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macfrog · 11 months

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jet

🎉 thank u guys so much for 1k followers 🎉 i don’t know how we got here but i love you all endlessly and can’t thank you enough for all the love n support. here’s some smutty joel to celebrate 🤩 this might become something, it might not. i dunno. wanted to try it out tho. lmk your thoughts ✨

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel have an agreement: follow his movements, follow his orders, stay alive. what happens when, one night, he asks you to break the deal?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) post-outbreak!joel, pining i guess?? when don't i pine for this man, praise kink, light bondage, fingering, unprotected p in v sex (don't u dare), creampie, dom!joel, soft!joel, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), cursing, cute horsies

word count: 6.9k

main masterlist

Somewhere between Missouri and Illinois, last time you checked. Joel has the map, and you don’t bother asking him to see it much. You’ve been following the Mississippi north, on his orders, looking to hit St. Louis sometime tomorrow. Provided you don’t run into any trouble, that is.

It’s been three days with no safe refuge. Camping out in deserted houses with wood for windowpanes, stores infested with rats, office buildings with infected roaming. Joel figures the outskirts of the city are a good spot to stop for a couple nights, regain your strength, find supplies.

You’re a few paces ahead of him, only turning your head slightly when you notice an offramp, and looking back ahead when he doesn’t give any direction. You weave in and out of abandoned cars, hips swaying with the clipping of your horse’s hooves on broken asphalt, Joel’s horse in time at your heels.

You’d untethered the pair of them on a farm back in Nebraska. Joel had told you to stay put while he cleared the house, but you’d wandered over to the field when you spotted them. Timid, skittish, starving.

Five minutes hooked over the fence and they were both eating grass you’d pulled from the earth, right out of your hand. Joel’s heavy footsteps approaching had spooked them back a few steps, but you’d petted their muzzles and when he did the same, they soon warmed to him, too.

He’d jerked his head in a nod and muttered, “Good job,” before finding two saddles, strapping them on, and helping you onto the chestnut brown one – who you’d named Jet.

Joel had found tins of food in the farmhouse, and a switchblade for you to carry. He had a new stain on his shirt.

“Infected?” you asked.

He grunted in reply. Then rolled the tins into his backpack and hoisted himself onto his own horse, giving her reins a tug.

You knew that meant that yeah, there’d been infected inside. And recent, too, going by how well-kept the horses looked. It can’t have been longer than a week.

Joel’s silence as you both wandered down the farm track probably meant that there weren’t just adults in the house, either.

You’d glanced over to him, giving him a small smile. Bent over and reached for his horse’s ears, scratching where her soft black coat met her mane. The reins lay loose around Joel’s knuckles.

Protecting and providing for you was more important than some infected kids in a farmhouse. Joel had made that more than clear over the time you’d been with him. But somewhere, buried deep underneath years of fighting and killing, tucked away under a dusty flannel shirt, you knew his heart was hurting.

That was two weeks ago. Joel hasn’t talked about it, and you’re not interested in bringing it back up. Y’all got to the farm, took everything it had to offer, and you left.

Jet clicks her way along the highway somewhere south of the city. It’s still bright out; Joel reckons probably a few more hours of sunlight, so you know he’ll be scouting for places to camp out soon.

You lean back to stretch your spine, hand steadying yourself on Jet’s rump, her tail swishing as she walks. Her head bobs, looking from left to right, from the trucks with smashed windows sprouting moss, over to the trees losing leaves in the fall breeze.

It’s peaceful. Not much is, these days.

It’s quiet enough that Joel can listen for any sound of oncoming threat, and quiet enough that you can shut your eyes and pretend like you’re on some trail in the Texas country, on a warm summer evening; not exhausted, covered in dirt, weeks since you washed, days since you slept.

You’re humming gently to yourself, imagination taking you down by a creek where Joel pulls you by hand off the horse and you sit down to a picnic or something. He’d bring a basket. Maybe a bottle of wine, or a cheese board. Maybe he lays you back and kisses you on the blanket. Maybe his hand starts to wander up your thigh, skirt ruffling as he goes…

“Not much out here, is there?”

His voice startles you, bursting the seams of your daydream. He isn’t much of a talker, not unless you start it. You sit up straight and give your head a shake, as if dislodging the fantasy from your mind.

You twist around to look at his face; squinting under the bright white sky. Tired, same as you, lined, flecked with years and sun and survival.

“Hm?” he asks when you still don’t reply.

“Not a lot,” you finally say, clearing your throat and turning back to the road.

Finding the horses isn’t the only thing that’d happened two weeks ago.

Joel hadn’t wanted to camp in the farmhouse, hadn’t wanted to have to shift the bodies. Too much effort, or too much for you to see, maybe. You’d protested, heart set on a night’s sleep in an actual bed, but he hadn’t budged.

And you knew not to push him.

The sun was setting, though, so Joel led you down a dirt track toward a barn and burst the padlock. He tied the horses up just inside the door, used bundled up hay as a makeshift mattress upon which he laid out a blanket for you.

He barricaded the door as you lay back, did a walkaround of the place just in case any infected – or worse – were waiting to surprise y’all, and then sat down next to you.

Your head by his thigh, you put a hand on his knee.

“You can lie down, too, y’know.”

He grunted in response, breathing deep and steady.

“Joel.”

You took his shoulder and tried to pull him down to you, but the man is stronger than anyone you’ve ever met, even in his late forties, and you were convinced he’d only pretended to be yanked toward you so as not to hurt your feelings too much.

He remained upright. “Just want to keep watch for a while.”

Joel’s like this when you’re on the road. He’s cautious. On high alert. Always watching ahead, always listening out for whatever he thinks he might hear in the distance. Sometimes you can say something to him and have to give his leg a kick for him to answer you.

You’d sighed and pushed yourself up to lean your bicep against his. He furrowed his brows and scanned you from your jeans to your jaw.

“If you’re up, I’m up,” you told him.

“You need sleep,” he replied flatly.

You shrugged. “So do you.”

“What good is both of us tired?”

You sighed again and shook your head. You weren’t gonna argue with him.

Good thing he didn’t feel much like arguing, either. Ten minutes later he was on top of you, jeans loose on his thighs, head buried in your shoulder, fucking you senseless. Grunting and groaning into your skin.

You’d scored marks into his shoulder blades with your nails that you’re sure, if you peeled back his shirt right now, would still be there.

It’d tired you both out enough that Joel settled with your head on his chest, his hand in your hair, eyes trained on the barn doors. You don’t know if he slept a wink. You never know if he sleeps these days.

Joel hears the hoarseness of your voice and knows that you’re tired, ‘cause he clicks to his horse and she trots up alongside you and Jet. He pulls the map from his backpack. You tilt your head to take a look.

“Keep ridin’ for another hour,” he mumbles. “’m sure we’ll find somewhere soon. Looks like we’re still a little way out of St. Louis.”

You nod, rolling your head back. The cloudy sky burns your corneas as you watch a bird fly overhead. Joel slips the map back into his bag and you feel his hand on your thigh.

“You okay?”

“Mhm. Tired,” you whisper.

“Only a little while longer.” He gives your leg a small squeeze and his hand returns to the reins. He doesn’t fall back, instead, stays ambling along by your side. It feels like company. Feels nice. Feels…normal.

Two weeks is a long fucking time. Especially when your adrenaline peaks on the regular, sometimes multiple times in one day, and you’re alone with Joel all day and all night. Trusting each other, relying on each other. Saving each other time and time again. It was only natural that you began to rely on each other for…more than just survival.

You can’t remember when you found him. It was in the QZ, back when you believed in stability and structure. When you believed in people. Now, the only thing you believed in was Joel. Broken, hurt, shut-off Joel, who’d grumbled an apology when his shoulder brushed yours in the hallway and changed everything.

You like to think you were something new to him, something different. A challenge, maybe. Something worth holding onto, anyway, for reasons he was yet to let you in on.

He had an apartment of his own, with a bed of his own, which was something you weren’t used to. You shared a cramped apartment with Luce, a single mom with a two-year-old. Joel’s was where you went when the tantrums, the screaming in the middle of the night, the ration cards being destroyed either by ripping, by eating, or else by other means, became too suffocating.

Joel didn’t believe in anything or anyone, either. That’s what kept you coming back.

He’d just open his door and step aside to let you in. Barely a word. He’d ask if you’d eaten, and share his plate with you either way. Wordlessly picking away at the same food, making sure you got the last spoonful of soup, the last strip of jerky.

Most nights he’d fuck you until your mind went blank, nothing but the smell of him, feel of him, sound of him. No talking, no kissing, no touching. Just the sound of the bed springs, Joel’s soft groans as he bottomed out inside you. The feel of his hot skin, hips rubbing against the inside of your thighs. The bare, cracked brick walls of his apartment would fade away with each thrust, and then slowly seep back in when your orgasm began to wash away.

You knew it was time-wasting, for both of you. Scratching an itch. But some nights, it felt like more. The nights when he’d be so caught up in what he was doing, so caught up in you, that he’d forget to pull out. The nights his hips would snap messily and suddenly he was spilling inside of you, a deep groan humming against your skin between his teeth.

He wouldn’t care to ask, and you wouldn’t offer the information for free, but you remember every fucking time he did it. Where it’d happened, the position he had you in, how long it took for him to finally peel his body off of yours.

And afterwards, he’d let you sleep with your head on his chest. Let you play with his fingers. Let you talk to him; let you ask questions.

Didn’t mean he answered all of them. Didn’t even mean he answered much. Some, he’d give away more openly than others, but you soon got used to clocking when he was keeping a secret. Make a mental note of it, remember to chip away at it.

He trusted you, though; you knew that. Knew it by the way his fingers knotted safely in your hair, the way he’d lie naked with you until the sun came up. The way his breathing would slow, the way he’d mumble in his sleep.

You never talked to him about the incoherent words he’d breathe – but you could piece them together well enough to understand him better than his waken self would ever reveal.

When you brought up leaving, one rainy night weeks ago, he thought about it maybe twice over. Asked how he was supposed to keep you safe.

You do that already, you told him.

‘s different outside. You don’t understand.

It can’t be any worse than in here.

You’d taken a step forward, and he’d flinched, but allowed you to take his strong jaw in your hands. You tried to form a sentence, and when your throat closed up, eyes flitting between his, he took your wrists and lowered them. The shadow of a rain-spattered window doused in a sickly amber glow across his face.

You’d wanted to kiss him. And had he left your hands where they were just a few seconds longer, you think you might’ve. Joel saw it in your eyes, and stopped it.

Whatever. It had still convinced him. He packed his bag and you snuck down the fire escape the following night. Joel’s fingers were hooked around your belt loop the entire time, keeping your hip in stride with his all the way until you were at least a hundred feet away from the QZ wall.

His other concern was his age. Why someone like you would want to run away with someone like him. Forty-something, graying, past his peak. He has, like, twenty years on you. Once he made some reference about Bruce Springsteen and, when your face blanked, he sighed and took the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

I know who Bruce Springsteen is, asshole, you’d said, just didn’t get that reference.

He’d shaken his head and given you a sly, twisted smirk, then pushed you out the door of the apartment block you guys were searching.

Still, despite the years between you, you have one major thing in common.

You’re both good at getting each other…there.

Joel knows exactly what to do to make you tick. You know exactly how to push him until he does it. It’s in the way you look at him, the way you touch him. Things you say that make his stony eyes flit once down your body, and then you know you’re in.

It’s a little harder to do while on horseback, you gotta admit. The best you can do is look at him, say a sentence or two laced with want and need. Hope that he reads through the lines.

It’s worked a few times, when Joel’s suddenly found a shed or basement you can camp out in and then made it difficult for you to walk for the next couple days.

Right now, you feel too tired to even bat your eyelashes at him, never mind coming up with lines to turn him on. You’ve been on the highway for a few hours by this point, little sign of shelter anywhere nearby. Joel holds his hand out and you bring your horses to a stop in view of a hospital a couple miles ahead.

“That’s gotta be teemin’ with them,” you say, looking over to study his expression.

“Hm,” Joel agrees, and glances to the right.

“What you thinkin’? Sun’s getting lower.”

He takes a deep breath, pulls on the reins. “Know somewhere nearby.”

He heads off the highway with a click of his teeth, and you follow. You shut your eyes, chin burying beneath the collar of your shirt. You’d kinda hoped that he’d offer to clear even a small part of the hospital for you to rest up, maybe more, but you trust him enough to lead you somewhere safer, somewhere quieter.

That trust begins to wear thin, though, when the sun disappears behind the trees, drowning you guys in a low dusk, and the temperature begins to fall. Joel’s using what’s left of the gray light to guide him, slowing down to take a hold of Jet’s reins and line her up with his own horse.

“I thought you said an hour,” you mumble, grip becoming slack on the leather.

“Changed my mind,” he replies. “Almost there.”

