, a child born out of wedlock between two presumed half siblings. There were very few who knew the truth of Jon's parentage, after all. "The queen wishes to know if it is only a rumor or not," the peace between the North and the remaining kingdoms is thin and it is only because of Jon's sacrifice of remaining beside Daenerys that the North was given it's independence. Dorne is hot with jealousy and there had been whispers of their itch for their own. The Iron Islands would not be far behind. Daenerys had lost her loyal allies and now only ruled through fear. But, there was only one single dragon to fear, how long would it be before there were none?

"She's also agreed that it should be you who goes to confirm the rumor," Tyrion's voice draws Jon's attention back and his sharp, Stark colored eyes settle upon the Lannister. The man steeples his fingers together and sighs. "I suppose, what the queen knows or doesn't know... Won't concern her." All he wants is this peace to last; he's riddled with guilt over the last few months, the ringing of the bells still yet haunts his every dream. Tyrion knows the rumor of the Northern queen's pregnancy must be only that- a rumor. True or not, the mother of dragons would not take kindly to hearing the true heir of the Seven Kingdoms had a child with the true heir of the North, who she herself has given a crown to. What a powerful child, what a power for the already disgruntled people to stand behind instead. If one wished to topple a tyrant queen, this would probably be the way. If one wished, that was. Tyrion reaches for the jug of ale and pours himself a goblet, draining it in two quick swallows before pouring himself another.

Jon understands the deeper meaning behind the imp's words. Who better than he understands what Daenerys Targaryen is capable of? He watched her sack an entire city that had surrendered, all because she could. Fine, let it be fear, she had told him that night after the feast. Fear. He had listened to her threats against his people, his family... He knew what she would do if she felt threatened by Sansa and the North. It would take no time at all for the North to look as King's Landing had once looked. Ash would fall from the skies like snow, blanketing Winterfell. "When am I to leave?" He extends his hand out, goblet tight in his grip, a silent request for ale of his own.

Tyrion raises his gaze to meet his eyes and leans in so they may clink glasses. "Tomorrow."

[ x x x ]

Sansa hears the cry from the guard tower from where she sits in her solar, Robb tucked against her chest as she looks over a letter from Dorne. She knows it's dangerous water she treds, even just opening such letters as the Prince of Dorne wishes to fight for his nation's freedom. There are whispers everywhere of overthrowing the dragon queen and though once Sansa would have involved herself readily but now... She glances down at the baby in her arms and knows she's got a whole lot more to protect these days. Sometimes she fears doing nothing at all leaves her son in more danger.

"Your grace."

It is Lord Royce in her doorway, dipping her a bow. As always, he smiles over the baby she holds, warming her heart at the sight of it. Sansa knows now how truly loved she is by her people, for there was not one who voiced displeasure over her baby born from wedlock. If there were any susipicions on the father, they were not mentioned publicly, and she laughs when she hears how they say her son was born of the wolves. "Yes?" She asks, lowering the letter from Dorne, focusing her blue eyed gaze on the older man.

"There's a rider at the gate, a rider from King's Landing."

Sansa's heart skips a beat but she dares not feel excitement. Jon would not be here, she would never allow that. "See that they are fed and warmed, then bring them here." Lord Royce gives her a nod and then bows before he backs from the room to do as he's been bid. What Lord Royce did not say was that he had caught a glimpse of the man who rode through, a man with unmistakable raven colored curls. But he goes on his way, sending a steward down to take the man to the kitchens, so he might warm himself before the great fires and eat a bit of porridage from that morning's breakfast.

In the minutes before the knock sounds on the door, Sansa cannot help but to fawn over the baby she holds. Robb is a sweet babe, though his angry cries can easily wake the entire castle. Peering into his dark eyes, she sees his father, she sees his grandfather. Little Robb is Jon's child, there is no doubt, his Stark genes undeniable. His gummy smile is frequently seen but his displeasure is just as easily heard, though Sansa loves every moment of it.

Knock, knock.

Hearing the knock, she jumps, chills racing the length of her spine. Somehow, she already knows who stands at her door. She turns and gently sets Robb into his cradle, hard oak wood carved with wolves and the weirwood tree. "Come in," she calls, adjusting her position in her chair as the door swing opens and the man comes through. The breath catches in her throat, stolen from her lungs as Jon sinks to his knees before her desk. She didn't dare believe it could ever be him, but now that he's here... Tears spring to her eyes as she opens her mouth, his name soft upon her lips. "Jon..."

He cannot believe how beautiful she is.

It's been a long eight months since he's last seen her, last held her. Her autumn touched hair is longer than ever, pulled back in a mound of intricate braids, leaving only a few soft curls to frame her features. Those blue eyes... Eyes he would willingly drown in, eyes the color of the open sea, of the summer sky. Her gown is of gray velvet, form fitting to a figure that is softer than he remembers and he only wants to take her into his arms. "My queen," he breathes as he hits his knees, holding Longclaw in the Northern gesture of fealty. For once, those words do not feel empty, they don't feel hollow.

She rises up from the chair she's been sitting in, coming around the desk, gray skirts sweeping across the rushes. "You're here..." She murmurs as she sinks down to his level, one hand cupping his cheek to her palm, his beard prickly against her soft skin. "I don't believe this," she shakes her head, blinking fast, the tears clinging to her lashes as she sucks in a breath. "Why.."

Before she can say another word, Jon is taking her into his arms. There on the floor, he pulls her to him and holds fast. She hears his sharp intake of breath as he buries his face into the crook of her shoulder, as his arms wind around her waist. Sansa breathes him in- he smells of horses and a campfire. "I'm an envoy now," he grins when he finally pulls back and the laugh she lets out sounds like a sob. "I've missed you," he sobers, his fingertips tracing the curve of her cheek as he stares into her eyes.

"I've missed you," she whispers, tears falling down her face faster than Jon could wipe them away. "I thought I would truly never see you again." She'll never forget that day, when they had hugged goodbye on the docks of King's Landing, she set to return to the North and her crown, he to remain behind with the dragon queen. "Jon, there's something I must tell you..."

Behind them, as if on cue, Robb lets out a cry.

Jon's eyes widen at the sound and Sansa rises back to her full height, drawing him up with her. "There was a rumor that reached Tyrion," Jon breathes and Sansa shoots him an apologetic smile. "It's... True..?" Sansa doesn't respond but rather takes him by the hand and guides him behind her desk, where the cradle sits just out of sight if one isn't looking for it. Jon knows before she says it, for looking at the baby is like looking into a mirror. The child is certainly his. "Sansa!" He tears his wild gaze from the now smiling baby to look at Sansa, who is staring dreamily down at the infant, her rosy lips curved with a smile.

"I wanted to tell you... That day on the docks..." She says softly, tears once again filling her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispers, looking back up to meet his gaze. Jon shakes his head and leans in, pulling her close to kiss. He wraps her in his arms and kisses her deep, a long slow kiss that he hopes makes up for all the ones they've missed. "Would you like to hold him?" She asks when she's pulled back and Jon gives a nod. Sansa reaches into the cradle and the baby begins to smile and coo as his mother lifts him into her arms. A moment later, she extends out her arms and slips the baby into Jon's. "I named him for Robb," she says, reaching out to brush her fingers through Robb's downy black hair, already curling at the ends like Jon's does.

"Robb," Jon breathes, leaning down to gently kiss the baby's forehead, his heart overflowing when Robb takes hold of his index finger and holds on tight. "My son." He tests out the phrase and knows without a doubt he can never part from them again. He can never stay away. Suddenly, a dark thought takes root, a dark but necessary thought that must come true if he ever wants to keep this child safe. If he ever wants to keep Sansa safe.

He will do anything to keep his family safe.

#anon asks #jonsa #jonsa au #jon x sansa #my writing #i wrote this #send me prompts #writing prompts

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ulchamile · 4 years

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In the midst of a terrible storm, an unassuming eagle owl flew as best she could through the torrential sheets of rain, shaken by the thunder overhead and scared to death that she was going to get struck by lightning and fall into the raging sea beneath her. The wind blew her about, and she struggled to stay airborne and moving forward. Owls did not belong this far out at sea. She didn't know how much longer she could remain in flight; she was tired, hungry, hurt, and fighting winds stronger than she could manage.

Katey had to get back to her sister as soon as possible. Loni was undoubtedly losing herself as the days that Katey was missing dragged on. Katey knew her sister; as strong as she was, she was also incredibly fragile when it came to her loved ones being taken away from her. She had to get back as soon as possible before Loni got herself into trouble looking for her. She desperately hoped Loni didn’t already go to Wano, which was behind Katey at this point. The stormy seas that surrounded the country would end sometime soon; she had to get out of this territory as soon as possible before someone noticed their recent prisoner, the one that ‘stole’ the Owl SMILE, was gone.

Katey didn’t know where the Hoot Rat was. To fly over the expansive seas until she found one small ship would be stupid. She was flying to a different ship that was apparently nearby. Katey didn’t ask the white haired woman how she knew where it was, but looking back --- maybe she should have asked her more questions? Like how the heck a Beast pirate knows where the Red Hair pirates are? Was she a spy or something? Katey couldn’t even believe that THAT was a thought on her brain --- how Katey, a nobody from a small farm in East Blue, got intermixed with the likes of Beast pirates and was now flying to yet another Emperor’s ship was beyond her. This was far above her level. She should not be here. She didn’t belong in the New World at all.

The storm slowly vanished as Katey flew her way out, frantic and frightened and yet silent. Eventually, the seas evened out. Eventually, the sun appeared from behind clouds and was surrounded by blue sky. Eventually, she was out of Beast territory and goodness knows where on the open sea --- but she followed the exact direction that the white haired woman told her to go. Follow a bearing of two hundred and four degrees from this island. Use your eyesight, scan the horizon, look for a large pirate ship with a dragon on the front, a jolly roger with red stripes over one eye. I know it sounds unbelievable, but they will keep you safe until you can get to your sister. They’re pirates, and I know that scares you, but you have to trust me. You have to do this, you have no other choice.

Her copper gaze scanned the horizon open blue as she soared overhead, slow flaps of her wings keeping her in the sky, and eventually she did see such a ship --- and she made a beeline for it, desperate for the apparent safety it would provide to her. Her sister would tell her she’s an idiot for trusting a Beast pirate who told her to go to yet another Emperor’s crew for “safety” but Katey had no other choice, no other options. Besides, the white haired woman was nice to her. A nice person would never send her into harm’s way! Katey trusted her!

As she got closer... she saw the men and women about the decks, going about their day. Her heart started to race... These were pirates... So far, Katey hadn’t had the best experiences with pirates. They were usually violent, dangerous, and weren’t very nice to her. Her sister’s crew were pirates, sure, but they were her sister’s friends. It was different.

Maybe... Maybe she should just pass it by. Keep flying. Try to find the Hoot Rat... No no, she couldn’t do that --- she would succumb to exhaustion before she found it and fall into the sea. The white haired woman seemed so genuine... She risked a lot to send her out here... unless this was a trap... No, no one would be that cruel. She had to trust her.

Without any other option, Katey approached the ship, her talons reaching out to grab hold of a wooden railing. The strange sight of an owl landing on a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean dozens and dozens of miles from the nearest land only lasted a moment. She hopped off the railing and landed on the deck, transforming into her human body.

Her fair freckled skin was dirtied and she had a black eye, a split bottom lip, and her long fluffy blonde curls were just tangles. Her knee-length yellow day-dress tattered, distinctive sets of SLASHES across it, reminiscent of a particular set of sickle claws. The white haired woman had healed her broken bones and deep gashes in her body, but in haste to get her out of Wano, she hadn’t healed the little bumps and bruises, urging her to get out as quickly as possible. She was missing her sweater that she wore to stay warm, conceal her frail figure, and hide her bruises from her blood sickness. In short, Katey looked like Hell, worse than usual.

She held her hands together, hiding her mouth as her round eyes filled with frightened tears. She was losing her nerve, now that she was here. This was a pirate ship. What was she doing here??? They were going to kill her; she was a stranger on their ship, uninvited!!

Katey’s long wobbly legs buckled from under her and she hit her knees, backing up defensively until her back hit the railing behind her, and she drew her legs in and near curled into an upright ball to protect herself.

“A-Are you the Red Hair pirates...?” she squeaked out, voice trembling. “P-Please don’t hurt me...!”

@chillin-at-partys-bar.

#chillin-at-partys-bar #x. (v) ... OP { She got that DD-214. }

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ladylynse · 4 years

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Part 7 [FF | AO3] of Whirlwind: Jake should be used to ominous predictions by now. Randy should know better than to blindly follow McFist. Adrien should think twice before sneaking away. And Danny should’ve expected something like this when he got that phone call. (Secret Quartet crossover)

(previous | timeline post)

-|-

6:48 PM

Susan leaned against the rough brick of the building behind her, trying and failing to stop trembling.

She could still hear his voice in her head, screaming at her, commanding her, and she wasn’t convinced everything was imagined.

This all felt real enough, now that she was back on the ground, but while she’d been in the air….

She sucked in another deep breath and held it, trying to calm the rapid beating of her heart. It was hard to hear anything above the blood pounding in her ears except the phantom voice in her head. She was on the ground again, she was herself again, but she wasn’t…. She couldn’t….

Susan pried the fingers of her right hand off her necklace. She’d been clutching it so tightly that angry red lines were carved into her palm. Part of her wanted to throw the necklace away and see if that broke his hold over her, but she couldn’t make her hands move, not even to simply touch the clasp.

What had she done?

