#The Council (said with nothing but disdain)
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Arranged Marriage |Zuko X Reader| HC
Summary: Caught up in his personal conflict, Zuko completely neglects his marriage.
Warnings: Arranged marriage, forced marriage, whatever. Mentions of violence. Angsty Zuko and reader. Fem pronouns.
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You'd married Zuko a little over a year into his reign as Fire Lord. You're the oldest daughter from a noble family, and the council decided it was best if Zuko married someone well liked by the community.
He didn't take it well. He was still hoping Mai would come back to him, and you being there completely obliterated those chances.
Not that there was a shot to begin with. Mai had made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with Zuko, even if she admitted to still having feelings for him.
Your relationship was staged to be perfect in the eyes of the people. Young love against all odds sort of thing.
The marriage ceremony was beautiful. Your robes were elegant, the flowers were perfect, and even your soon-to-be husband was handsome.
Zuko was charming towards the guests, really selling the story and gaining a lot of trust with his people. He was awkward but personable, something everyone ate up.
But he wasn't like that with you.
As soon as the two of you were away from public eyes, he didn't so much as look your way.
You slept in different rooms and ate at opposite ends of the table. He excluded you from as many duties as he could, stating something about him not wanting to concern you.
Life in a palace was pretty isolating. The only people you could talk to were servants, and even then, your topics were extremely limited.
You'd taken to the gardens as much as possible. It felt nice to be outside and even better to see the plants and animals.
Tending to the flowers was one of the few things you were allowed to do without constant eyes on you. The lonely atmosphere felt intentional instead of forced.
But after a year of this, not even the newly budding flowers could heal your disdain. Your once bubbly exterior had been chipped away by the dread and disappointment that lingered in your heart.
You were truly just a shell of your former self by this point.
There was no change with Zuko. He'd made no effort to get to know you or even just not hate you. Any attempt you'd made in the beginning to soften the relationship had been put out the moment it left your lips. It seemed like public pleasantries would be the extent of your marriage.
You'd long given up on trying to befriend the older women who waited on you. They had no desire to be anything more than the people who got you through the day.
You'd given up on trying to sneak away with the kitchen staff to the market. They feared being held responsible for you, even if you claimed to be plenty capable of taking care of yourself.
All that was really left to do was to just stay quiet and look pretty. The sad fate of the Fire Lord's wife.
You'd been laying in bed all morning. It was one of the few days where nothing was planned. No meetings, no guests, no events- nothing.
Well, at least you thought.
"Miss Y/N, Lord Zuko has requested your presence. We must get you ready immediately."
They'd dragged you out of bed and stuffed you into a pair of your nicest robes. They're doing your hair up and rushing to cover your face in makeup.
"Why am I being summoned?"
"The Avatar and his friends have arrived. They were the ones to request you."
"I see."
It made sense. You had met the Gaang at your wedding, and they were everything you'd expected; kind, loud, and passionate. Just like Zuko was said to be.
At the time, they'd promised to come by often, but you hadn't seen them since. You'd heard something about the rebuilding of the air temple and having some unexpected issues arise, so they just hadn't had time until now.
You met Zuko at the front gates. His friends arrived just after, allowing the servants to take their things to their rooms. Without a word, Katara grabbed your arm and dragged you away with the other girls. You turned back to see the same happening with Zuko and the boys.
They pulled you all around the surrounding area. For the first time in a long time, the dread started to fade away.
You'd bought some new incense, hair pins, and seeds for the flower beds. They were small purchases in comparison to the others, who had gone all out with new clothes, trinkets, and a heap of spicy snacks for Sokka.
You'd suggested several times over the last few hours that it was time to head back to the palace, but only now that it was growing dark did the trio actually listen.
Just as you had begun packing up, a string of explosions started on the next block and made its way towards the plaza you were in.
Toph was quick to make a stone barrier, but that didn't stop the cloud of soot from staining your skin and clothes.
A group of men had emerged from the smoke and revealed themselves to be Ozai supporters. Not everyone was pleased with the fundamentals Zuko was running the country on, so rebels had started causing a bit of an uproar.
Katara, Toph, and Suki did their best to take the men down swiftly, but that didn't stop you from getting injured in the process.
Your forearms had been severely burned when you'd covered your face from an attack. Katara offered to heal you, but it'd have to wait until you got back to the palace where her spirit water was.
The trip back was uneventful. Some of the local guards stationed in the city had insisted on escorting you guys back, which at this point you couldn't deny.
Apparently, word had already gotten back to Fire Lord Zuko, who was waiting at the front doors of the palace for your arrival.
He immediately stepped forward and picked up your hand, letting the scorched fabric fall and reveal your burn. He did the same with the other and sighed.
"Please give us the room."
You watched as everyone filed out of the room, the guards towards the exit and your friends towards the south wing.
"These are severe,"
He cupped your face in his hands and tilted your head so he could get a good look. His thumb swiped over some of the soot on your face.
You were confused by his actions, but the pain from your burns created a bit of a blur in your mind, keeping you from thinking too hard about it.
"The others couldn't protect you?"
"They did what they could. I apologize for the hassle-"
"Why are you apologizing? None of this is your fault."
You opted to stay silent. You weren't sure what to say. This is the longest conversation you'd had in private since you'd met, and you were finding it hard to navigate.
It was silent for a minute. The vibe was awkward, and you desperately wanted to hide away from all of it.
His face contorted slightly, like he wanted to say something but couldn't. You didn't pry. It didn't feel like your place to ask.
"Why don't you head to your room for a bath, and I'll have Katara meet you in there once you're done."
You nodded and made your way down the corridor. You stripped down and opted to just toss your clothes in the trash. Between the ash and scorch marks, there was no saving anything.
The second the water touched your wounds, you winced. Tears pricked your eyes as you watched small bits of charred skin go down the drain. The pain quickly went from a sharp sting to almost mind-numbing. You sat down and let the water just run down your body while you waited for the brunt of the discomfort to pass.
In your hazy state of mind, you hadn't heard the knock on the door, so you were surprised when Zuko entered in much more casual clothing.
When he saw you hunched over on the shower floor, he didn't say anything. He moved to the side of the tub and went to touch you, but you weakly swatted his hands away.
"I'm not comfortable with you being in here whole I'm naked."
"I'm your husband-"
"You're a stranger."
Ouch. Harsh but fair, and he knew it.
"Look, I know I haven't been good to you over the past year, and I'm sorry. We can talk about it more when you're feeling better, but for now just let me take care of you."
Satisfied with his response, you stopped resisting his help. You let him wash your hair and scrub your skin. His touch was gentle despite how rough his hands were.
He never once made you feel uncomfortable. He was thourough but never lingered. It was almost as if this was a normal occurrence.
When he was done, he offered you a towel and left you alone in the bathroom to get dressed. When you entered your bedroom, Katara was on your bed, but Zuko was nowhere in sight.
"Just me. Sorry to disappoint."
"No, no. I'm glad you're here."
You sat in front of her on the bed and let her examine your burns. She positioned your arms for easy access and opened her canister. You watched the water glow and the skin slowly heal itself. It was amazing, nothing like anything youd seem before.
"So," she broke the silence, "Has he warmed up to you at all?"
You were surprised by her words. You weren't sure how much they knew or what all you should say. Last thing you wanted to do was incriminate him.
Sensing your hesitation to respond, Katara clarified her question.
"I know everything, at least, from his side. You can be honest with me."
"Honest?"
"Honest."
A small smile crept onto your face.
"I think you're friend is an ass."
"I couldn't agree more."
You told her everything; the loneliness, the isolation, the lack of, well, everything in your relationship and life. She listened, something you're eternally grateful for. It felt nice just to get it off your chest instead of suffering silently.
"Today was the greatest day I've had in a long time. I got to leave the palace and talk to people and for once it felt like my husband didn't hate me."
"Zuko doesn't hate you."
"Could've fooled me."
"He doesn't hate you. Just talk to him. I know he has a lot to say, and it seems you do as well."
Once your arms were healed good as new, Katara left your quarters and returned to her own. You'd crawled under the covers and passed out, completely exhausted from the day.
The next day, you took Katara's advice and decided to speak with Zuko. You woke up early, before the sun had risen and made your way to his room.
He was surprised to see you, much less in your nightwear at such an hour. He invited you in nonetheless, where you then entered and decided to sit on his bed. You patted the spot in front of you, and he hesitantly sat.
"Katara said we should talk."
"Okay."
Sensing that he wasn't going to be the one to initiate anything, you decided to get the ball rolling.
It was a long conversation. Zuko confessed a lot of things, mostly about bitter feelings towards life and guilt over his actions. He apologized for everything and listened to everything you had to say. He made a lot of promises to be better.
He stuck to his word. He began including you in anything you were welcome to. Dinners became more personal, and eventually, you started sleeping in his room like a proper married couple.
By the time team Avatar had visited again, things had visibly changed. You were both happier, and your once fake marriage had become real. You meshed into the group just fine, making the pseudo family that much bigger.
All thanks to a simple conversation.
#avatar the last airbender#avatar#atla#zuko#prince zuko#atla zuko#fire lord zuko#zuko x reader#zuko x you#zuko angst#zuko fluff#zuko hc#zuko headcanon
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Coming back to you scenarios! (Part One)
Kylo Ren: The thought always worried you, when he was coming back, how bad the damage would be. But you had faith, for him, because he had faith for you. You trust Kylo and he trusts you, so when he told you he had a particularly lengthy mission to find and fight the Resistance head-on, you were reluctant to give in. That was a few months ago. Kylo had made sure to contact you frequently to reassure you of his existence and you thanked him for it every chance you got. Now, you stand in your guys' shared quarters, aware that people were worried about you but you couldn't stop the copying of being away from the man you loved by just staring out into Space, into nothing in particular, lost in your thoughts.
"Ma'am?" A Stormtrooper called to you, causing your thoughts to pop. "Yes?" You reply, not turning to face them. You half-expected this to be an affirmative call that Kylo was lost, or worse, gone. "Supreme Leader Ren has made contact just now." Your breathing stopped, and your heartbeat jolted, you spun to face the trooper, hope glinting in your eyes. "He has?" You ask, voice low and soft. The Stormtrooper nods and you can feel the burning sensation in your stomach of anticipation and the prickling feeling of tears pooling in your eyes. Faster than you have ever ran before, you race out of the room, almost tripping twice over nothing but your own footsteps. You stop at the sight of Kylo's ship, breathing fast and harshly. Your eyes scanning frantically for the sight of Kylo, for the sight of his mask, his hair, cloak, anything. "Hey." You heard a voice call from behind you, and you feel two big and strong hands wrapping around your center and Kylo burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of you. "Kylo..." You choke out, sobbing quietly and his arms tighten around your stomach. "I know, darling. I know."
Armitage Hux: You completely underestimated how many missions a General had to do, as you were just a Commander, but you soon came to find out. Armitage wasn't a sentimental guy, in public or ever, unless it was you and it was still rare to see him get emotional in front of you. "I'm leaving." He said simply, fixing his uniform and hair. Why is he telling you this at the crack of dawn? "Where to?" You yawn. "To accompany Ren on a ridiculous mission to terminate the Resistance and especially the scavenger." He spoke with disdain in his tone, as you could only imagine, as he was going with Kylo. "Why are you going then? Did Snoke order it?" You tilt your head. How odd, Armitage and Kylo, two rivals, on a mission to terminate the two targets that caused the First Order the most grief. "He did." He said shortly.
A month later, as you were shutting down for the night, you go back to your quarters, and who do you find standing there? "Hello." He said casually and you could swear he saw the perplexity in your brain. "'Hello'? Is that how you greet your girlfriend after being gone for a continuous month with only various calls?" He rolls his eyes, his nose scrunching a bit, as he walked orderly over to you. "You're lucky I even came back." He says with his usual cold tone and you push it aside as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a much-needed hug.
Anakin Skywalker: Anakin had previously told you that Obi-Wan and the council planned for Anakin to take a mission alone, to prove if he should be a Master Jedi. Of course the mission had to lengthy and cut severely into the time in which he promised to spend with you, and Anakin was enraged by it. However, you had to reassure and scold him frequently that it was completely fine and that he had to do it anyway, because he desired to be a Jedi Master. Seeing reason finally, Anakin decided to go, giving you a big, passionate kiss before jokingly telling you that you should behave while he was gone, or else the result would be you getting in trouble with a Jedi Master, you laugh, mockingly annoyed and watched him leave. A good couple weeks passed and you kept yourself busy with your own duties: Cleaning the house, keeping an eye on the Council and their updates about Anakin, and random pastimes you found fun.
"Miss Y'N? Good news: Master Anakin has just arrived at the Temple." C-3PO informs you and you grin widely. "Thank you." You say, getting up and readying your speeder so you could give your boyfriend a proper welcome. "Y\N." Anakin smiles as he notices you and you could see the sheer need to hug you and spin you around, but the current circumstances would make that a tad bit difficult. Yoda and Windu telling Anakin of his new responsibilities as a Jedi Master and Obi-Wan congratulating and sending jokes Anakin's way in which you could see and feel Anakin's eyes staring longingly at you, as he was so ready to feel you hugging him and kissing him. After the certainly inviting and warm congratulations from the Jedi Council, Anakin goes out of his way to excuse himself from continuing further conversation with Windu and scurrying over to you, snaking his arms around you and resting his chin on your forehead, pressing your head to his chest. "I missed you, my love, it's felt like forever since I was reminded of your beauty..." He kissed your cheek, neck and your lips, the kiss was beautiful and enlightening, reminding you of Anakin's undying love.
A\n: I'm going to do a seperate version, a part two, with Obi-Wan and Luke later.
#star wars#fluff#anakin skywalker x reader#obi wan x reader#armitage hux#general hux x reader#kylo ren x reader#kylo ren#anakin skywalker#obi wan kenobi
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Smoke & Ice Chap.3
Sorry for the word pacing of this chapter, the amount of jump cuts felt weird, but I wanted to post something after making you wait. Still in the process of looking for a beta reader 😅
Masterlist
Kenshi pushed hard against the ground, his legs and waist drilled into the ground. “Do you need a hand there?” Johnny’s question came with the sound of a phone's artificial camera click. “Don’t patronize me Cage” Kenshi felt a slight give when he pushed his body up, however the thick roots wrapped around his legs stopped him from slipping out from the dirt. Kenshi gave a groan of disappointment. Looking up, his eyes met with the Matron’s who was leaving. She flicked her hand and suddenly the pressure he felt holding his legs together subsided. “Just give me your hand” begrudgingly, Kenshi did. One pushed as the other pulled and Kenshi slid out from the ground, uniform stained in dirt.
“What were you thinking? Insulting her like that” Tomas turned to Bi han who showed only visible disdain. “Regardless, we will need a new strategy” Raiden said before Bi han could speak and cause more possible infighting, “Despite our conflict we have been granted entry to the Mangrove. Given, we do not go any further”. “An apology will be necessary, brother-” Bi han snapped at Tomas, “Do not call me that”. Wordlessly the group dispersed, they would need to set up camp if they were going to stay here.
A bell chimed from the open gazebo that rested on the small floating island standing within the river. Calla picked at her nails as she waited for the others to arrive. She had rarely needed to call meetings since they had finished the construction of the Mangrove. The Old Grove had learned the hard way, the flaws in their design. Fire. A Dryad’s worst fear. She had made sure herself that their new home would not allow the events of the megáli fotiá to repeat. The Mangrove was laden with rivers, waterfalls, and wells. They used their smaller numbers to create larger space between their tree siblings, as well as use stone in place of flammable wood in constructs near the trees. They had even been as thorough as to install multiple lightning rods across the Mangrove to avoid any storm brought on fires.