Your eyes start to roll with exhaustion, hips aching from the position you’ve been sat in for hours now. It’s not until you notice the silhouette of a tall sign in the clearing, black against the fading purple sky, that you blink yourself awake.

Joel pulls you and Jet off the road to a deserted parking lot, shadowed by a motel. He slows the horses down, listening for any signs of life, leading them to the side of the building.

“Easy,” he whispers, pulling on the reins. Both animals come to a halt.

He slides off the saddle, hitting the ground with a thud. He takes your hands, pulling you down to him, and you glance around.

“Stay here,” he tells you, and you don’t have the energy to argue back.

He makes off, pulling his gun from his holster. You stand with a hand on each horse’s muzzle, gently petting. Joel’s gone for a decent amount of time, his silhouette slowly sneaking in and out of every room, spending a couple minutes in each before he clears it.

He returns with a box of pills, some gauze, and a bottle of water, which he hands to you. You take a long swig and pass it back, and he does the same.

“What will we do with Jet ‘n…?”

“Huh?” he asks, replacing the cap on the half-empty bottle.

“What’s your horse called?”

“She ain’t got a name.”

You tsk. “Bad owner.”

“We ain’t their owners.”

“Mine’s is Jet. Pick a name.”

Joel sighs and shakes his head, but you know he’s gonna spend all night thinking up some name to go with yours. “We’ll tie ‘em up out here.”

“What if something happens to them?”

“Well,” he says, leading them toward the shelter, “if somethin’ happens to them, it only means it’s about thirty seconds away from happenin’ to us.”

He jerks his head toward the first room as he ties them up, and you know the conversation is over.

You wander into the small, dingy room, pulling your jacket from your shoulders. It smells of damp, the wallpaper’s peeling off the wall above the bed. The sheets are in disarray, a little dusty, but they look clean enough. The bathroom walls are covered in grime. Drawers empty, closet doors missing, entire place ransacked.

It’s as good as you get, these days. At least it has a solid roof.

Joel settles the horses and closes the door gently behind himself. You’re already tugging your boots off, sat at the foot of the bed.

He rests his gun on the nightstand and straightens up, stretching his back with a quiet groan.

“’s cozy,” you offer, and he nods.

“Better ‘n risking that hospital.”

The bedsprings creak when you shimmy up the mattress, resting your back against the hardwood headboard. It ain’t the most comfortable, but then it’s not meant to be, is it? It’s only meant to be safe, which Joel’s made sure of.

He stands at the bottom of the bed, watching you as you bounce up and down a couple times, laughing quietly at the sound of the springs beneath you. His expression clouds over under low brows.

“Y’okay?” you ask, tilting your head.

He nods again. Eyes flitting up and down, from your face to your neck, back up, and then lower still. Your chest. Your stomach. Your legs. You feel your heartbeat quicken when he takes a step forward.

“Just had to find somewhere better.”

“Better?” You smile. “Have you seen the world, Miller?”

He leans his knee against the foot of the bed. His brown eyes darken even more, and his jaw tenses.

“Had to find somewhere better,” he mutters, “so I could fuck you in peace.”

Your breath catches. You stare from his lips back up to his eyes. His fists are balled tight. His chest heaves with steady panting. There’s something flickering in the depths of those warm eyes; an ember, drawing you in. Tantalizing you.

You sit forward, pushing onto all fours, and crawl down the groaning bed to him, rising onto your knees when your hands meet his shirt. Your chest against his stomach, you look up into his eyes.

His rough hands knot in your hair and he pulls down, yanking your head back and your chin up to him. He studies your face, outlined in the moonlight seeping through the window. Then he lowers his jaw and lines his lips against yours.

“That what you want?” he hums against your mouth. You swallow his words – they claw at your throat as they go.

“Uhuh,” you breathe back, trying to connect your lips. He doesn’t allow you; steadily dodges your jaw like you’re a pair of negative magnets, repelling off one another. You moan.

“Needy girl,” Joel whispers. “Two weeks too long for you?”

“Mhm.”

You’re not tired anymore. You’re fucking desperate. You feel your cunt dripping, seeping through your underwear, worsened when Joel’s hand reaches down between your legs and cups you through your jeans.

You gasp and grab his arms to steady yourself.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, hand tensing around your core.

Your lip trembles as you watch the way his mouth moves, how he shapes the words. His teeth locked between soft lips, dappled with brown hair, ends singed gray. The way he almost spits the words.

Your chest meets his torso when you breathe in, a deep, shaky breath. Joel notices; the corners of his mouth twitch, holding back a smile.

“Want you to…want you…”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence. He pushes you back and falls on top of you, strong body pinning you against the mattress, hand still clamped to your crotch.

His head dips to your neck where he bites, scratches and sucks, mumbling against your hot skin, “Tell me, baby. Use your words.”

Your head begins to swim, body starts pulsing with electricity. Baby. Joel’s pet names are limited to one thing. One activity.

“Want you to f– fuck, Joel – fuck me.” Fuck me fuck me fuck me.

His hand begins wrestling with the button of your jeans. Thick fingers fumbling with your zipper, taking your waistband with both hands and hauling it down. The force of it pulls you down the mattress too, squealing as Joel rips the denim from your legs. You lower your hands to help him, but once they’re tossed to the floor, he bats you away.

He’s shaking his head, tsking, then takes both your wrists in one of his huge hands. Fingers twisted around your delicate skin, pinning them above your head. The bed sighs around you when he pushes your hands into the mattress. Your back arches, your chest rising to meet his.

Your legs part, knees settling either side of his waist. Of course they do. It’s what you know now. It’s basic fucking instinct at this point.

His free hand returns to cup your sex, feeling how wet you are through your now soaked underwear.

“Baby,” he coos, “this all for me?”

You nod a little too eagerly, not that you’re present enough to care. But it beckons a smug smile from Joel, who begins sliding your panties down your thighs.

Your hips lift to let him drag the fabric down, biting your lip, not willing to wait another fucking second for him. Lace meets denim on the torn-up floor, and you sigh, settling back against the rusty bedsprings and mottled sheets.

Joel’s free hand ghosts from your wrist down to your elbow, teetering along the sleeve of your t-shirt over to the collar, where he pulls it so far down into the valley between your breasts that a small noise passes your lips.

“Hm?” he asks, fingers pausing against your breastbone.

“’s my only shirt. Don’t…”

He kisses his teeth. His gaze never lifts from your heaving chest, skin damp with sweat right underneath his fingers. You can see him tossing it over in his head. What he wants to do, versus what he probably shouldn’t.

He blinks. Decision made.

“Give you one of mine,” he growls, and hooks his fingers, dragging the fabric of your shirt lower and lower until the collar tears open and it’s another scrap lost to the motel room floor.

And then there you are, naked and writhing underneath him. He’s still in his dusty flannel. There’s sweat lining his forehead. He holds himself over you, hovering, taking every inch of you in and storing it behind his eyes.

You jerk your hands, trying to break free just to touch him, feel him, but he pulls away again, tutting.

“No, pretty girl,” Joel coos, “gonna take my time with ya.”

You moan in protest, still wriggling under his body. His grip on your wrists doesn’t loosen, not even when his free hand dips to undo his belt. The cold metal kisses your naked thighs when he pulls it through his jeans; the leather drags up your torso and across your face as he lifts it.

He takes your hands individually, careful and yet rough, urgent, and slots them between the slats of the headboard. Your head turns up to watch what he’s doing. The silver of his belt buckle knocks against the wood as he slips it under your wrists, feeding it between your skin and the mattress, wrapping it around the slat between your hands.

Then he slips the belt through the buckle, and pulls. Tight. Your hands come together, wrists kissing, the leather burning your skin the tighter he pulls. You whine, head rolling back to meet his gaze, fixed on yours.

“Since you don’t wanna listen.”

The drip in his voice, sweet like honey, smooth as whiskey, forces your legs open wider. Joel smirks, pushing himself down the mattress and out of your view.

Staring up at the gray ceiling, you’re left just to feel him. Feel him as his palms splay out on your knees, pushing them into the bed. Feel his stubble graze the inside of your thigh as he drags his tongue up, leaving a trail of wet behind.

Feel when he breathes a whisper across your aching cunt, something you can’t hear over the ruffling of sheets around your head as you toss around. And feel when his fingers part your lips, opening you up wide for him to really fucking see.

“Fuck, baby,” he says, and you find the strength to lift your head to watch. He’s leant over you, one arm hooked around your left thigh, holding it open, the other fucking…playing with you. Like you’re some fancy gadget. Like you’re brand new to him.

“So,” he runs two fingers from your clit through your folds, “fuckin’,” lines them up at your entrance, “pretty – for me.”

He pushes up into you, and your head hits the pillow with a stifled groan. You’re panting through your teeth, back arching the deeper he goes, stretching you out and rocking waves of sparkling heat through you. Waves that hit the other end of your stomach and come rippling back, throbbing around his thick fingers.

His arm bears down on your thigh, forcing your legs wide open for him. His hand cups your clit and you buck your hips, rutting against the base of his palm. Joel laughs softly.

“Patience, darlin’. Don’t want it to be over ‘fore it’s even started.”

Your head rocks back and forth, eyes tight shut. It’s all you can fucking do, tied tight to the bed. Joel pumps his fingers in and out of you, adding a third when you’re wet enough, thumb never leaving your clit.

You can feel your orgasm brewing in your stomach. Feel the tension between your hips. You’re chasing it, eyes shut, focusing only on Joel’s hand fucking in and out, in and out. You’re coming close, body pushing into the mattress, legs widening even more to let him slip a fourth finger inside you.

“Feel good?” he asks, almost with a laugh. There’s a smirk painted across his lips, you know it, even though you can’t find the energy to open your eyes.

You whimper in response, some small, muffled sound roughly shaped like yeah.

“Yeah,” Joel agrees, and his wrist flicks harder.

You moan every time his fingertips kiss the edge of your cunt, pushing against the soft walls. You moan when he drags them out, leaving you empty. Again, when he pushes them back in, rough and fast. And then when he lowers his lips to your ear and tells you how good you’re being, how pretty you look, how hard he’s gonna…

It’s like he changes his mind in an instant.

Withdraws his hand, slick-covered and still hooked. Pulls it away as quickly as he pulls your orgasm from your body. It drains from you; reduces back to an ache you can’t reach.

Joel slips his fingers between his lips as he readjusts himself, repositioning on the squealing mattress. Sucks them clean as casually as he would at a cookout or something, then takes your hips in both hands and straightens you up.

His jeans are tugged down barely past his ass. He’s not prepared to waste any time ripping his own clothes off like he did yours. Just leans forward, pulls his solid cock from his boxershorts, and spits into his hand.

You watch through eyes glazed with lust as he strokes himself a couple times, eyes always on your swollen cunt, groaning as his spit coats his shaft. Then he lowers himself to you and does the same, only running his length through your folds.

You whine, feeling that familiar thickness separate you so close to where you need him, and yet so fucking far.

“Joel…” you whisper, but he’s not listening.

Transfixed on the sight of his cock moving against your soaked cunt. Listening to the sweet, wet sounds the pair of you make. His tip catches on your entrance a couple times and you gasp. Just fucking do it already.

“Fuck,” Joel growls under his breath, and then…

It’s been months. Might even be years. But the feeling of him pushing inside you for the first time is still the same. Every. Fucking. Time. He’s bigger, thicker than anyone you’ve ever slept with before. And he knows it, because every single time, he glides into you without hesitation. No time for you to adjust. Just fills you up straight away, lets you deal with it later.

He’s cocky like that. Too careful when you’re on the road, and too careless when you’re between the sheets. Not that you’re fuckin’ complaining.

Your mouth falls open in a choked moan. Your lungs are gasping for air. Joel’s all you can feel.

Your elbows lift into the air, arms desperate to break free just to grab onto him, ground yourself, feel him close against you. Your wrists lock against the hardwood, leather digging into your skin as punishment for trying to break free. You’re stuck; nothing but the overwhelming feeling of him between your legs, filling you up and leaving you empty over and over again.

“Good girl,” he’s panting, still watching where his cock lines up with your cunt, and then disappears inside.

He leans down and his lips find home on your shoulder, sucking sweet marks into the skin like he always does. His tip bumps against your cervix, jolts of sensitivity pushing through you each time he bottoms out causing you to whine into his flannel.

“Fuck, Joel.”

“I know, I know. I got you. I’ll get you there again, baby.”

You had a routine. Follow his movements, follow his orders, stay alive. Deviate slightly from that routine, even for a minute, and you threw the whole agreement into jeopardy. One misstep on a crowded street dotted with cars once had a sniper open firing at you both for nearly two hours until Joel found him and put a bullet between his eyes. That time your curiosity got the better of you and Joel almost lost a hand stopping you from walking down an alleyway and straight into a wire trap.

Repeat it, Joel had said that night. Crouched by his apartment window, rain battering off the glass. Hands on the frame, ready to hoist it up and let you slip out any second. Repeat. It.