She’d been angry. She’d been foolish. And now…. Now, she might endanger her family. That was the deal she’d made. She hadn’t…. She hadn’t been thinking. She knew better than to dabble in magic like this. There was no fix for the way she was, the fact that she didn’t have the powers that the rest of her family did, but—

But for a moment, when she’d realized it could be given to her, she’d wanted it more than anything else.

She should have never agreed.

How could she have agreed when her own son was the American Dragon? He was undeniably one of the heroes of the NYC. She couldn’t just ignore that fact. She couldn’t talk her way around it, like she had with Danny Phantom and the new Ninja hero. And she didn’t need to know who Chat Noir was to know that she shouldn’t have agreed to steal anything from him, either. It was easy to see all of that now, but in the moment when he’d asked her—

It hadn’t seemed like refusal would be a better option. It hadn’t seemed like an option at all. There had only been agreement. That she’d been able to argue as much as she had, to use his magic to unleash her birthright, her bloodright, when it should have remained forever locked away—

It shouldn’t have been something to consider.

She’d come to terms with being powerless.

She was happy.

So why had she—?

Susan reached up and fisted the hair on top of her head, trying to silence the last vestiges of Hawk Moth’s voice. She could still feel his anger—at her, at Chat Noir, at Phantom and the Ninja. He didn’t know about Jake yet, but subtle was one thing her son was not. The American Dragon would be here soon enough, ready to fight her, as he should. It was his duty to protect the magical creatures of this country, to keep their secret—

“What have I done?” Susan whispered. She knew how prestigious this event had been. She knew there would be cameras, that everything that had happened would be plastered on the evening’s news and the morning paper unless they could find a way to contain it. This wouldn’t be one voice that was easily dismissed, no seemingly wild claim made by a man who had cried wolf before.

She’d offered Rotwood the proof he so dearly wanted that dragons were very much real, and Phantom being back in the city would merely give him another opportunity to prove the existence of ghosts.

She had to get away. She had to leave. She couldn’t stay here. That would put Jake in danger. That would put all of them in danger.

Distance might break the bond she’d forged with Hawk Moth. She had to try. She had to…to….

Her feet wouldn’t move.

They wouldn’t be fast enough, anyway. She wanted to fly, to feel the wind beneath her wings again, to feel what she’d been missing out on for so long, to keep putting all those lessons from childhood into practice, all those long hours of helping Jake and Haley and—

“No,” moaned Susan, closing her eyes and sliding down the wall so that she could curl into a ball. No one was around, no one had been there to see her change back, but it felt like the eyes of the world were on her. Staring. Demanding. Trying to call Dracona back out.

She couldn’t fight off Hawk Moth forever.

It was easier when she was like this, when she wasn’t transformed. It was…quieter. But she was still tied to him. She could almost feel the strings that bound her to him, the way he was ready to have her dance like a marionette, and she didn’t know how to cut herself free.

Susan wanted to scream, but all that came out was a sob.

-|-

6:59 PM

Adrien wasn’t having much luck. Well, no one had recognized him and started to gush over Adrien Agreste, which was a plus, but the Gabriel brand wasn’t as well known over here, and he kept his hood up. He was more likely to be spotted by Nathalie or the Gorilla than by a random fan. The fact that he wasn’t—so far, at least—was lucky.

The fact that he couldn’t hear anything definitive about the dragon was not.

As far as he could tell, it had soared overhead, rounded a corner, and never come back. Adrien had made his way towards that corner—it was the same building where he’d last seen the dragon—but while some people seemed to be waiting expectantly for the dragon to come back, most thought the show was over.

Because that’s all people thought this was.

A show.

Evidently, news of the regular attacks in Paris had not reached the media here—at least not in a form that anyone believed.

Adrien stayed well away from any authority figures, not wanting to give anyone reason to look at him twice. If the dragon came back, or if anything else interesting came up, he’d know soon enough. Most shouts might not be coherent above the general babble of the crowd, but he knew how word could spread.

Eventually, reluctant though he was to leave the relative safety of the crowds, he widened his search. While some people were still coming and crowding as close to the police tape as they could, others were trickling away. He trailed behind some people leaving who had only ever been curious bystanders, judging by their casual dress, and tried to look for the dragon without making it obvious that he was looking for anything.

“Stop,” Plagg finally whispered into his ear, catching something Adrien could not. “I can feel something.”

Adrien couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but he stepped off to the side and pulled out his phone. He held it up to his ear and said, “There’s nothing here.”

“You just don’t know what you’re looking for.”

He was looking for signs of a dragon, and those were conspicuously absent. No claw marks in the pavement, no one screaming or even running away from something, no glint of light off a fallen scale…. Not that he’d necessarily see anything on that front. It was dusk. Sooner rather than later, the streetlights would flick on, regardless of the light pollution that gave the clouds above a soft orangey glow.

Adrien was better off paying attention to Plagg’s nose—or whatever sense the kwami was using—than to his eyes.

“There’s someone here,” Plagg continued. “Nearby. And someone else, too, from that shop. Maybe a few of them. Higher up, maybe. It’s hard to tell. They’re farther away.” There was a pause. “There’s also a pizza place down the street, if you could get me some cheese—”

“I promise I’ll go back to the hotel after this,” Adrien interrupted. Though he wouldn’t mind getting something to eat, he doubted he had enough money on him for a slice of pizza. “Then we can both eat supper. Nathalie will have arranged something for me.”

He didn’t add that Nathalie must have noticed he was gone by now. His father wouldn’t have, being busy as he was, but Nathalie and the Gorilla—

Someone knocked into him, mumbled sorry, and kept walking. With Plagg’s claws suddenly digging into his neck, Adrien turned to get a better look at the retreating woman. He hadn’t been paying enough attention to recognize her as she’d walked by, but she wasn’t wearing a coat despite the rapidly cooling air, and he recognized her uniform. “She’s from the catering company.”

He expected Plagg to ask him to follow her to try to get some cheese. Instead, Plagg hissed, “Be careful.”

“But she’s from the catering company.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket, paused just long enough to confirm that the woman had walked out of a now-empty alley, and started to tail her.

“That’s no reason to follow her.”

It was…odd of Plagg to point that out. Plagg took more risks than Adrien would ever dare, and this was hardly foolhardy. If she happened to notice him, he could let her know who he was and ask after her well-being, pretend that he wanted—

“Stop it,” Plagg tried again, and Adrien hissed through his teeth as Plagg dug in his claws again. “You shouldn’t— Stop. This is a bad idea. We shouldn’t get mixed up in this.”

“We’re already mixed up in this,” Adrien murmured, “whether you like it or not. Hawk Moth is—”

“This isn’t just about Hawk Moth! That woman…. She’s…she’s with the dragons. And the others are close. I know they are. I can feel them. They aren’t…. Adrien, let her go.”

Adrien sighed, stopped to lean against a lamppost, and pulled out his phone just as the woman glanced over her shoulder at him. He kept his head down and she turned away, but he still couldn’t remember seeing her.

And she didn’t look remotely dragon-ish.

“The thing about dragons,” Plagg continued quietly, thankfully retracting his claws now that Adrien had stopped, “is that you can’t ordinarily pick them out of a crowd.”

“Plagg, they’re dragons.”

“And the thing that dragons don’t want humans to know is that they can also look like ordinary people.”

“What?”

“I don’t…. I didn’t want to get you into trouble by telling you this, but you need to know. I think that woman is a dragon. Something…something about her makes my fur stand up. And her allies are going to look just as human.”

“Wait, so those people in that electronics shop…?”

“I’d bet my last wheel of camembert on it.”

Perfect. Another thing Plagg didn’t do lightly. “So the dragon we saw might not even be an akuma. This might not be Hawk Moth after all. The Critic’s akuma—”

“I don’t know. The dragons…. They wouldn’t want this to happen. It’s too public. Something’s wrong. And, no, I don’t know how the Ninja fits into it.”

“What about the phantom?”

“I’m a good guy, I swear.”

Adrien jumped away from the voice, ducking as he did so, but even once he’d found his feet again and looked up and around, he couldn’t see anything. Plagg fell silent, though Adrien could still feel his claws digging into his neck. How had Phantom found him? How could he have known to come back here? To even look here, blocks from where he’d snatched Adrien away the first time?

And how had he managed to find Adrien, be so confident that he had found him, to talk to him when he wasn’t transformed?

It wasn’t comforting to know that Plagg couldn’t give him advance warning, either. Adrien doubted he’d have kept silent if he’d sensed Phantom’s presence. Plagg had said they all smelled different—or felt different, whatever he really meant, since Adrien wasn’t sure—but what if Phantom’s different had only ever been an absence? An absence Plagg couldn’t notice unless he was looking for it?

“Look, I’m sorry, really. Please don’t run or scream or anything.”

The voice was still coming from the direction of the lamppost, near where Adrien had been standing seconds before, and there was still no one in sight.

Phantom’s a ghost, Plagg had said. And Adrien knew Phantom could become invisible—that’s how he’d gotten the jump on him in the first place—but it was still unnerving. At least when he and Ladybug had fought Vanisher, she couldn’t fly or move through solid objects.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I swear.”

“I can’t even see you,” Adrien said quietly, “so why should I trust a word you say to me now?” He would’ve liked to feign ignorance, to pretend he had no idea what Phantom was talking about, but it was far too late for that. He’d reacted, getting ready to fight instead of just run, and he had no idea how long Phantom had been there, listening to him and Plagg, before deciding to jump in and join the conversation.

“I don’t expect you to trust me right away.” The voice was closer to him now. Quieter. “I just…. I don’t know where the cameras are here. I don’t want to be the one to give the rest of the world undeniable proof that ghosts exist, since my friend says no one believes the stories that come out of my hometown and he’d like to keep it that way. That’s why I’m staying invisible. Unless you want to duck into the alley, and then I can crouch behind the dumpster or something.”

Like he was going to let Phantom lure him into the alley—especially if Plagg was right about the lady from before being a dragon.

“C’mon, Chat Noir,” Phantom said, dropping his voice so much that Adrien could barely hear it above the traffic, “just hear me out, please. I screwed up. I’m sorry. I…. I shouldn’t have attacked you. My friend, he, um, knows about your ring, and what it lets you do. He panicked when he saw you. He’d gotten this prophecy from a couple of oracles and…. It’s a long story. Just, we messed up. We need to fix this. And we need your help. The Ninja says you seem to know what’s going on when it comes to these butterflies.”

“You know the Ninja?”

“Um. Kinda. Not well. We’ve only just met. I’m not from here. Neither is he, so he doesn’t know my friend, either.”

Adrien didn’t need Plagg to stick a single warning claw into his neck to know that he had to watch what he asked and how he asked it. “Who is your friend?” He already knew the answer. Plagg already knew the answer. But they needed to know what Phantom was going to tell them.

“He’s the American Dragon. Not, uh, the dragon that’s been terrorizing people, I promise. He wants to stop that. We both do. We’re just not sure how. The Ninja…. He said he saw what happened. The butterfly that caused her to change into a dragon.”

“He knows where the akuma’s hiding.” That was a relief. It would save Adrien precious time if he didn’t have to search for it and risk guessing incorrectly. It might still take him long enough to get it, of course, but—

“That’s what you call them? Akumas?”

“That’s how Hawk Moth changes people.” Even if Phantom wasn’t on his side, telling him that much wouldn’t put Adrien in any more danger than he was already. Whether or not Phantom was working with Hawk Moth and pretending otherwise, he already knew Adrien’s identity, and that was the more pressing issue. He already knew Adrien’s Miraculous was his ring, too. If he decided to steal it, Adrien wasn’t sure he could stop him.

“Will you help us stop him? Please? Call a truce for now, even if you don’t trust us more than you have to?”

He wanted to say no. He wanted to throw Phantom’s apology back in his face, to say that it wasn’t that simple to come back from practically trying to kill someone.

But he’d rather have Phantom as an ally than as an enemy, and it sounded like the Ninja was willing to work with him. Not that Adrien really knew the Ninja well enough to be trusting his judgement like this, but Ladybug wasn’t here, and Adrien could use the help.

Besides, from what Adrien now knew, Hawk Moth likely had recalled the Critic’s akuma and transferred its power to this one. Adrien wasn’t wholly sure if Hawk Moth could have a dormant akuma and an active one at the same time—Ladybug had never let another akuma go free without cleansing it—but he doubted the akuma would be as powerful as this one seemed to be if Hawk Moth was capable of that.

“I want to meet your friends before I agree to anything,” Adrien said, and Plagg let out a loud sigh.

“Then I want some camembert first. I’m hungry.”

Adrien didn’t need to see Phantom to guess his reaction; he wouldn’t have heard Plagg speak before unless he had been listening in on the conversation for a while. Adrien fixed a small smile on his face, though it was arguably more of a smirk than something suitably apologetic. “Yes, I should get some camembert for Plagg first.”

“That’s your…cat, right?”

“One of my best friends.” Adrien wasn’t about to explain what a kwami was to a ghost, especially one he didn’t completely trust.

“Right. Okay. Um. If you’ll let me, I’ll help you get it. I can make you invisible and intangible, too, as long as I’m touching you. That’ll probably be faster, especially with these crowds. We can even fly to wherever it is and then catch up with the Am Drag and the Ninja.”

Adrien frowned. “So in other words, trust you completely?”

“Oh. Right.” There was a pause, and then he felt an invisible hand pressing something into his own. “This is a Fenton Phone. It’ll let us communicate. Please actually wear it and, um, try not to break it. Then, when you’ve fed your cat, we can meet up and figure this out. Please?”

“I’ll call you when I’m ready,” Adrien said, curling his fingers around the strange earpiece. “If you want me to trust you, then you can trust me to do that and not try to follow me. Deal?”