Despite all this careful planning and architecture, it seemed humans would always seem to be their biggest danger. As showcased by the intruders currently on their land. The sound of splashing water drew her attention to the stone path that allowed one to walk over the water to the gazebo. Cypress, the second oldest among Hamadryad and Calla’s advisor. “Miche tells me we have intruders” the river was higher than usual, causing the bottoms of Cypress’ pants to become wet. “Six of them. All men” Cypress sat next to Calla, the sound of more splashing water as the other council members took their seats. The council was made up of five people. Calla, Cypress, Coriander, Thyme, and Alycia. All of which were gathered.
“They were sent by Liu Kang to have us return to the protection of earth realm” Unease grew at the name of the fire god. “Well, did you tell them to leave?” Alycia asked. “Yes, I used force too. However, they insist they were instructed not to leave unless we had agreed to return” Alycia scoffed. “And what? You let them stay? Did nothing?” Calla knew there was something she recognized about that Bi han, he reminded her of Alycia; they were proud, arrogant, and impatient, “Of course not. I used force, however, they were highly skilled”. “If they are more than one person can handle, should we not assemble a party to deal with them” Coriander asked.
“That would be unwise,” Calla said. “And why is that?” Alycia crossed her arms. “Because the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei is among them” silence, “Any further action taken against them would be inciting a war between our two clans. And we do not yet have the stability to combat the Lin Kuei”. Cypress was the one to speak, “Then why not give them what they want?”. “What?” a number of them asked.
“Hurricane season approaches. Pretend to humor their quarry, leave them without protection. I doubt the endless rain and thunderstorms will be worth staying” The council nodded in approval. “All those in agreement with Cypress” to her relief, there was no counter from anyone, Alycia included. “Very well then” watching the others leave, Calla remained seated. She would need to make trips out to their little camp to keep them complacent and away from the heart of the Mangrove. Just the thought of having to be near Bi han was infuriating, but she was in charge, it was her responsibility. And even if things got out of hand again, the one called Tomas would likely intervene again. At least one of them had a head on their shoulders.
The night sky was clear, however, a strong wind gusted against the group; the telltale sign of an incoming storm. “You gotta be kidding me” Johnny groaned. “Lord Liu Kang was clear in his instructions. No fire” Raiden sat on the thin mat. “Ugh, good thing I brought a battery pack”. “So, this Matron lady is gonna let us stay, but we can't go inside. How are exactly supposed to get her to agree to protect earth realm again? ” unsure how to answer Johnny’s question, Raiden turned his head to look at Smoke. “Matron Calla has agreed to listen to our proposal. Though after today’s blunder it will take much persuasion” Tomas said with his arms crossed.
It was a good thing the moon was full, the lack of fire combined with the thick foliage surrounding them would leave them in all encompassing darkness. Bi han looked at the others from his spot against a tree around twenty feet away. It was a pitiful group, inexperienced, undisciplined, if Liu Kang had allowed the Lin Kuei to handle it, he would have had this mission done in a matter of hours. He knew that if Kuai Liang had been there he would voice his displeasure with him. But it didn’t matter, he was the Grandmaster, he was the eldest. Kauai Liang had always shown an uncanny resemblance to their father. The old fool… He looked at his arm, now wrapped in blue cloth. As spiteful as he felt at the Matron for cutting him, he would have to put it behind him… for now. A small part of his brain nagged him for not finishing the job when he could have, but another, quieter part of his mind was impressed.
“And I thought I was dramatic” Johnny shoulder bumped Kenshi gesturing to Bi han. “Don’t touch me, Cage” Kenshi rolled his eyes. “What crawled up your ass” A swift punch to his side shut Johnny up, “Ow, geeze”. “This is serious, Cage. There are lives at stake”. Johnny put his hands up defeated, “I’ll take the first watch”.
Upon the rising of the morning sun, Calla had to mentally prepare herself for her second interaction with Liu Kang’s ‘ambassadors’. She had little need to wander this far from the village, and had it not been for her newfound ‘guests’ she doubted she would have gone this far to the border in at least a decade. Approaching where she had left them the sound of a huff drew her attention. To her left, partoling along their makeshift camp was Bi han. His eyes were narrowed in spite, though this time he did not dawn his blue mask. Had he not attempted to kill her hours previous she might even admit that he was handsome. If only his personality weren’t as jaded as a cliff's edge.
“Grandmaster, Bi han,” she swallowed her pride and irritation to appear cordial with the cryomancer. “Matron,” it was surprising how deep his voice was, she had half expected its pitch to come from his mask. Silence filled the air as he did nothing but stand with his arms crossed. His bluntness and utter lack of care irritated her to no end, and was no doubt intensional. “Are you going to take me to your negotiator?” Bi han only let out a grunt and began to walk towards presumably the others. “Jackass” Bi han’s head turned swiftly, nostrils flared, infuriated that he could not understand her, though it was evident she was talking about him in a less than… dignified manner.
“Matron Calla” A softer and more excitable voice interjected. Tomas stepped closer and gave a small bow, “thank you for allowing us to stay despite our transgressions”. “It was no difficulty, Tomas. I simply hope we can move past this” he nodded in agreement. “Kung Lao,” the man with the bladed hat said with a dramatic bow, “And my companions Kenshi Takahashi, Johnny Cage, and Raiden”.
“We are honored that you have agreed to speak with us,” Raiden says, “May we sit”. Gesturing to the thin mats layed on the ground. “It was our task given by Lord Liu Kang to convince you to rejoin his order. Though we can sense your reluctance”. Calla looked at Raiden, channeling every bit of her inner strength to not roll her eyes and to stop the scowl that would no doubt plague her face. “With respect. Raiden. The Hamadryad have created a new home on our own without the aid of Liu Kang. There is little he could offer us that we could not provide by ourselves”. “I highly doubt that,” Bi han says from behind her.
“Excuse me?” Bi han only stood his ground at Calla’s offense. “The monks may have taught the Shaolin nothing, but I am well aware of your plight. The Hamadryad are the weakest they have ever been. This entire mangrove is barely over a decade old” Calla stood enraged, “Brother don’--”.
“How dare you!” Stepping forward Bi han placed himself directly in front of her, staring downwards. “You let your spite for Liu Kang blind you to how vulnerable you truly are”. Tomas was the one to interject, lightly grabbing her shoulder to turn her away from his brother. “Despite Bi han’s disrespect, we recognize your apprehension to Lord Liu Kang. Please, tell us how we may remedy this”.
Calla had half a mind to ignore Tomas and throw Bi han across the clearing, but that hadn’t ended well the last time. “My people have suffered from your lord’s ambition, unless you are capable of rectifying the losses of every Dryad within the Mangrove I doubt this journey will be worth your time”. Calla had initially hoped to wear them out, to make them realize how futile their efforts would be, and how uncooperative she was. What she did not anticipate however was how utterly confident they were. “Perfect!” Johnny said, “Just let us talk with your people and we’ll have this mess sorted out in no time”. “I’m sorry, what?” Calla was dumbfounded.
“Trust me, I am an expert in apologies, I made about a thousand of them to my first wife alone. Just let us talk to your people, figure out what’ll make ‘em happy and boom, case closed” perhaps he was suffering some sort of brain damage, it was odd considering she didn’t remember hitting him at all yesterday, but it would explain the complete undeserved confidence he had.
“Uh, I wouldn’t think it wise for you to enter the Man–” , “Great, then you run it up with your council or whatever and do what you need to, and get us inside” Kenshi turned to his counterpart. “You don’t seriously expect that to work do you”, “Well I don’t see you coming up with anything”.
The two began to bicker, the rest of their company showing visible exhaustion. “I will confer with my council” she said loudly to draw attention away from Johnny and Kenshi, both still arguing with one another. Bi han was about to speak before Tomas stepped in front of him, “Thank you, Matron. We are grateful for your patients”.
It was going to take a lot more than she had thought to get rid of them.
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what if?
you can consider this a part 2 to welcome distraction but you don't have to read that one to understand this
warnings: dark!aemond, gaslighting? if i missed anything please let me know! this is didn't end up the way i wanted and it kinda of got away from me im sorry lol hopefully ill get better fics out soon
pairing: aemond targaryen x f!poc!reader
You laid in bed with Aemond, his arm was around your waist, your head on his chest. He was circling traces on your arm, kissing your forehead every few moments. You were running your fingers down his chest, sleepy after just being with Aemond.
“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know that right?” He said to you, never quite understanding how you don’t see yourself the way he does.
You looked up at him, “Hmm, maybe you’ll have to prove it to me?” You replied, a teasing glint in your eye.
“Didn’t I just do that for the last three hours?” He raised an eyebrow at you, laughed playfully. Of course, you couldn’t help laughing in return - his smile was contiguous.
Aemond was just about to lean into kiss you when the door to his chambers bursted open. He glared up at the intrusion as you hide in his arms, he instantly tensed his arm that was around you and pulled you closer, if even possible.
“Mother, don’t you knock?” Aemond was relieved it was only Alicent though he didn’t want to her to know you had been keeping his company. Perhaps she couldn’t see you under the sheets.
Alicent sighed, “I didn’t presume you to have company this late at night, Aemond.” She tried to make out the woman’s face but only got a glimpse of her long brown hair. “May we speak privately?”
Aemond only sucked in a dxeep breath but he couldn’t say no to his mother. “I’ll be back soon my love.” He kissed you quickly before reaching out of the bed for his robe.
You only heard Alicent whisper to Aemond, “Who is that?” She didn’t seem happy. You feared what she would do to you if she found out, maybe she wouldn’t care at all, maybe she would have you exiled. The thoughts ran over and over again in your head, the what if’s didn’t stop pouring through, keeping you from sleep. You waited and waited for Aemond to return, it had been over an hour. Maybe I should go. What if he’s waiting for me to leave? What if, what if, what if. You waited another few minutes before pulling on your robe and quietly left his chambers. It’s better this way, what if someone came in and saw some random serving girl in the prince’s bed?
An hour later, Aemond returned to his chambers. He had been anxious to return to you ever since he left. His mother wanted to discuss the event at Aegon’s coronation and what if meant for their family. Aemond knew it to be important for his mother to talk about these things late at night as to reduce eavesdropping but nights were his only time with you and even that wasn’t enough.
When he saw you were missing from the bed, his heart raced. Where was she? Did someone come in here while I was gone? Did you leave on your own accord? He didn’t care what the hour was, he needed to find you. He was interrupted in his searches by another political meeting, this time with the council.
—
Aemond stormed out the hall, anger flushed through him. His mother has betrothed him to one of the Stark girls, “We need the North on our side if we are secure your brothers claim.” She had said. Alicent was surprised at her son’s outburst, unlike Aegon, Aemond had never shown any disdain to having to marry for political reasons. She suspected whoever was in his chambers late last night had something to do with it and she wasn’t going to let some nothing girl get in the way of her family.
Aemond finally, finally, found you in one of the courtyards, washing sheets and hanging them up to dry. Everyone besides you saw him coming, instantly moving out of his way. In a good mood, Aemond is scary, let alone when lets his anger get ahold of him as it has right now. He had tunnel vision, nothing would stop him from reaching you.
He took your hand as you were reaching to hang up a sheet, a gasp escaped your lips at the contact, startled to see Aemond in front of you. “M-My, Prince. What are you doing here?”
“I need to speak with you. Alone.” He pulled you through the yard and into the castle. If he had half a mind right now, he would care about the lingering stares at this scene but he only cared about getting you to his chambers.
“My prince, could you please let go? You’re hurting me.” You managed to get out, struggling to keep up with his pace.
He didn’t turn around to face you, “If I let go of your hand, you might run away again.” You kept your mouth shut after that comment.
Soon you approached his chambers, he finally let go of your hand once the door was shut. You nursed your wrist, where you were pretty sure a bruise would form. “What is all this about, Aemond? I thought you wanted us to be discreet.”
“I don’t care!” He yelled, storming over to his bar cart. “My mother has betrothed me to a woman from House Stark. She says we are to be wed after the next moon.” He poured himself a glass a wine and swallowed.
Your heart sank, of course you’d only been with Aemond a few weeks and of course you were only a maid but deep in the night sometimes you let yourself believe it could always just be the two of you. “I’m sorry I left last night.”
He looked straight up from his cup, “Why did you?”
“I wasn’t sure you would want me to stay. You were gone for so long, I thought what if someone came in. I was just scared.” You told him honestly. You took a few careful steps toward him, he was still panting with anger, you could basically feel it radiating from him.
You slowly approached him, as you would a feral dragon - which you suppose he was. You gently reached for his eye patch and lowered it, he took a sharp breath but let you. He hadn’t taken it off in front of you yet, despite you asking him too, telling him you weren’t scared, that you wanted to see all of him but he always said he couldn’t. If he was to marry another women, you wanted all of him at least once.
His sapphire eye was beautiful, you ran your thumb down the scar, he kissed it when you reached his lip.
“I suppose I should say I’m happy for your engagement but I will be sad to see you wed to another.” You said as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer.
“As I do not wish to be wed to another.” He sighed, “I do not believe I will have a choice. We are going to war and we will need the support.”
You didn’t know what you expected, maybe for him to promise you he wouldn’t marry her, that you would be the only one in his heart but you were a fool to think so. “Can we be, could we be, still together?” You asked delicately.
He dropped his arms from your waist, “I do not plan to be an unfaithful husband or father bastards.” Aemond didn’t look you in the eye, he couldn’t as he knew he would melt instantly. He put his eye patch back on, “Perhaps you should leave now.”
“If it pleases you, my prince.” The formality felt like a dart through the heart but Aemond didn’t stop you from walking out the door.
—
It was now the eve of his wedding. There was to be a formal feast to welcome his betrothed and her family, Aemond was looking forward to it like the snow waits for summer. He hadn’t spoken to you in weeks, had only seen you in the courtyards and you would always avoid his gaze. Aemond wished he had that self discipline, whenever you were in the room you were the only one he could focus on.
That was the problem with this dinner, given the occasion you had to help the other maids serve. You saw the beautiful stark girl. You believed her to be everything you weren’t with a smile that could stop ships. If only you knew that Aemond thought she didn’t even hold a candle to your beauty.
The only thing that got you through this night was that Dustin, the kitchen boy was the one bringing the food from the kitchen. Dustin was your childhood friend, he always made you laugh when you were sad and your chest felt lighter when he was around. You told him everything, including your weeks with Aemond. That’s why when the Lady Stark walked in and was formally introduced to Aemond, Dustin secretly pushed a daisy in your pocket - a reminder from the childhood games you would play hiding daisies around the gardens. You smiled and squeezed his hand.
The moment would go unnoticed by everyone as all eyes were on the beautiful Lady Stark but no one was hyper fixated to everything you do like Aemond. He wanted to cut off that kitchen boy’s hand. Who the fuck was he anyway? Why does he seem so familiar around you?
“Aemond!” Alicent broke through his thoughts, the Lady Stark was now right in front of him, looking up at him with big blue eyes.
“Sorry, my lady.” He smiled at her, hearing Alicent make a false statement about how Aemond was rendered speechless from the Lady’s beauty. Aemond nodded and agreed anyway, his mind still racing at the thought of you and the kitchen boy.