Do as you say, you whispered back. And only then did he pull the sash.

This is not the fucking routine. This is not the agreement. You fucked, of course you did. But that’s all it ever was. Hungry, touch-starved, desperate sex. Bored sex. We-almost-died-today sex. Not this.

Not: clear an entire motel just so nothing within a two-mile radius gets to hear you fuck me senseless. Strip me down, tie me up, push me to the edge with your hands, but don’t let me go without you. Curl your lips around my ear while you’re buried inside me and whisper praises. Whisper baby. Whisper…anything you like. Anything you wouldn’t say when the sun’s up.

This feels like it means something. To both of you. Feels like Joel’s looking for something in you, asking something of you. And you want to give it to him, whatever it is.

And maybe that’s the point.

He’s proving that he could make you do fucking anything. Let him tie you to a bedframe, push you close enough to the edge that you can feel the pressure of release beckoning you forward like the wind circling your ankles.

And you’re proving that you’ll do it. You’ll do what he says. Follow him to the edge, refuse to jump. Pull his body into yours, make it feel like home for a night.

He’s proving that he’ll take care of you, and you’re proving that you’ll let him.

Your wrists are burning. Leather digging marks, searing skin, then rubbing over it again and again to cut it deeper. It’s starting to hurt, if you’re honest with yourself. Your face probably gives it away.

Probably, possibly. Definitely.

Joel notices you quieten and lifts his head from the crook of your neck. Studies your face for a fraction of a second and knows.

“Hey,” he says, reaching up. He loosens the belt with one hand whilst still deep inside you, hips thrusting slowly just as a place marker.

When your hands slip free, Joel’s clasp gently around your wrist, fingers delicate over the sensitive, reddened skin. His eyes almost glisten at the sight.

“Baby…” he whispers.

“’s okay,” you reassure him, loosening his grasp on you and settling your shaky hands on his jaw. “I’m okay. Liked it.”

Joel lowers his forehead against yours and picks his pace up again, and you moan into the space between your lips. Your legs lift higher, knees bumping against his shoulders. His hips snap into yours, his jeans rutting against the inside of your thighs, the bed creaking with each messy thrust.

“Close, baby,” his voice vibrates against your lips.

“Yeah,” you whine, chest pushing against his. “Fuck. Right there. Fuck.”

Your arm drapes over his shoulder blades, nails dig into the rough cotton of his shirt. Your left hand is still at his jaw, fingers caressing his cheek. Joined together at your hips and your brows, gaze never really meeting for longer than a second, but still. You’re right there. Joel – he’s right there.

It’s new, it’s intimate. It’s almost…sweet.

“Gonna cum with me?” he asks, sincerely. He’s not trying to coax it out of you. He’s checking that you want to fall over the edge. Not for him, not because of him, but with him.

You nod and he returns it, sweat sticking his dark hair to his forehead.

With his eyes on you, flitting between your parted lips and your batting eyelashes, too scared to settle on either place for too long, he lifts your hips and fucks into you fast. Deep. Fucking – hard. Skin slapping against yours, breath hot and tangling with yours between your lips.

The pressure between your hips begins to build again, rapidly, Joel adding to it with every movement. Every push of his thick cock against your walls only draws them in tighter, closing around him, holding him closer to you with each moan escaping both your lips.

“Darlin’…” he murmurs in a broken voice, and you know. He’s starting to falter. Thrusts weakening.

“’m there too,” you reply, gasping for breath.

“Let me – feel you,” he says, “pretty girl.”

Maybe it’s the fact you don’t normally talk. Maybe the fact he never touches you the way he has tonight. Maybe it’s him wanting you to cum first, before he will.

Or maybe it’s pretty girl, that finally sends you over.

You look so good to him. You’re being so good for him. ‘n he can’t help it, has to let you know. Has to let every thought that passes through his head slip out past his tongue.

Pulling his chest flat against yours, you throw your head back to the pillow with a moan so filthy, so guttural that you’d be surprised if you don’t have company in five minutes.

Joel’s at your heels, face buried between your breasts, groaning into your chest as his cock twitches deep inside you and you feel him fill you up.

Your orgasm’s still knocking you senseless, every nerve in your body electrified. You’re holding Joel tight to your body, his ear flat to your chest, and you know he can hear your heartbeat. Know he’s listening to it throwing punches from behind your ribcage.

He’s still groaning through his breaths, heavy and thick with his release. Cock still deep inside you, still, softening. You lay like that for…well, you’ve no idea how long. But after a bit, Joel pulls himself up off of you and wanders into the bathroom.

You sit up on your elbows, taking deep, steady breaths, and let the stars in your vision dissipate. Joel emerges a couple minutes later and finally tugs his jeans down. He lifts both his shirt and the tee underneath off in one motion, tossing them onto the sideboard, then slips back under the covers, wordlessly hooking a hand around your upper arm and pulling you down onto his chest.

Your legs intertwine with his. There’s cum seeping out of you onto his thigh. Both of you, mixed up as one. His fingers sift through your hair, doing little to untangle it but trying all the same. His breathing in time with yours, his lips pressed safely to the crown of your head.

Before you know it, you’re sleeping.

Dawn breaks early. Too early. You’re still tangled up in Joel, feeling his chest rise and fall. Listening to his heartbeat – slow, calm. The drapes – not that there’s much left of them – are too thin to stop any light from flooding in. It’s only a matter of time before he wakes up.

The rough sheets sting against your wrists – red marks scoring them where Joel’s belt had been. You wince, running light fingers over the grazes, hissing at your fingertips as they go.

It hurts way less than it thrills you. This little reminder of what you did last night. What Joel did. The pain subsides the longer you touch the scars, knitted brows melting into a smile.

You slowly lift your head, propping yourself up on your elbow. Just watching him. The dust in the room frames him in a sea of white glitter, the slow-emerging sun lights across his face and dips where the scar on his nose sits.

His arms are still around your waist, cradling you. Holding you to him. You know he’s stirring when they tighten, and then fall loose. Façade back up. Walls slowly rebuilding.

You dress yourselves in silence. Run out of words to say. There ain’t nothing to say – nothing that wasn’t said last night. Joel sinks into the mattress beside you to tie his laces, and your arms brush against one another a couple times. It’s like fire on ice.

He’s first to leave the room. Just pulls his jeans over his boots and stands, unlocks the door and lets the light flood in. You check once over for anything left behind, and slip out. The air is cool, twilight still slowly washing away. You sling your jacket over Jet’s back and pull yourself up.

Joel’s t-shirt is loose over your shoulders. He gave you a fresh one from his bag. It smells like him, but you don’t let him see when you bury your nose into it to breathe him in. The hem bunches up over the top of your thighs once you’re sat on the horse.

His eyes scan down you once, surveying you in hisshirt. Then he swerves off back toward the road, silhouette cutting between the rays of sun streaming between the pine trees.

“Ghost,” he tosses over his shoulder.

“Huh?” You click to Jet to follow.

“Horse’s name. Ghost.”

“How come?” you ask when you’re side by side with him.

He shrugs, upper lip turning. “When it’s dark, you can’t hardly see her. She’s like a ghost.”

Joel’s hand surfs gently across Ghost’s mane, fingers scratching her shining coat. Your bodies rock in time with the sway of the horses’ walking. The echo of their hooves on the asphalt masks the silence for a few moments.

“Alright,” you eventually accept, turning away to watch the sun lift above the prickly treetops.

And to hide the smile tugging on your lips.

----------

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photo1030 · 1 year

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Leather and Lace - Chapter16: Feelings Revealed

PART 2 - WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?

Summary: After Arthur’s rejection, tensions run high between the two of you and decisions need to be made.

*As always, special thank you to my best-y @rivetingrosie4 for beta-reading and all the helpful notes & encouragement.

*Full disclosure: The line about “the moon and stars” further in the story is based on a meme I read. And I have images from @red-dead-simp and @regwishesshehadmagic in here.

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*This stunning image comes from @red-dead-simp

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4 @bimbo-dollz @pine4pple-b0i @redwritr @kuri-chans-blog @queer-sadie-adler @joelmillerswifey @gimmethosedaddymilkers @pcotarelo @delilah-grimes @maemortem @wistfulwisteriawitch @lilacxxdreams @mentallyillfrogs @absolutegeek @spurz @sophiaj650 @uniqueclodzinevoid @lookingformaurice @pawoui @randomidk-123 @yyiikes @eddiemetalheadmunson @twola @kmartkiddieisle @red-dead-simp @regwishesshehadmagic

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know.

The ride back to camp from the overlook is terribly awkward. Your mind is blank and foggy and your body numb as you sit slightly slumped in Blue's saddle. You are reeling from the preceding events. You keep your horse moving at a quicker pace to stay ahead of Arthur's as you head home. Any time that you hear him approaching closer to you, your muscles tense up and you spur your heels into Blue's side to encourage him to go just a bit faster to maintain the distance between you. You can't even bring yourself to look at Arthur for fear of shattering into inconsolable pieces out of humiliation.

For Arthur, the entire ride back is riddled with regret and second-guessing. He casts his gloomy eyes on your backside the entire way home, without so much as a glance back or sound from you. It causes his heart to break in two. And oh, how he wants to give the other half of it to you. But as he looks down at his gnarled hands and the worn metal of the guns that hang so naturally on his hips, he knows this is the way it has it be. He is going to keep you safe, whether you like it or not. You may hate him for it, but at least you'll be alive to do it.

When you hit the treeline of the camp, you push Blue just a bit faster and lead him to the far end of the hitching posts, determined to stay as far away from Arthur as you can for the time being. You quickly dismount, with the hair on the back of your neck standing up as you feel his eyes watching you, while keeping your back to the man. Once you have Blue settled in for the day, you make haste to head to your tent, walking briskly and keeping your head down. Your eyes stay focused along the soft grass at your feet, desperate to avoid any attention from anyone else in camp. Somewhere in the distance, you can hear Karen calling your name, but you pretend not to hear her. You are not in the mood for visiting and carrying-on with your friends right now.

As soon as you reach your tent, your trembling fingers fumble to draw the sides down, a clear indication that you do not want to be disturbed. You can only hope that no one hears you sobbing quietly within the canvas. You are numb, totally and completely, as you fold your arms around yourself to keep from shaking. You cannot wrap your swimming mind around what has just happened. You poured your heart out to Arthur. You literally begged the man to be with you. And he rejected you. And worse yet, he basically severed himself from you in the process.

Arthur slowly climbs down from his own horse upon arrival, and silently watches you walk away and head to your tent. Regret coats his insides like water pouring over a river rock. But he doesn't have time to wallow too long. The man isn't even in camp for five minutes and Dutch is calling his name. He lets out a heavy groan, accompanied by a long sigh, at the sound of Dutch's voice carrying through the camp. Dutch is the last thing he wants to deal with right now.

Of course, Arthur's heavy footfalls and scowl are lost on Dutch as he approaches the older man's tent. Arthur is his guard dog; Dutch is used to seeing him angry and sullen. In fact, he almost prefers it. Dutch needs him this way. Arthur stands in front of Dutch's tent, his gaze unfocused and mind wandering as Dutch speaks to him. The man's deep voice sounds muffled in Arthur's ear as he half-halfheartedly pays attention to what is being said to him, his mind somewhere else entirely.

"Think you can handle that?" Dutch's words finally catch Arthur's attention, snapping him out of his listless thoughts.

Arthur lifts his eyes to meet Dutch's expectant gaze. "Whatever. Just make sure the tip is solid and I'll make it work."

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

Arthur takes advantage of the quick job Dutch sends him on the day that you have confessed your feelings for him. He smartly uses the opportunity to give you some breathing room and time to calm down a bit. After checking in with Dutch upon his return, he heads over to his tent to put away his things and takes a minute to breathe. Arthur stands with his thumbs hanging from his gun belt as he surveys the camp, checking the state of things. His body naturally falls into this stance whenever he stands still for a moment. And right now, he is more weary than he’s been in a long while.

His wandering eyes eventually find you working alone in your med-tent. Your hair is pulled back and out of your face so you can work, but a few tendrils of soft locks have escaped and dangle to frame your face. Your hands move slowly, practically dancing around the bowl that has enveloped your attention. Arthur takes in the heavenly sight of you, standing in a simple white blouse and green skirt set comfortably upon your hips, mulling over what he should do, as he nervously chews his plump bottom lip for a moment. Eventually, he decides to see how things feel between you two and tentatively makes his way over to your med-tent.

Arthur kneads his thumb into the palm of the opposite hand nervously while he waits for you to notice him standing there outside the tent. He stands with an uneasy grin, fidgeting slightly. "Hey you.”

You briefly look up from the steaming bowl of herbs and boiling water that you are stirring, careful not to look him in the eye for too long. "What can I do for you, Arthur?" Your voice carries none of the usual excitement that he hears when you see him.