“Deal,” Phantom agreed, but he didn’t sound happy about it. That was fine; Adrien didn’t particularly care if he was happy about it. He cared that Phantom didn’t learn more about him than he already had until he was ready to reciprocate.

Of course, Adrien wouldn’t know right away if Phantom stuck to their deal, not if Plagg couldn’t necessarily tell him, but he had to take risks if he was going to beat Hawk Moth this time, and this was a small enough place to start.

-|-

7:05 PM

“Yeah, that’s her,” Randy said as he passed Jake’s cell phone back to him. “That’s even the necklace she was wearing.”

Great.

Jake would’ve liked, just this once, for this all to be a big misunderstanding. For the new dragon to be someone else, as opposed to someone who knew everything about real dragons and therefore had more knowledge about how they flew than anyone who didn’t have a job or hobby related to flight. (Before he’d ever met Rotwood, he might’ve worried about people who actually believed in dragons, but he was fairly sure that no one who believed in dragons knew anything about them, at least not if they were reading the same books as Rotwood. He had far more reason to worry about ornithologists or biologists with niche interests or someone who otherwise devoted a lot of time to studying flying dinosaurs and the like.)

At least meeting up with Randy hadn’t been any trouble. He could look on the bright side, right? Just because that was the only bright side, didn’t mean he should ignore it entirely.

“I need to warn the others.” He didn’t know how he was going to break this news. His mom knew how important maintaining secrecy was for the magical world. He didn’t know what would have made her flaunt the existence of magic—the existence of dragons—so flagrantly. When she didn’t even want to tell his dad….

“Need help? If you show me more pictures, I can help you look for them in the crowd.”

Jake shook his head. “Nah, I can just phone Fu, and he’ll pass it on. Just….”

“It’s hard?” Randy guessed. Jake blinked, and Randy nodded. “Yeah, I know what it’s like to have someone you care about be stanked. It sucks.”

Jake frowned. He wasn’t sure what exactly stanked was, but— “That’s not what this is.”

“It’s pretty close. Except the dragon lady hasn’t tried to cause chaos, which is a point in your mom’s favour.”

Right. There was that, too. Chat Noir might not be the bad guy Jake had thought he was, but it was hard to misinterpret beware of the butterflies. And while exposure of the magical world, of the existence of dragons, was bad, it was not as bad as it arguably could be. There wasn’t mass panic and people getting hurt in the rush to get away. More reporters weren’t arriving by the minute to report on this story. No one—that he’d heard, at least—was doing what Rotwood would’ve done and loudly proclaimed that they had all seen a real, live dragon.

That was…odd.

Particularly for something that had warranted a prophecy from the twins and which apparently required outside help.

And, clearly, telling more people the truth about dragons.

At least Randy had taken it well. And he had some magical artefacts on him that he was clearly supposed to have. Jake was sure that would help his case when all of this was over and he got another earful from Gramps. He was definitely going to need to check out Norrisville in the future, though.

“Just…gimme a minute, okay?” Randy nodded, so Jake flipped his phone back open and dialled Fu’s number as he walked a short distance away. It didn’t really matter—there were too many people around for this conversation to be private—but pretending gave some semblance of comfort right now. The upside was, no one else who overheard it would understand enough for it to be dangerous.

“What’s going on, kid?”

“It’s Mom.” Jake didn’t know how to sugarcoat it. He didn’t know if he should. “The…the dragon on the news.”

He expected anything from denial to a joke to a demand for clarification, but he got silence instead.

“You still there?”

“Hold on a sec.” There was shuffling and static, the indistinct murmur of Fu’s voice, a roar of wind, and then, “We’ve got you on speaker. You wanna repeat that?”

“It’s Mom,” he said again. He knew Haley would have met up with the others by now, and he could imagine her reaction more easily than G’s; she’d be all wide eyes and slightly open-mouthed, might even gasp in denial, but Gramps wouldn’t react so openly. He’d go still, pressing his lips together and thinking hard before parting them.

“The magic skipped her generation,” Haley whispered. Jake could barely hear her. He might not have made it out if he hadn’t known she might say that. At least her saying it at all meant they were hunkered down safely on their end. They could speak more freely than he could.

“I know, but…. I got confirmation, okay? My…friend. Randy. He saw the whole thing. It was a butterfly.”

Silence on the other end of the line again. He wondered if he could have prevented this if he’d been able to be more specific when he’d talked to her earlier. If he’d had a chance to properly warn her, to tell her about Sara’s prophecy and the butterflies and not just about Chat Noir, would she still have been targeted? Had she even been targeted, or was it just random chance that she’d—?

Random would be better.

A target meant this Hawk Moth person Randy had told him about knew she was special. Knew about her connections to the dragons and to magic, if not that she’d been born into the magical world. Of course, even if Hawk Moth hadn’t known all that, there was no guarantee they still didn’t know all that, and—

“How do we stop her?”

“We need her necklace. That’s where it landed. But we’ll need to find her first. I don’t know where she is. I haven’t seen her, and the dragon’s gone.”

“I’ll call my contacts,” Fu said, “and put out the word to avoid this stretch of town.”

“Tell them to avoid Mom, too. Just in case. I…. She might not be thinking clearly.” If she was thinking clearly, she wouldn’t have done any of this. “Trixie and Spud are going to try to stop Rotwood, but he was coming here, too, and….” And did that really matter now? Now that there was footage from multiple news stations showing a dragon? The fact that some people thought it was a planned stunt was great, but not everyone was going to buy that. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You must continue to be cautious, young dragon,” Gramps said. “Haley and Fu will meet with you and your friends. I will continue to search for Susan on my own. Let me know whatever else you are able to discover immediately.”

“You trust your new friends, kid?” Fu asked.

“I….” They hadn’t questioned the fact that he’d mentioned Randy and not Danny, but clearly they hadn’t missed it. “Yeah. Randy’s cool. It’ll be fine. It’s just….” There were too many people around for Fu to talk freely if he came here. “You should stay with Gramps. All of you. It’s too crowded here.”

“I’m not staying behind,” Haley said immediately. “I can help. Let me help. No one’s going to suspect me! I’m too cute and innocent-looking.” There was a slight pause, but before he could spit out a denial, she added, “Please. This is Mom. I…I need to do this, Jake.”

How was he supposed to refuse her that?

“Fine.” He was going to regret this. He could regret it later. “Meet me at—” Jake broke off and looked around. Which was the least crowded place nearby? He gave her the street corner and then added, “But you should really stay with G, Fu. You’re gonna be a lot more help to us if you can be yourself.” Fu’s sense of smell wasn’t great, whatever he pretended, and having to act like a dog all night would be torturous for him. “Please?”

“Copy that. I’ll run interference and do what I can behind the scenes. But if you need anything, you call, capiche? I’ve been working on my bark. You don’t need to bench me for that.”

“Thanks, Fu. You guys take care of yourselves. Gramps—”

“You are the American Dragon, young one. I will not always question your judgement.”

Right. He’d just question it most of the time. Namely, whenever he assumed Jake was making the wrong call. “One more thing. The kid who came into the shop today? With the ring? He’s called Chat Noir. And he’s not working with this Hawk Moth person. The one with the butterflies. He’s on our side. Or he will be, if we can convince him we’re really supposed to be on his. I haven’t talked to him yet, but I trust that my friends made the right call on this. So if you see him, help out, okay? We were wrong. He’s not the bad guy.”

Jake heard some low muttering in Chinese that would have been a lot worse if Gramps hadn’t just said that he wasn’t always going to question Jake’s judgement.

“And this probably doesn’t matter too much considering the circumstances, but Danny kinda told Randy our family secret.”

Now there was yelling.

More consequences to deal with later.

“Yo, I’ve gotta split. I’ll see you when you get here, Haley!” He flipped his phone closed, silencing the thundering curses in a language he still barely understood. He tapped the Fenton Phone Randy had given him earlier as he walked back towards Randy and said, “Hey, Phantom, you got anything?”

“I found our cat friend. Gave him a Fenton Phone. Not sure if he’s wearing yet. He’ll call us when he’s ready to meet up.” There was a pause. “I promised not to follow him.”

“So you’re following him?”

“I thought about it,” Danny admitted, “but we need him, so no. Trust is a two-way street, and we really need to earn it.”

“Good call. I checked in with the others. Haley’s gonna join us. Haven’t heard from Trixie or Spud yet, so they’re probably still busy with Rotwood.”

“Think they’ll need help?”

“They’ll shout if they do. Until then, we’ve got bigger fish to fry. You heading back now or still scouting?”

“I’ll keep searching till we hear from Chat Noir.”

“Just be careful, Phantom. We don’t know what else this Hawk Moth has up their sleeve.”

Danny said something—acknowledgement or agreement—before signing off, and Jake reached Randy again and filled him in. He knew he was lucky to have friends helping with him with this. He knew he was lucky, even if it didn’t really seem like it right now, that Sara had given him the warnings she could. He knew he was very lucky that Chat Noir was even considering helping them after what they’d done.

But even if they found his mom and figured out a way to help her, even if Randy and Chat Noir swore not to say anything about the truth about dragons, he didn’t know how to fix the very obvious exposure of the magical world to everyone else. Even if people didn’t believe it right away, when it came out that this wasn’t a stunt…. They couldn’t just mindwipe the entire crowd and destroy everyone’s footage. There wasn’t an easy way to fix this.

He wasn’t even sure if it was something that could be fixed.

Protecting the magical world was one of the main things he was supposed to do, and he’d failed spectacularly.

The Dragon Council would take his powers away after this for sure, and Haley would be stuck with the responsibilities of the American Dragon whether or not she was ready, and—

And he didn’t know what the Dragon Council would do to his friends.

Or to everyone else who’d seen proof of magical creatures and now believed in them.

He’d never been told what happened when a dragon messed up this badly. He wasn’t even sure if anyone else ever had. All he knew was that, if he couldn’t fix this and the Dragon Council had to step in, the measures would be…extreme. It made his gut twist just thinking about it. If he couldn’t figure out how to contain this and it kept spiralling out of control—

He had to figure out how to fix this.

He had to.

For everyone else’s sake, not just his own.

(see more fics | next)

#secret quartet #adjl #miraculous ladybug #danny phantom #rc9gn #fanfiction #crossover #sq fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippet

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

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Hi, everybody! So the Adventures in Curse-breaking side quest was...absolutely wonderful. The prize is fantastic -- the animation of the dragons is awesome -- the new preserve location and the interior of the tent have the most wonderful ambient music -- and it features love for Charlie and Bill, who as most of you know are two of my favorites! I might’ve switched out Penny with Liz (given that, like Barnaby, she’s so into magical creatures and we could use more material for her in the game), but even with that nitpick, I think this quest may be one of my favorites so far, right up there with Chiara and Talbott’s friendship quests.

It is, however, a very dialogue-heavy quest with a good chunk of filler in between the awesome stuff, and writing full roleplaying posts for the entire thing would take up a LOT of time. So just like with my Meet the Malfoys quest post, I’ll be writing this in a more condensed, fic-like format. Because there’s so much more material to work with compared to the Malfoy quest, however, this post will be broken up into four parts all tagged “Adventures in Curse-Breaking”, complete with screenshots and gifs from the game, as we follow my MC Carewyn Cromwell, her honorary brothers Bill and Charlie, Barnaby, Merula, and Penny to the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary!

Hope you enjoy! xoxo

Bill’s second meet-up with the sixth years ended up being more of a question-and-answer session about Cursebreaking and Defense Against the Dark Arts in general rather than a set lesson. Charlie had half-jokingly whispered in Carewyn’s ear that it was likely Bill was still in the process of drawing up lesson plans, and although Carewyn thought there was a good chance of it, she didn’t think Bill opening the floor for questions was a bad idea. After all, Merula had expressed interest in being a Cursebreaker, and any anti-Dark Arts information would be helpful to a future Auror like Tonks. (Carewyn once again thought of trying to coax Talbott to join Bill’s sessions too. She knew he preferred to “fly solo,” but she wanted him to become an Auror just as much as he himself wanted it!)

It was only toward the end of their session that Bill -- mostly to poke at Charlie for getting distracted whispering to Carewyn -- brought up his next mission, which his boss Griphook had said would involve dragons.

Of course Charlie’s ears had perked up like a puppy’s at the mention of dragons, and he immediately was interested in accompanying Bill on his mission. The eldest Weasley son, however, turned Charlie down, clearly regretting that he’d brought it up at all. He quickly dismissed the sixth years and excused himself from the classroom, but Charlie wasn’t having it. Agreeing that Bill could use some help if he had to deal with a bunch of dragons, Carewyn quickly changed clothes and accompanied her unofficial twin to Diagon Alley.

Carewyn hadn’t ever been to Gringotts without her mother before. The wizarding bank had always felt so massive to her, not just for its mile-high, vaulted ceilings, but in how the voices of the goblin tellers and witches and wizards in front of the counters echoed seemingly endlessly up toward the ceiling. Despite the ethereal light emanating off the lanterns on every desk and the sparkling diamond chandeliers overheard, the chamber still never felt completely lit. Shadows clung to every pillar and window frame, and the light of the lanterns pooled off the dark, patterned marble pillars, making them resemble rippling, murky green water as you walked past them.

Bill was very surprised to see the two gingers there. He’d tried to reproach them for ambushing him at work, which made Carewyn feel a bit guilty -- Charlie, however, felt no shame at all.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have run off in the middle of a conversation like that,” he’d said dryly. “Then we wouldn’t have had to chase after you.”

Carewyn offered Bill a kinder look. “I know you’re working, Bill -- but if your next assignment involves dragons, you know we can help.”