The rest of the evening went by incredibly slow for him. He thought about how he used to spend these hours hold up in his chambers with you, your hair flowing freely from your shoulders, your eyes looking up at him as he would read to you. As you would pleasure him, more than he would ever thought was possible, the feeling in his chest as you came for him. All he wanted was those hours back. He didn’t know if he could survive without them.
It didn’t help as he watched you with that kitchen boy. You laughing at everything he said, What’s he saying that’s so fucking funny? He wanted to throw his cup at the boy. Alicent noticed her son barely paying attention to his bride, finally figuring out that the lowly serving girl was the one who had captured his heart. She sighed, she wanted only for her son to be happy but she had to put the family first, like she always did.
Your heart broke and broke watching the Lady smile at everything Aemond said and when they danced to the music you thought your heart would fall right out your chest. The only thing keeping you from filling the hall with tears was Dustin. He held your hand, made you laugh by making jokes about the King Aegon that would surely get him beheaded if heard by anyone’s ears but yours.
Despite his efforts, Aemond couldn’t keep his attention on the Lady for very long. Eventually Alicent had the other maids dismiss you from the feast for tonight, Aemond turned to his mother as he watched you walked out of the hall. Alicent only urged her son to focus on Lady Stark. Somehow this was worse than watching you with that boy, at least then he could see you in front of him, now his imagine would run wild.
The hour was late and finally Aemond was allowed to take his leave. He kissed the Lady’s hand and told her he looked forward tomorrow. How easy it was to lie to her. Aemond wouldn’t sleep tonight until he knew you weren’t in the arms of the kitchen boy so he went off to look for you.
Lucky for him or not, he found you easily enough. In the courtyard with that fucking kitchen boy. Aemond saw red through his one eye. He had half of a mind to summon his dragon and burn the boy straight to hell for the way he was looking at you.
“You won’t feel this way forever.” Dustin told you as you absentmindedly played with the hem of your skirt.
“I was never enough for him, Dustin. I just wish I was.” You spoke plainly.
Dustin pulled your head up with his fingers, “Maybe not. But you’re enough for me.” He leaned into kiss you, your lips had barely touched his when a knife was to his throat.
“Aemond!” You shouted, your heart race picked up faster than ever before. “Let him go, let him go!” You pleaded.
“Why should I?” He laughed humourlessly. “He spent the whole night testing me. I think he should learn the lesson not to tempt a dragon.” Aemond pressed the knife just enough so Dustin’s throat wouldn’t colour the concrete red.
“Aemond, he was doing nothing but comforting me as a friend. Please, just let him go. Please, I’ll do anything. Just let him go. Please.” You couldn’t help the tears that were flowing down.
Your words didn’t provide any comfort to Aemond in the slightest. In his mind, you shouldn’t be so desperate to spare this boy’s life. If Aemond had his way your only concern would be him. After a few tense moments, Aemond pulled away his knife but still held up Dustin by his collar, “If I see you near her, talking to her, touching her again, my knife won’t be so forgiving.” As soon as Aemond dropped his hand, Dustin ran away. It made Aemond laugh.
“You find this funny, you really are mad.” You spat at him, starting to take your leave when Aemond grabbed your wrist.
“Not so fast my flower. You said you would do anything if I let him go.” He reminded you. You looked at him like the mad man he was. What have you gotten yourself into?
“Your wedding is tomorrow. You told me you planned to be a faithful husband. I do know what else you want from me.” You snatched your hand away from his grip.
“I was a fool to think I could be without you, I know that after seeing that imbilice with you tonight and-“
“Dustin. His name is Dustin and he’s my friend. I’ve know him since I was a girl, he was always a great comfort to me and now he’ll never talk to me again.” You had never been so bold with Aemond before but you couldn’t help the words falling out of your mouth.
“Good. I don’t want him talking to you, I don’t want him comforting you. You don’t need him for that my love, you have me. Only me.” The look in his eye sent a chill down your spine.
“But I don’t, Aemond. Tommorrow you will have a new wife.” In a weird way you would never voice out loud, you were happy for his outburst tonight as it has made saying goodbye to him much easier than you ever thought.
“I will take you as my concubine, my darling.” He cupped your face in your hand, “My wife to be is nothing compared to you, you are my whole world. I would do anything for you.”
All the words you ever wanted to hear for the last two weeks, he was saying them to you and meaning them but your heart still hadn’t calmed down after seeing Dustin close to death, “If you would do anything for me, let me go.”
“My love, please. These last few weeks have been tortorous without you. Have they not been for you?” He pleaded with you.
“Of course they have. I have wanted nothing than to be with you again but after tonight-“
“I promise my love, this won’t happen again.” You knew what was left under his words, if he stays away from you. “I just, can you imagine what it was like for me tonight? You were laughing with him, the smile I thought was only for me, you were giving him. I could not temper my anger, that’s what you do to me.”
“I felt the same way, seeing you with Lady Stark. You were dancing with her, and-“
“I can promise you I did not look at her the way I look at you.” He noticed your shiver, “Let’s talk in my chambers, come on beautiful.” He started guiding you up the stairs and back into the castle. You wanted to scream at him, you met Lady Stark today. I’ve know Dustin since I was a child, there is no comparison. But you knew better.
You didn’t say anything until you reached his chambers. He poured you a glass of wine, “I’ve probably had my fair share tonight but here, I know it’s been a hard night.” He smiled so gently at you, you almost forgot your fears.
“Thank you, Aemond.” You sipped the wine, he undressed. You smiled softly as he struggled to undo the ties, an hour ago he had a knife up to Dustin’s throat and how he was struggling with his clothes. You set down the wine and helped him out of his outerwear.
“You will stay the night?” Aemond asked you as you folded his clothes over the chair.
You didn’t face him, you were torn. He snuck up behind you, planted kisses on your shoulder and behind your ear, “Please.” He whispered.
You turned around and brought his lips to yours. There was no going back, you weren’t sure if you could consider yourself a good person now. You should be in the maids quarter comforting Dustin, you should be in the dinner hall helping the other maids clean up after dinner but you weren’t there. You were here with Aemond and it was the saddest and most happiest you’d ever felt in your life. He wanted you, he couldn’t live with you, but at what cost?
#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x female reader#aemond targaryen#house of the dragon#dark!aemond targaryen x reader
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A Wish of Something Good
Pairing: Zuko x Katara
Word Count: 1785
Synopsis: Katara finds Firelord Zuko in his mother’s garden. (My apologies, I am absolutely terrible at writing synopses) OR Zuko, pressured by council members to marry a quiet Fire Nation girl, does not want to. (that sounds better lol)
Warnings: None. PIning. Angst. Fluff.
A/N: This short little fic was inspired by the beautiful piece of art below by @beanaroony (: It got me writing again after several months so I really appreciate it! This was originally gonna be A LOT sadder with no happy ending, but I’m a sucker for happy endings and apparently can’t write sad ones lol :D Enjoy!
Katara had fallen asleep next to him. A natural occurrence when she came to visit. All Zuko had to do to get her there was tell her his chest was hurting again from Azula’s attack. It was a lie, but it got her next to him within a week - two, at most. He couldn’t help but think she had to know it was a ruse. Right? She was the healer. She had to know there was nothing left to heal.
But she was leaving and Zuko was certain his heart couldn’t take the months long separation again. It tore him apart when she left each time. The hole was becoming a chasm, never truly healing from the other times she went away.
Frustrated, he slipped out of bed, only turning back once he was closing the door to make sure Katara hadn’t awoke. Once at his mother’s garden, where the turtle-ducks liked to play, did he stop. It was a quiet night with only the sounds of the ocean waves in the distance. For a moment, he stared at the flowers Katara planted. Moon flowers. A difficult flora to grow in the brightness of the Fire Nation's capital. But if anyone were to successfully plant them, it would be her. He sighed, a smile playing at his lips with the thought. When a quick look of his surroundings proved he was the only one around, Zuko pulled a small weight out of his pocket.
It had been burning a hole there for months, but it never left his person. A constant weight - constant reminder - of what he could never have. The necklace seemed heavy in his palm. A glass stone made of lightning and sand on the beach of Ember Island was settled in molten lava rock of his volcanic home. Glued together by his own fire. The pendant hung from silky swirls of red and blue to honor both his and her homelands.
He could never give it to her. Not in the way he wanted. And there was no way he could ask her to replace her mother’s she currently wore around her neck.
With another, much heavier sigh, he pocketed it, unable to look at it without simultaneously wanting to hurl it into the ocean. Where it would be lost forever. Never to be found again.
With a deep breath of chilly night air, Zuko settled into his firebending kata only to leave it unfinished, too tired to go through the movements. He sat down in the grass, picking at the blades as his thoughts swirled.
HIs council was pushing him to marry a nice, quiet, Fire Nation girl that wouldn’t distract him from ruling. But he didn’t want that. He wanted-
“Zuko?” Katara’s voice sounded relieved and Zuko couldn’t help but think how much different it was now compared to the old days when she said his name. Full of disdain, hate, and disappointment. Full of fear for what he would become. Fear of what he could be. “What are you doing out here?” She stepped closer, a breathy giggle escaping. “I know you wake up with the sun, but even this is too early for you.”
He stayed silent, allowing her settle down next to him, knees and shoulders bumping as she sat down and rested her head on his shoulder. A heavy, burdened breath seemed to leave her body as she melted closer to his warmth, arm looping through his as she hummed, satisified. She would fall asleep like that. He knew, because she had done so a dozen times before. A closed-lipped smile couldn’t be stopped even if he tried. It was a sad thing. To love his best friend. To have her so close and so far away at the same time. To be able to touch her, but not have her. He grimaced, wishing it was simpler. Wishing he could have this one thing - this one bright spot in his life - after everything they had been through. They deserved happiness, right? He deserved something good after all the bad.
Was he good enough for her, though? Could he ask her to stay with him? In this place that must remind her of all the bad memories of her childhood. Of her mother being taken away at such a young age. Of the destruction his people caused in her homeland. Zuko couldn’t possibly hope for-
“Don’t go,” he rasped, the words were passed his lips before he could stop them. His screaming heart pounded in victory. His mind felt betrayed.
“What,” her head popped up, forever blue eyes bore into his own.
He swallowed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop now. He glanced away, “Stay.”
“Zuko-”
He hopped up, lost energy suddenly found in this moment of uncertainty. He stepped away toward the turtle-duck pond, anxiety needing a way out. He didn’t notice the necklace as it fell beside his friend with a light thud. The red and blue clashed with the grass. The glass glinted in the moonlight. There was no way for her not to see it.
Gently, she picked it up, hands shaking as blood rushed in her ears, letting the silence reign. She didn’t know much about the rituals of engagement for the Fire Nation, but she did know only the Water Tribes used necklaces. She couldn’t believe her eyes. She wanted to believe this was for her. She wanted that more than she needed to breathe. But the truth was, Zuko could’ve made this for anybody. She knew the pressures he was facing from his council to get married. Knew this could be for a different girl. Maybe one of the girls from the Northern Tribe he had met when they were there for negotiations. They were pretty and refined. Perfect for what he needed to tie up any loose ends between them. Perfect to show he meant peace. Not like her, who was outspoken. Hard where they were soft from all her time honing her fighting skills. And her little Southern Village meant nothing compared to the elegance of the Northern Tribe. They had little to offer the Fire Nation in terms of supplies and soldiers Zuko may need in a future ally. While her tribe was mostly made of children and older women, with very few people who could fight, let alone waterbend.
Katara let those bitter thoughts settle in her stomach before she spoke up, voice barely a whisper, “You dropped this.” She slowly stood, eyes cast down, unable to face the man before her.
Zuko’s head snapped in her direction so fast his entire body whirled with it. A few urgent strides had him standing so close he could feel her body heat. She held it out to him like it wasn’t hers. He didn’t move to take it. Afraid that if he did, she would be gone from his life forever. Never to be seen again.
“You don’t like it?” The words weren’t precisely what he meant to say, but they were out, floating between what little space was between them.
Clutching it tight, she let her arm fall, spinning so Zuko wouldn’t catch the tears starting to stream down her cheeks, “It’s beautiful.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt. She closed her eyes tight in a failed attempt to keep them at bay.
Zuko couldn’t believe his ears. She liked the necklace he made her. She thought it was beautiful-
“Who’s it for?” Her words stopped his heart. “She’s very luck-”
His arms, with a mind of their own, wrapped around her waist, “Katara-”
She struggled in his hold. Sniffles rose to his ears and his arms turned to steel, pulling her back against his chest. As much as he feared and admired her waterbending, he was not allowing her to leave this conversation. Not before his heart got to say what it wanted. Then he would let her go. Then he would let her leave. Even if it meant forever.
“Katara,” he rested his chin on her shoulder and she froze, stiff as a board. He took a moment to memorize her scent of seawater and sand before he said the words he could never take back, “I made that for you.”
“For me?” She relaxed slightly, voice breathy, eyes opening to look at the pendant through her blurry, tear-filled vision.
“If you want it,” he replied. She stayed silent and unmoving, worrying him. “That is- It doesn’t have to- It’s a gift. I don’t expect you to- But I would like it. I mean, love it. I would love it if- I love-” Zuko loosened his hold, ready to give up his incoherent babbling when she latched onto his arm and pulled it close.
An exhale rattled through her chest and he pulled her impossibly closer, steadying her. She relaxed completely, allowing her weight to settle against him, soaking in his strength.
“When?” Katara was thankful her quiet voice didn’t falter.
“Months ago.”
“Months?” She still wasn’t brave enough to turn around and look Zuko in the eye, as much as she wanted to. This - the necklace, his love - wasn’t quite real yet. “But I thought the council-”
“I don’t want what the council wants,” his voice was strong and steady as he continued to hold her. “I don’t need what the council thinks I need.”
Zuko sounded so certain to her ears, she couldn’t help but twist in his hold to get a good look at him. He let her, golden gaze searing her own, a question left unspoken between them.
“I need you, Katara,” he said, voice reverent. “I need someone who will tell me when I’ve become too overbearing. Who will fight me for what’s right when I’m wrong. Who won’t let me get power-hungry,” a small smile graced his lips before his voice turned to a serious whisper, “Someone who won’t let me become my father-”
“You would never-”
“Someone,” he interrupted, knowing she meant well, but also knowing that man’s blood still flowed through his veins, no matter how hard he wanted to deny it. “Someone I love.” He let that sink in, watching as the miracle of Katara’s uncertain gaze turned into unbridled joy. “Not some quiet girl who won’t speak her mind.”
“Then help me put this on,” Katara held out the necklace.
“I don’t expect you to replace your mother’s-”
“Shh,” she stopped him with a finger to his lips, smiling uncontrollably. “She will always live in my heart, Zuko. But I think this,” she glanced at the swirling red and blue ribbon, the fragile glass held steady by the sturdy volcanic rock. “This suits me better, don’t you think?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Council meeting (part 1/?) OCs
Ok sooo I finally done it! This is the first time I’m posting original content here and I’m quite nervous about it, but these characters just wouldn’t stop banging inside my head so I just had to do it. But anyway, don’t mind me lol
This story is set in a world where each high born fey family has some sort of supernatural ability. The two main characters are Aiden and Callum. (They kinda hate each other at this point by the way) Aiden is the crown prince and has ice powers. Callum is a metal manipulator and is the fourth son of the Daewynn family.
Anyway I’ll stop rambling now. If by any chance anyone is interested I can do a more detailed description of the two of them, but for now that’s it I guess :)
Needless to say, minors DNI. And please don’t reblog this on non kink blogs.