Arthur's face drops, disappointed with your short reply. He clears his throat to attempt to dislodge the knot there before trying to continue. "I was out earlier and found some of that yarrow and dandelion root you use all the time. Grabbed some for you." He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a bundle of the fragrant herbs. He carefully unwraps them from the white cotton rag he's kept them in and holds them out to you with his large hands. A hopeful look sits upon his brow as he cranes his neck a bit to see if this peace offering will get you to look at him.

"Thank you. You can set them down on the table there," you instruct softly, pointing to the end of the table with your wooden spoon. Usually you'd jump at the chance to take something from Arthur, seizing any opportunity to touch his hands and for your fingers to teasingly graze across each other’s. But not this time. And this deviation in your behavior isn’t lost on Arthur, either.

"I could take you out and show you where I found it, if you like? In case you need more?" He gingerly sets the bundle of plants down, watchful for your reaction.

“Actually, that bundle there will last me awhile. But thank you.” With a quick and awkward smile, you return your full attention to the steaming liquid in front of you.

“Sure” he murmurs, feeling crushed. Arthur stands there a moment longer, as there is usually some sort of chatter from you. You always try to utilize his attention as much as you can when you have it. But now, you venture nothing else for him. So he turns and walks away, his boots slow to move in the grass. He does not notice that you discreetly reach up to wipe a rogue tear that escapes and cascades down your cheek as he turns away.

And so it goes on this way for a few days. You speak to Arthur only when he speaks to you, and even then, it's simple exchanges. There's no more joking or banter between you. Gone are the stolen glances and discreet blushes when catching each other staring. You have no harshness towards him, of course. But you can't bring yourself to maintain the flirtatious nature of your relationship either. You are not mad at Arthur after your revelation at the overlook, nor are you mean to him. You simply treat him like anyone else. Which, as it turns out, is something that Arthur is not prepared for. He is used to your smiles and greetings just for him. He is used to being special to you. But now, Arthur is just like everyone else in the gang.

This change in the dynamic weighs heavily on Arthur. His feelings aside, he simply misses you. It's been a long time since Arthur has had someone he can talk to and confide in. For someone who is generally annoyed by other people, Arthur has found that he enjoys your specific company. Your conversations and activities together range from the profound and insightful to the delightfully mundane and ordinary. In fact, he has come to need your companionship to balance the negativity of his life. Your softness counteracts the harshness that he experiences every time he is away from you. He craves the blissful distraction that your honey-sweet voice offers him.

One afternoon, Arthur decides to make another attempt to talk about this precarious situation. He catches you by the laundry while you are hanging today's wash to dry. You notice him out of the corner of your eye making his way over to you and you can feel your stomach start to churn as you avert your eyes to the task at hand.

He stops just in front of you as his hand comes up to rub against his chin nervously. "Y/N? Can I talk to you a minute, please?"

With a blank stare, you say nothing in response. You slowly lower your hands from the clothes line, twirling the clothes pins in your hands in distraction.

"Look, I know you're not happy with me right now, and I understand that," he starts. "But I was hoping we could still be friendly and all." Arthur's sapphire eyes search yours, looking for some indication that you are willing to put this unpleasantness behind you both.

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you hesitate before you answer him. "Did you change your mind?"

"No," he shakes his head, glancing down at his boots. "No, I can't go about that. But I want things to just go back to how they were between us." Arthur is a simple man, and he is also a creature of habit. He is used to your presence in his life and, more importantly, the impact that you have on it.

“It doesn’t work like that, Arthur." You furrow your brows at him, finally speaking more than a few words at a time. "I understand your reasoning, I suppose. I don’t agree with it, but I accept it." You pause, looking down as your eyes begin to flutter at the emotional wave that you are trying to halt in your gut before you continue. "You’re allowed to feel what you do about it. I suppose I can’t be angry with you for that." Rolling the smooth wooden clothespins between your fingertips and inhaling deeply through your nose, you lift your chin to catch his gaze again. "But don’t expect me to act like nothing happened, Arthur.”

"I just can’t go down that road again, (Y/N)," he says, gesturing with his palm out, imploring you to understand. "Besides, I just want you to have a normal life."

With a slight shake of your head, you look up into his face. "Arthur, I have no interest in a 'normal life'. And besides, my life has been anything but normal already."

His only response is an eye roll before looking off to the side in frustration, trying not to start a fight with you again. The movement causes a pang of annoyance to strike in your chest as your hand plants onto your hip.

"I don't need your constant protection, Arthur." Your statement comes across a little more harshly than you intend to when you notice he is trying not to look you in the eye.

It is a comment that makes him slowly turn his face back to you with a sarcastic scowl. "Oh, I beg to differ on that one." God, the condescension is almost tangible.

You let out a deep and disappointed sigh as you study him a moment. "Nevermind. You just don’t get it." Shaking your head and dismissing this whole conversation, you bend over and harshly snatch up the laundry basket at your feet. You maneuver around him to head back to the tents and leave him standing there.

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

By this point, you have become quiet and melancholy around camp. Everyone notices that you're not your usual bubbly self, as you seem to float through camp now, rather than be a part of it. Always observant, Abigail has had enough and pins you down to ask what the hell is going on with you.

"Why are you and Arthur so odd lately? Did something happen? Did you have a fight or something?" She eyes you suspiciously, handing you a cup of coffee while you and the girls take a break from chores and sit at one of the tables. The weather is still fairly warm today and everyone is bustling about to prepare for the oncoming colder months ahead.

You look over at Abigail with a woeful look as you accept the hot cup. "I told Arthur how I feel about him."

The girls all gasp in excitement, eager to finally talk about this thrilling topic. But your somber expression immediately halts their celebratory giggles.

"I don't understand, (Y/N), why aren't you more excited about this?" asks Tilly, leaning in closer to you from across the table to know more, astonishment draped across her cherub face.

You stare listlessly at the cup in your hands. "He turned me down. He said no."

“He said what?!” Abigail’s eyes shoot wide before quickly screwing down in confusion.

“No! Why would he say that?” breathes Mary-Beth in hushed wonder, bringing her hand up to her mouth in shock. She exchanges a confused glance with Tilly before looking back to you, anxious for details.

You shrug softly with a sorrowful smile. “He doesn’t think he’s good enough for me, I guess.”

“Well, duh, of course he isn’t!” Karen blurts out with a wave of her hand before it slams down onto the table with a loud clap next to you. “But let’s be honest, there probably isn’t a man alive who is.”

“He’s entitled to his decision,” you quietly repeat the worn excuse you had given to Arthur already. “Besides, he’s been hurt before. I suppose I can’t blame him.”

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard," argues Karen, her pouty red lips frowning. "Do you want me to go talk some sense into him, honey? I’ll put my foot in his ass and set him straight.” Her doll-like eyes burn with intensity as she crosses her arms over her chest in a huff.

“No, no." You can’t help but smile at your friend's defense of you as the image of Karen taking on Arthur makes you chuckle a bit. "I can’t force him to be with me and I wouldn’t want to anyway.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense, (Y/N),” Mary-Beth points out. “I mean, we’ve all seen the way he looks at you. And when you two are dancin’ by the fire… I wish I had that.” Mary-Beth is so sweet and always the hopeless romantic of your circle. And while all of the girls have been pulling for you and Arthur to be together, it is always Mary-Beth who is the biggest supporter of it. When you had your hang-over confession of your crush on Arthur after your drunken night out with Karen, Mary-Beth told you that you and Arthur are like a real-life story out of one of her romance novels. At the time, you dismissed the silly notion as nothing more than a foolish daydream. But, still, it was a comment that made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

With a dejected sigh, your chin lands into the palm of your hand. Your shoulders sink as you lean onto the table. "Well, doesn’t matter now, does it?"

There is an awkward stillness as this discussion settles amongst your little group. Frankly, the girls are speechless. But your quiet moment with the girls doesn't last too long before Ms. Grimshaw saunters over and disperses you all. As long as there is daylight, there is work to do, and she will make damn sure that it gets done. Dividing up the chores between you all, the matriarch ushers you and Abigail over to Pearson's wagon to start prepping vegetables for tonight's dinner. You grab yourself a cutting board and a bowl of potatoes and amble over to a small work table to start peeling.

Once she has Jack occupied, Abigail grabs a bowl of carrots for herself and sits down across the table from you. She watches you with a heartbroken and disappointed look as you set about your task. You and she have become quite close since you've come here to join the Van Der Linde gang. While she certainly cares for Arthur as her own family, she feels just awful for you. She knows how much you care for Arthur. It's so obvious in everything that you do. And she knows that you could make Arthur truly happy, too. 'Damn him,' Abigail thinks to herself. 'Why does he have to be so god-awful stubborn?'

"I’m sorry, (Y/N), really I am." Abigail's voice breaks the painful silence as the two of you work. You look up at her with the eyes of a puppy that's been kicked. "I don’t know what’s gotten into Arthur. I really thought he’d jump at the chance to call you his," she insists tenderly.

You nod in understanding, but honestly, the whole situation is becoming exhausting. You've tried so hard to come to terms with it, but it's becoming harder than you expected. “Maybe it was a mistake to come here," you admit softly, your voice slightly broken. "But back home in the east, I have nowhere to go, and I can’t go back to Rosewood." You reach into the bowl of potatoes again, your fingers working as you precariously drag the knife over the starchy vegetables. "But, I don’t want to be a problem here either, though. I’d leave here but I'm afraid to even do that." You cringe internally at how pathetic you sound, especially complaining to Abigail who has had her fair share of hardship in this world.

She observes you with a sympathetic click of her tongue being the only sound she is able to muster at the moment as you continue.

"You know," lifting your eyes back Abigail, "Arthur said I shouldn’t even be here. Suppose he’s right about that. As usual." You roll your eyes a bit. "I guess I just don’t belong anywhere."

Abigail reaches over the table and wraps her hand over top of yours. "Oh, (Y/N) please don’t say that. Of course you belong here." She affectionately squeezes your hand a bit more. "Don't listen to that fool. You're one of us now." Chuckling, she adds, "Whether you like it or not."

You finally stop peeling potatoes and give her a tired but appreciative smile. "It's times like this that I really miss my father, you know? At least we were misfits together.” Your face drops a bit at the memory of him. You and he came out west together to start a new life and, well, that is certainly what has happened. You have forged a new path for yourself with this gang of thieves and miscreants and found a new family within it.

But still, you miss your father terribly, as he was always your one true and unyielding ally in this world. There have been many moments where you have caught yourself in tears and heartache over his abrupt death. While the members of the Van Der Linde gang have been most gracious in welcoming you into their circle, that pang of sorrow still lingers like a fresh wound. And now in light of this situation with Arthur, it seems to have come back to the surface ten-fold as you're not sure what to do now. Your father was always such a kind and understanding man, very pragmatic. You’d give anything just to have his council again.

After the two of you are done helping Mr. Pearson with dinner, you head back to the privacy of your tent to nurse a throbbing headache, and Abigail wanders over to the fire with Jack in tow. While her boy plays with his wooden figurines at her feet, Abigail sits cross-legged on the ground with her chin in her hand, staring into the crackling flames with a contemplative scowl on her face. Soon enough, an all-too familiar raspy voice catches her attention.

"Oh boy, who's on your shit-list now?" jokes John as he playfully tugs on the few wisps of hair that hang from her loose bun and dance along the nape of her neck. He slowly lowers himself to sit next to her, leaning out onto his knees with his elbows. "I'm hopin' it ain't me." He bumps into her shoulder with a smirk.

She snorts in his direction. "No, for once, it's not you. It's that idiot brother of yours."

John listens to Abigail vent her frustrations out to him as she goes on for a good twenty minutes. (Honestly, it feels good to him to not be the target of her ire for a change.) And after hearing of what is going on between you two, John decides to talk to Arthur about it. He actually agrees with his woman for once and wants to see if he can nudge Arthur in the right direction. You and John may have gotten off on the wrong foot when you first came to join the gang, but since then, he has come to be quite fond of you. He appreciates the friendship you have provided for Abigail, and you’ve helped him to create a better relationship with her. And, as much as he and Arthur bicker, John has to admit that you are good for Arthur. Plus, if he doesn't talk to Arthur, Abigail certainly will. And John will try to spare his brother her wrath that he knows all too well himself.

John finds Arthur over by the horses, getting them fed and watered for the night before everyone settles in by the fires. He saunters over to Arthur, no announcement, no greeting. He just blurts out “Are you crazy?!"

Arthur halts in his movements, looking over his shoulder and giving John a confused look. "What in the hell are you goin' on about now, Marston?"

"You have a woman like (Y/N) throwing herself at you and you say 'no'?! Jesus, I don’t ever want to hear you talk about how stupid I am!” John plants his hands on his narrow hips as he scolds the man in front of him. Arthur just gives him another confused look. "Abigail told me," replies John. "Apparently (Y/N) is all upset and was talking to Abigail about it."