Bill’s boss, Griphook, took in the exchange with dry interest. Keeping a beady eye on both Carewyn and Charlie, he explained the mission more clearly to Bill. The goal was to recover a golden egg created by the goblin Urguff the Unwary and stolen by a dragon that mistook it for one of her own and was now suspected to have settled in the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary. The goblin then encouraged Bill that if “these two humans” could assist him in researching dragons, then it might be wise to accept their offer of help. Bill agreed, and the three gingers met at the Hog’s Head to research the various breeds of dragons one might encounter at the Romanian Sanctuary. Bill was stubborn, however, in keeping their meeting focused solely on research.

“I appreciate you helping me study up on dragons,” he’d said firmly, “but I’m sorry, I’m not taking you on my mission.”

Carewyn would’ve respected Bill’s feelings on the matter, given that this was his job and he deserved to do it his own way...but she knew how much Charlie wanted to go with him, and admittedly she was worried for Bill’s safety, going to a preserve full of dragons all by himself. Charlie himself was just as bullheaded as Bill was, but in the opposite direction.

“If you’re going to that sanctuary, then I’m going with you -- no arguments,” he’d shot back.

Seeing the impasse the two brothers were at, Carewyn immediately moved into “compromise” mode. Bill had already said that he’d have to cancel one of his sessions at Hogwarts in order to complete this mission, and facing so many dragons alone would be way too dangerous, even for a full-grown wizard...so why not kill two birds with one stone by having Charlie, her, and a few other sixth-year students come with Bill to help him find the egg? That way, if Bill needed to stun a dragon at any point, there would be at least two other people shooting Stunning Spells with him.

“Dragons can only be taken down with multiple Stunning spells,” Carewyn reminded him. “You wouldn’t be able to take one down on your own, if you got cornered. I only got lucky with the one in the Vault -- that one was already in bad shape before I faced it. These dragons...they’re in a preserve. They’ll have been treated well. And because they’re protected by Wizarding Law, you probably wouldn’t be allowed to use any spells that could really hurt them, like the Conjunctivitis Curse. Half the reason the dragon in the Vault didn’t kill me was because it couldn’t see me.”

Bill clearly hated how much sense Carewyn was making. His protective big brother instincts fought with his interest in completing his mission, but at long last, he relented.

Carewyn and Charlie got Barnaby, Penny, and Merula on board, and the group visited Hagrid to borrow his camping tent and get some general camping advice and Kettleburn to get some instruction on dragon safety. That Friday, the five sixth-years gathered at the Training Grounds to meet Bill.

It had been so eerie to meet Bill, Charlie, and Merula at the Training Grounds so they could leave Hogwarts via Portkey. For a second, Carewyn felt her shoulders tensing up and her blood freezing as if she was going back into the Portrait Vault. It was only seeing Barnaby and Penny’s faces instead of Rakepick and Ben’s that made her feel the least bit grounded again, even as she took hold of the Portkey and the six of them were flung off their feet and spun around faster and faster and faster --

When they arrived at their destination, Carewyn felt her breath still in her throat.

There were massive trees as far as the eye could see -- dramatic cliffs and mountains dotted the horizon -- the air was so fresh and light, dusted with the scent of pine and burnt oak -- and then overhead, soaring with their wings wide right over them, were dozens of massive, majestic dragons.

It was beautiful.

Carewyn grinned from ear to ear seeing how happy Charlie was. She’d always thought dragons were cool, but her admiration of the creatures had nothing on what her fellow Fireball thought of them. Carewyn had always loved listening to her friends talk about their greatest passions, and Charlie was no exception.

It was quickly decided that it would be best to set up camp and start searching for the golden egg the next morning. As safe as Carewyn thought they’d be with the defensive magical wards she’d put up, she and Bill both thought that searching a dragon preserve at night was still riskier than it was probably worth. Soon the group had set up camp and -- on Barnaby’s suggestion -- started roasting marshmallows over a roaring campfire.

Barnaby immediately proposed sharing scary stories. Penny was reluctant; Carewyn herself didn’t love being scared herself and she didn’t want to upset Penny, but she reassured the blond Hufflepuff all the same.

“Sometimes it’s fun to be a little scared -- especially when you know those things aren’t real and can’t hurt you,” Carewyn had told her. “I mean, you’re with your friends. You know we wouldn’t let anything hurt you.”

Merula gave a sharp bark of a laugh.

Her voice was noticeably softer than normal, which startled Carewyn. The Slytherin Prefect hadn’t really included Merula in her mind when she’d said that, but...the look on Merula’s face made Carewyn feel almost guilty that she hadn’t. She was very glad that Barnaby started right into his scary story about the Bloody Broom.

Carewyn was actually getting really into Barnaby’s story before the roar of a dragon flying a mere four feet over their heads made the entire group duck, even as the defensive wards around the camp effectively kept the dragon’s tail or claws from touching them.

“Let’s go inside,” Carewyn said quickly, trying to will down her own heart rate as she looked over her companions’ identical white faces.

To Be Continued...

#adventures in cursebreaking #carewyn cromwell #jacob's sibling #hphm #hogwarts mystery #charlie weasley #bill weasley #merula snyde #barnaby lee #penny haywood #griphook #dragons #gifs #gameplay #roleplaying #my writing

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astralshipper · 5 years

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alright i know no one knows who lette is but im gonna just. rewrite the whole lette and balur meet will scene from the first book and im adding my s/i bc... hell yeah, so if u wanna know abt how wren and lette meet, here’s a hastily put together fic!!

basially for backstory: Wren and Will grew up together. They live in a place ruled by dragons that tax the people to death. Will gets visited by the dragon’s guards and is told he didn’t pay his taxes, though he did, and they are going to take his farm and arrest him. He basically fucks everything up and the guards set fire to his farm, so he runs before they can kill him. this picks up there!

WARNINGS FOR VIOLENCE, DEATH, KINDA GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS??? IT’S A MEDIEVAL FANTASY FIGHT SCENE THERE R SWORDS AND DEATH IM SORRY!! also it’s gay

The sight of her childhood friend’s farm up in flames had Wren’s heart in her throat. Were she standing still, her hands would be quite visibly shaking, but she wasn’t standing still. She couldn’t stand still. Not yet. It wasn’t safe yet. Will wasn’t safe yet.

Her feet pounded rhythmically against the forest floor of Breccan Woods. She had caught a glimpse of the familiar mop of brown hair dashing into the tree cover in the flickering light of the blazing fire. Her best friend needed her help, and the poor farm boy surely wouldn’t be able to survive in these woods alone. Breccan Woods was gnarly after nightfall. Ogres, goblins, and every creature in between crept through the shadows in search of rogue passersby. Why he had decided this to be a good idea, she couldn’t understand.

Her eyes flickered up through the cover of the trees. Through the gaps flashing by, she caught sight of the familiar form soaring overhead in the pale moonlight. The young, loyal falcon kept a close eye on the farm boy as she had instructed him to, and now all Wren needed to do was follow the bird’s lead.

The night stretched on, and the woods seemed endless. At some point the cover became too much, and she lost sight of her feathered companion. She could only hope she was headed in the right direction, and that he was headed for the hills like she thought he was.

A steady rainfall soaked the already dangerously jagged path beneath her boots. Her clothes were soaked through, and she swore the cold had seeped through to her very bones. Everything seemed to be going downhill very quickly, which is why she felt such a rush of relief when the trees gave way to a towering wall of rock leading up into the mountains she knew so well. And who was that entering a newly opened cave entrance?

Wren’s eyes widened, and she pushed herself forward again, pushing back the cries of protest from her overexerted muscles. The falcon circling overhead dove towards his master and settled himself on her shoulder, his claws digging into the layers of leather and chainmail adorning her upper body. The woman scrambled towards the cave opening and practically collapsed inside, only to choke on the foul stench that reached her nose.

She forced back a gag at the odor of gods only know what, but she had no time to think over the possibilities, as mere moments later a familiar male voice let out a fearful shriek. Another high squeal followed just after, and it didn’t even have time to go silent before Wren’s sword was drawn and at the ready.

Torches began to light the cave, illuminating not only the ash covered face of Will, but also the snarling faces of a full horde of goblins. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. Of course. Of course Will had to choose the one gods hexed cave that was filled with goblins. She twirled the sword in her hand and took a step forward.

“Sorry,” Will’s shaking voice echoed off the walls. “Wrong cave, my one’s a few entrances down.”

Wren rolled her eyes, far too used to Will’s antics by now to linger on this for long. She took a few more bold steps forward to stand protectively in front of the quivering man. She held her sword out towards the goblins as they continued to make their way slowly towards the pair. “We’ll be off, then,” she insisted, more to the man behind her than the other creatures in the cave. She wasn’t entirely sure if Will was capable of moving, but she hoped that the reminder would be able to kick start his mobility.

She was wrong. A threatening, collective growl rumbled through the space, erupting from every little creature closing in. Wren held her free hand behind her back to push Will towards the mouth of the cave. The falcon on her shoulder screeched and flapped his wings in resistance to the threat toward his master.

An unfamiliar howl cut through the air, roaring from behind her rather than in front of her as she expected. A squeal of fright left Will’s lips as he threw his arms over his head and dropped to his knees. A large, burly blur darted past Wren and barreled into the horde. A beat of silence. All of this happened seemingly in the same second.

And then all hell broke loose.

Battle cries erupted from every side, and Wren wasted no time before rushing forward and slashing at an oncoming goblin with her blade. The large scaly creature that had joined them and started the attack wielded a hammer against the beings, swinging and smashing them to bits with a satisfied howl. Somewhere behind Wren, she registered another figure fighting, this one far smaller but easily just as deadly, it appeared. Each goblin attempting to escape the cave entrance met the end of this new contender’s blades, which were dual wielded in either hand.

A lull in the battle on Wren’s end allowed her to take a good look at this new what seemed to be an ally. Her grip on the hilt of her sword tightened until her knuckles turned white at the sight she was met with. There, in the entrance of the cave’s mouth, silhouetted an armor clad woman slicing away at the endless droves of goblins attempting to both flee and attack all at once. Fiery red tinted hair was swept up in a messy ponytail at the back of her head, and the shorter strands that had escaped the hair band stuck to her sweat slick skin. Angular facial features set into a snarl, and her eyes glinted with a type of fury Wren had never seen before. Yet the grace this woman fought with showed that her anger did little in terms of blinding her skill. It looked like more of a dance routine than a fight. This was not war, this was art. She stood at a shorter stature than Wren herself, which was surely saying something, but her size didn’t weaken her in any way. That much was clear through the steadily climbing death count she was racking up.

Wren found herself so enamored with the sight of this newcomer that she almost forgot about the fight she was partaking in. A goblin threw itself at her, and the falcon on her shoulder screeched in just enough time for her to spin on her heel and swing her blade through the air to slice the creature midair. She twirled out of the way so the lifeless body could fall to the rock floor instead of hitting her in the chest and soiling her clothes further than they already were.

The fight ended rather quickly with such skilled fighters on her side, and soon enough she allowed herself to collapse against the wall of the cave. Her sword clattered to the ground by her side.

The newcomers didn’t seem to feel as relieved with the end of the battle. Now that Wren could take in the woman’s companion, she felt her mind twist in confusion. She had never seen, nor even HEARD of a creature like this. He stood at about eight feet tall, covered in huge, tough scales that resembled body armor. He was nothing but muscle and blood lust as he looked down upon the victims of the previous slaughter. He and the woman looked to each other and gave a nonchalant shrug.

“See?” His rumbling voice boomed, far too loud for the enclosed space. “That is being more fun than baking.”

The woman scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Shut up and start looking for the purse,” she snapped before whirling around on her heels and jabbing a finger in Will’s direction. “You. Have you seen a purse?”

Will’s eyes widened almost comically. “M-me?” He stuttered.

“No, the other helpful bystander standing just behind you.”

“Well,” Will began with a furrowed brow, trying to take a not-so-sly look behind him in case she was being serious. “I wasn’t sure if you meant her!” He waved a hand in Wren’s direction across the cave, who simply raised an exhausted brow. She reached a hand up and wiped the sweat away from her forehead with the back of her hand.

“She pointed at you, not at me, dumb ass,” she growled out. Today had not gone according to plan, and the last thing she needed was her best friend to embarrass her in front of the most attractive girl she’d seen in a long while.

Speaking of the attractive woman, she cast an amused smirk in Wren’s direction, her eyes flickering up and down her appearance as if to size her up. Wren felt as though the woman could see through to her very soul, and she shuffled her feet on the rock floor with uncertainty. She wasn’t used to much attention, much less attention from a pretty girl. This was a bit overwhelming.

The telltale crack of bones snapping echoed through the cave as the lizard creature tossed two of the bodies of the goblins into the cave wall. They fell to the ground in a heap, and Wren couldn’t help but wince at the sight and sound.

The woman’s face softened ever so slightly, and she tilted her head the tiniest fraction. “Not how you spend your typical evening?”

Wren huffed in faux amusement. “Not even a typical day for us.” She nodded her head in Will’s direction.

The woman finally allowed herself to smile - a real smile, one that crinkled her eyes and brought to life a dimple on one of her cheeks. Wren’s stomach flipped at the sight. “I’m Lette,” she introduced herself, before nodding to the lizard man accompanying her. “That’s Balur.”

Will remained silent as he peered back and forth between the two newcomers. Wren, however, felt the need to speak up. “What is he?” She wondered aloud, in reference to the lizard creature, or Balur, as she now knew him to be.

It took less than a second for Lette to reply. “An obstinate idiot.”

Balur huffed as he shook another goblin in search of the missing purse and tossed the useless corpse into the growing pile. “You being flirting is not helping us find our purse any faster,” he grumbled, clearly used to the snide remarks by now.