———————————————————————
“Well, we’ll close the damn gates to the humans then. They belong in the battlefield anyway, not the capital.”
In the opulent council chamber, tensions simmered as Aiden seethed at Lord Brandel’s callous disregard for human life. Each word uttered by the arrogant noble grated on Aiden’s nerves, reinforcing his disdain for these Council Meetings. Discussing warfare strategies was grim enough, but enduring the self-righteousness of Brandel was a trial in itself.
“Didn’t your own men die in that same battlefield, Lord Brandel? Do the lives lost on that battlefield mean nothing to you? Or has your heart turned to stone along with your ambition?”
The atmosphere in the chamber grew stiflingly hot, mirroring the fiery exchange between Aiden and Lord Emyr Brandel. With a regal bearing, Brandel rose from his seat, fixing Aiden with a steely glare that bore into him like searing flames. The intensity of his gaze conveyed a sense of disdain, as if Aiden were nothing more than an errant pup caught in the act. Such animosity was no surprise; as members of the pyrotechnic lineage, the Brendels, harbored a longstanding rivalry with Aiden's family, their ambitions for the throne smoldering beneath the surface like dormant embers awaiting ignition.
“I am not having my honor questioned by a boy, ” he practically roared.
A boy? A boy? He had only celebrated his 125th birthday a fortnight ago. It wasn’t his fault that he hadn’t aged as… “gracefully” as Brandel.
A wave of fury swept across Lord Brandel’s features, his expression twisted into a mask of seething rage. Aiden couldn’t help but relish the prospect of a confrontation, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes despite the solemn setting of the Council Chamber. With a subtle smirk playing at his lips, he welcomed the challenge, his demeanor betraying an air of nonchalance even as he wielded his power to cool the room, casting a literal chill over the heated exchange.
“I am not questioning your honor, Lord Brandel. I’m denying its existence.”
At the far end of the table, Aiden’s gaze fell upon Callum, who raised his eyebrows, a sly smirk playing at his lips. Engrossed in his own amusement, Callum manipulated a sphere of gleaming gold he always seemed to carry around everywhere.
With a deft flick of his wrist, the sphere morphed itself into the likeness of a dragon, sigil of the Brandels, a crown atop its head.
Aiden couldn’t help but glare at him but decided to say nothing about it.
“You little— we shall hear what the King has to say about this.”
“No, we shan’t. This meeting is over.” Aiden said.
The members of the Small Council stood, Lord Brandel being the first to storm out of the room, Callum being the last. Or at least he would have been.
“You’re not that funny you know?”
Callum looked over his shoulder, the little golden ball morphing itself into a necklace, a pendant that looked like a shield hanging on it.
“Oh, I know I’m not. I found your reaction far more entertaining, Your Highness.”
Aiden closed the distance between them and could have sworn he saw Callum shiver a bit. Most people did though. Not exactly out of fear — although he supposed some did — it was a reaction that most individuals exhibited in his presence due to his cold nature. But not him. Not ever. Callum (and all members of his House for that matter) seemed immune to the chill that often accompanied Aiden’s proximity, a trait attributed to metal manipulators’ ability to withstand extreme temperatures. It struck Aiden as peculiar that this was the first time he truly noticed Callum’s appearance that day. Flushed cheeks and a reddened nose hinted at exhaustion, while the dark circles beneath his eyes betrayed a weariness that was uncharacteristic of the typically too composed nobleman. As Aiden prepared to respond to Callum’s taunt, he detected a distant look in his eyes, scrunching the scar that marred his features. Stretching from his left eyebrow to his lower right cheek, the scar served as a stark reminder many unanswered questions. Aiden couldn’t help but wonder why Callum chose to retain the scar, especially when Healers of house Mosseye could easily erase its presence. It puzzled him further, considering Every metal manipulator he’s ever known has lost at least a finger or two, and he was sure Callum did too. So why wouldn’t he have this one specifically healed? All his fingers were there, and he didn’t seem to carry any other scars, not visible ones anyway. So why —
“— nkggt! Nggxt!” Callum’s shoulders shuttered with the effort. He stayed in place for a few seconds as if in anticipation, but finally decided to turn back around as he lowered his arm.
“Sorry.” He murmured, probably out of mere habit.
Well, this was decidedly out of character. Men like Callum never showed their “weaknesses”, maintaining an ironclad facade even in the face of death, especially not in front of Aiden. Though he sensed that something was amiss, he opted to ignore it, seamlessly steering their interaction back to their usual banter.
“I don’t believe I reacted in anyway, Lord Daewynn.” He knew Callum would hate the use of his title.
“You certainly surprised me,” Callum remarked, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Watching you stand up to Brandel was rather entertaining. I must admit, I didn’t expect such boldness from you.” He gave a wet sniffle as quietly as he possibly could and rubbed his knuckles at his nose.
“Well maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
“Huh- nkggtchu!
Another sneeze. This time it was only half successful and the goblets still on the table rattled, their stems trembling with the force of the disturbance. Even the chandeliers above swayed, casting flickering shadows across the room. Looking around with raised eyebrows, Aiden decided it was clear that he could no longer ignore the peculiar occurrences unfolding before him, not after the unsettling display of Callum’s wavering control over his powers.
“Alright, what’s the matter with you?”Aiden inquired, his tone softening.
Callum, who was rubbing at his nose, stopped almost immediacy and snapped back to reality “What do you mean ‘what’s the matter’ with me?”
Unfortunately for him and without his consent, his chest jumped and he uttered a barely audible stifled sneeze once more, even more forceful than the last three. Aiden only stared at him for a brief moment said “You know, you really shouldn’t do that.”
For how long has he been doing that anyway? If his powers were starting to go haywire like that, probably for quite some time. Aiden couldn’t help but feel pity for him. Being the lord of one’s own house couldn’t possibly be easy, especially when it wasn’t a role one had anticipated. Aiden always know he’d be king one day. It was different for Callum.
Growing up, Callum was very much the youngest son. He pursued his own desires and hobbies without restraint, unburdened by the weight of responsibility or duty. Truth be told, this independence fueled Aiden’s apparent disdain for him. Not the fact that he was arrogant and “oh so powerful”. Not the fact that he almost always won when they sparred at the Training Pit. Deep down, he knew he was just jealous of the noble who had always marched to the beat of his own drum.
Only a few years ago, when his older brother and father died in battle, he became lord of house Daewyn, given that his three older brothers had all taken oaths to serve in the King’s Guard, they were barred from inheriting any titles or assets and father any offspring. It was a stark reminder of the unpredictable nature of life, and it left Aiden grappling with a mixture of emotions, including a begrudging respect for the burden Callum now carried.
“Do what, sneeze in front of my prince? I’m so sorry Your Highness, but I can’t exactly help it, can I?”
Aiden rolled his eyes “What I meant was attempting to be overly polite about it. It's not as if you've ever done that before anyway.”
He might not exactly like the guy but he wasn’t that cruel. It weirdly bothered him to see Callum look so miserable. Besides, it was not that fun to taunt him when he was in such a state. He was not one to kick a man when he was down.
“I assume you don’t want to get stabbed by every piece of metal in this room, so I’m afraid I have to.”
“You, showing concern for my well-being? How flattering,” Aiden remarked, raising a hand to his chest to emphasize his statement.
“Not really, no. It just would be such a nuisance to kill the Crown Prince, so I’d rather avoid it. I do enjoy my freedom.”
“What makes you think you could ever kill me, Daewynn?”
Callum raised an eyebrow “I don’t know, the last time we sparred perhaps?”
Aiden chuckled at that.
“Fair enough.”
For a moment they just stared at each other until Aiden realized that his cold nature might not be exactly helping Callum. Suddenly, he felt surprisingly guilty for lowering the temperature so much when Brandel tried to defy him.
“Go rest, Daewynn. You look like you need it.”
The only response he received was a brisk nod before Callum exited the room. Aiden remained behind for a moment, his gaze lingering on the now crumpled goblets adorning the council table, before eventually making his way back to his chambers.
#not a lot of sneezing in this one!#there’ll be more in part two I promise#snzfic#snztumblr#my writing
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The Valley of Luck was said to be a myth. Something that grandparents would tell their grand-kids around a campfire. Even those who worshiped Lucian, The God of Luck, thought it nothing but an old wives tale.
Until, one day, a man with an arm made of solid gold started telling people that he'd been there, that he'd seen the Valley. Word spread quickly, and suddenly, every continent was alight with the rumor that The Valley was real, that it could give you all the riches you could ever want, and then some.
Choose from 4 different species to play as!
Humans, Elves, Fiendish, and Orcs!
Customize your Adventurer!
Each species have their own unique customization options!
Choose your weapon!
Five different weapons to choose from! That you can name! Or not!
Choose your skills!
Choose your three main skills! Use them to solve problems!
Build your personality!
Different personality traits! be a smartass! be timid! be honest! or not!
The Eldritch Doctor
-Xandin Ivory-
Your "Employer" as it were. He largely comes off as aloof on a good day and down right cold on others. He keeps his face hooded, masked, or otherwise shrouded in darkness via magic, Few seem to know what he truly looks like, and those that do are evasive under questioning. He expects your absolute very best on the tasks he sets you on, but he doesn't come across as unfair. There are no shortage of rumors about the man, ranging from completely banal to down right terrifying. Certainly, a warlock acting as a village doctor couldn't be as cruel as he's rumored to be....could he?
The Immortal Bard
-Yuuki Itsuki-
A playful bard that seemingly everyone knows, who apparently knows everyone. Everyone but you, that is. He seems keen on remedying that with his uncanny ability to show up in the most unlikely of places, as he's taken an interest in your quest. There are rumors that he's immortal, that he's been around for decades, that he knows where The Valley is, but keeps it a secret. Is he really just a friendly face, or is there something deeper behind his charming demeanor?
The Arcane Knight
-Andrew Hartlyn-
The current sovereign's personal guardian, He's been protecting them since they were a child and considers them family. Kind and level headed, He comes off as an uncomplicated man born from humble beginnings, but the question remains of how this seemingly normal man became the guardian of the Altrien monarch is a mystery to many, most of all you. Is this man as modest as he claims, or is there something more extraordinary going on with this knight?
The Vibrant Valkyrie
-Claudia Duskstar-
A descendant of the goddess Illumae, her angelic features contrasts sharply with her impudent demeanor. A known bar fly and gambler, this mercenary claims she's only in it for the coin nowadays, but she has plenty of history she isn't exactly keen on sharing, not while sober anyway. Is this divine paladin truly just done with valor and virtue, or can you prove to her that there is some goodness left to protect after all?
The Wandering Merchant
-Vylasia Ambrees-
The ever charismatic merchant you stumbled upon by pure chance, Vylasia has her ear right at the pulse of the rumor mill. She and her trusty steed Diego have traveled far and wide in her caravan, she hocks her wares with an air of mystery and allure and barters her knowledge to the highest bidder, but she seems to keep people at arms length and always plays her persona of the mysterious merchant flawlessly. Will you be able to find out how this merchant really feels about you?
The Enigmatic Noble
-Cyrus/Cyriene/Cyrid Ari'Nodel-
Cy is...an odd person by noble standards, from their blatant disdain for other houses of nobility, their extreme willfulness, to their oddly obfuscated noble parentage, they seem to be many contradictions bundled into one person, but the one thing you know they are, is the Ezrian council's head archivist, they've kept sensitive documents for the Council safe for years, but that can't be the only reason their frequent insubordination and flippant attitude is ignored, can it?
______________________________________________________________ -DEMO-
#interactive fiction#if wip#intro post#writeblr#CYOA#if intro#writing#interactive story#WIP#romance#wip intro#lgbt writers#lgbt stories#writers of color#fantasy#TVoL#The Valley of Luck
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out of curiosity, how do you think an encounter between Micheal and Gabriel would go after Micheal's botched fall? not only did Gabriel fall, but he's with a machine? surely that's gonna do a number on Micheal's mental state. (btw, i'm utterly enamoured with your archangels and gabv1el content! seeing you post about them is always a highlight of my day)
i talked about how i think gabriel would react here, so i want to go in a little more on michael's perspective as well as the WHOLE v1 issue. because the thing is....his rallying against gabriel lacks context at first, knowing only that he fell and that, as hell's warden, he is determined to restore full order beginning with gabriel. he is grieved at his loss, he feels wholly responsible for it as he has long feared that gabriel's questioning would lead to his fall, and the only way he can manage that terrible guilt is to see him bond to his proper punishment. just the same way he always handled lucifer. however, the situation becomes much more complicated upon actually meeting with gabriel and fully understanding his fall. as well as meeting v1.
michael, importantly, takes no joy in the work he forces himself to carry out - this is about his repentance, this is about maintaining god's order no matter the consequences, this is about proving that something of saint michael is left in him. he condemns gabriel, he proclaims his own righteousness, yet his voice reflects none of it in spite of how he tries to feel the rapture at carrying out god's will - no, all of his words are flat with a barely concealed grief and anger behind them. he wants detachment from this awful task, to bind gabriel and let him haunt him the way he always has been. yet this is all that can save him, it's the only action he can take in his desperation to not leave such a hideous stain on his own memory. and when gabriel begs to know what's become of him, he offers the simple, automatic response: my light was severed. nothing more needs to be said of his heinous actions.
yet a dam breaks in gabriel at the words, the frozen shock melting away into a furious indignation that demands to know who did this. who stole michael's light, who dared touch the prince of heaven and tear him away from god's people - he vows to find them and rend their heads from their shoulders just as he did the council. that admission resounds in michael's skull - is this why he fell? damned to treachery for the assassination of the council? michael laughs, the first welling of emotion he can't contain. gabriel had done what he would have - in michael's mind, the council was nothing more than a self-selected group of heretics who laid claim to god's throne and his authority. they deserved their deaths, yet he knows no exception can be made because any exception means to stray. gabriel has taken life eternal and michael's adherence to god's law is biblical - a sin is a sin, even if the sinner was right. his whole body cries out against the action as he draws his chains, telling gabriel there is no need. he tore out his own light. and seeing gabriel stricken still again, he rushes in to complete his work and be done with it. he hopes gabriel will make it easy on them both.
but while ice roots gabriel to the floor, v1 enters to fend off michael with a few solid hits that seem to do less than it hoped in deterring him (though it quickly determines the underwhelming response seems to be due to an inability in michael to feel pain) and THIS is when the encounter goes entirely off the rails because michael hadn't really registered v1's presence, let alone that it might be related to gabriel. and before he can reach any conclusion, gabriel snaps back to attention as he calls out to it and the small machine signs back to him, gestures quick, a bit irritated, and unreadable to an outsider. michael would voice his disdain for it, a low alliance that proves gabriel's deterioration, yet i think gabriel would counter it with the truth of what v1 means to him. he is far beyond caring, especially with how disoriented this encounter has already left him - and hearing v1 disparaged incenses him besides (v1 has never understood it, but gabriel is adamant about maintaining its honor).
michael is flooded with relief, the ache in his open chest releasing him as his thoughts narrow into a single objective. this is gabriel's true treachery, to love what wasn't made by god. this is so much easier, this rids him of his guilt at punishing the sin he would have committed himself, extinguishes the pride he felt in gabriel's rebellion against unlawful kings. he is a demon, like any other, and gabriel is dead. he smothers any other emotion before it can drown him, refusing to show anything to the unnatural pair before him - the assault is immediate, singular in focus as the vessel of god's holy wrath and shut down to anything else. gabriel has seen it before, michael's uncanny ability to throw a killswitch in his head and drain himself of any semblance of a personality. even with god dead, it seems he's retained that talent - gabriel had never been on the receiving end of it but thankfully v1's reflexes are as fast as ever and gabriel had always been the only one that was able to talk michael down when he couldn't seem to come back to himself. this feels just off though - gabriel thinks little of the difference given michael's state, but it's obvious he's targeting v1 specifically for dismemberment. if this is what gabriel fell for, it better prove itself worthy.