Arthur rolls his eyes to the sky. "Shit..."

"And before you get all mad at (Y/N) for blabbin', Abigail had to drag it out of her," John says quickly. "She was wonderin' why (Y/N)'s been actin' funny the last few days. "

"Oh..." Arthur sighs. He tosses the horse brush that is in his hand into the bucket at his feet and shoves his fingertips into his eye sockets in frustration. Great. Now the whole damn camp is going to know his business. "It ain’t that easy, Marston." He offers John his feeble excuse with a dismissive wave of his arm towards his brother.

John rolls his eyes in exasperation. "Well, what’s so damn hard about it, Arthur? She likes you, you like her - and don't tell me that you don't!" he quickly points his finger at Arthur before the man can even deny it. "It don’t get much easier than that!"

"What if..." Arthur's hand waves haplessly in the air, his eyes scattering across the camp, as he tries to find the words. "What if I get her killed? Huh?" A long, depressed sigh escapes his chest as he turns to lean his burly arms out over top of Buck's backside as he thinks. "Or, what if she decides that she really doesn't like me after all?" His chin turns back over his shoulder to meet John's questioning gaze again. "What then?"

"Well, that's a real possibility. I mean, I've known you for years and I still don't like you," John snickers.

"Don't be an ass," Arthur snaps back.

John proudly places his hand over his chest. "I can honestly say that for once, between the two of us, Arthur, I am not the ass in this situation here."

“She deserves better than the likes of me,” Arthur continues, flipping his hand about wildly again to indicate himself and the camp. And as he hears his own words hanging in the air, Arthur knows he's trying to convince himself more than John right now. Deep down, he's desperately trying to justify the huge mistake he knows that he is making.

“Well, that goes without saying." John walks a few steps closer to Arthur, casually patting Buck's hind quarters as he speaks. "But I say, if you really want (Y/N) to be happy, then just give her what she wants. And for whatever reason, that’s you, jack-ass." He looks his brother in the eye, an impish grin on his thin lips. "(Y/N) is not dumb, Arthur. Did you ever stop to think that if someone like her fancies you, then you can’t be all that bad?”

Arthur thinks on this for a moment, stunned by this idea. He's never considered it from that perspective. His vividly colored eyes dart around as the notion rolls about in his head. "You know, Marston, you may not be all that dense, after all."

John simply snorts in response. "Well, ain't that hard, considering the company that I keep."

"I can't believe I'm taking relationship advice from you of all people," Arthur mutters, as he draws his hand over his face in disbelief.

"I know, right?" John chuckles a bit as he slaps Arthur on the shoulder.

To Arthur's surprise, his talk with John actually makes him feel better. He decides to try to make things up to you, or to at least make the focused effort to go back to how things were before. But to his dismay, you resist his advances. You are trying to keep your distance from him at this point, avoiding him whenever you can, as you find that it's just too painful to be around him. You eat your meals in your tent, and you keep to yourself when you work. You are not unkind or rude to Arthur, using only simple one word answers when you have to talk to him. But there is no fondness or attachment with him as usual. The familiarity between the two of you has dwindled like a dying candle flame about to be swallowed in a bed of used wax.

You strategically place yourself the furthest away from Arthur whenever he is in camp, volunteering for any task that Ms. Grimshaw has available to keep yourself preoccupied. Grimshaw hates it when you girls are interrupted from whatever work she has dictated you to do. So you will use her iron-will to your advantage to shield yourself from Arthur if you can.

Aside from washing laundry all day, you run errands with Mr. Pearson, run scouts with Javier, and try to get out of camp altogether whenever you have the opportunity. You jump at the chance to go hunting with Charles any time he offers. In fact, you have come to rely on Charles quite a bit lately. Charles naturally has a calming presence about him and he has become a great comfort to you. He himself is also a bit of a loner and outsider in this group, and you have found a kindred spirit in him.

At one point you are in your tent cleaning up and turn to head out to find Charles. You are not paying attention, looking down as you shake out the jacket in your hands and you run right into Arthur, almost bouncing off of his chest. He has come to try to talk to you yet again, and corners you by your tent. He is standing in front of you with his thumbs tucked into his gun belt, as he usually does, but this time he has a slight scowl set upon his face, his eyes dark. If you didn't know him better, you'd be intimidated by his demeanor standing there.

You gasp, jumping slightly and placing a hand over your chest in surprise. "Jesus, Arthur! You scared the hell out of me!"

“Figured I had to sneak up on you lest you run away from me again," he retorts, his voice carrying a tinge of annoyance to it. "What, are you trying to make me jealous by hangin' 'round with other men, now?”

You halt at his accusation, your face twisting up. "Excuse me?"

“You’ve been hangin' 'round with Charles quite a bit lately." His eyes level at you with a cold and mirthless stare.

"Have I?" Your reply is sarcastically innocent. You do not care for his insinuation in the slightest, and now it is you who is getting annoyed.

"Yeah, you have," Arthur pushes. "You won’t go out hunting with me, but you’ll go out with him.” He juts his thumb over his shoulder back at the camp behind him.

“I like Charles," you counter harshly. "He doesn’t talk much. I don’t have to worry about stupid shit coming out of his mouth.”

"Is that a fact?" His slow drawl is clearly an indication that he is not amused at your statement.

"Yes, it is. Is that a problem, Arthur?" You are not about to back down from him, no matter how much he towers over you as he steps even closer to you now while you glare up at him bitterly.

He waves his hand at you in irritation. "No. No, you do whatever you damn well want.” You can tell he is getting riled up now, as his eyes are flashing, and you can see his jaw clenching, even under his beard.

“Good, because I plan to," you snap at him again. "Besides, what am I supposed to do?" You toss the jacket that you are still holding onto your cot behind you before crossing your arms defensively over your chest. "And where’s this coming from, anyway, Arthur? I thought you wanted no part of that?"

He just stares at you, not really sure what to say to that. The argument is right there on the tip of his tongue, ready to strike its ugly head. He wants nothing more than to grab you and hold you tight, never letting you go; needing you to just stop lashing out at him for a damn second. But he can’t. He just…can’t. So instead, he stands there like a mountain; silent and not moving.

Anger begins to build in your chest, causing the brows above your beautiful eyes to crease. You can feel your heart beating painfully faster as the adrenaline courses through your body. And you can sense that your mouth is about to pour forth words that will be an unstoppable waterfall.

"First there’s the glances, the lingering touches, taking me out places, talking to me all the time," you start rambling, your composure quickly crumbling now that you are speaking to him again. "Then all of a sudden acting like I'm nothing to you-“

"Hey! I never said you were nothing to me!” he interrupts with a shout as he takes another step closer to you.

"- only to be jealous, now?!" Your voice squeaks as it hits the louder decibel.

“I ain’t jealous and I never promised you anything! You’re the one who made it complicated!” He points his large finger in your face, mere inches from your nose.

"Right, my error. My miserable error for giving a damn about you!" Your arms shoot straight at your sides as your voice continues to rise in anger, your eyes dangerously brimmed with tears that threaten to spill forth and betray your hard front.

You lower your head to your hands, driving your fingertips into your temples, desperately trying to keep your brain from exploding. "What are you doing, Arthur?"

"What?" he snaps defensively.

"What are you doing to me?!," you holler at him, lifting your face back to his. "You want me here, but you don’t want me here. You don’t want me, but you don’t want me with anyone else, either. You can’t keep stringing me like that! What is it that you want, Arthur?!"

"I don’t know what the hell I want!” His voice roars into your face, standing nose to nose with you now, so close that you can feel his hot breath across your cheeks.

"Well that’s obvious," you say flatly.

And as you fearlessly hold his stony gaze, it occurs to you that you're going to have to let this fantasy of yours die. You've tried so hard to make him see what’s in himself, and to see you; to get him to see that your heart is here for his taking and, more importantly, that he deserves to be loved in return.

But he’s a broken outlaw. And you're going to have to come to terms with that and let him go. The reality of this idea painfully nets over your heart as your gaze flutters before it drops from his angry eyes to his heaving chest and finally falls to the ground to his dusty boots.

Defeated, your shoulders drop. You shake your head as you turn away from him, not able to look upon his face anymore. "Just…get the hell out of my tent, Arthur." Your tone is quiet and broken now after all of the yelling. He's done it. He's won the argument and finally gotten what he's been pushing you for. You're done with your childish fantasy of making this fearsome outlaw a partner to you.

Arthur stands there staring at your back for a moment, the corner of his eyes stinging slightly. Rage electrifies and radiates throughout his whole body as his hands flex in and out of a fist at his sides. Finally, he turns and storms away from your tent. "God damn it!" he mutters harshly to himself. Why is it that everything he touches turns to shit?

From where he's been watching this whole exchange, Hosea quickly stands up from his chair, alarmed, as he watches Arthur stalk angrily away from your tent.

“Arthur!” Hosea calls out, his face clearly laced with concern. For an "angry Arthur" is a "dangerous Arthur" for sure.

"Not now, Hosea!" Arthur snaps, waving the older man off without so much as a glance in his direction as he stomps off.

Arthur is so infuriated right now, he's not really sure what to do. He's irrationally upset with you. He keeps replaying that day at the overlook when you revealed your affection for him. Why in the hell did you have to do that? It ruined everything. The two of you could have remained friends, and if he longed for you, he could just do it secretly as he's been doing since he's met you. But no, you had to push the idea and now the two of you are either hollering at each other or not speaking altogether. Why did you have to come here and be so nice to him? Why did you have to make him fall for you?

But he soon realizes how foolish he is being, chastising himself. It's not your fault, but his. He never should have let it get this far. He should have kept his distance from you from the start. He should have known he’d be weak-willed and defenseless against someone as good and pure as you.

Arthur stalks back to his tent and as he does, he looks up and sees Charles sitting outside of his own tent. He's sitting upon a log as a makeshift chair, his attention acutely fixated on the materials in his hands. Looks like he is making more arrows. 'Probably so he can take (Y/N) out hunting again,' Arthur sourly thinks to himself.

Arthur walks over to Charles, knowing he probably shouldn't right now. All of his reasoning argues that he should just stop and try to calm down. But unfortunately, Arthur is not thinking rationally at the moment. Charles casually lifts his head as he sees Arthur approach out of the corner of his eye.

"Arthur." Charles greets him with an air of caution, as he can see the tension on his friend's face. He could hear you and Arthur arguing just a few minutes ago. From where his tent is situated in camp, it is farther from yours, so Charles couldn't hear exactly what was said, only the volume and tone with which it was.

"Charles," Arthur coolly greets in return. "What you workin' on there? Hmm? More arrows to go huntin' with?" He cocks his head to the side as he coldly stares down at the items in Charles' hands.

"Yeah. I promised (Y/N) the next time we go out that we'd work on her bow skills. Been working with her on tracking lately. But she really wants to get a grasp on working with a bow."

Arthur looks on with disdain as Charles’ large fingertips delicately wrap the end of the arrow shaft with feathers.

"Oh, I'm sure she wants to get a grasp on somethin', alright," Arthur retorts bitterly.

Arthur's tone makes Charles hesitate. He looks back to Arthur and measures his words carefully. "You got a problem with me taking (Y/N) out hunting, Arthur?"

"Maybe I do."

Charles is not a violent man by nature, but he will stand his ground if need be. He has no designs to "steal" you from Arthur, if that is what the other man thinks he's doing. He has no intention of fighting over you, either. But Charles will fight for you if he has to. He puts the shafts and string in his lap down on the ground next to his feet. Arthur doesn’t move a muscle of his large frame as Charles slowly stands to square off and meets him at eye level.

“If you got a problem with (Y/N), Arthur, that’s between you two. She and I are only hunting together. That's all." Charles's voice is low and even. He doesn't want to provoke his good friend, but he also resents his tone. "Apparently, she's looking to get out of camp a lot lately, looking for some peace and quiet. And, she's a good shot, damn good shot, in fact. So she is welcome to hunt with me whenever she wants." Charles pauses, standing a little straighter, pushing his chest out a bit. "Besides, she’s my friend, too.”

Arthur cocks a knowing eyebrow at Charles. “Yeah, and we all know how friendships can go.”

“Mind yourself, Arthur,” warns Charles, pointing his finger at his chest and giving his friend a look that is more of disappointment than anger, before he sits back down and calmly resumes his work. He understands Arthur's frustration, and understands that he is not the target of the outlaw's anger. He also knows Arthur is better than this pettiness, too. But more importantly, Charles won't stand for anyone speaking badly about you, regardless of who it is.

Arthur says nothing else, realizing that he is not getting anywhere with Charles. So to avoid ruining yet another relationship that he has come to rely on, Arthur smartly buttons his lips and walks off to sulk in the solitude of his tent.