Wren’s cheeks heated up at the insinuation, and she opened her mouth in an attempt to defend herself. She wanted to say that it wasn’t true, that she wasn’t flirting. It would be a lie, but she could still say it. Lette spoke up first. “At least my version of flirting is a little more sophisticated than whipping my britches off and proffering some coin,” she sneered.

Who says you would need to proffer any coin? Wren thought to herself, before immediately shaking her head to get rid of the thought. Not the time for that.

Lette, however, rounded on Will and jabbed a finger in his direction once again. “Get any ideas and I shall feed you your own testicles,” she warned. Will looked about ready to crumble into a pile of pure nervous energy, and he quickly nodded in understanding through the look of utter confusion in his eyes.

It seemed that this was now the time that Will decided he should speak up. “I’m Will,” he began. “I’m a farmer.”

Lette hummed in thought as she turned to Balur. “How about farming?” She suggested quite suddenly. “Working with your hands. Very physically demanding, farm work can be.”

Balur, however, did not seem so keen. “Bad for reflexes. Ruin muscle memory,” he replied, leaving no room for argument. Lette sighed heavily and shook her head in clear annoyance. She turned back to Wren.

“How about you? I highly doubt you’re a farmer with swordsmanship like that.” She nodded her head to the bloodied blade on the ground. “Plus, falcons don’t usually seem to be popular farm animals,” she mused.

Wren chuckled and shook her head. “I’m Wren. I’m a falconer, but I grew up in the bladesmithing business. Got a shop back in town my parents left me. Kinda meant I had to know how to handle any kind of blade out there, you know?”

The corner of Lette’s mouth quirked upwards in the ghost of a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, then, Wren. Maybe I could show you a thing or two sometime, yeah?” She punctuated her sentence with an incredibly obvious wink.

That was all she did before turning away and returning to her task of searching the goblins for the aforementioned purse. Wren was left gaping at the insinuation, her cheeks burning under the sudden attention.

Nice to meet you too, Lette. Very very very nice to meet you.

#Dragon Slaying Girlfriends #this is way longer than i meant it to be #im so sorry #i literally just took most of will's lines and gave them to wren oops!!#also i made it gayer #bc dammit lette is bi as fuck and leans towards women im TELLING U ITS TRUE ITS GOTTA BE #also sorry will but i am stealing ur woman shes mine now love my gf!!!#astra writes

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stormscream · 5 years

Text

Conflux, Pt. 1

Ana’s eyes were glued shut, her expression pained as she dreamt.

Dreaming, of late, had been a whole new level of fantasy for Anafenza of the Ejinn. Some nights she was in her own memories, which was nothing out of the ordinary. Some nights, she was in front of the dark tree and hearing the mournful, enraged notes of the Dragonsong – she’d started having these dreams after she’d killed the elezen Jessika while she was brainwashed (but that is a long story for another day). But now, her dreams began to bleed into the wondrous: she’d dreamt she was flying, calling wind and rain and it obeyed her! Or that she was commanding a group of people bustling around some sort of control center, the floor shaking beneath them as explosions rocked them and she stared out at an endless sea of night. She’d even had a few where she and the other two “hers” interacted with one another, before she was jolted awake.

And then the dreams of everlasting light – a field of pink flowers, with child-like giggles floating on the breeze around her. There was no warmth, no sun in the sky – just light glaring down upon her, and voices.

“Aenc tyr,” they’d say. And another, “Open the gate.”

But this…this dream was new. It was a memory, but not her memory. As Anafenza looked around the small room as she paused her frantic packing, she knew it was not her own. The simple wood hut; the longbow leaning against the wall by the door; the roiling sky, filled with the great red light of the falling moon...

The falling moon… She quickly went to the window to look up and gasped. She had seen Dalamud in the sky as it fell years ago when she was still living in Othard, and her people had seen it as an ill omen.

"Quickly, Jessielle, quickly! Get your bow, come, come!"

Ana turned around, confused, before moving to the satchel of personal effects on the bed, nearly crammed full of trinkets and clothes she was trying to protect. Her family had finished ensuring the last of the villagers who were seeking shelter were in the catacombs, Anafenza thought, though she wasn’t sure how she knew this.

Once the last few villagers trickled in, the family returned to their own home to prepare. She assumed it was to gather what they could and hide as well, so she was in her private room, gathering mementos of her life, when her father came barging into her room, shouting her given name.

Anafenza froze, realizing the knowledge she’d just come to know. Father? Jessielle? These are Jessika’s memories! But why…am I in them?

There was a loud crack outside, and Ana and Jessika’s father turned to see, out the window, a plume of fire where a chunk of the moon had fallen. "Come Jessielle...there is not much time," he said, his crisp and proper Ishgardian words flowing gracefully out, despite the urgency.

"Père, what..." She heard herself saying, before finally looked at him, noticing the man was clothed in heavy, black leather armor, armored gauntlets with intricate gold and blood-red patterns winding over them. His legs were clad in armor as well, the same gold and red filigree snaking up the armor like ivy. "Père, what are you wearing?"

Her father – Jessika’s father – rolled his eyes and, picking up her bow from near the door with one hand, grabbed her arm with the other and pulled her out of the room. "There is no time to explain. Come, come!"

He pulled her through the house and outside, his armored fingers digging deep into Ana’s wrist. She squirmed a little, biting her lip to keep from yelling at him as she stumbled along behind as he guided her to the center of the small village.

"Jacemont, what took you so long? The time is approaching!"

Jacemont Saphir finally let go of Anafenza’s wrist, approaching the woman waiting for them there. She wore long, flowing robes of dark fabric, completely black except for a blood-red design up the right side. It wound up from the hem of the robes to the collar - an intricate, winding design like ivy, with leaves and thorns. She turned her head to look at them, her eyes cold and dark. "Jessielle, what were you doing?"

Before she knew what she was doing, Anafenza dipped her head in deference. "Mère," she greeted her, realizing this was Jessika’s mother. "I was gathering my things...why aren't we in the catacombs? What are you and Père doing out here?" She motioned to the descending moon, meteorites flying off it and impacting the ground in the distance. "We need to take shelter!" Anafenza looked around, realizing she wasn’t in control. She was watching the memory unfold, taking the role of Jessika in it. Even with the knowledge that she was in a dream, she couldn’t take control and change the course of it.

The mother – Raechelle, Anafenza realized was her name – shook her head ever so slightly and turned back to look at Dalamud. "We are sheltering. Jacemont, stand with me. Jessielle, come here." She motioned to her left and right sides; Jacemont stood to his wife's left, looking up at the sky. "Something is happening."

As she said the words, there was a loud crack, and the three of them watched as Dalamud began to fracture. Fire peeked out through the fissures, and enormous wings appeared at the top of the hulk. The surface of the moon roiled and shook.

"Gods preserve," Jacemont whispered, his eyes wide in horror.

Raechelle reached behind her, her hand grasping at the air behind her head. She raised her arm, and Anafenza watched in awe as woman lifted a large, black sword with gold-filigree into the air, pulling it out of thin air. Shadows and darkness seemed to pour out of it and fall off it, like fog off of an ice crystal. She spun the blade down and screamed, thrusting the sword into the ground.

There was deafening boom, and Ana fell backward as the moon was blasted apart, fragments flying into the ground with enough force that it shook all around them. A few homes were ripped apart as fragments slammed into them, fire and debris exploding into the air. The ground shook, and Ana fully expected to feel fire consume her. She was going to die, she knew it...

So when, after a few more moments, she was still alive, Ana opened her eyes, feeling the memory of Jessika’s confusion even though she knew what she was going to see. She looked around and heard herself gasp.

Raechelle was holding the hilt of the sword still, gritting her teeth. All around them, extending out several meters, was a swirling cloud of black mist and smoke, shadows flying through the cloud around them with such speed that Anafenza couldn't get clear views of them. The cloud enclosed them and much of the village like a bubble, the outside just barely visible.

Jacemont cursed loudly. "It's a dragon!"

"It's not a dragon, it's a god," Raechelle corrected, gazing in equal horror as her husband. Ana clambered to her feet, watching as the beast - which took up much of the sky - began to fly quickly around, flares of fire shooting from its body and striking the ground, causing more earthquakes and explosions. It soared overhead with a scream, releasing a volley of fire at the village below. Far in Othard, she remembered seeing the moon drift below the horizon, but this…

This is the Calamity everyone speaks of. Kami, what hell…

"Jacemont! Now!" Raechelle screamed. Anfenza turned in time to see the man reach up and behind him. He clenched his hand and, in the same way as she had seen the woman, pulled a large sword out of nowhere, thrusting it into the ground as well. There was a pulse of energy that she felt push through her, and the bubble of shadows grew darker.

The beast's fire slammed into the shield, and Jessika's parents shouted in surprise, both of them faltering slightly, as if a great weight just landed on their shoulders, pushing them downward. They held onto the hilts of their swords, struggling to straighten back up.

Anafenza looked around, the memory of terror rising in her as Jessika watched. Another memory crept into her thoughts, an earlier time that she’d seen this happen, but she didn’t focus on it. Anafenza had seen this cloud of shadows before as well – the day she killed Jessika, it had exploded around her, swirling around and subduing Ana, as the curse fell upon the auri girl.

Raechelle shouted, and Ana looked up to see the dragon approaching again, circling back around for another indiscriminate attack on the land below. "Jessielle, we need you!"

Anafenza blinked in surprise. "What?! No! I...I don't know what's happening!"

Jacemont staggered again, falling to one knee but still holding onto his sword. "Your bow, child! Your bow!"

Ana shook her head, staring at the wooden longbow in her hands. "I don't...know what you want from me," she said, still confused, though the hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle.

"Strike the ground!" He called again, pulling himself back up to standing. "Strike the ground and defend your home! Your friends! Your family! Defend those you love, protect them from this!" He looked at her, and she noticed his eyes were pitch black, shadowy energy flaring out of them like two dark fires. "You know what to do, child! Now, stand with us!"

Anafenza looked at the two elezen, then back at the bow in her hands. She looked up, seeing fire rain down again. Panicking, she did what Jacemont told her, lifting the bow in the air and striking the one end of it to the ground.

Ana felt another pulse of energy radiate out, and the shield grew darker still, swirling faster and further out so that it protected most of the village. She felt as if her feet were rooted to the ground, and her hands locked in place, wrapped around her bow. Her vision darkened as she heard the fire slam into the shield, felt the impact of the fireballs on the shield as if a heavy hand were shoving her to the ground. She fell to one knee, her hands unable to release the bow, gasping for breath. The familiar sensation of being choked by the darkness came to her, the same choking she’d felt when Jessika had died. Her eyes were playing tricks on her: in one moment, she could see the bow clear as day, but in the next the weapon appeared like a great sword, similar to the ones the elezen were wielding.

Similar to the sword I’ve pulled from my aether, she realized, recognizing the weapon she’d come to know as “Bloodthorn.”

The attack continued for what felt like hours, or maybe it was only a few seconds. The three of them were screaming in defiance and pain as the ground shook around them.

Then, the world went dark.

#ic #FFXIV #Aquarius #Conflux

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starryskylullaby · 5 years

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well met

oh hey look i’m actually posting something here

@sunsetsorcerer asked me on discord to write about valerius meeting lucerys the first time and i realized i hadn’t ever really talked much about that so here we go, here’s a little thing for the asoiaf au.

there was a clamor in the courtyard, even out in the storm. lord rambton’s people were calling over the wind and rain and opening the gates; valerius could not hear what was being said but he knew it must be something of import for them to be out in the rain this way. he passed maids on the way to the bridge to see who might be coming in, and heard excited whispering: did you see? did you see him? and this was not what caught his attention, not particularly--but when he stood finally in the wind on the bridge overlooking the west gate, he could see their guests: a boy and girl, the boy looking to be about his own age. they wore leathers as a rider might, but he saw no horses--and then as the boy looked up, he understood. a great shadow passed overhead, and then another, and valerius stared up in wonder at the two dragons that soared over their family’s keep and into the stormy skies. when he looked down again, the boy had wrapped his arm around the girl to lead her forward, but the girl was looking up at him. for a moment he met her gaze, startled by how openly she watched him, and by how bright blue her eyes were. he tore himself away just after she was led forward, and strode back indoors.