#michael: i WILL kill you both. but first is this little freak good enough for gabriel#raph and uriel left back there like: HE KISSED THE ROBOT!!!#v1 meanwhile had no idea gabe had a whole family um!!!!#gabriel: it never came up!!!!#this encounter is just chaos lmao#cake answers#fallen gabriel#michael#v1#rise and fall au
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Kylux, aftermath of torture
Part 2/2 | Part 1/2
"How is my Grand Marshall?"
"How is my Grand Marshall?" Hux mimicked him. "How is my dear Grand Marshall? How are you dear?" Ren cleared his throat realizing that Hux was quoting him " And famous 'Hux. You should be in my bed' on the bridge."
"It was slip of the tongue and i apologized. On the bridge."
" 'I mean in your bed' it's not an apology. It's merely a correction. Do you have anything to tell me Supreme Leader ?"
"And... and if i do?"
"I want to hear it. Now. Or get out. "Kylo sat down next to him. He looked awfully guilty.
"I..."
"Look at me when you are talking. I am not on the wall."
"Kriff why do you have to make everything harder than it is?" Hux smiled at that.
"Annoying, isn't it? Go on." Kylo sighed.
"I need you."
"I know. That's all?"
"I... was worried. About you."
"Yes. I realized, Ren."
"I.. care."
"You made it quite clear."
"Kriff i fucking hate you."
"Please."
Please.
" When they took you i thought i am going to either die or kill everyone around..."
Hux suddenly looked tired. Sad.
" Yes i feared you may say that. Don't... get me wrong Ren. You are... there is nothing wrong with you. I mean there is but you helped me. I appreciate that. I am just... not the right person to... love or whatever you are impling."
Kylo laughed.
"Really? You are talking to me Hux."
"You don't understand" You don't know what i have done to get this
"Explain then."
" I never had anyone" and you will never know.
"So am I."
"I never... " Never.
"Me neither."
"I even don't know if i want to ever..." It was a mistake. The price was to high.
"Its fine i don't care." Hux was looking at him confused "Look. If it was about bedding someone i would ask one of the knights. "
"Then... what is it about ?"
"Having someone on my side. Somebody close. That i can relay on, believe in his words. Spend time. Sleep by if its fine with you. Just sleep nothing more. I am tired of waiting when you will stab me in the back. We should work together. As equals"
Not if. When.
"We will never be equal. There is huge gap between us and there always will be. Ren. How can’t you see that?"
"I hoped ..."
"Hope is not a thing i can relay on. I am sorry Supreme Leader. I have work to do." He dismissed him. Kylo was looking at him in shock he turned around and exited slowly. He dismissed him. Just like that. After Kylo told him about... love? Feelings?. What kind of person dose that? He sighed. Hux does. He was actively avoiding him for two weeks after that. He didn't know it was mistake. Horrible mistake. Hux was frustrated. Still, deeply wounded, recovering from weeks with Resistance and Kylo ignoring him was not helpful. At all. He realized that on Supreme Council meeting. Hux was not looking at him. Even when he was talking he kept his eyes somewhere behind him.
Look at me. Look at me. Look at me.
"Look at me!" He said louder than he wanted to. Hux jumped and Kylo immediately felt need to apologize. Grand Marshall looked at him finally. With disdain. But somewhere behind that, there was fear. Kylo pressed on his mind with force and felt pain and heard scream. "Everybody out except Grand Marshall. " he said quietly. They obeyed without a word. Hux stayed. He was silent. They sat in silence for few long minutes.
"How are you ?" Kylo said.
"Not good." Hux answered.
And then silence.
"I... i am sorry. I shouldn't ignore you like that. I was just... "
"No need to be sorry. I understand. You expected something else. " And I expected you to be wiser. And i expected myself to be more confident.
"it didn't gave me right to ignore you. You were honest i should... at least appreciate that"
And silence again. Hux sighed.
"I... " Should tell you.
"And you were right. There is a gap between us. We are different. But it doesn't mean that we can't be equal. You will never have force and i will never be like you. I can fly things. You can build them. I can manipulate people using force, you don't need force even for that. If you can't relay on hope, relay on the fact that i am everything that you are not. And that you are everything that i never will be. Hux I.... "
Oh Ren.
"Come to my quarters after my shift." Hux blurted out and left the room leaving Kylo alone. Just like that.
****
"You have cold nose"
"Don't whine Ren. "
"You know? For someone who doesn't want anything close to sex you are quite cuddly." Hux glared at him.
"Careful Ren. It's your test night. Do anything wrong and It will never happen again. I can assure you. "
"Easy. I know the rules you were very precise." Hux nuzzled into his neck.
"I killed Pryde"
"It helped?"
"What do you think?"
Ren sighed toying with his hair. He observed like Hux visibly relaxed. That was so surreal. So, so surreal. They were lying like that in silence and Kylo felt that Hux can't just drift off. "What have they done?" He asked.
He felt as Hux clenched his fingers on him. His lips trembled for a moment. Then he shrugged.
"It's... nothing i want to talk about. I am sure you went through my medical records so. "
"I did."
"That is an outrageous violation of my privacy Ren." He said but there was no anger.
"I can stand it Hux. Just tell me"
He put his head on Kylo's shoulder. He was silent for very long time. But Kylo knew there was storm in his mind. And then he started talking.
And talking. And talking. And between this festival of macabre, pain and humiliation. Between tears, broken bones and uttered words Kylo found himself holding him tightly. Kylo found himself crying. Promising that they will all die in pain. Kylo found himself saying "You are safe".
And if only he paid more attention. He would see Hux smiling as he leaned into his arms. He would see not broken mind but mind so corrupted with darkness, so submerged in fear that was able to scheme its own destruction. Just for that short, quiet words" You are safe".
It seems that it only takes few weeks of torture to get him what he wanted. Rank, Pryde's head, Kylo Ren... and slowly but surely whole Galaxy. Now that he has a weapon more powerful than Starkiller.
Love. And it was painful to get it. But everything has a price to pay. Let's hope it wasn't too high.
#kylux#general hux#armitage hux#kylo ren#star wars#star wars fanfiction#aftermath of torture#i have no patience#at all
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Lingering Questions
{a short tlos fic about alex returning to the fairy palace after the events of book six}
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The sight was devastating.
Her heart slowed in time with her gentle steps. Alex had to mindfully place one foot in front of the other as she navigated through the rubble and remains of the Fairy Palace. What was once a gleaming, proud, and bright structure was now gray, crumbled, and desolate. Despite recently coming back to her senses, Alex managed to put on a brave face as she led the members of the Fairy Council back into what was left of their home.
No words were said. The only sounds were the crunching of pebbles underfoot, the gentle buzzing of bees, a soft flow of water, and the crackling of low flames. All they did was walk for now. The planning would soon follow, and then the salvaging. Memories, items...
Lives.
They didn't know how much they could save from the remnants of this destruction.
The first thing Alex thought of once she returned to the Land of Stories was the destroyed Fairy Palace. It was a brief flicker in her mind before she focused on bigger matters. Alex was a leader. Their leader. Even after all that happened, she knew they expected her to get to work immediately.
Just like her grandmother would.
Alex wasn't surprised when she followed a set path through the palace. Once upon a time, she had taken this exact route multiple times daily. She climbed the stairs, adjusting her steps to avoid the chunks and boulders that had fallen and peppered them with dangerous holes. The fairies knew better than to stop her due to the clear hazards presented. They were nothing compared to what Alex had faced in the past. She climbed those steps with aching legs and an aching heart as the parade behind her slowed their procession. Unspoken acknowledgment of her task led them to leave her be. She deserved to be the first to witness what remained of her grandmother.
The double doors that led to her grandmother's office used to feel so imposingly professional. Alex remembered feeling a warmth within her chest whenever she was allowed to enter through them. However, only one door remained standing, and Alex greeted the bottom half of the reared unicorn with a stare. Anyone looking at her face would have said she looked empty, that there was no emotion in her eyes, but that couldn't have been further from the case. She was feeling so many things at once that her face couldn't accurately express it. All she could do was stare.
Pushing herself to move beyond the first hurdle, Alex finally focused on the state of her grandmother's old office. Shattered glass covered the floor and made for dangerous terrain, but Alex took care of that with a wave of her hand. Her powers were still heightened and magic came far too easily. She pushed down that disdain for herself as quickly as possible before it overtook her analytical senses. Alex was there to assess the damage, make plans on how to fix it, and eventually get to work. But as she looked around the single half of her grandmother's office that remained, Alex could feel the heat and tension of tears threatening to spill from her eyes and stain her face.
There was a breeze from the nearby cliffside, as her grandmother's office overlooked the sea, and it plastered Alex's hair to her now wet face. She had to push it back and trap it under her headband just so she could focus. The wind rustled rogue papers and flipped through the wrinkled pages of open books. Smashed potion bottles were left with very little liquid in them, most of their substances having washed away with the rain or elements over time while exposed. From her small glimpse of things, she determined that nothing had been left untouched or intact. Almost as if her office had been one of the primary targets, it was completely and utterly unsalvageable.
Alex had to steady herself, her hands wrapping around her arms in some gesture that should have given her comfort but only made her more ill at ease. If only Conner wasn't off helping the others with his own section of the Land of Stories World Repair tasklist. She could have used her brother there beside her. While he didn't have half the memories she did regarding that office, Alex knew he'd share in her pain. It was more than paper and glass. More than bubbles and breathtaking views. The memories that used to be embedded within the now cracked and crumbled walls would need to be replaced alongside the golden foundations.
Physical devastation was such a small part of it to Alex. What mattered to her were the times when she had smiled and learned within those walls. Where she had felt like she finally belonged. How could they take this from her? Why did her pain have to continue even after these terrible events? It felt like a scar she had to look at in the mirror. It felt like a wound she would always be reminded of no matter how much time passed or how lovely the new Fairy Palace looked.
Would it ever go away? Would that feeling ever truly leave her be?
As she stepped further inside, Alex could feel her conscience answer her questions for her.
No.
Answers came so easily to Alex when she stood before the remnants of the fireplace. Bubbles attempted to manifest as she stood by, their comforting visage struggling to help bring her peace. How many times had her grandmother stared into that fireplace feeling the exact same way she did? Alex had no reason to feel hopeless. They were repairing the Land of Stories at that very moment, and yet her sadness would not leave her be. Had her grandmother ever felt this way? How had she overcome it?
As if the room held the answers to her plight, Alex continued to look around. While only half of it still stood, she searched it desperately for traces of her grandmother. She always had the answers. She always provided support when Alex needed it most. Even if she returned to magic, her grandmother had continued to be there for her.
So where was she now? Was this not prominent enough of a situation to warrant her guidance? What were the qualifications she needed to meet to receive assistance?
Alex would never get over the dissatisfaction of being left without an answer. Even if she could speak with her grandmother once more, Alex would have far too much to say and far too little time to say it. 'Goodbye's and 'I love you's would have to suffice, but she still regretted so many things. She regretted not asking to speak with her grandmother more. She regretted not sending her letter after letter every single chance she got. She regretted all of those times when they were apart. While, logically, Alex couldn't blame herself, she still did. She hated that she had never grasped the possibility of someone leaving her so suddenly. Her father had left her feeling so many regrets simply because his passing was so sudden, but her grandmother had taken more time with it. There was something Alex could have done to make their time together count more.
A scoff left her mouth, the first sound she had made verbally since arriving, at the thought of that. Her grandmother wasn't the type to really reprimand her for things, but something told her that she would have been severely disappointed to hear her granddaughter's thoughts. She would tell her that the memories they had made together counted. She would tell her that she enjoyed every single moment with her, her brother, and her family. Each second had been precious, and Alex knew that.
She would tell Alex that even though the palace was destroyed, and even though the physical remnants of their memories were gone, they would never leave her. Alex would never truly forget about them, even if she continued living without expressing her grief over it. Her grandmother would tell her how proud she was of Alex no matter what she chose to do. She would have faith in her granddaughter. Always and forever.
Even if it was difficult for her to admit it to herself, Alex knew her grandmother was there watching over her. She didn't need her hand to guide her at every hard turn, because she had enough confidence in Alex to know she would do it herself. She was the Fairy Godmother. She had all the tools she needed:
Courage.
Grace.
Kindness.
Heart.
She could do this.
Giving herself one more squeeze, Alex imagined her grandmother embracing her in one of her trademark tight hugs. Alex took a deep breath, wiped away her tears, and lifted her head. She could feel her grandmother's pride in her through those memories. She could remember her love, lessons, and everything she had done to prepare Alex to keep going. Even through the pain and the sadness. The young Fairy Godmother knew those things would be part of her life until she inevitably returned to magic as well. But she could find happiness. Her grandmother had taught her how to find it.
And with that, Alex turned to the doorway. She left the office behind with its shattered bottles, crumbled gold, and broken walls. However, she had salvaged so much from that room of rubble. She had found the glue to repair her resolve. She had gathered the spackle to patch up her confidence. Alex left with her grandmother's answers to her lingering questions, finding herself much more comforted by what remained of her grandmother's office than she had expected. She felt no more worry about the state of the Fairy Palace. Even if the walls were cracked, the floor was fissured, and the pillars had fallen, Alex made her way back to the council with the determination she had lacked upon her arrival. She now knew they had not lost anything truly valuable.
After all...
Memories could never be physically destroyed.
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#the land of stories#tlos#alex bailey#the fairy godmother#the fairy council#short writing#fic writing
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The Road to Alagadda
Desperate to research the threats posed by the unknowable and dangerous land of Alagadda, the SCP Foundation attempts to position their resident reality-warper and professional piece of work, Alto Clef, to be invited to Alagadda by the Ambassador. Meanwhile, the Ambassador has its own plans for Clef.
---
For years, the SCP Foundation could only watch as the Ambassador led artist after artist to abandon their lives on earth. They'd sent fleets of trained military personnel only to have them killed effortlessly by reality warpers, their remains tossed back through the doors as though to mock the researchers.
Another strategy had been tried: training researchers in the way of fine arts and positioning them to be chosen by the Ambassador, such that they might enter Alagadda as a welcome presence. Unfortunately, the results were the same for every researcher-turned-artist who had gone through this process: once they entered Alagadda, nothing could get them to leave.
"There is one more thing we could try," said one shadowy O5 council member to the board of hr fellows after yet another researcher had been lost to the strange realm. "We could send someone who is impervious to most otherworldly influences. Someone who has reality-warping powers of his own and would never choose art over the violence we let him inflict.”
Another council member, the oldest, looked across to her, eyes sharp. "Alto Clef is an important asset to the Foundation. And moreover, letting him into a realm we know nothing about given his unruly personality could have any number of consequences.”
The other O5 member shook her head. “We don’t know whether Alagadda is related to the Scarlet King,” she countered. “This could very well be the only way to stem a growing army of reality warpers.”
The eldest member sat back, steepled his hands, and thought for a moment. “Very well," then," he said finally. "We will set him up with Paraskevas Portokalis for art film mentorship, as we have with the other researchers we've sent. But if he dies, or worse, converts, you may very be terminated for it.”