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This stunning image comes from @regwishesshehadmagic

The morning following your fight, Arthur is awake before the sun. He watches with bleary eyes as the crisp morning sun begins to fracture into his tent between the opening in the canvas. Not being able to sleep all night, he drags himself to sit up on his cot with a groan, rubbing his hands through his disheveled hair. Despite his overwhelming fatigue, he is so restless, he can’t stand it. Feeling as if he is on the edge of going crazy, Arthur quickly gets himself together and rides out of camp before anyone is aware. He doesn't know where he is going or what he is going to do, only that he has to get out of this godforsaken camp and clear his head.

He spends the next two days out in the woods, thinking about what to do and what he really wants. He is being torn apart by this rift between you and him, torn between what he wants and what he feels is right. Arthur sits among the trees, silent as a statue, while the forest life goes on about its merry way around him, and rolls his doubts and misgivings over and over again in his mind, along with what Micah had said. Torturing himself with angry and hurtful words, the man blames himself for allowing himself to be in this situation to begin with.

As the long day draws out into the night, Arthur still sits, legs stretched out before him as the small campfire illuminates the now-encroaching darkness. And of course, Arthur also thinks of you. He takes his journal out and reads over the entries. Refreshing his memory with thoughts of you, he relives the moments you've spent together. Each passage brings forth a plethora of emotions, each stronger than the last. Your image is scattered throughout the worn pages in various forms, from the details of your eyes and lips, to the graceful curve of your neck, visible when your hair is pulled up, to a full-body likeness of you standing with Jack on your hip. His rough fingers trace over the lines of your face as he sits in deep thought, a small smile involuntarily blooming across his features.

But most importantly, he thinks about what you said at the overlook. His eyes relax and stare unfocused into the dancing flames of his fire, and Arthur's chest tightens as he vividly remembers the look on your face when he declined your affections and sat there and did nothing as he watched your eyes rim with tears. Your voice still booms in his ears: “What is it that you want, Arthur?!”

Arthur’s fingers move as if combing through mud as he pulls a cigarette out of his satchel and lights it. Pulling a long drag off of the end, he lets out an extended and tired sigh. What does he want?

He knows he’s lonely. He hates to admit it, but he is. Cold nights and empty beds; no warm arms waiting to welcome him home. But the fear of exposing himself to love again, only for it to end horribly, is terrifying, even to a fearsome, hard outlaw. Losing Eliza and Issac shattered his heart. And Mary’s rejection has left him bitter and angry. Over the years, Arthur has channeled his hurt and pain into an armor until he has become someone else altogether; a shell of what he once was, and he wasn’t all that great to begin with. He’s no good, like a rotten apple that’s fallen from the tree that no one wants to take. Arthur doesn’t think he has it in him to do it all over again. And now, he is in a position to be stuck between living his life and running from it.

But you are different. You are not as young and naive as Eliza was. Nor are you as self-serving as Mary. Though he cared for and loved both women, Arthur knew, even then, that he was doomed, for these women did not fit with his family and lifestyle. But with you, that burden is removed. Not only do you accept the gang, but you have embraced it. And you are someone who cares for him, not for what he does, but for who he is.

You are delightfully chaotic; quite the beautiful mess, in fact. Arthur finds you to be wonderfully out of place in his life, but maybe that is as it should be. Kind of like when you see the moon during the daytime. You’ve turned your broken into beautiful and made your strength look invincible. You have never asked Arthur for the moon and the stars, but only to lay in the damp grass at night with you to watch them. And to Arthur, this means more than anything. The way your nose wrinkles when you smile. The way your eyes light up when you see him. The way you snort sometimes when you laugh. The way you get impassioned when you speak of something that touches you. Even the way you walk away from the fire at night to head back to your tent. Arthur wants it all.

And it is then that Arthur is hit with a profound realization. His eyes open wide and the air is sucked out of his chest as if he's been thrown from his horse. Arthur loves you. He loves you. And, more importantly, he wants the two of you to be together. More than anything. But can he do that?

He knows it's not the safe path, and probably not what is best for you. But John is right: if this is what you both really want, why not do it? He finally comprehends that he’s spent so much time being strong for everyone else that he’s never allowed himself to be happy. Maybe that needs to change now.

With resolve in his veins, Arthur quickly packs up his makeshift camp, literally tripping over himself in his haste, and heads back home.

As Arthur comes down the path back to camp, his eyes immediately notice that your horse is gone. Disappointed, but not discouraged, Arthur thinks about his next move and decides to ask Abigail and Mary-Beth what to do. If he is going to fix this great divide between you and him, he is going to need help to do it, as so far, he clearly doesn't know what he's doing on his own. He needs to bring "the big guns," as they say. And fortunately, Arthur finds the very two people he needs sitting together at a table.

“Can I talk to you ladies a minute?" Arthur calls over as he walks with purpose in their direction with a very determined look upon his face. The two women halt their conversation upon hearing him, curious about what he could want.

Mary-Beth smiles up at him as Arthur gets close to their table. "Sure, Arthur. What do you need?" He sits down next to Mary-Beth, pausing to organize his thoughts before he just comes right out with it.

"(Y/N) told me how she feels about me. You know, that she likes me an’ all. And like a fool, I pushed her away.” His eyes dart back and forth from both of their faces before shamefully down at his own hands that fidget on the table. "I guess I underestimated how I’d feel about that."

Abigail sits up straighter as a huge smile begins to cross her lips. “Are you saying that you want to be with her then, Arthur?”

"The question was never if I wanted to," he says to Abigail. "But she won’t even speak to me now." He holds his hands up in defeat before letting them fall haplessly onto the table, and looks to the women with a pathetic face, pleading for help. "Every time I try, we end up yellin’, and I make it worse."

Abigail gives him a scolding look. "Well, Arthur, you wounded her pride and broke her heart. What do you expect?"

“Maybe you need a grand gesture?” suggests Mary-Beth, gesturing with her arms in emphasis. Her eyes go wide with excitement, eager to help usher this new relationship into existence. "(Y/N) can be stubborn, for sure. So if she won't talk to you, Arthur, then make her listen. Maybe you need to show her how you feel?"

“If you’re going to do something, you may need to do it soon, Arthur," warns Abigail, tapping her finger on the table. She goes on to tell him that you feel as if you don’t belong and have been distancing yourself from the whole camp.

"She's up and out before anyone else, and when she is in camp, she rarely leaves her tent now." This worries Arthur because what if you decide to leave? Then what? He’s scared to lose you even though you're not his to lose.

Arthur sits quietly, taking in all of this information. He tries to think of what he could possibly do while Abigail and Mary-Beth both stare at him, waiting for the answer. "Thank you, girls. I appreciate your help," he finally says. "Do me a favor though, and don't mention this to (Y/N), please? I don't know what I'm doin' just yet, and I don't want to disappoint her even more than I already have."

"Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say," Mary-Beth answers with a hopeful grin. “Good Luck!”

He then looks to Abigail, who just stares back obstinately.

"Abigail?"

"Ugh, OK fine! I won't say anything. But you had better do something, Arthur Morgan!" as she points her finger at him. "Or so help me-"

"OK, OK!" he holds up his hands in surrender as he stands up. "I don't need two women in camp after me. I'll take care of it." And he smiles to himself as he heads to his tent to plan.

After mulling over his options, Arthur decides to ride back to Rosewood where you came from to see if he can find anything of your father's there. If you are missing your family, as Abigail told him, Arthur is hoping to bring back some sort of remembrance of him for you. After a quick check-in with Dutch, Arthur immediately heads out of camp and on his way to Rosewood. It's a few days' ride, so he needs to get going so he can hurry and get back.

Meanwhile, back at camp, you notice Arthur has been gone intermittently since your revelation, and now he’s been gone for several days after your fight. Things seem to be going from bad to worse. Figuring he’s outright avoiding the camp itself because of you, you don’t know what to do. This is his family, his people. And if you're the one making things difficult, then you will need to be the one to leave. So, you start coming to terms with the idea that you will need to find a new place of your own.

This evening, as the sun starts to crawl back behind the mountains, you find yourself sitting outside of camp by yourself. You stare out into the watercolor-painted sky, thinking over where you'll go and what you'll do. The idea of leaving is terrifying. You'll have to start over yet again. You'll miss everyone in this camp who you have come to love so dearly. You’ll surely miss Abigail and Jack. And of course Hosea. You'll miss Arthur.

You draw your knees up closer to your chin and wrap your arms around them as an overwhelming fatigue cascades over you. You are so lost in your own thoughts that you do not hear footsteps behind you.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing out here?” You hear Charles' soft voice cut through your thoughts. When he didn't see you at dinner yet again tonight, he decided to come to check on you.

You hastily wipe away a few tears from your cheeks and try to smile for him. “Hi, Charles. What can I do for you?”

He cautiously approaches you as one does a wounded animal. His brows knit in concern when, even in the setting sunlight, he can see the red-rim of your wet eyes. "Arthur ain’t gonna be too happy if he finds out we’ve let you wander off by your lonesome.”

You scoff at that. "Oh, I highly doubt that," giving Charles a sad smile. "Although Arthur is the expert on what I shouldn’t be doing, it seems." You turn your attention back to the horizon, watching the last flecks of golden sunlight begin to fade for the day. "Besides, he won't have to worry about it much longer."

Charles freezes before nervously shifting his weight from hip to hip. "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh…nothing. Forget I said anything." You wave off the comment as if it is nothing more than a rambling thought, but you still avoid his dark eyes.

"(Y/N)…you OK?"

"Yeah…sure. I’ll be fine"

Charles steps closer to you, studying your face and countenance, not believing you for a second. "Listen (Y/N), I know you and Arthur are in a weird place right now-“

"Oh, Charles, I really don’t want to talk about Arthur. Really, I don’t,” you insist, shaking your head vehemently. Your eyes have a glassy sheen that causes Charles to cringe in pity for you.

“OK,” He’s silent for a moment. "Can I do anything for you?" His hand tentatively reaches out to you, not really sure what, if anything, he can do.

"No, sweet man, I’m OK. Thank you." You try to give him another smile for reassurance. "Go ahead back to everyone. I won't be out here much longer. I promise."

Charles hesitates a bit longer, before turning to head back to camp. "All right, if you're sure you're OK, then."

When you see him disappear amongst the tents again, you turn back to the horizon. The sun is gone now. The light has been snuffed out, leaving a cold and lonely atmosphere in its wake. The first few pin-pricks of starlight begin to emerge in the purple sky. You sigh deeply as your shoulders drop even more and your eyelids fall like stones.

"I'm not sure of anything anymore," you whisper to yourself.

A/N: *Oh my goodness, half-way there! More drama to come, but I promise, we’re getting there, and it’s definitely worth it (I hope anyway)

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #rdr2 #Read Dead Redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader angst

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b0xerdancer-writes · 1 month

Text

The Warrior with The Poets Heart.

Tamlin x Fae!Reader

Summary: Before Tamlin was a high lord, he wasn't even the heir he was just a boy with a lot of brothers, who made him heir when they all died. He had fallen in love with a girl, who had showed him a book that reminded her of him. It left him with a reason in life after Amarantha messes it all up.

Prompt: Poet/Warrior

Warnings: War, graphic violence, blood, Amarantha

Word Count: 4,086

Notes: A bit smaller but I feel I conveyed my goal in this. A bit late bc the minimum editing I did went on longer than I expected. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Human Fae War had exhausted Tamlin more than he'd like to have admitted, he didn't like swords yet here he was brandishing one, he favored his time reading and writing poetry more even though war time poems were less than proper.

His brothers had all been killed by rival troops, his father had named him heir shortly after the news reached both of their ears; he had been in the med tent getting checked over for a nasty slash when he had heard, his father had bitterly told him that he was heir now and needed to act as such. He was relieved when the war came to its end.

He had sought his usual comfort when he returned to Rosehall with his father paid him no mind, while Rosehall had a fairly good sized library a major portion of the books were kept in his father’s study, he never wanted anything to do with that room really but he guess he had too now. He had read all of the poetry collections within the halls of the estate, his recent comfort had been sneaking off to the nearby village where a small female ran a neat little bookshop. It had shelves of poetry he had never read, and Tamlin had been fascinated how it survived under his nose without him knowing.

He had only found out about it because one of the servants found him wandering around the estate looking for some poetry book he hadn't read yet and stumbled into the servants quarters to see if they had any, and a small lesser fae with dragonfly-like wings had directed him towards her friend's store. Needless to say she didn’t disappoint, and the store had quickly become one of his favorite getaways.

He had saddled up his horse and rode into the village, the familiar cobble path turning into dirt the closer he got to the village; he slowed his gallop down as he entered the busy streets, greeting back the fae that greeted him as he swerved through the crowds on his way to the familiar 2 story cottage at the end of the shopping district. Ivy grew up from the building and around the small handrails for the three steps up to the shop's porch, he tied his horse to the small post she had put out front when she noticed him struggling to tie his horse to the ivy covered railings and headed up the steps.