“...be welcome here, your highness--ah, my lord prince and my lady princess,” valerius could hear his father addressing someone as he entered their great hall after being summoned. there are the boy and girl from outside, soaking wet but standing tall as they were surrounded by the rambton men and women; the boy stood with his arm around the girl protectively, but she seemed at ease on her own. “there he is--my son, valerius, my lord,” his father gestured him closer, and the two visitors turned to look at him curiously. the boy was taller than the girl by a good foot, if not more--clearly older than her, and with wet, white-gold hair, strands falling loose from where it had been tied back from his face. he watched valerius approach with a bemused sort of look on his face; an easy smile, a confident way of tilting his chin up slightly that marked him, without doubt, as royalty. the girl was small, and slim. in her leathers she looked older, but her face was young, smooth and pale and heart-shaped under loose, long strands of black hair. her mouth was rounded and soft, her slim hands held in front of herself like a court lady, but her eyes were what drew his own gaze. blue as winter, blue as ice. he knew who she must be, and who that made the boy with her. “valerius!” the boy nodded, sounding pleased for some reason. “i think i like that name!” he took a leisurely stride towards him, and the girl moved with him, offering a sweet smile. “it is very nice--” she agreed softly, “and nicer still to make your acquaintance, my lord.” valerius had to tell himself to stop staring at her after a beat perhaps too long, the boy stepping a bit closer and meeting the other lordling’s eyes confidently. “i am prince lucerys of house targaryen,” he greeted, and turned to the girl beside him, “and this is my sister, princess astaeria.” she gave a little tilt of her head and her small smile became just slightly larger as she offered a hand. valerius raised her knuckles to his mouth and tasted rain on her skin. “my lady,” he mumbled, giving a bow that seemed to please both prince and princess. “please, your highnesses, i beg you both to make utmost use of our hospitality; let us see you both dried and warmed, and i will have our kitchens prepare a dinner for us all! you both are, of course, welcomed to remain under my roof at your leisure.” “you have our thanks, lord rambton,” drawled the prince, nodding, “and the thanks of the crown.” the princess nodded as well, smiling at lord rambton. “and the thanks of house stark, my lord,” she offered kindly, “my lady mother will be glad to know you offered us safe haven.” valerius watched her and recalled what had so oft been said of the targaryen princess, ‘astaeria sweetstar’. they called her the snow dragon, though, he thought, right now she looked a bit more like a wet wolf.

the storm continued through the next day. the prince and princess remained in the halls of their keep and caused quite the commotion among the maids and lord rambton’s men. the prince was handsome--he was called the golden dragon, and valerius could understand it even just looking at him in clothes much less fine than he knew the prince was used to. he was charismatic and loud, enjoyed laughing and seemed quick to pout at a perceived slight all the same. the princess, however...the maids spoke of how her mother was a disgraced lady, giving birth outside of wedlock. the princess was a bastard, even if she had been granted the name ‘targaryen’. men sang songs about her beauty, but she was no pure dragon. valerius watched with sidelong glances as she sat and sewed with his mother and her ladies, heard her teaching them songs from the north. she was no pure dragon, they said of her, but that only made her part direwolf, valerius thought. that seemed somewhat more deadly.

“have you been hunting with a proper party?” prince lucerys asked valerius the following day, as the storm kept on outside. they were strolling the halls--or, rather, valerius had been on his way to see their maester when lucerys had fallen into step with him, and now more than an hour later they were still walking together. “a ‘proper party’, my lord?” valerius arched a brow at the prince, who only looked amused. “horses, dogs, men--a proper party. ladies following behind, tents brought along.” valerius faced forward again. “no, i suppose i haven’t.” he hadn’t, either, ever been particularly interested in such a thing. “then it’s decided! you’ll come along on my next hunt!” the prince clapped valerius on the shoulder, looking rather triumphant. valerius nearly groaned, but managed to nod. “ah....delightful, my lord--” he was thankfully spared further conversation when the prince was distracted by hearing his sister’s voice in the distance. he trotted off to meet her and valerius watched as the two met round a corner, the prince immediately giving his arm to his sister, who smiled delightedly and continued on her walk beside him.

valerius wound up sitting with the prince and princess that evening as the wind continued to howl outside. the princess sat near one of the wide windows and gazed out into the dark while the prince stood near the fireplace. valerius listened as the prince told tourney stories, but watched the princess as she sat and embroidered at the windowsill. finally, she took her leave for the evening, and lucerys kissed her hand before bidding her goodnight. valerius watched the prince watch his sister go, and when she was gone, silence fell for a moment before the young lord spoke up from his chair. “i have heard that your mother the queen does not particularly care for princess astaeria,” valerius had wine by now, as did lucerys, who paused his hand before drinking when valerius spoke up. the prince turned to face him and for a moment valerius wondered if he’d spoken too far out of turn, but the prince only shrugged, making a bit of a face. “i suppose i can’t blame her--another woman’s child legitimized by her husband,” he sighed, “father has made....strange choices, i admit.” his eyes went to the door the princess had just exited through, “however, he adores her, astaeria. he cares a great deal for her mother as well, which only serves to further infuriate my mother--but had she been more caring a wife perhaps he would not have sought company elsewhere.” the prince’s words were blunt, and valerius took a long sip, telling himself it was better not to remark on this. after a moment he did speak up again. “i suppose he did her a service in legitimizing her. there are plenty of advantageous matches for a princess.” the prince looked back at him now. “she and i are to be married,” he said plainly, and valerius paused. it was known that this was a targaryen tradition, but with a bastard princess... “it is our custom, as it has been for centuries, since before the doom.” the prince continued, turning to watch the fire in the hearth. “i am certain that is why father has not agreed to any other matches for either of us as of yet.” so then it wasn’t certain, valerius thought to himself, but perhaps only wishful thinking on the prince’s part. he dared not voice that, either, and opted for a careful statement, “i suppose it would be a strategic alliance with the starks...” “it shall be,” the prince agreed, “yes. the wolves of winterfell still love her as the dragons of the south do.” he looked a bit smug but still very fond as he took a drink of his wine, still watching the fire, “but none love her as much as i.” valerius fell silent at this, his gaze dropping from the prince to the fire in thought.

the storm had dried the next afternoon, and the sunlight saw the two targaryens departing at last. the both of them thanked lord and lady rambton and prince lucerys stopped to flash him a pleased grin as the two massive dragons stretched their wings outside the keep’s walls. ”i shall send a raven with a summons soon enough, val,” he’d provided the nickname within two days’ time and valerius had grudgingly accepted it, “you will love the red keep, my friend--and i shall show you the stables and my hounds in the kennels!” and valerius was a bit relieved to see this whirlwind of a prince leave--but princess astaeria presented valerius with a gift before she and her brother left. a tunic, styled as the targaryens wore in king’s landing and on dragonstone, she told him. it was in wine red, embroidered at the collar with gold and a stylized ram’s head at the back of the neck. he realized as he held it in his hands that this must have been what she had been working on, and he looked back at her in shock, but she only smiled, resting a small hand on his. “my thanks, my lord, for befriending my brother, and providing us both such pleasant company. perhaps i will see you wear it if you visit king’s landing.”

he was left struck by something he could not put his finger on as she left with her brother. valerius watched the two dragons take to the sky with their riders astride them until he could no longer see their shapes, and looked down finally at the tunic in his arms again. a half she-wolf who would marry a golden dragon. his fingers trailed over the gold stitches making up one of the ram’s horns. it would be a slight against the crown to refuse an offer made by the crown prince.

#asoiaf au #apprentice esther #iiiiiii am gonna not tag this just in case l m a o

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doctortreklock · 5 years

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Never Returned to the World They Knew - April 9, 2019

Part of my Resolution19. Read it on AO3.

Prompt: "For someone whose dying, you seem kind of happy." (x)

Fandom: Merlin

Title: “Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Too” by Shel Silverstein

Words: 1615

It is 1099, and Merlin's lifeblood is soaking the dusty ground beneath him.

He laughs joyfully, the sound loud and broken in the quiet, over in an instant. It is replaced by ragged breaths, the dark stain beneath him ever growing. The sounds of battle rage on, but he is laying in a pocket of calm, his heartbeat growing fainter by the second.

"For someone who is dying," the man next to him gasps out, "you seem kind of happy."

His name is Richard, and he will never walk again, his leg broken in two places, his ankle shattered. He will likely live, though, and be able to return home to his wife and small daughter. He is here for the money and the opportunities. Richard has no desire for a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.

"I am happy," Merlin manages around the wounds carving bright streaks of pain through his abdomen. "He's not here yet. I get another chance." Underneath is the more pervasive threat, the dull burn that gradually fades as his body becomes more and more numb.

Richard seems to take that as a sign that Merlin has fallen into a hazy delirium from blood loss. He sits propped up on a rock next to Merlin and begins to recite a prayer, the Latin obviously memorized by rote. A buzzing fills his ears, Richard's words vanishing beneath the hum of his brain shutting down.

Richard doesn't understand that Merlin meant every word he said. Arthur isn't here yet. Merlin has been waiting for him, has been rushing headlong into any trouble England can find herself in, but he hasn't found Arthur yet. And if Arthur hasn't returned, then Merlin isn't done. He will be back again, his reincarnation both a blessing and a curse by turns. He doesn't know why he's still here, just knows that the Once and Future King is still slumbering, and the Old Magic in his veins and his lungs and his skin won't let him go without Arthur.

And so Merlin will wait.

The last thing he sees is sky.

It is 1471, and England is tearing herself apart.

Apparently not content with a century of bloodshed in France, Merlin's countrymen - Arthur's subjects - have turned their violence against themselves. Battle lines are quickly and decisively drawn, as mortal men kill for their chance at the throne.

Merlin wants to scream. It's Arthur's throne, he yells in the silence of his own head. It belongs to Arthur and nothing you can do will make you worthy of it.

Time and time again he finds himself by a lake in Wales. Some days he paces wildly, his hands making sharp, angry gestures as he regales his king with the latest in a long line of reasons that prat needs to come back and fix things. Some days he stands still and watches the water quietly before leaving without a word.

And some days he sits at the edge with his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around himself as the water gently laps at his toes. And he speaks softly and tells Arthur about all the things he's missed and all the things Merlin wishes he could see. And all the ways that the world is bigger than it was before, and Merlin so much smaller, and how much he misses Arthur.

And king after king is murdered and deposed and Merlin can't stop himself from shaking. Because if this isn't enough for Arthur to come back, if this isn't the hour that England needs him most, then how much worse is it going to get?

It is 1652, and the monarchy has fallen.

Parliament, the people, have decided that they are tired of kings and queens and have taken the country into their own bloody hands.

The king is dead, his son banished, and Merlin watches in horror as Arthur's throne is shrouded and sits empty.

He goes to the abbey in London once and finds the tomb of Edward the Confessor, whose death caused the invasion of William and his band of Frenchmen from Normandy. Merlin wonders if Edward knew what chaos his death would bring. If the Saxons who preceded him knew what Arthur's death had done to Camelot and his united Briton.

Merlin has been alive for about a millennium by this point (give or take a few years here and there), and he has seen the good, the bad, and the worse of England. He's been born a lord once or twice, has fought in wars and taken religious oaths and worked the land. Merlin was and always will be a child of the people.

The king had fought Parliament and had lost. Merlin, the boy from Ealdor, knows that Will would have been viciously gleeful about it. That his mother and Gwen would have welcomed the change, the chance to lead a kingdom without bowing to blood and birthright.

But Merlin, who had fought warlocks and dragons and knights to protect the Once and Future King of Camelot? Merlin knows that there are some people who were born to rule, and rule well. That Arthur, no matter his status or birthright, would always end as a leader of men. That people would always gravitate toward him, regardless of whether there was a crown on his head.

He leaves Westminster. Perhaps the throne itself isn't as necessary as he had always believed, but Arthur would always be Merlin's king.

It is 1940, and the sky is falling.

Explosions have rocked London for nearly two months straight. Merlin has used his magic more in the last six weeks than he has in six centuries. He rescues children under teetering beams and keeps glass shards from flying when panes shatter against the ground. He keeps windows dark and streets empty at night when the Luftwaffe soar overhead, dropping death in their wake.

He had forgotten what it was like, to feel the rush of energy flow through him, of life. It's as easy as breathing, and he uses it to keep the people of England safe - his people, Arthur's people.

Merlin keeps his eyes open and his ears attuned to the slightest rumor. He reads the newspapers everyday and every war bulletin he can get his hands on. There's no sign of Arthur.

It seems the entire world is at war. Merlin can't imagine a world worse than this one, and it appears other people agree. Arthur may have been gone from the world for centuries, but he never left the public imagination. It seems everyone, from Parliament members to homeless orphans, believes that now is the time for Arthur's return.

But there is no sign of Arthur.

In a way, Merlin is almost proud of that fact. Does he want to see Arthur again? Yes, desperately. He has missed his friend, and Arthur's return may be the only thing capable of halting Merlin's reincarnations. But if Arthur isn't here, that means England will survive this, that she will make it through the bombings and the terror. That Germany will not see her fall. And that is its own kind of comfort.

It is today, and Merlin is still waiting.

He is 27 again, and he's sitting on the edge of a fountain in Trafalgar Square, drinking a cup of overpriced coffee and absentmindedly scrolling through the news on his phone.

Each year and each day, the tidings become grimmer and the predictions become more dire. At least, that's what the anchors would have you believe. Merlin lived (and died) through half a dozen waves of the Black Death and over thrice as many wars. He's been shot, stabbed, decapitated, drowned, drawn and quartered, and beaten to death. Rumor of government corruption abroad and economic collapse at home don't shake him the way they do his modern contemporaries.

Sometimes Merlin takes a moment to step back and think about everything that has changed in the last millennium and a half. To marvel at the changes that have been wrought. He misses the magic that permeated everyday life and the smell of dirt roads after it rained. He's also a great fan of penicillin and indoor plumbing, though, so he's not that nostalgic for the 6th century. (Also the coffee.)

But even though he goes to school (because it's expected) and gets a job (because he still needs money, even if he does keep leaving it to himself), he is still only waiting for Arthur to emerge from a lake in Wales. And Merlin wonders how his friend, his king, is going to be able to stand up to guns and missiles and nuclear weapons when he was always most comfortable with a blade in his hands and a horse between his thighs as he led knights into battle.

Merlin comforts himself the same way he has for the last five centuries. The world is changing, but Arthur can change with it. He doesn't need to be king (though thank gods the monarchy had been restored). Arthur was, and will be, a leader of men. He is just and true and righteous, and he will cut down England's enemies with whatever weapons he has to hand, whether swords or soldiers or words.

Arthur Pendragon is the Once and Future King, and he will be glorious upon his return, be it as a soldier, a lawyer, a journalist, a king, or a school boy who hasn't yet learned that money can't buy friends.

Merlin checks the time, then pockets his phone and tosses his empty coffee cup, heading towards the nearest Tube stop.

Arthur will be back one day, and Merlin will be waiting for him when he does.