The O5 councilwoman nodded. “That's a risk I'm willing to take.”
—-
Charlotte shuddered and screamed as millipedes coated in fake blood crawled from her mouth. Her writhing on the floor was a bit of overacting that Alto Clef had demanded, but the rest of her reaction was genuine. Her joke of a "director" had insisted that nothing else would do.
“Cut!” Clef yelled, prompting the poor actress to roll over onto her hands and knees and spit out the bugs. “Someone get me a lemon drop French martini," Clef ordered. "We start filming again in seventeen and a half minutes. I want twenty more takes of this by the time the day’s out.”
The actress spat out one last grub and looked at Clef in absolute disdain. “What,” she demanded, “is the point of having six bug-vomiting scenes in a film about children’s drawings?”
Clef lounged back in his director’s chair and smiled ghoulishly at her. “It’s about how human expression is painful, or something. I don’t know. It’s fun for me.”
Charlotte looked over to the renowned but retired art film director, Paraskevas Portokalis, who was sat next to his spoiled little protégé in a similar chair. Unfortunately but unsurprisingly, he seemed perfectly at peace with things. The man loved watching the creative process of "young and blossoming artists" the way some liked watching the bizarre films he'd spent decades of his life creating. It's why he'd chosen to spend his retirement mentoring anyone who wanted to be mentored.
"A film does need to be enjoyed, eh, Alto?" the old director said. "No meaning will be absorbed without pleasure, surely. But you have to consider what the audience will like, too, no? Don't become too wrapped up in your own preferences."
"Yeah. Sure. I'll think about it," Clef said. He surely would not think about it. He didn't give a damn about children's drawings. Not like his kid could make him any that wouldn't disintegrate in a day from merely being in her radius. No hand-drawn Father's Day cards for him, just the flowers that sprouted from the wreckage of her containment cell whenever it went too long without replacement.
As Clef returned home to the base that night and did his one-hour off-key ukele solo in the dormitory halls, he thought to himself, "This is the life." He thought he had it made on the base tormenting SCPs and his coworkers all day, but this. He had a whole year where his "job" was basically to boss people around and make them do whatever he wanted.
Yes, as Clef settled down for the night, he was absolutely certain that no one could make him an artist and he'd never go to Alagadda. This would be a fun year, and then he'd go back to his old life. He fell asleep peacefully, blissfully unaware that he was being watched.
That night, Clef dreamt. He was standing in a dark void, and then an explosion occurred, sending fractals of light and particles in every direction. From there, there were images of things Clef would never have been able to describe.
Clef watched as an alien-looking, water-dwelling squid creature taught a smaller creature of its species- its young, perhaps- to forge ornate glass vases using the heat of hydrothermal vents. After a while, Clef was torn away from their cozy home. He saw its beautiful glass exterior, and then, as he continued to be pulled away, he saw a city of similar ones, unique and sparkling. He was pulled further and saw more cities, then pulled from the ocean and into the sky, where he saw alien plant life and beautiful cities of stone on the planet's landmasses. And then he saw a tiny blip in the water- the rainbow-coloured corpse of the parental squid. But the cities, the art, the legacy remained.
Clef's alarm went off the next morning at six sharp. He rushed through his usual workout regimen feeling especially amped, adrenaline pushing him through more chin-ups than he'd ever accomplished as his mind raced. He had to get back on set. He had to do what those jellyfish were doing.
When Clef arrived on set, he was surprised at first to find that everyone there aside from Portokalis looked bored and annoyed with him. But of course they did- he'd been treating this privilege as a joke. "Everyone but Portokalis, take the day off," Clef announced. "I need to make some changes to the script. You'll be paid in full."
The actress turned away in annoyance and began walking away, no doubt wondering what fresh torture Clef was cooking up for her.
Clef had no time to worry about that. He took to the side of the old director, who had already been seated beside the director's chair. "Alright. We have to make some changes," he started, putting his chair opposite the director's and sitting to face him. "First, I want the protagonist to be vomiting coloured paint, not bugs. We'll use some kind of practical effects to make the colours cover the whole room to show what art does to the world. The windows should become coloured glass. And I want her to survive it. Second, I want this movie to actually be good. You'll have to teach me how to do that."
Portokalis smiled enthusiastically and stood up with all the energy his old bones could muster. "I knew you'd find your inner artist," he drawled, "All my protégés do in time."
They began to walk to the desk on which Clef would plan his masterpiece.
"Though, then they tend to disappear..."
---
Weeks passed. Every night, Clef dreamt of art being created by aliens, proto-humans, and even by what seemed like biblical angels. Every day, he woke up and worked on the film, incorporating what he saw or what he'd learned from it. Everyone but Portokalis was furious with the constant change, but Clef didn't care. He had eight months left to create his masterpiece. The film wouldn't be publishable by the end of the year, and Portokalis would make limited copies of the film and move on to his next protégé, but that was fine. Clef accepted it. He'd keep his copy, share his art with anyone he could, carry the skills into smaller, hobbyist projects afterward, and let that be enough. He'd even started trying to play his ukele well.
That was, until the night of September 28th. On that night, Clef dreamt again of the alien squids creating blown glass. This time it was a master artist creating a great glass structure as many others followed suit, waving their tentacles around in rows of hydrothermal vents like a university classroom attempting to emulate an esteemed professor.
And then the earth began to shake and rumble, and every glass structure shattered as the squids panicked. Once again, Clef began to zoom out of the scene, first from the ocean and then from their atmosphere, backing away just in time to see an asteroid reduce their planet to flaming shards of rock.
Shards of rock. They must have been miles in length, but from Clef's perspective, they were like particles of glass. Clef's scientific knowledge told him that every last shard of actual glass from the planet must have been melted now.
Gone.
Clef was hyperventilating. Once he would have enjoyed such destruction. But now...
The particles of the planet dispersed and stars in the sky exploded, one by one, until Clef was left in a blank void. What looked like a biblical angel floated a few feet from his face, and Clef thought that surely it couldn't die. Surely it wouldn't be destroyed by time as well. But it, too, exploded in a flower of blood and viscera.
And then, Clef heard music. He turned, and he saw a beautiful city with strange geometries, painted in red, white, yellow and black and decorated in all forms of art, most of which Clef had never seen even in his dreams. He even spotted a palace made of coloured glass, grander than the ones he'd seen underwater but undeniably the same style. Clef came towards the city, and as he stepped into its streets, he began to feel safe again. This place wouldn't crumble. It would outlast the very universe and then the universe after it.
Then, Clef's alarm went off. He turned it off, cold with sweat and heart racing.
Clef arrived at the film studio, still feeling and no doubt looking haunted. By now, the studio was filled with strange and abandoned props- things that Clef had integrated into his film in a flurry of inspiration and discarded in favor of alternative desires just as quickly. And amongst them were a crew of frustrated actors and a smiling Paraskevas Portokalis.
"We need to start all over," Clef said.
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Charlotte shouted. "For what? So you can keep overloading this movie with weird shit that no one is going to understand?"
As recently as yesterday, Clef would have snarked at her in response. Today, all that escaped his lips were the words, "I don't know."
How could he make something that mattered? He needed his work to be seen, worshipped, its message known. But even if it was, it would all disappear in the end. He looked over to Portokalis, whose face had fallen. "I don't know," he repeated, hoping that his mentor would have the answer.
"Shall we leave the actors to their acting and try to do some writing?" the mad director asked, putting a hand around Clef's back and guiding him to a breakout room. Clef followed his lead into the room and fell down heavily in a chair. Portokalis brought him some paper and pencils.
"Alright, now leave me alone," Clef ordered. "And have someone bring me a martini. My usual order."
"Very well," Portokalis said, turning to leave.
Clef faced the paper, his mind empty. Minutes passed, and he tried writing the easiest story he could think of, a simple torture-and-murder type thing that he'd fantasized about on his coffee breaks in the Foundation. He didn't have the words even for that.
Clef's lack of inspiration continued for several days, and the dreams had stopped entirely. Filming continued as Clef directed, his eyes glazed over and the wheels of his mind spinning as he tried to fix his film. The actors were glad for the lack of changes, which annoyed Clef. Why hadn't he taken the time to enjoy their misery before? He couldn't enjoy it now. The halls of the foundation had grown quiet from the lack of Clef's ukele solos.
Weeks later, Clef finally had a dream again. No imagery, just a single voice, deep and androgunous and smooth.
Show me who you are, it said. Express yourself. Show me that you are worthy.
The next morning, Clef came into filming, loaded his arms with all the art supplies he could carry, and hurried back home. Frenzied, he ran through his dorm unit, coating everything with red and black. That wasn't enough. Home wasn't where he was most himself and he knew it. He took his cans of red and black, with white and yellow, too, for good measure, and stumbled into the SCP research center. He threw a bucket of yellow paint on the ground and began spreading it before he realized that this wasn't enough, either. No. He knew what he must do.
Clef made his way over to SCP 682's containment cell, opened it with his keycard, and threw black paint into the vat of acid containing the anomaly. In its subdued and tortured state, the creature did not react. Once at a safe distance and out of the creature's eyesight, Clef pushed the button to collapse the tank of acid and watched as the reptile thrashed about, roaring and spilling paint everywhere as it made its way out of the cell door. Soon, the blood of some unfortunate personnel would join the black.
Yes. This was him. He was pure chaos and destruction. This was the self-expression the voice had commanded of him. He could feel it. A bit longer and he'd be done.
At some point during Clef's artistic rampage, in which six more SCPs were released and he faced a strange lack of interference, something was said over the intercom. Clef scarcely registered it. At some point, cameras, microphones, and a harness were put on his body by other members of the SCP personnel. He didn't notice. At the end of twenty minutes, the SCPs were once again contained and Clef found himself painting a door of white on a wall painted black. When he was finished, he stepped through the door.
From the control room, several researchers were gathered to watch through Clef's cameras. Through it, they saw a world of four colours: red, black, yellow, and white- though Clef was, for the first time, seeing it in every colour he knew of and some he didn't. The realm's citizens, all clad in masquerade masks, were strange and alien. Some even floated as though through water. The world's structures and geometries were downright bizarre. The camera on Clef's chest heaved as he took several sighs of relief. And then he noticed the equipment that had been attached to him.
"Ha, you thought you'd try to pull me back if I went local, huh? Well, I'm not going to be held back by a stupid leash."
"Okay, let's reel him back," the head researcher ordered through a walkie-talkie. On the Foundation's side of the door, three Mobile Task Force members began to heave the cord that connected Clef to the real world. Clef fell backward, but then he used his reality-warping powers to undo the harness. The three guards, suddenly pulling at an empty leash instead of against a man, fell backward.
"What do we do?" asked a scientist from the control room.
"We learn what we can learn from the cameras," said the lead scientist, "and if need be, use our last resort."
Clef strolled through the city, stopping occasionally to gawk at bizarre art or to chat with a strange beings in an unrecognizable tongue and be spoken back to in English. About ten minutes into his sightseeing, a fifteen-foot-tall being cloaked in robes and wrapped in chains melted out of the cobblestone road and appeared before him.
Alto Clef, the being said. Its voice was androgynous and otherworldly and threatening. Clef remembered it as the voice from his dreams. Welcome. I'm glad that you've accepted my invitation. You are not any ordinary guest here. We know of your powers. And we know of your love for violence. We have a special role for you here.
The being stomped the ground, and a portal leading to swirling cosmos opened up beneath it. You see, for people to crave legacy, immortality, and all else that our world depends on for its new members, they must fear death and destruction. We will make sure you have time to create, but we would also like to instruct you in the ways of using your powers for destruction. You'll have a role here in destroying worlds and causing calamities to keep living beings aware of their fragility. Do you agree to this arrangement?
Clef took a moment to absorb what he was hearing. Then he smiled and laughed so hard he could barely collect himself. "Yes," he said. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" His trepidations towards violence were gone- he was no longer one of mortal creation, so why should their destruction frighten him?
"Clef," came the voice of a female researcher through the speaker attached to his chest. "This being might be tricking you. You have a pleasant life at the foundation. Come back. We'll even re-negotiate your contract if you want, we-"
"Shove it!"
"Very well. We'll have to turn to other measures, then," came the transmission as Clef threw it on the ground and stepped on it until it broke.
The ambassador guided Clef along a cobblestone road. About five minutes into their walk, they heard the sound of stampeding footsteps. Clef looked back and saw easily a hundred Mobile Task Force soldiers running in, guns at the ready, but the ambassador stepped forward and, with a flick of his wrist, caused them all to fall down dead.
"Ha. I guess that's the best they got," Clef said, turning back to follow the ambassador.
"Dad," came a female voice from behind Clef. He audibly gasped when he saw where it had come from. Standing amongst the corpses was a blonde teenage girl with furry goat legs and horns- his daughter. And she looked ready to cry. "Dad. Please come back. If you don't come back, I'll stay here."
Clef's mouth hung open as he took in the implications of that. "Honey... you have to leave. You destroy everything man-made, and this place is only made of man-made materials. There's nothing natural under it! You'd make this place fall apart. We'd all die."
The girl clenched her jaw as tears ran down her face. "If I go back without you, the foundation will kill me," she said.
"I have to protect this world," said the ambassador. "Will her powers still affect this place if she's dead?"
"Yes!" Clef screamed. "It'll make them go haywire! She'd destroy everything in a minute if you kill her, so don't even think about it!" It was a lie. Clef didn't know what would happen if his daughter died.
Grass was growing at his daughter's feet, disturbing the cobblestones. That was Clef's final straw. He ran, grabbing his daughter's hand and sprinting for the door he'd opened and thankfully not painted shut. They were through the door before Clef dared to look back.
The ambassador was not in a rush. It stepped slowly toward the door, and once it got there, pulled a paint bucket and brush out of thin air and painted the portal closed.
It made sense, Clef supposed. He was a threat to Alagadda's existence. There'd been no need to stop him from leaving.
With information on Alagadda acquired, there was no need for Clef to learn about the art of film. His mentorship was ended and he returned to his post at the Foundation. The very day he was repositioned, Clef bought himself a set of paints. He'd make something to earn his way back to the unending world of Alagadda, and this time the Foundation wouldn't interfere.
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The Consort and The Warlord Ch8
Summary: Megatron uses the All Spark to gain access to Cybertron and demands a peace treaty. An Autobot Consort is offered and Optimus is chosen. A Bonding Ceremony takes place and now Optimus has three vorn to figure out exactly what Megatron wants to do with Cybertron.
Pairing: Optimus Prime x Megatron
Continuity: Animated
Status: Ongoing
The moment Megatron had gotten the All Spark, thousands of plans had run through his processor. He could have easily restored his army, allowed new sparks to be created, stormed Cybertron and brought the entirety of the Autobots to the ground. He could have conquered all Autobot colonies, driven out the Council by force and had Ultra Magnus' helm as a trophy. All of these ideas were tempting, especially given how much he and his fellow Decepticons had lost when they were exiled from their home. They all knew the fragility of the Tyrest Accord.
But instead, he had chosen the most peaceful method out of them all. Megatron wanted a planet to return to and he doubted he could convince the Autobots to take the fighting off world. So instead he revealed the All Spark to the Temple of Primus, got them to side with him and made a very passive threat to the Elite Guard and Council that he would use the All Spadk if they didn't allow him back on Cybertron for a new peace treaty to be made.
One where the warframes could live on Cybertron once again.