The familiar chime of the bells hung from the door handle announced his entrance and a voice yelled from the back room. “Be right there! Please feel free to look around!”

“It's just me Petal, looking for more poetry.” Tamlin called back, wandering around between the shelves.

“Oh! Tamlin! I ordered something in for you!” She rounded the shelves and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the sitting area near the checkout. “It came all the way from Day, but it's one of only 15 copied all over Prythian.”

Tamlin followed after her with a grin on his face, their relationship had steadily grown since his first time in the building; he had been awkward and shy looking around but she offered to help him, when he said he was looking for some poetry books he had yet to read she lit up dragging him to a shelf of books that was all poetry. She had asked him if there were any poets he preferred and when he shook his head no she began listing off her favorites on the shelves. He had gone home with only one book, one she claimed was her absolute favorite and was so passionate about that he just had to read it.

“You ordered me a book all the way from Day Court and it's a limited edition? How much did that cost you? I need to compensate you for that darling.” Tamlin mused with a small chuckle.

She tensed her entire face burning red. “No-no that's not necessary Tam, really, all I ask is that you also allow me to read it.”

Tamlin smiled at her gently. “Of course darling, anything you want.”

“We could read it together?” She mumbled softly.

“If you'd like to, I'd be more than happy to do that. Any excuse to not be up in Rosehall right now, father has been driving me up the wall.” Tamlin groaned dramatically and she chuckled.

She ushered him to sit in a chair and brought him a gift wrapped box, eagerly passing it to him she rocked on her feet as he ripped the nice emerald green paper off; inside a neatly bound book with gold embossing was nestled.

“The King of Poets?” Tamlin read off the cover.

“I got to read it a long time ago, my father had a copy, I sent it to be restored in day court for you. The main character reminds me of you.” She mused back.

“Oh Petal-” Tamlin held the book tightly in his hands. “If this was your father’s I can’t possibly take this from you.”

She smiled softly and sat beside him. “I want you to have it. You’ll see why.”

Tamlin looked over to her brows furrowed. “You sure darling? I know how much this must mean to you.”

She nodded. “It's not your normal poetry book. It's got small sections that read like poetry, when the main character is writing it himself. But it's a good book.”

“Then we will for sure read it together.” Tamlin nodded, pulled her into a side hug and with a blush on his face pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I can close the store for the day and we can go upstairs and I can make us some honey tea while we read?” She offered

“I'd like that.” Tamlin nodded.

“Go ahead and head up then.” She stood and smoothed her skirts out, she busied herself with closing the front of the store.

The stairs welcomed him up them, decorated with ivy and faelights; if downstairs was cozy, upstairs was cozier. It was kept dim, dark wooden floors with beige walls she had decorated with plants, tapestries, paintings, and hanging faelights; the room was covered with her own personal collection of books on tall bookshelves, in the center of the living room was a dark green padded couch, furs and warm blankets tossed over the back. The old wooden coffee table was in the center of the sofa and two matching chairs, it was littered with small plants and books and in the corner a matching desk was stacked with papers, a journal, and writing utensils.

He plopped onto the sofa, and pulled one of the warm blankets over the back into his lap; the steps creaked as she climbed them and he watched her with a soft adoration on his face, these were his favorite moments now. They had started about two months ago, she had invited him upstairs for tea after weeks of the two sitting in the downstairs reading area and reading different books in silence together.

She carried up a tray with two cups on it, and sat it on the coffee table; she curled up into his side as he took a drink from the sweetened tea. He pulled the blanket over her lap and wrapped his arm over his shoulder to tuck her further into his side.when she had fully nestled into his side he began reading aloud, the book was a good 25 or so chapters; small in comparison to some he had read but for the story it was trying to convey Tamlin deemed it the perfect size. Hours had passed and the sun was setting in the sky by the time Tamlin reached the last paragraph.

“-Even though he had to brandish his blade to defend us, his people, his poets, we knew that in his heart he would have rather been lost in his work writing or reading. But even with a poet's heart he stood and fought for us, and even though he lost we commemorate him now and memorialize him in this book. Understand this reader, one does not need the heart of a warrior to stand up for those around you that you care for, you can have the heart of a poet and do just that.” Tamlin read aloud.

He looked down to find her asleep against his chest and smiled; she had known his struggles, had known how he felt about being heir now. His heart wasn't in it he had told her once, he didn't have a warrior's heart like the rest of his brothers; no, he had the heart of a poet, of an artist if you added in his prowess with the fiddle. She wasn’t good with words conveying her message; He knew that, but she always found a way to explain it to him with a book. The character in the book was more like him than she had made it seem, for more reasons than one.

He set the book on her coffee table, wrapped the blanket around her and carried her through the upstairs into her bedroom; setting her on the fluffy bed he moved to the desk just outside of her bedroom door and began to scribble a letter to her on it. He brought the cups down to the kitchen and washed them in the sink, tipping them upside down on the small rack beside the sink; he hummed a soft melody while he cleaned and organized.

Eventually he slipped out the front door and used his magic to reseal the wards, untied the horse and set off back towards Rosehall and the estates grounds. He could face the challenges that came with being Heir now, he thought the war had taken its toll; he hated the mindless slaughter but he'd do it again if it meant protecting his people, protecting her.

The next morning she awoke groggily, dazed and confused about how she ended up in bed; remembering how she had fallen asleep surrounded in Tamlin’s scent, pressed into his side, warm, cozy, and with his voice lulling her to sleep. Really there had been no better way to fall asleep in her book. She dragged herself out of bed, finding his note folded neatly and waiting on her to open it.

‘Darling,

Thank you for the wonderful book, as always you know just what to pick; believe me you have conveyed your message my dear.

I understand now what you meant when you said the main character was similar to me in more ways than one. Not only was he blonde and green eyed or in love with a female who worked in the village nearby, but that I am a warrior with the heart of a poet.

Like the King in the book I didn't want to join the war efforts, but I did to protect the people of my court. I too was anxious about taking over my duties as heir; but you Darling, have helped me with that. I believe I can face them now with no anxiety knowing I’m doing it for you and for my court to make this place better than I will be handed it.

If I ever have to go to war again, know that I will brandish it in your honor. My father has asked me to assist him with a task as his heir, I will be gone for only a day or two but will return to you as soon as I make it back. If you would do me the honors, I would like to begin courting you upon my return.

With much love,

Your warrior with the heart of a poet.’

She smiled softly, a warm blush creeping to her face. She fully intended to agree to the courtship and would inform him so. She busied herself with getting ready for the day, and then opening the shop; it had most definitely picked up business since Tamlin had started swinging by.

The days while he was gone passed quickly as long as she busied herself, if not with work in the bookshop it was with writing her own poetry collection. She had only started writing the collection after she had met Tamlin; she had written about 43 of them now, one for every visit.

It had been late in the evening when he returned, he hadn’t even changed yet but he came knocking at her door, she had pulled him into a deep kiss.

“Well I guess that answers my question then, come up with me yo Rosehall. My father wants to meet you, he has agreed to let me court you but he would like to meet you first.” Tamlin had cheered happily, pulling her back into a kiss.

“I’d love too.” He helped her up onto the cream colored mare and jumped on behind her, his chest against her back.

The journey back to Rosehall was taken slower than when he had rode into the village; there would be gossip they both knew as they rode through town, he had one hand on her side and the other on the reins as they walked back to the grand estate. As they passed by shops, restaurants, homes, and the tavern people had been whispering either side of the path; neither seemed to care as they were caught up in their own conversations.

Dinner at Rosehall had gone off without a hitch, Tamlin’s father had approved of her and their relationship. They had spent the night celebrating with good drinks and eventually Tamlin’s father had dismissed himself to his room for the night. The two had stayed up for several more hours before they both agreed to head to bed, they dismissed the idea of sleeping in different rooms and he pulled her into his bed; she had borrowed one of his mother’s chemises to sleep in and he simply changed into loose trousers. Rosehall was quiet as the others' scent lulled each other to sleep.

A commotion had startled Tamlin awake, it had come from the opposite side of the wing; he had a gut feeling on what it was about, the scent of Iron hung in the air. He held her close, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as a growl rested in the base of his throat; she clung to his arm, her heart pounding in her chest.

His door slowly creaked open as the air began to crackle with magic; Rhysand, who he had once called friend, stood there with a look of pity on his face. “I’m sorry.”

Tamlin had grabbed the dagger from his end table and extended it towards Rhys. The two slowly exited the hall where the commotion continued, a yelp and a thud followed by a scream of agony was the only thing that ended up keeping the boys from eachother’s throats. She had ran to Tamlin the second the males both looked down the hall and turned pale, Tamlin lowered the blade and tried to cover her eyes but it wad too late and she had seen the bloody scene in the center of the hall.

Tamlin’s father was in his beast form, a giant golden wolf like creature with grand elk horns, was slumped against the wall; black oozed from the giant gash in his neck, obvious signs that fae bane had been wad the heavy sickly sweet scent that hung in the air. Across from him was a busted railing, all three had rushed forward to find Rhys’s father collapsed against the ground and impaled on some of the splintered wood; she had cried out and buried her face into Tamlins side, she should have never seen such a thing, not his little poet.

Both High Lords had twitched as the air began to crackle, they both knew what that unfortunate sound was. The males both nodded to each other and Rhys headed down the main staircase, he loomed over his father both dressed in black leathers; she watched as he stared blankly as the Night Lord wheezed his final breath, an eerie rattle that left blood seeping from the sides of his mouth. The magic in the air sharpened and separated, half ringing in her ears and around Rhysand as he absorbed the powers of the Night Lord.

The newly made night lord simply nodded at Tamlin and with a snap of his fingers the body of his father as well as his blood was gone, Rhysand turned and left the estate without another word.

Tamlin moved towards his father, who lay in beast form on the floor; the great golden hound blood gushing from the massive slit across his neck, he tried to get up and move but ultimately collapsed and blood gushed faster. Tamlin kneeled on the floor beside him, they both knew there was no coming back from this wound; there was a sorrowful understanding between the two as Tamlin dug the dagger into his fathers head, the magic buzzing loudly before his own body absorbed it like Rhys’s had.

She had witnessed so few had seen, the passing on of a High Lord and the exchange of powers; not only had she witnessed it once but she had witnessed it twice and both experiences were different, one had sent an electric buzzing through her body and the other had left a butter taste in her mouth and an ringing in her ears.

Tamlin stood and squared his shoulders. “I’m sorry you had to see this love.” He sighed, “let’s get you back to the room, get you in a bath and then i'll clean up out here, join you in the bath, make us some tea and we can try to get some sleep if you want love?”

He had put himself between Rhys and her, had brandished that sword for her; another moment she would add to the books.

The courtship was easy and quick, the two eventually were married and she busied herself around the manor; Tamlin dealt with high lord duties so she could work on the bookshop, she had bought a new building lined the walls with shelf upon shelf of poetry and sold the old one. ‘The Poets Rest’ it had been named.

Lucien had found his way into their hearts and home, her husband had taken him in and defended him from his family; she had helped the fox-like male mourn his lost lover only able to imagine what it would be like if she was in his shoes, they all grew into close friends.

Then Amarantha came, having fallen for the blonde male in front of the entire court and other high lords; Tamlin’s wife, his beautiful flower, had stood her ground and challenged the redheaded general. Amarantha had denied the fight, claiming he would find his way into her hands.

The masquerade ball, she had been gifted a golden doe mask from her husband and Tamlin’s a mimicry of his beast form. Amarantha offered the two one last chance after she had taken Lucien's eye, the doe masked female trying to comfort their red-headed friend as he writhed in agony; Tamlin had stepped up in front of the two to ask what it would take for her to leave them alone, he declared he had no intention of leaving his Rosebud for her.

Amarantha hissed back a simple “We’ll see.”

Then the plagues came. Their masks bonded to their skin and panic arose, fae screamed, scratched, and ripped at the masks on their faces. She had seen many bleed out from the sheer panic, she had sought out the comfort of Tamlin only to be tipped from his arms by the red-headed general.

In the panic Amarantha had manage to hide the doe masked female that Tamlin had loved, he had thought he truly lost her and it led to him playing long with Amarantha’s plans. He led the human girl along, threw tantrums over her when he needed to, some tantrums were fake and some were real; he had learned to direct his rage and sorrow for not being able to protect her towards the human girl, all Amarantha had said to him in the aftermath was that if he played along he might have a chance to see his dear sweet wife again but the human girl couldn’t know of her. Their wedding portrait had been bitter to take down into the vaults, covered by a black cloth.

Then came the day he had to admit defeat that he just couldn’t fight anymore and just wanted to join his rosebud on the other side, but before he could declare his stance Feyre had been dragged into the throne room. He had done as Amarantha had requested now all they had to get through was her trials. Amarantha had given her a riddle and Tamlin knew the answer to it, the answer was Love, it had been a poem he referenced in his vows to his darling rose, yet he couldn’t open his mouth now if he had any chance of finding his lover.