#Resolution19 #Merlin #Reincarnation #Merlin's just sort of chillin'#waiting for Arthur to come back #even though he spends most of the time not very chill at all #poor Merlin #I'm really digging this Silverstein title style #I might do another one later #this is my 1k+ for the month btw #in case anyone's counting but me lol

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sleepwalker-in-me · 6 years

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Dany and Bran: Chasing stars

1) Dragon's tail (red) and Ice dragon's tail (blue).

Both see the red comet, that spark their magical interest when they are at the lowest point of their life. Bran has to redefine his life after losing his legs and is in mourning after the intuitive feeling he has of the doom that is going to befall on his family. Dany has to deal with lose of the only happiness she has felt in her life and has to protect her khalasar after being deprived of her family and rudimentary power. Both start on a quest by following a red star and a blue star, called as dragon's tail and ice dragon's tail.

"The way the comet points is the way we must go," Dany insisted . . . though in truth, it was the only way open to her.( A Clash of Kings - Daenerys I) I've heard servants calling it the Dragon's Tail."( A Clash of Kings - Sansa I)

"Do you know the way north? To the Wall and . . . and even past?" "The way's easy. Look for the Ice Dragon, and chase the blue star in the rider's eye."( A Clash of Kings - Bran V) By day he took directions from the sun, and on clear nights they could follow the Ice Dragon's tail, though they hadn't traveled much by night since the second horse had died.( A Storm of Swords - Samwell III)

2) Curious about the comet and taking the comet as a sign.

Bran keeps asking everyone around him about the red comet. Osha and Old Nan informs him that it means dragons. Dany looks for a sign before she performs the blood and fire magic that leads to the birth of dragons.

"Wolves often howl at the moon. These are howling at the comet. See how bright it is, Bran? Perchance they think it is the moon." When Bran repeated that to Osha, she laughed aloud. "Your wolves have more wit than your maester," the wildling woman said. "They know truths the grey man has forgotten." The way she said it made him shiver, and when he asked what the comet meant, she answered, "Blood and fire, boy, and nothing sweet." …. "Dragons," she said, lifting her head and sniffing. She was near blind and could not see the comet, yet she claimed she could smell it. "It be dragons, boy," she insisted. ( A Clash of Kings - Bran I) Osha to Bran: The stars don't fall for men. The red comet means one thing, boy... dragons.( ep 2x 1)

The bodies are burned beneath the open sky, and the khal rises on his fiery steed to take his place among the stars. The more fiercely the man burned in life, the brighter his star will shine in the darkness. Jhogo spied it first. "There," he said in a hushed voice. Dany looked and saw it, low in the east. The first star was a comet, burning red. Bloodred; fire red; the dragon's tail. She could not have asked for a stronger sign. Dany took the torch from Aggo's hand and thrust it between the logs.( A Game of Thrones - Daenerys X)

3) Comet showing the way.

Both marvel at their awakened magical powers and feel optimistic to take the next step in their journey.

I am walking, he thought, exulting. Part of him knew that it was only a dream, but even the dream of walking was better than the truth of his bedchamber, walls and ceiling and door.It was dark amongst the trees, but the comet lit his way, and his feet were sure. ( A Clash of Kings - Bran I)

The Dothraki named the comet shierak qiya, the Bleeding Star. The old men muttered that it omened ill, but Daenerys Targaryen had seen it first on the night she had burned Khal Drogo, the night her dragons had awakened. It is the herald of my coming, she told herself as she gazed up into the night sky with wonder in her heart. The gods have sent it to show me the way.( A Clash of Kings - Daenerys I)

4) Howling at the comet and touching the comet.

Bran and Dany imagine themselves as wolf and dragonrider respectively and wants to see the world. Bran wants to go racing to the top of a mountain. Dany imagines flying will be like being on top of a mountain but only better. While Bran howls at the comet, Dany wants to touch the comet.

If I were truly a direwolf, I would understand the song, he thought wistfully. In his wolf dreams, he could race up the sides of mountains, jagged icy mountains taller than any tower, and stand at the summit beneath the full moon with all the world below him, the way it used to be. "Oooo," Bran cried tentatively. He cupped his hands around his mouth and lifted his head to the comet. "Ooooooooooooooooooo, ahooooooooooooooo," he howled. ( A Clash of Kings - Bran I)

If I had wings, I would want to fly too, Dany thought. The Targaryens of old had ridden upon dragonback when they went to war. She tried to imagine what it would feel like, to straddle a dragon's neck and soar high into the air. It would be like standing on a mountaintop, only better. The whole world would be spread out below. If I flew high enough, I could even see the Seven Kingdoms, and reach up and touch the comet.( A Clash of Kings - Daenerys I)

5) Reclaiming forgotten magic and remembering inborn magic.

Both brings back the magic that have faded from the world. While Dany figures out the ‘blood and fire magic’ by herself, Bran needed help from mentors to figure out the ‘earth magic’. Trees and dragons stand as symbols for the magic that have gone astray due to infighting among men.

"Perhaps magic was once a mighty force in the world, but no longer. What little remains is no more than the wisp of smoke that lingers in the air after a great fire has burned out, and even that is fading. Valyria was the last ember, and Valyria is gone. The dragons are no more, the giants are dead, the children of the forest forgotten with all their lore.” ( A Clash of Kings - Bran IV)

"What do the trees remember?" "The secrets of the old gods," said Jojen Reed. ..... "Truths the First Men knew, forgotten now in Winterfell … but not in the wet wild.( A Dance with Dragons - Bran III) When they died, they went into the wood, into leaf and limb and root, and the trees remembered. All their songs and spells, their histories and prayers, everything they knew about this world Leaf touched his hand. "The trees will teach you. The trees remember."( A Dance with Dragons - Bran III)

Was it madness that seized her then, born of fear? Or some strange wisdom buried in her blood? Dany could not have said. She heard her own voice saying, "Ser Jorah, light the brazier."( A Game of Thrones - Daenerys VI) The heat beat at the air with great red wings, driving the Dothraki back, driving off even Mormont, but Dany stood her ground. She was the blood of the dragon, and the fire was in her...She had sensed the truth of it long ago, Dany thought as she took a step closer to the conflagration, but the brazier had not been hot enough. ( A Game of Thrones - Daenerys X) She told herself that there were powers stronger than hatred, and spells older and truer than any the maegi had learned in Asshai. The night was black and moonless, but overhead a million stars burned bright. She took that for an omen.( A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IX) "Daenerys. Remember the Undying. Remember who you are." "The blood of the dragon." ... ( A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys II) Then she saw. Her mask is made of starlight. "Remember who you are, Daenerys," the stars whispered in a woman's voice. "The dragons know. Do you?"( A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys X)

6) Dreams and prophecies.

Both struggle with prophetic visions they are having. They are skeptical of the visions, but magic tugs at them as they are born with innate magical powers.

"The green dreams take strange shapes sometimes," Jojen admitted. "The truth of them is not always easy to understand." Maester Luwin says there’s nothing in dreams that a man need fear.” “There is,” said Jojen. "What?" "The past. The future. The truth." They left him more muddled than ever. When he was alone, Bran tried to open his third eye, but he didn't know how. ( A Clash of Kings - Bran V)

She found herself remembering her nightmare. Sometimes there is truth in dreams. ( A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VII) "I am half-sick of riddling. In Qarth I was a beggar, but here I am a queen. I command you—"( A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys II) Dreams and prophecies. Why must they always be in riddles? I hate this( A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VII)

7) Singing to stars and whispering of stars.

Bran loves hearing wolves singing to the stars and wishes he could understand their language.Stars whisper to Dany about her identity as the last dragon.

He could not walk, nor climb nor hunt nor fight with a wooden sword as once he had, but he could still look. He liked to watch the windows begin to glow all over Winterfell as candles and hearth fires were lit behind the diamond-shaped panes of tower and hall, and he loved to listen to the direwolves sing to the stars.( A Clash of Kings - Bran I)

And saw her brother Rhaegar, mounted on a stallion as black as his armor. Fire glimmered red through the narrow eye slit of his helm. "The last dragon," Ser Jorah's voice whispered faintly. "The last, the last." Dany lifted his polished black visor. The face within was her own. After that, for a long time, there was only the pain, the fire within her, and the whisperings of stars.( A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IX)

8) Cold heart of winter and hot heart of darkness.

Both have to dabble in darkness to emerge stronger, so that they can navigate through the political and magical intrigues threatening their kingdom. Dany has wandered all around the world and dealt with numerous people. Bran as three eyed raven is getting to know the world. GRRM have given enormous powers to Dany and Bran as they had the innocence, empathy and humanism that shield them from losing their way in the darkness. GRRM describes the process of Dany taming the dragons as stepping into darkness. Bran sees the heart of winter and is afraid when he first sees it, the next time he will not turn away. Dany was also unsure of taming her dragons at the beginning .

"Never fear the darkness, Bran." The lord's words were accompanied by a faint rustling of wood and leaf, a slight twisting of his head. "The strongest trees are rooted in the dark places of the earth. Darkness will be your cloak, your shield, your mother's milk. Darkness will make you strong."( A Dance with Dragons - Bran III)

North and north and north he looked, to the curtain of light at the end of the world, and then beyond that curtain. He looked deep into the heart of winter, and then he cried out, afraid, and the heat of his tears burned on his cheeks. ( A Game of Thrones - Bran III)

To go forward you must go back, and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow."( A Storm of Swords - Daenerys III) But my dragons are roaring in the darkness.....Daenerys Targaryen stepped into the hot heart of darkness.... Forty feet below, her dragons raised their heads. ( A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys II) "I am the blood of the dragon," she told the grass, aloud. Once, the grass whispered back, until you chained your dragons in the dark.( A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys X)

A furnace wind engulfed her...His eyes were molten. I am looking into hell, but I dare not look away. She had never been so certain of anything. If I run from him, he will burn me and devour me. ( A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys IX)

Finally after passing all the trials they both have returned to their birthplace to defend the realm. Both their journeys have been soaked in blood and tears . Bran wanted to be a knight and Dany wanted the safety of a home.Tragedy pushed them to embrace their powers.These two quotes from the show underscore how important they are for the future of Westeros.

Meera to Bran : If we lose you…we lose everything. ( ep. 4 x 2) Tyrion to Dany : If you die, we are all lost. Everyone, everything. ( ep. 7 x 6)

#daenerys targaryen #bran stark #asoiaf meta #asoiaf #game of thrones #got #daenerys #brandon stark #bran x dany #dany x bran #daenerys x bran #bran x daenerys #daenerys meta #my meta #daenerysmeta

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thekimonogallery · 6 years

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Yuzen-painted furisode. Mid-Meiji period (1880-1900), Japan. The Kimono Gallery. A remarkable chirimen silk furisode featuring a yuzen-dyed Mount Horai scene, with ocean waves beating against shore rocks with pines, while cranes fly far overhead. Some embroidery highlighting. The crane is one of the three major mystical animals, together with the dragon and the tortoise. Its chief symbolic meaning is long life. With their lifespan of some thirty years, cranes were thought to live not just decades but thousands of years, becoming virtually synonymous with immortality. At Japanese weddings it is a symbol of loyalty. Also associated with the qualities of honour and wisdom, cranes were believed to be intermediaries between heaven and earth, a messenger of the gods to humans, thus symbolizing the spiritual ability to enter a higher state of consciousness. Furthermore, the crane also represents a lasting soaring spirit, health, and happiness. Their white bodies stand for purity and their red heads denote vitality. In Japan, the pine tree is considered one of the most beautiful trees. Several pine trees in Japan are over 800 years old. Over time the climate and other natural causes, as well as pruning and trimming, form the picturesque pine tree. It is one of the most auspicious symbols in all Japan of fortune and nobility. The pine is considered sacred, a belief that may stem from ancient Shinto ideas of trees and other plants as representations of divine spirits. In Japan, entrances to houses are often decorated with pine branches to welcome the Gods of New Year; its needle-shaped leaves are believed to have the power to drive away unwanted demons and protecting good fortune. The long life of this tree and the fact that they are evergreen make them a symbol of strength, longevity and endurance. Considered to be the most aristocratic of all trees, the imperial gardens of Japan are full of pines. Befitting its status, the samurai as well as other nobles and aristocrats commissioned artists to paint pine trees as a means of wishing long life and auspiciousness. With regards to the five 'tomoe'-design family crests on this garment: during the period of feudal strife in Japan, the tomoe design came to be regarded as the personal symbol of Hachimon, god of war. The design also became the most popular decoration under the eaves and on the tiled rood edges of temples – apparently in the belief that the design represented a whirlpool and would serve the talismanic purpose of waterproofing the building. As a heraldic device, the tomoe was thus not merely and elegant design in its own right, but also possessed desirable religious and martial qualities. All the artwork on this kimono represent a simplified version Mount Horai. The Taoists believe that Mount Horai was a paradise located in the Eastern Sea (Sea of Japan). Considering that the silk of this kimono is rather course and warm, and the Mount Horai subject matter, suggests this furisode was created for a winter wedding, perhaps by the bride's unmarried sister, or alternatively by the bride herself prior to the main wedding ceremony.

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sailorshadzter · 4 years

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the queen that never bent.

a season 8, canon divergent oneshot. it started out as drunk rambles i figured id never finish. but, finally, it’s done.

told with the premise of: political jon, jon not keeping his family in the dark, and bran seeing the ultimate outcome of things & telling his siblings about it.

She's soft and she's warm, the taste of her lingers upon his lips.

"Jon." Breathless. Her hands clutch the front of his shirt, his furs and leather cast aside hours before. "Please, don't go-" He silences her with a kiss, quick and telling, when he draws away from her she's steel eyes and a furrowed brow. "I mean it," softer still, the truth a wedge between them.