Since then, events fell out well within Megatron's predictions. The Council complained but would never meet Megatron faceplate to faceplate. Ultra Magnus was harsh about Autobots and Decepticons interacting so it took over a vorn for any sort of rough draft to be made. The addition of him taking an Autobot consort was unexpected but nothing that could affect his plans in the long run. He'd have to make some rearrangement and prepare for whatever Autobot puppet he got, but Megatron was confident that he could manage.
What he hadn't expected, in all of his plans, all of his adjustments and plots, was Optimus Prime.
Megatron almost expected Ultra Magnus to be offered as his consort but was grateful when they said that a Prime would be offered. Megatron didn't know every Prime, but it wasn't a well kept secret thay the Magnus took care of them. Because of this, Megatron was expecting a prideful, close minded and arrogant prime who would loudly protest their bonding and fight him each day. While the idea of a fiery consort was appealing, Megatron wasn't sure how well he could hold back if his consort tried to attack him.
Then he saw Optimus Prime. A mech who looked Megatron in the optic, who was clearly unsure but never showed disdain, who was simply anxious not scared. Megatron never expected him to accept the offered energon, without thinking it was poisoned. Nor that the prime would share the same berth, even if they kept a respectful distance. He even took interest in Decepticon literature and culture!
Optimus' concern for his team was expected but to think the mech would go as far as to interact with the warframes. Strika had reported that not once had the prime thrown an insult or even picked a fight with them. He was open minded, asked questions and seemed to accept her answers, even if he didn't want to. In fact, Optimus Prime seemed relieved that his team was accepted amongst them and that they were happy.
Megatron hadn't expected Optimus Prime, but he knew that at the end of the cycle, the mech was a spy. When, after nearly a vorn, the first signs of him doing something behind Megatron’s back showed, Megatron found himself frustrated. He knew thay Optimus was a spy, it was an open secret, yet he felt frustrated when Optimus actually had done his job. It took a few cycles of avoiding the mech for Megatron to settle that anger. He had harmed Optimus in their training that cycle and he knew he needed to withdraw or risk ruining the fragile relationship they seemed to have built. It was then that Megatron realized that he had come to like the mech that had been forced to be his consort.
Optimus Prime was quick witted, curious to learn and never judged who taught him. He had a kindness that no one would have expected from a mech in his position but he was also the type to keep his problems to himself. The panic attack had certainly been outside both of their predictions but it gave Megatron some insight to the prime that made his frustration vanish. Optimus clearly wanted this peace treaty to work and he was questioning his higher ups. It also seemed that deep down, Optimus wanted to stay in Kaon, with Megatron.
This made Megatron very happy. His little consort was an amazing mech that the Autobots had tossed aside. He was intelligent, quick to learn and more skilled in battle than anything Megatron had expected. Yet he was tossed to the side for a more, egotistical prime who would obviously be easy for the Council to manipulate. But their loss was his gain. He would make sure Optimus felt safe and welcome in Kaon, even if everything backfired and they went to war. At least then he could see the Prime in some real action.
Though right now, he had to focus on the meeting before him. It was the first meeting that Optimus was joining in on as they were going over many topics on Kaon.
Megatron sat at the end of the long table, his large seat covered with a soft organic fabric. Next to him, Optimus sat in an equally large chair beside him, though this one had been raised so that the smaller bot could be at the table comfortably. It was built for warframes after all so it was much taller. On either side of the table sat Strika, Lugnut, Soundwave, Blackarachnia and Shockwave while the far end held two consoles for video feeds that would connect to Starscream and Blitzwing in Vos. It would be the first time his second in command would meet Optimus aside from when he saw him at the bonding ceremony. Megatron was certain that Starscream would have plenty of opinions on their current status.
As everybot got settled, the video feeds came to life, showing the calm expression of Blitzwing and the haughty smirk of Starscream. Megatron could feel Optimus sit up straighter.
"Since all of us are finally here, let's get started." Megatron said.
Starscream scoffed at this. "You make it sound like we were running late." He said.
"You were." Shockwave said bluntly.
"What was that?" Starscream sneered.
Megatron slammed his clenched servo to the table and silenced the seeker. "Enough, let us begin." He said. "Strika, start."
Strika stood up and Megatron noted the look she gave Starscream but said nothing. She had a large datapad in servo. "The construction is ahead of schedule, many of our mecha are eager for the work so no one is slacking. The port and main road have been cleared and we are set to begin construction on individual buildings soon, starting with a hospital and a housing unit." She said. "At this rate, we hold be done with most of the work by two vorns ends."
Megatron gave her a nod as he looked at the report she sent him. "In regards to the hospital, do you have the specs you need?"
"Hook and Ratchet have been aiding us with what is necessary but there are some inconsistencies between them." Strika explained. "Ratchet wants the medic fully prepped like those in Iacon while Hook wants to focus less on the equipment and more on materials. I am not well versed in the machinery and tools they are requesting so I think having a third party go over them would be best."
Megatron hummed and went over the data. He had been given the list of items but like Strika, he was not well versed in their uses. "A third party would be difficult to obtain, Autobots kept most of the medics on their side, so our own or neutral ones are not well enough trained to meet the standard of our new head medic. Have both Hook and Ratchet write up a report on what tools they want, including a detailed description for each one so we know exactly what they are for." Megatron said. "This hospital will not be some rundown clinic like Kaon used to have but we still have a budget to consider for the rest of the city."
"I will notify them of your decision." Strika said. She sat down and Lugnut stood up.
Megatron lowered his audial settings and glanced down at Optimus who glanced away when he caught his optics. A slight twitch of Optimus' audial fins caught his attention and it took Megatron all of his will power to not touch them.
"GLORIOUS LORD MEGATRON! THE PATROLS HAVE SHOWN NO INSURGENTS!" Lugnut boomed. "SOME PUNY AUTOBOTS ARE WATCHING THE BORDERS BUT NONE HAVE PICKED A FIGHT! SADLY…"
"Thank you, Lugnut." Megatron said quickly. "Make sure that no civillians are harmed past a few dents if they ever do decide to interfere with our work."
"WHAT WONDEROUS INSIGHT LO-"
"Shockwave, what is the status of the Space Bridge Project?" Megatron asked, looking at the scientist. Lugnut sat down, disheartened but Megatron spotted Strika comforting her consort. Shockwave stood.
"Thanks to the Autobot Bulkhead, we have been able to successfully create our own Space Bridge and have what is necessary to build one wherever you may desire, My Lord." Shockwave stated very bluntly. "We have been conducting research on what I call a Ground Bridge, a transport much like Space Bridges, but allows transportation from any location without the use of the bridge. It would be limited to the planet but could allow instantaneous transportation anywhere we have coordinates for."
Megatron was pleased with this. It would save on transportation costs and help with transporting sensitive materials. "How far along are you with it?" He asked.
"Unfortunately the ground bridge remains unstable in any size larger than an energon cube. We are currently working on theory where we have a set location that can go anywhere and also be returned to." Shockwave said. "It would require a smaller scaled version of a space bridge to be built but would help with the stabilization of the groundbridge."
"Proceed with the theory, but stay within your budget unless you can prove that the results are positive." Megatron stated. Optimus had brightened up when his teammate had been named.
"Of course, Lord Megatron." Shockwave said politely. Blackarachnia was about to stand when Starscream decided to speak up.
"Lord Megatron, as much as I loathe to question your judgment, but wouldn't designing a Ground Bridge be seen as an act of building a weapon?" Starscream asked. "The New Tyrest Accord stated that no creation of mass weaponry would be permitted."
"The Ground Beidge would be utilized for transportation of materials, trading and moving labor to locations thay would normally be out of reach." Megatron stated sharply "Making sure that all cities in Cybertron, especially those located across the Rust Sea, have access to what they need to survive is a priority for our integration back into Cybertron society."
"Of course." Starscream said with a huff.
Blackarachnia stood up and gave Starscream a venomous glare that caused the seeker to find something interesting on his side. "In regards to the Energy Fuel, the formula I initially created can be used city wide as long as the coils are strong enough to handle the output. I will need to inspect them in order to decide if they should be replaced."
"Strika, do you have a few mechs you can spare to aid Blackarachnia?" Megatron turned to the large femme.
"I do, I even have a small mech who would enjoy leaving the tower for a bit." Strika said.
"Good, you two can schedule that, make sure I receive a report on the status of the coils." Megatron said.
"Of course." Blackarachnia said, sitting back down.
"Oooh my turn!" Blitzwing shrilled. "Construction in Vos is going smoothly, the towers are so tall!'
"There are still problems, you glitch!' Staracream snapped. "None of the construction crew have any respect for Vos culture!"
"I understand that recreating the towers is important but we are trying to make the city habitable first." Blitzwing retorted in his much calmer persona.
"Why can't you do both?" Starscream snapped.
"Because the materials needed to recreate the towers of Vos are expensive and difficult to work with. Even if we have an artisan, the amount of shanix it would cost would extend well past the budget that I wrote for you." Megatron stated firmly. "The Towers of Vos are symbolic to the city but focusing on those who will live there is our priority. We will rebuild the towers once the economy of the city picks up."
Staracream grumbled about this but said no more. Blitzwing went over a few issues with the construction but with some replacement of labor and moving funds, the city would be able to rebuild the necessary establishments at about the same pace as Kaon. Starscream mentioned some environmental issues that hadn't been present before the exile, including Acid Rain and Megatron made a note to look into the phenomenon. Finally the meeting began to wrap up and Soundwave stood.
"Soundwave: reports civilian activity. Civilians curious about Decepticons but fearful. Overall, 13.89% of Autobots open to interactions with Decepticons, 82.02% of Autobots do not want Decepticons on Cybertron, 5.09% of Autobots are indecisive." Soundwave spoke.
"That is a very low percentage." Megatron grumbled. It was obvious, they had only been on Cybertron for a vorn. The number of Autobots willing to accept them may actually be high considering everything. Getting the percentage higher was a priority but doing so would be difficult. Glancing to his side, Megatron noted that his consort was clearly thinking.
"What thoughts are going through your processor?" Megatron asked Optimus, leaning closer to him.
Optimus looked up at Megatron, then glanced at the generals before looking at his datapad in hesitation. Once again Optimus' finials flicked back and forth and Megatron caught himself reaching out to one and moved his servo to the Prime's shoulder pauldron instead. Optimus looked back at Megatron and nodded slightly.
"I think most of the civilians are scared because they can't see what we are doing in Kaon." Optimus began. He looked at the rest of the warframes who waited for him to continue. "From their perspective, the Decepticons forced their way onto Cybertron and then locked themselves into cities where no one could know what they were doing. If we open the city to civilians and let them see exactly what we are doing, they would be more open to accepting you being here."
There was silence for several nano-kliks before Strika spoke.
"That makes sense." The femme said. "Nothing makes a bot more nervous than thinking a bomb is under their pede."
"Kaon is in no condition for civilians to enter." Shockwave replied. "It would be a safety hazard."
"We could wait until the city is more habitable." Optimus said. "But we could offer insight through advertisements?"
His voice became hesitant at the end but no one outright rejected the idea. Everybot at the table seemed to be thinking of what they could do.
"Kaon doesn't have any landmarks nor entertainment centers." Shockwave spoke again. "What could we advertise?"
"What about a tour of Kaon?" Optimus blurted out. He covered his intake when he got hard stares but Megatron chuckled.
"How exactly would a tour of Kaon work?" Megatron asked.
"K-Kaon itself could be what civilians want to see." Optimus said. "A lot of Autobots were onlined after the war, Kaon had always been a deserted city despite how much we learned about it. I think plenty of them would enjoy seeing what Kaon was like in person. If we have tours around the city, highlighting the newer Kaon, many would come to see.
"Tour guides would guide them around, they can use public transport, visit stores, the hospital, the tower and we can advertise how we are looking for store owners to come to Kaon." Optimus continued. "It would let Autobots see Decepticons in a more domestic setting and show that you guys can do more than just fight."
"That could work." Megatron said. "No one's work would be interrupted and we have several civilian frames who would be interested in acting as tour guides. If we can gain interest in mecha to start businesses here, or those looking for work, the economy could begin to fix itself."
"If civilians see other civilians getting treated well in Kaon, merchants would be interested in trading." Shockwave said.
"Soundwave: Tours would work in Vos as well." Soundwave spoke.
"It still needs work, but I believe we have a plan." Megatron said. He made a quick note in his datapad before turning to Optimus. "Since the idea was yours, can I trust you with this project?"
Optimus' optics brightened. "I-I've never done a project this big before!" He said sheepishly.
"Then this will be your first." Megatron said with a smirk.
Optimus seemed upset but nodded. "I-I'll do my best!" He said.
"You can always ask for assistance if you are having trouble." Megatron reminded him. Optimus nodded and focused back onto his datapad. "We need a time frame for opening Kaon."
"Logically speaking, two vorns should be enough." Shockwave spoke.
"We'd still have some construction projects going on but that may be good." Strika spoke. "The civilian tours can see us warframes working."
"At the end of two vorns, Optimus and I must return to Iacon to attend a meeting with Ultra Magnus." Megatron said. "Our deadline will be two cycles after we return."
"Understood, My Lord."
#fanfic#fanfiction#megatron#optimus prime#optimus x megatron#the consort and the warlord#transformers animated
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a cold midnight over hithlum, rain-damp and full of shivering, would have been sweeter than a dozen mild evenings under the stars of amanyar.
this was not a thing that ought to be said. still the freed thralls were very ungrateful, and sang it regardless. they did not love the land where they walked. valinor, made to house and keep the quendi, reached into them to ease their pains, and was denied.
defied. they had been defiant too long; it made no difference to them which of the powers it was that ruled their destiny, which traitors aligned with them.
only the grinding of one will to the other did they know, the constant strife, the lack of trust and the disdaining of it. anger so learned could not be easily shed, and must not.
the first time one of the returned noldor, scarred with the fetters of angband and branded in the face, looked king olwë's face as they knelt, making all the gestures morgoth had valued in abasement, and laughed and laughed at his horror and disdain - and then cringed, teeth bared, at the offer of a kindly hand -
the first time a kinslayer turned their back on the kin that remained behind. the grandchildren that refused to know their father's fathers, the mothers that closed all their doors, the daughters that disdained all the lore and sense in bride-prices and paternal laws.
estë of course did her best to ease pains and unrest, where unrest was pain, and lórien quieted many restless dream. some of the exiles did quit their bodies; but then their bodies had survived a great deal, and were too dearly bought at liberty.
there was a strange unity of purpose, where those born anew kept near to the newly returned by ship, and found a contract of strength in it. a thing less binding, nothing like fealties of old; yet true.
they went to finrod, dearly beloved, killed in the dark, though he gave the best of himself for love and estel - there were many friends of men, among those who sought him out.
and after him some went to aegnor, angrod, these children of the king made more willful than ever they had been. orodreth, most disillusioned, lost his love for following and being followed entirely; and fingon was much among the grey-elves and the miners of angband, for he knelt in repentance where they could not without falling to madness. but turgon his brother kept no ruler above himself, except for what he must for formality's sake, and even that was not lightly done.
aredhel went into the deep woods of oromë and dared him to combat.
naturally she lost; but a good defeat had been her goal, and with it she had affirmed a trade of some sort, of which none could quiet be certain. afterwards she held her own hunting band, outlaw riders, many ladies among them - amarië of the vanyar was with them, and they said a great white hound ran beside her.
they stewarded the forests in places that had not been so deep, perhaps; but then aman was made for the quendi, and must alter itself for them.
and then there was gil-galad.
gil-galad, of whom the fingers of harpers in tirion and valimar and the lands of the falmari sang, though they knew not the words, nor the king whose grief sank itself into the material of elven memory even across the sea.
early in the beginning of the third age, many exiles and returned, both grey-elves and noldor, sat themselves in a council of their own and over the course of many days invented and decreed a new language for themselves, not sindarin nor quenya, nor any of the languages of the avari, but a new thing altogether.
it was useless, of course, to suppose reconciliation would ever be a neat thing.