"I have to," he whispers back, wishing with all of his heart that they might escape, run away to a world without war... Without death. "You know what I must do." Blue eyes meet gray and she blinks quickly, as if she's forcing back tears. "I can't let her become-"

It's her turn to silence him, a finger to his lips, a simple shake of her red head. "Don't say it," she says, though she means anyone could be listening. They are no longer safe, though Sansa supposes she's not been safe in years. "You don't have to do this." They both know she doesn't speak of Daenerys and Jon smiles in spite of himself, shrugging.

"Yes I do." Her eyes widen, tongue darting out to sweep across her lip, enticing him even now. How does she do that? "I made a promise to you, Sansa. I made a promise to the North." She's reminded of those days, of those persistent echos of I'll protect you, I promise. He's done more than just protect her, he's saved her. "Besides you..." He trails off, looking away, so she catches his face between her palms. The words left unspoken are a wedge between them, though her smile is sweet, her blue eyes understanding. "You're giving up the North."

"But I'm leaving it in good hands." She reminds him, bringing a grin to his face. Her words are those he once spoke to her, a day that now feels like a lifetime ago. "After all this time, they deserve their King in the North who's name is Stark." This time he chuckles and so does she, her heart light and yet so very full. It seems like a different life, the one she's left behind. A new war looms ahead and yet... She feels no fear.

"I'm not a Stark." He quips back and she slips into his arms.

"You are to me," she breathes against his skin, trailing the hollow of his throat with her lips as his hands slide into her hair.

[ x x x ]

It's stopped snowing.

In the days since the fight with the Night King, the snow has lessened little by little, until this very morning when she woke to a strangely clear sky. She had stood dazed in the courtyard, the winter sun warm against the exposed skin of her face. Warm... How strange, to feel the warm sun again.

Now she stands on the battlements, watching as what remains of the dragon queen's army marches from Winterfell. Drogon screeches overhead, the silver haired queen atop his back; she casts a backwards glance towards the Lady of Winterfell before she surges forward, soaring South towards the throne she thinks she's to reclaim. She looks away from the dragon as it flies away down to where she sees Jon, far ahead at the start of the marching army, already nearly out of her sight. Her heart twists and she turns, heading back inside, discarding her furs and cloak into her chambers before stepping back out.

In the main hallway, just outside the dining hall, she finds Lord Royce.

"My lady," he greets in his distinct tenor voice, offering a bow and Sansa smiles upon him, this most loyal of her Lord's.

"Prepare for a journey to King's Landing." She says without hesitation and Lord Royce sputters at her request. "Ensure we are prepared to go at any moment, I will give you the word when it is time." Lord Royce stares at her for a long moment, but there is trust in his gaze and understanding in his smile when he nods.

"Of course, my lady." He replies with another bow, taking his leave of her to do as she bids.

Sansa watches him go and knows now, all she can do is wait.

[ x x x ]

The knock on her door is soft but Ghost raises his head from his paws at the sound.

When it opens, Bran and Arya are coming into the room, her younger siblings joining her where she sits before the fire, Brienne standing quietly in the corner. Arya sinks to the floor beside Ghost, at once running her hand through his shaggy fur. Bran fixes her with his strange, stoic gaze and Sansa finds she must look away. "It is time," he says a moment later and Sansa looks back up in surprise, blue eyes widening as she peers back at her brother. "They've reached King's Landing." Sansa nods and at once, Brienne excuses herself from the room, off to find Lord Royce and inform him it is time to leave as their lady requested.

"Are you certain this is what you want?" It's Arya.

Sansa turns to face her sister and her heart softens, her lips curving with a fond smile. This sister she had thought she would never understand, never be close with. This was the sister who pulled her hair and ruined her gowns. This was the sister who slew a man at her request, this was the sister that saved them all. She reaches out, unable to stop herself from running her fingertips across the still fading bruise on her sister's face. "I always wanted to be queen." Sansa chuckles when she draws back, though Arya's gaze burns into hers. "And Jon..." I would do anything for, Jon. She can't say that. "This is what's best for the realm." She says instead.

"The realm?" Arya scoffs, but she doens't pry. Sansa and Jon will tell her their truth on their own terms, she supposes. Besides, isn't she hiding Gendry from them? "Fine. But I won't wear a dress to your coronation." She's on her feet, brushing the stray white hairs from her dark, Stark colored clothes. For a moment, the two sisters share a smile and it's as if they are children again, two sides of the same coin, one rising like the moon, the other setting like the sun.

They are family, they are a pack, no matter what way the winds blow.

[ x x x ]

King's Landing is in ruins.

Sitting there in the dragonpit, among the other nobles, she can feel her heart begin to race. A few seats down, Yara Greyjoy glares daggers, but Sansa has faced worse. Tyrion stands before them in chains and Sansa wonders what the imp would say if her first action as queen was to have him executed for treason. He will have his pardon, she supposes, but will live closely under her watch for the remainder of his days. "You all are the most powerful people in all of Westeros, aren't you?" Tyrion is speaking and she returns her full attention back to him as he speaks. "Choose your king. Choose wisely and perhaps this realm will finally know peace." He means to say he already knows of a candidate, but Edmure Tully is on his feet after several beats of silence, fully prepared to speak his bid to the group.

"Uncle," Sansa cuts in and the man turns to face her steely gaze. "Sit down."

He does.

"There is one..." Tyrion begins, yet again drawing the attention to himself. "There's one among you who perhaps might be the most logical choice of them all. A ruler with a kind heart, yet a firm belief in what's right." He's taking a few steps forward, his gaze sweeping from every face until it falls upon Sansa's face. "They will call her the Red Wolf of Winterfell, the Queen that Never Bent." Now he stands before her, speaking the words she's been waiting for him to say. He speaks every word that Bran said he would and though she's had them memorized for days, they still surprise her.

Another wave of silence falls but one by one, slowly, agonizingly slow, heads begin to nod. The silence is only broken by Brienne rising from her seat on Sansa's left side, the creaking of wood the only sound in the air. And then Arya is side stepping around from where she stands behind her and together, the two women take to a knee before the woman they will most ardently call queen. Sansa's breath catches when Lord Royce kneels next, followed at once by Ser Davos and Gendry. There is only one person who does not kneel, but Sansa didn't expect Yara to bend. Not yet. She recalls that same fierceness in Theon and her heart aches.

"You have chosen your queen, now you must choose Jon Snow's fate."

Grey Worm's voice is sharp as steel and all eyes swivel back to face him as they return to their places, though both Brienne and Arya hover behind her shoulders, hands on hilts. "Jon Snow will return North," Sansa speaks for the first time as their chosen queen and a hush falls among those who whispered. "He and I took back the North from the Bolton's, we reclaimed it as ours. It belongs to House Stark and always will." She rules without protest, which surprises her. "You and your men may stay in our realm if you mean peace, but if you don't..." She tilts her head, blue eyes glaring in the sunlight. "Then you will regret not leaving when you had the chance." Grey Worm regards her for a moment, but against this she-wolf with her red hair tied into war braids, with eyes like ice, he has no chance. And so he nods. "Release him." She now gestures towards Tyrion and though he hesitates a moment, Grey Worm unlocks the shackles around the imp's wrists.

"Thank you," he says softly, bringing his blue eyes up to meet hers.

She doesn't answer.

"Take me to him." She rises up from her chair and stalks towards the man beside him instead, though both Arya and Brienne are on her heels. "Take me to Jon." Grey Worm grunts a response through frowning lips before he turns his back to her and begins to walk back towards what remained of the Red Keep.

When the door to his cell opens, Jon is certain it's her.

She comes into the room and at once he's on his feet, the pull of his embrace sweeping her off of her feet. "I was beginning to worry," he jokes when she's on her feet again, her rosy lips curved with the most radiant of smiles. His hair is wild and his beard overgrown, but he's healthy and he's alive. There is a healing cut above his right eye, a bruise fading into his hairline that she can't help but to brush her fingers against. He catches her fingers with his own, drawing them to his lips for a kiss. The warmth of his lips against her skin lingers long after she's drawn her hand back.

"It's time to go home." She says with a smile and Jon nods, knowing there was no where else he wanted to go.

[ x x x ]

As twilight falls the first night back in Winterfell, they marry beneath the canopy of weirwood trees in the godswood. It was the only thing they could do that made sense now, in the aftermath of everything, it was the only thing that felt right.

When they've settled themselves into their chamber, she's like a dream come true. Standing there in just her soft, white nightgown, with her red hair spilling down her back... He can barely believe that this is real. For the first time in a lifetime or two, he feels excitement about what is to come. "Come to bed, wife," he calls out and she turns to face him with a chuckle, her cheeks twin blooms of color. But she comes as she's been bid, sinking down onto the edge of the bed that Jon lays sprawled out upon. He reaches for her hand and tugs her down to him, snaking his arm around her thin frame and pulling her as close as he can. She snuggles in against him, chin tucked into the space between his shoulder and neck, her body warm against his despite the thin layer of clothes between them. "I have dreamed of this," he admits in a whisper as he runs his hand along the outline of her body, stopping only when he reaches her hip. "I have dreamed of you." It was Sansa that he's been waiting for all of his life. It was Sansa that rescued him, it was Sansa that breathed new life into him. It was Sansa that had given him purpose, that had given him life.

She's blushing again and he tilts her head back so he might kiss her, a long but sweet kiss that fills her to the brim with warmth. With hope.

It's all she's ever wanted.

[ x x x ]

King's Landing is full of ghosts but she pushes past them, one by one, until she stands in what remained of the throne room. Her first order as queen had not been Tyrion Lannister's execution, but rather the rebuilding of the town, the Red Keep would come later. They kneel in the streets for her, swearing fealty to the girl that they remember from the days of Joffrey Baratheon. They praise her kind heart and she isn't certain she deserves their devotion, though she smiles and waves to them when she steps outside the palace walls a few times a day, just to ensure the rebuild is going as planned.

What was left of the Iron Throne was a solidified puddle of iron, melted down by Drogon before he had fled King's Landing with his mother's body. She supposes they might never know the truth of where Drogon took Daenerys, but they will keep close watch on Drogon to ensure the beast causes no harm wherever he goes.

"What will you sit upon now?"

She turns at the sound of the voice and it is Tyrion approaching her, still sporting his beard, though his hair has been tamed again. "I am told Gendry works tirelessly to ensure a new one is made." She had hoped to do without a clunky, iron throne of her own, but she supposes if she's to be Queen of the Iron Throne, she needs one to sit upon. As Tyrion steps up to stand beside her, she turns back to the dais with a sigh.

It's been many years since she stood in this place and she had hoped it would feel more empowering to stand where she once stood as the victim, but now stands as a queen. As a survivor. In truth, it feels a lot more hollow than she had hoped. "It's strange, isn't it?" She casts a glance towards Tyrion, who like Sansa, has lost himself in a memory of this room. "To be standing here again, with you, with me. I had thought I might never truly see this place again."

Sansa can't help to smirk. "Would you not have returned with your dragon queen?" Her stare is icy cold when she turns to the imp, facing him fully. "Or perhaps you did not believe in her as deeply as you say you did." Tyrion's face is impassive, but his green eyes widen slightly before a smile flits across his deformed features, as if there is a silent understanding between them.

"I should like to serve you." Tyrion says, wishing what she said had been truth- he had believed in Daenerys Targaryen and that was why it hurt so much to see things turn out the way that they had. His queen had not been the one who burned King's Landing that day, his queen had been left behind in Essos, his queen had long since been dead to him. "If you will have me, that is."

She wonders what it is about men and saying such a thing to her. For a moment, her heart aches with the memory of Theon, but she pushes past it with a wave of her hand. "I already have a Hand to the Queen," she reminds him, thinking of Lord Royce, who has served her well all this time. "And the council has already been filled," she adds, turning to step away, fully prepared to exit the room. But she pauses, turning back to face the imp once more. This man to whom she had once been wed- a man that had ultimately, always been kind to her. A man she knows is intelligent, witty, a man to keep around despite all that has happened. "But I suppose... There could be some use for you here. You may stay, but displease me and I will ensure Shae punishes you." Her rosy lips curl with a daunting smile before she turns and heads towards the door which leads out into the main hall, where he can see Brienne of Tarth there to greet her.

He breathes with relief, knowing he has been given his one chance at mercy.

[ x x x ]

On the morning of her coronation, she's standing in the throne room once more, but this time she is not alone.

She stands on the dais, her throne behind her, with a sea of faces staring back at her. In the crowd, she sees Jon, she sees Arya and Bran. Lord Royce stands at the forefront, misty eyed and smiling, watching with a heart full of fondness for the young woman he will call queen. Beside him, there's Brienne of course, her ever loyal sword and shield, who has stood beside her without fail since that day she escaped from Winterfell. Even Shae stands among the crowd, smiling as tears roll down her cheeks, beyond proud, beyond happy, to be reunited with her.

As she sinks onto her throne for the first time- beautifully and delicately crafted in iron, quite unlike the clunky mess of swords that it had been before. Now, it showcases wolves running beneath a canopy of weirwood trees across the back, there are even wolves wrought into the iron arm rests, so detailed that Sansa swears it must have been made with magic, not human hands. Behind her, she swears she can feel the soft touch of a hand to her either shoulder, and somehow, she knows who stands there. The touch is so gentle she might have missed it, but she knows it's her mother... It's her father. The ghosts of her family linger behind her, she can feel each of them, for even Robb and Rickon are there. She closes and her eyes and sucks in a breath, knowing they are gone when she opens her eyes once again.

That's when the cry comes, soft at first, until every voice in the room is chanting along.

Long live the Queen!

And so her reign has begun.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #got s8 fix it fic #canon divergence #my writing #i wrote this

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