'at least there is no blood,' arafinwë said grimly, turning over the scroll.
for what little comfort that was! the characters of the new alphabet gleamed in fresh ink; there was no need for oaths or fealties, when language had ever been the truth at the heart of the quendi.
yet this was an healing, too. and indeed many of those that had remain found their choices vindicated. the city of the noldor, long theirs, was their entirely to their satisfaction.
the absence of princes proved most fruitful to many labours, and a great breathing clarity for those that stayed, such that many works that would not have been made, nor the source and course of their thinking valued were raised high, and always challenged.
for it was in the nature of arda, that in severance many things might flourish; though grief, too, may persist.
the stars were very bright and very near over aman. their light blinded a little, without the two trees to compete with it; and they were a little, and at times very much like eyes looking down, judging, gauging, watching with an watchfulness everlasting.
many freed thralls named themselves anew for the old places, however - that hithlum might never die, and its death never forgiven.
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Ineffable Ambiguity
The Great White Hum Drum
He had forgotten what it was like. The sheer monotony of it all. White walls, white floors, white desks and white clothing. There was no way of telling how many days or eons had passed since Aziraphale had left Earth, for there were no time pieces in heaven. No filigreed pocket watches, no dawn or dusk, no sleep to drift into and no music to listen to. Certainly not 21 minutes of Shostakovitch. Crowley was right about the nightingales. Just white. An endless sea of white.
Somehow though this extreme minimalism was a comfort in its own way, for Aziraphale knew that all souvenirs of earth would only serve to remind him of Crowley and of the pain he had caused them.
The angel had regretted his decision almost immediately, but what was he to do? Especially now he was certain that whatever was being planned had to be stopped from the inside.
“Oh, my dear, dear Crowley”, he sighed. “I said you were part of the bad guys. If only you knew what I do now.”
Heaven’s elite hadn’t taken to Aziraphale jumping up the ranks. They resented him and he knew it. Michael and Saraqael voted against almost every decision he tried to make, while Uriel voted in favour purely to undermine Michael’s authority. There was therefore a stalemate in every decision and heaven hadn’t changed one ounce for the better. The Metatron had announced Aziraphale’s appointment as archangel, plopped him in front of a desk, proclaimed ‘best of luck!’, then promptly abandoned him.
It was left to Michael to proclaim that all angels that rise or fall require a change of name. Though Aziraphale tried in vain to keep his, it was but the first he had to concede since going ‘up’.
“But I like my name! Surely, it’s up to me whether I keep it or not?”
Michael looked at him with utter disdain.
“Up to you? To change a 6000-year tradition? To change heavenly rules? You may think that because the Metatron appointed you archangel that you are suddenly better than those of us that have been working up here while you slummed it with that demon of yours” but that doesn’t give you the right to mess with a system that has been in place since before the beginning.
That was the first time he had been reprimanded for doing what the Metatron had apparently sent him up to heaven to do, and it didn’t take Aziraphale long to realise the Metatron sent him up here to do nothing remotely like creating positive change.
“So, what do you propose I name myself then?” Aziraphale had thought to suggest something incredibly witty. But that was always Crowley’s forte.
Michael evoked a scroll, blew off some extraordinarily old dust, and opening it proclaimed: “The next pre-set name on the list is Raphael.”
Upon looking up from the scroll, Michael could have sworn this up-start angel was laughing at them.
“You do realise all you are doing is shortening my existing name? Does that mean I get to call you Archangel Micky?”
Raphael was incredibly proud of himself for having made what he assumed was the wittiest joke uttered by an angel in heaven for at least a century or two. His grin evidently annoyed Michael more than the witticism but that in itself was worth the expression on Michael’s face.
Having been bound to desk duty much of the time since his name change, there was little chance to get used to it.
The monotony was excruciating. It turned out that by “running heaven”, what the Metatron had meant was “doing the paperwork”, which was all he ever did until called for a council vote. Raphael had started by planning a succession of changes to be proposed in each of these meetings but after dozens of stalemates he had realised these attempts were futile.
Once however, while stretching his legs along the long corridors of heaven’s offices Raphael witnessed Michael carrying a small, ornate chest towards the Metatron’s personal office and followed behind to listen beside the open door. Leaning over the edge he saw the chest placed onto a desk. It all looked so obscenely out of place. The office was like all the others. White walls, floors, doors, devoid of decor or character. Yet there stood one of the most beautiful items Raphael had seen in the 6000 years of his existence.
Though the sheer shine of it resembled gold at first, the chest was in fact comprised of highly polished bronze. The surface of which was embossed with winding plants and flowers. Each edge was decorated with delicate statuettes of angels with wings unfurled, carved in what appeared to be marble. In the center a large keyhole was bordered by writing too small to make out. The detail of this artistry was made more impressive by the small scale of the chest itself, which left most of the desk uncovered.
“Ahh, Michael. Thank you for fetching this for me. I assume you remember it’s importance?” Metatron spoke with all the authority of a CEO to a secretary.
Michael gave a half bow and spoke flatly.
“Of course, my Lord. It may have been a few millennia since it was used but I cannot forget what was trapped inside the ark. It always does amuse me how those humans managed to get the description of it so wrong”.
“That’s what you get for not appointing angelic proofreaders for that ‘Bible’ of theirs. The mistakes made in the first draft only got worse with each translation, transcription or amendment”.
Michael conceded that not taking the time to properly overlook such a popular compendium of heavenly deeds was an oversight larger than initially thought but knew better than to question how heaven was supposed to know this was to be the most popular when so many were being composed at the time.
The Metatron rose from their chair and circled the desk towards Michael. Raphael thought he saw an expression of concern on their face, while Michael stood rigid and expressionless. The perfect soldier standing at attention for their master.
The Metatron lowered their voice, but Raphael could just make out the words that shouldn’t have shocked him.
“How is our little archangel doing then, Michael? Has he realised the futility of his so-called high office yet? Or do we have a bit longer to wait until he realises he’s an exalted secretary?”
Michael gave the slightest smile before responding.
“He seems to have given up trying to make changes. Though admittedly that would be more enjoyable if Uriel didn’t make a point of voting with him in their vain attempt to undermine my authority. They really do think they could someday usurp the leadership”.
The Metatron hesitated, then continued,
“You know I would never let that happen Michael. You are leader of the angels in all but name and you know full well I only brought that idiotic traitor back to separate him from his pet demon. That miracle of theirs was far too powerful for my liking and I do not want them getting in the way of the second coming. You know this already.”
Michael gave another slight bow.
“TI am grateful for the reassurance my Lord. Truth be told it is taking a lot of constraint to not just summon Shax up here to try with more hellfire. I’m certain there was a trick behind his survival last time that he cannot recreate without that demon of his”.
“Patience is a virtue as you well know Michael. That runt is useless on his own. No spine at all. Once the second coming is past the point of intervention, he’ll get his just deserts but until then he is kept safely up here where we can keep our eye on him”.
“Pardon my questioning sir, but wouldn’t it be safer to just have done with it?”
The Metatron started to look bored of this conversation and explained the situation in a tone spoken to a child.
“To put it simply, Crowley would know. I don’t know how or why they are tied together but they are. Since the only one who could tell me exactly why has resided in this box for most of existence, I don’t intend to satisfy my curiosity. Do you have anything else to add Michael, or do you remember what happens to heavenly beings that ask too many questions?”
Raphael managed to pull himself out of shock in time to skulk away as the conversation was finished. He did not know what or who was in that chest, but he knew he had to find out before the second coming. Why did they call it the ark? What ark? He wished to God he had stayed on Earth but home, and what ever faced him there had to wait. He was still confused by Crowley’s actions the last they met. He had heard the ‘Alpha Centuri speal’ a thousand times before.
“Let’s run away and forget our troubles” was the preset for Crowley every time something forced them to choose sides. But why had they acted so.... human? What made them force a kiss on them when kisses were made as a way for humans express their attraction to one another? Why was this time different?
Raphael ran his hand through his hair.
“All these bloody questions Aziraphale” (for he would never get used to his new name) “will get you in more trouble than you’re already in."
#tell me what you think#fan fiction#fan fic writing#fan fic stuff#good omens#crowley#aziraphale#good omens s2#aziraphale x crowley#good omens spoilers
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watching doccy who for the first time
1x08 — father’s day
oh from the first 2 minutes alone i just know this episode is going to kill me
love that the doctor trusts rose’s judgement so much! he doesn’t try and sway rose out of seeing her dad, just takes a second to ask if she’s okay and then does it
honestly i don’t have much to say about this episode it made me too sad lol but it did make me think like,,, EVERY single person is so important no matter how ‘ordinary’ they are. love that the doctor even in his very slight disdain of humans still realises that
this might be my fav episode yet. so so emotional. loved it. will never be watching it again 💘 feel like this was kinda healing for me — for context i lost my sister 18 months ago. i always wonder what i’d do if i could go back, and i know i’d do the exact same thing rose did; try and save my sister. this episode said, in a way that actually doesn’t sound cliché - what’s done is done, there’s nothing you can do but try and keep going.
other than the whole,,, travelling through space thing i relate to rose so much. being 19, raised by a single mum on a council estate with not much going for me. rose makes me feel like i can do anything. i didn’t think i’d connect with her as much as i have, but i love her with all my heart and i love her relationship with the doctor
#doctor who#ninth doctor#rose tyler#watching doctor who#christopher eccleston#billie piper#doctor who 1x08#father’s day
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I want to preface this by saying that I am in no way shape or form saying that any of this is excusing Elara and the shit she did to Maven. I think she's a pos who deserved what she got. That being said her and Maven's relationship is so interesting to me!!
I hate when people paint Elara as hateful towards Maven and like she viewed him as inadequate because I just don't think that's true. I think she understood Maven's position as the second born and as her son specifically. I think she understood that despite him being innocent regarding everything that happened to Coriane, he would always be antagonized by their family and he would always be othered by his father. I think because of this she conflated every "flaw" as something major even if it's as small as him learning to walk later than everyone else. Those "flaws" would always follow him, he wasn't given the same leeway as Cal. Obviously this doesn't excuse what she did to him, nothing will, but I do think it's interesting to think about how she reached the conclusion that what she was doing to him was okay.
I also like how there are instances in the books themselves of her being caring towards Maven in a very motherly way. There are two instances that come to mind of this happening. After the Sun Shooting Mare sees her clinging onto him. I think it's because she finds comfort in him and she was also worried for him, because even though the shooting was planned it was still something that could've killed him. There was also when Mare mentioned Thomas during the betrayal scene. Mare brings Thomas up and even though Maven brushes her off she can see she hurt him. Elara immediately reached towards Maven and told him to say goodbye. I don't see this as her being scared of Mare getting through to him, but instead her being worried because she knows more than anyone how much Thomas still effected him. I've always interpreted her taking his ability to dream away as a desperate attempt to help her son who was grieving. She was likely the only person to ever see Maven's grief and how much it was hurting him and the only thing she could do was try to remove any trace of Thomas from Maven. Even though it didn't fully work, if anything it left him worse off, I do think it was her trying to help her child in any way she could.
Elara, more than anyone, was aware of the way everyone in that court viewed Maven. Even though she knew Cal loved him, I wouldn't blame her if she had the fear that Cal would turn on him given that all of Cal's family openly showed their disdain for Maven. I also think that the treatment Cal received compared to Maven reaffirmed her belief that any "flaw" Maven had would follow him always. For example, Cal was never very good at politics and, despite politics being something he would need to be competent at, he was always given leeway when it came to it. It was understood that even though Cal struggled with politics he would receive help from his council. Compare this to Maven. Maven struggled heavily with combat, he was competent enough with it to defend himself but he was by no means great. It felt like there was a sense a shame that surrounded the fact that Maven needed protection. That even if he wanted to, he couldn't fight in a battle the way Cal could. Maven's strengths were always cast aside because of his weaknesses, whereas Cal's were accepted and he was given the resources he needed without any sense of any major insult.
I wonder what an average day was like for Maven when he was growing up and what his relationship with his mother was like day to day. I don't think Elara was in his head making changes everyday, so I wonder what their day to day interactions entailed. I wonder if she was openly motherly to him or if she restricted it private interactions only. I wonder how exactly she felt when Maven would go to Cal for comfort instead of her. I wonder how she felt knowing that everyone (atleast on Tibe's side smh I NEED more on the Merandus') outside of their immediate family at best couldn't care less about Maven and at worst hated him simply for existing. I wonder how she felt watching Tibe emotionally neglect Maven. I think most of all I want to know if she ever did feel bad for what she was doing to him. Did she ever feel guilt or shame for changing things about him? Was there any instances where she didn't want to make the changes but felt she had to for his safety in the court? Did she have limits/changes she would not make no matter what? Were there any changes she regretted?
I think in general the story could've benefited as a whole if there was more insight to Elara and her mentality when it came to Maven simply because it would've fleshed out two of the central antagonists more. I think just getting the conversation where she told Maven the plan regarding his engagement to Mare from her perspective could've added some insight to their relationship and Maven's character as a whole.
I also think Maven's feelings towards his mother are wonderfully written. I love that he understands she's hurt him and he still loves her. He tells Mare about how she forced him to walk and told her that Elara only told him because she felt it proved her love for him. He understands that what she did wasn't love because all it did was hurt him, but he still loves her. He still wants to be buried next to her and he still misses her. It's heartbreaking to know that the only reason he loves her as much as he does is because he feels he has no one else. She hurt him but she was the only one who cared enough to do anything at all.
I would feel wrong not mentioning Cal as he is the only other character who was with Maven through all of this and he certainly did care. Obviously it isn't Cal's fault he wasn't able to help Maven. They were both children, to expect Cal to have been able to do something when they were both children is stupid. But I do see how Maven could rationalize this as him not caring enough. He loved Cal so much and actively sought him out for comfort, so I can understand how Maven would feel betrayed when Cal wasn't able to notice the changes occurring. Once again, it isn't Cal's fault in the slightest but I understand how Maven reached the conclusion he didn't care enough. (not to mention he had his ability to love Cal taken but I have mixed feelings on that whole ordeal)
I want to once again mention, none of this excuses Elara's actions. What she did to Maven is unforgivable even if she did think she was helping him. I think it's interesting to think about why she did everything she did and how she justified it to herself.
I probably missed a few things, it's been a while since I read these books. (I'm rereading them soon so maybe I'll make a follow up afterwards with any new thoughts I have) I've been thinking a lot about the relationship a mother can have with her child and naturally my mind drifted to these two lol.
#I feel like this sounds like I'm an Elara apologist#I love shit like this jkjaghjl#thinking about how far a mother will go to keep her child safe even if ultimately it causes more harm than good#I didn't mention the whole situation with Coriane cause this is long enough as is#So much of my curiosity's regarding Elara would be solved if there was just a little more background on her and her family#what I'm trying to say is I need content on her family please im begging lol#I feel like Elara gets written off by the fandom a lot and it makes me sad cause she is literally what turned Maven into the monster he is#She deserves attention for that alone#anyways I hope this wasn't too long and I made sense lmao#red queen#red queen headcanons#red queen series#red queen analysis#maven calore#elara merandus
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