Feyre had been illiterate her entire life, but when she had been tossed in the jail cell the night before her final trial she was surprised to find the hall of cells wasn't empty; a female was in the cell across from her, she looked frail and weak behind the golden deer mask.

After the guards had left Feyre had called out to the female who looked up from the book she clasped, a tattered thing with gold embossing, to ask her about the riddle.

“It's in reference to a poem.” The female had looked down into her lap, sadness deep in her eyes.

“What was the poem about?” Feyre had asked quizzically.

“A poem about Love. The answer to your riddle is love. How bittersweet it is Amarantha has picked that for you.” The female chirped back sadly.

Feyre nodded, finally able to take in the golden mask on the opposite female's face. “You're from the Spring Court.”

“Indeed I am from a small village south of Rosehall.” The female replied. “Now if you would excuse me, I'd like to go to sleep.” The female stood from her stool and curled up onto the creaky old bed.

Feyre followed her shortly after into sleep.

Then as she rested in the cell the next morning, the doe mask had fallen from her face and the bars in front of her shattered. The curse had been broken but at such a bittersweet cost, she hobbled through the halls of the mountain till she found the throne room. Amarantha lay dead in the center of the room, a circle of high lords kneeled around the human girl; except for Tamlin as Feyre’s bones snapped and reformed into those of a high fae.

Feyre coughed and wheezed in pain as she sat up from the stone floor, everyone had expected Tamlin to kneel beside her and comfort her but when they looked up at the male he was staring at the sickly fae female clutching a golden doe mask and a worn book.

“Rosebud?“ Tamlin had choked out.

“Tam.” She had sobbed back.

He had been silent and still the entire time he was under the mountain but seeing her there, seeing her alive, had awoken the part of him that had slumbered since her disappearance and he set off into a sprint towards her. He wrapped his arms around her, spinning her, and broke into a sob himself.

“I’m so sorry, love.” Tamlin had choked over his words barely able to breathe through the tears.

“It's okay Tam. I get it.” She pressed the worn book to his chest.

Tamlin had looked down at the clothbound book and thumbed over the gold embossing. “You always were good with getting your words out through books and poetry.”

“You did what you had to do to survive, my sweet warrior, Even though your poet's heart was screaming not too. You made it out Tamlin, it's okay now, we can go back to us. You don't have to be that warrior anymore.” She soothed.

“First we have to get you back to Rosehall and nursed back to health.” Tamlin had whimpered dropping his head into her shoulder.

“Then take me home and protect me Tam.” She crooned to him and ran her free hand through his blonde hair

Taglist: @tamlinweek

#acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #tamlin x reader #tamlin acotar #tamlin

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chasedbyatlantic · 4 months

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when you wash your hair, joel miller

summary: IN WHICH — you decide to surprise a sleeping joel after you've been working all day outside of jackson's walls, but it doesn't go as you plan.

warnings: gender neutral x joel miller, post outbreak!joel, jackson!joel, mentions of you and joel in a relationship, sub!joel, joel has ptsd, joel almost hurts reader (doesn't tho so dw!), lots of fluff at the end, cute ending, lots of swearing, ellie being annoying as per usual LOL. lmk if there’s anything i missed <3

wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: hiiii this is my very first fic on tumblr! i have been obsessed w/ tlou for the LONGEST time now so why not start writing for my fav fictional mass murderer? anyway- hope u guys enjoy! i plan to post a ton more so stay tuned xoxo

—

You had just finished an ungodly long shift along the outskirts of Jackson, keeping everyone inside safe from- well, whatever lay outside (scary squirrels, mostly). It had been so different since you arrived, with Joel and Ellie. For starters, you weren't kept on edge every single second of every single day - Joel was, which you always got pissed at him for, since you two were more than safe inside these walls. There was also the fact that life had sort of just- resumed, after twenty years of fighting for your life. It was alright, though, a sense of normalcy was nice, even if it were to only last for a little while (you were hoping it lasted forever).

As soon as you were inside the gates of Jackson, you rode over to the stables in which your horse, Leo, was housed at. The big wooden doors were opened by a stable hand that looked no older than Ellie, maybe she knew who this was, you thought to yourself.

You had slid the kid a small "thank you." as they closed the door behind you, and you hopped off Leo. You reached in your bag and scrounged for a second, before pulling out an apple core, the remains of the apple you had eaten earlier. "Here boy," your hand raised towards the horse's snout with the leftovers in-palm, and he took it as if it were the best thing in the world.

Leo munched away while you swapped his bridle for a halter and lead, tugging him to his freshly-mucked stall. He had walked over to his water bucket and you moved with him, undoing his girth and removing his saddle. It was hoisted over your arm as you moved out and locked his stall. "Excuse me," You called over to the stable hand that had let you in as you put all of his tack on the stand in front, "Do you mind brushing him down for me? I've had a long day and gotta get home quick."

The kid nodded their head eagerly, which had earned a smile from you. You weren't lying about having a long day or needing to get home quick - besides, you had always stayed after your shifts, right now you were just craving to see your favourite person (and a warm bath too, you had guessed).

You had removed your gloves as you took one last glimpse at your boy before you left him to be taken care of by the stable hand. As you walked out of the stable, you were greeted with a nice breeze. It wasn't exactly winter yet, but it sure as hell wasn't summer. Autumn was close on finishing, which only meant the days were getting longer.

It took you a mere twenty five minutes to walk back to the Miller residence. If you had a little pep in your step, it would've taken no longer than fifteen. But, being up since before sunrise has its cons. Anyway, it isn't your fault that Tommy and Maria (Joel's brother and new sister-in-law) placed you guys in the farthest house literally ever.

As you approached closer to the home, you could see the familiar little (she would kill you if she heard you describe her as little) girl. The girl took notice of you too, "Fucking finally!" Ellie had kicked up her skateboard, grabbing the tip of it, and came running over. "Jesus Christ, I thought you had got eaten by like- fucking bigfoot out there!", She seemed to be only half-joking.

"I was not eaten out there, Ellie." You sigh as you messed her hair up slightly with your hand, "Is Joel still out on patrol?" You had asked the girl. Her face dropped, earning an "ugh!" from her. "You two love birds are gross. You should care more about me than him! He's a frail, broken, old man while I'm a super cool, and totally awesome young person." You rolled your eyes, an automatic laugh escaping your lips. "Another half an hour out here, Elle. It's almost sundown- and please be careful, for fuck sakes. I don't want to be popping your kneecap back in place because of a fall off that- board."

You weren't Ellie's mom, and you didn't mean to take any place of a motherly figure in her life - it just, sort of happened. After what had happened in Salt Lake City a year ago, and you had fought for Ellie back alongside Joel, you couldn't help but grow so much more attached to her- you and Joel both. This is when your motherly instincts (you were never a mother, not before or during this apocalyptic world) kicked in. You both shared a special bond, one that would never be broken, despite the cruel world you both live in.

A small grunt and a "fine" escaped the girl's lips as she flips her board down and kicks off down the street. You shake your head with an almost disapproving look and walk down the rest of the block to your home. A small smile plays upon your lips as you approach the house with a mailbox at the bottom of the driveway that reads "MILLER". Your last name was not Miller, but you were in a relationship with a Miller, so that could maybe, in the slightest, count as your name too.

Your hand brushed past the rusted metal box as you walk up the paved drive way, you're excited to see Joel. Hell, it feels like it's been an eternity since you've seen that man - when in reality, it's only been since this morning. You climb up the wooden stairs at the front of your porch and remove your boots before entering the house - this saved horrid amounts of mud that would scatter in the small foyer of your home. Once your feet are out of your dirty boots, you silently enter the home.

The door was never locked, not when Joel knew you or Ellie weren't home. You didn't know why he kept it unlocked- maybe in case something had happened and you needed to get home fast, or in case you would lose your keys while out and about. It wasn't that big of a deal, though; nobody else lived in this part of the town (besides Tommy and Maria, who were distant neighbours).

It was dead silent when you entered, too eery for your liking. "Joel?" You called out as you shrugged off your autumn layers. No response. "Joel?" You call out once again, moving to where you had seen the light. You approached tip-toeing, starting to get a bit on edge. Joel was always there to greet you when you got home, unless he had patrol duty himself. As soon as you step foot in your living room, all of the previous worries you had melted away as you saw your favourite person curled up on the arm chair, sitting back and mouth open slightly. You wish you had a camera, god a polaroid of this would be amazing.

You approached him, quiet as ever, sliding the sleeves of your soft-knit sweater over ninety percent of your hands. You had brought your face closer to Joel's once you were close enough. The smell of his vanilla and rose scented shampoo had engulfed you. Joel said he hated it (in reality, he definitely did not), but if it made you love him a little more, he would wash his hair with it.

"You're perfect, you know that." You whisper to him, even though he was sound asleep. From the faded freckles over the bridge of his nose from being out in the sun too much this summer, to the small scars that littered his forehead from years of just surviving, he was perfect.

You breathed hushly as you moved your hands up to his face, to cup his cheeks. You thought it was perfect, for him to wake up to you (as if he didn't every morning) at this moment. You knew he missed you when he wasn't with you, he told you multiple times. This would be a nice thing to make his day slightly better, you had thought. Your fingers made soft contact with the flesh on his face - but, this is where it all went wrong.

Joel had shot up from the deep (well, you thought deep) sleep he was in and grabbed the hands that were touching his face. It hadn't registered to him that it was actually you who was touching his face, and not a clicker, or a raider, or anything else. Rage and a sense of fear filled his eyes as they shot opened, eyebrows furrowed as they looked around frantically - he was ready to fight.

A loud grunt and an "ow." escaped your lips once your hands were grabbed and yanked. It had happened within a blink of an eye. You weren't exactly in the mood for getting manhandled in this current moment, but here you were. "Joel- hey, hey, it's just me. You're okay." You spoke quick, trying to pry him off your hand.

It was now that his eyes had met yours, and it took him a moment (which felt like eternity) to process it was you. "Baby.." His grip immediately loosened and his eyes fell. He looked horrified, at himself rather than anything. "M'sorry." There was a tone in his voice that made him sound ashamed, like he had just broken bad news to someone he loved.

"Don't apologize to me, Jesus Christ." You spoke almost too fast and brought your hand to his face again, you felt bad for scaring him awake- your plan had massively backfired. It took Joel a minute before he melted into the touch of your hand in his cheek, something he will only do when it is only you and him around each other. "Shouldn't have been sleepin' while you weren't home." He muttered, his eyes looking everywhere but at yours.

Your heart ached, he shouldn't feel like this- fuck, you're so stupid for doing this you thought to yourself. "Don't apologize baby, hey-" You brought his focus to you, and only you, "-listen, you're alright, okay? We're safe here, you know. I'm safe, Ellie's safe, you're safe." You reassured the man in front of you. "If you want to sleep all day without a care in the world, you can do it."

Joel was being extremely vulnerable right now- and he knew that you sensed it. This part of him never came out, he was always the strong one in the relationship (not that you weren't, he just had that aura linked to him). Your finger rubbed back and forth over his cheek. "M'sorry for waking you from your nap- I was just too jealous of how peaceful you looked. All comfortable in your blue sweater.." your eyes started to trail down his body right in front of you, "-your sweatpants.." you snapped yourself out of the trance you had fallen in, your eyes reaching back up to Joel's.

He was just quiet, in his own thoughts. "Ya'know I love you." you told him. He looked like he snapped out of his own thoughts once you said this to him, the smallest smile known to man appearing on his face (it was genuine, though). "I know, darlin'." This was your cue, you reached forward and placed your lips onto Joel's. Now this, this was home- god, you could've had your lips on his all day for eternity. Joel melted into the kiss, and placed one of his hands on your thighs.

Things had got heated between the two of you within seconds, suddenly the positions were switched and you were straddling Joel on the armchair in your living room. It wasn't until you tore apart from his lips that it hit you. "Ellie’s going to be home soon, baby. We can't have her catching us like this- not again." You tell him as you catch your breath. His lips find your neck, he only hummed in response. After a moment of no proper response from him, you tap his shoulder, "Seriously, Joel!". He had grunted, basically forcing himself off of you. "So let her see us, not like she don't know 'bout it." He muttered, leaning back in the chair you two were in. "Oh, suddenly you're mister PDA?" You asked as you got up, stretching.

He said something under his breath that you couldn't catch, but chose not to pressure him about it. "But hey.." You grab his hand and help him up, "Maybe you could help me in the shower, hm? Let me borrow some o' that good smellin' shampoo ya' got? Wash my hair for me?” Your eyes met his, a smile completely lighting up your entire face. "I'on mind, doll. Maybe you could help me with a few things too," He reaches down, pressing a wet kiss onto your lips.

You take this as the perfect time to slip your fingers between his, and lead him up to the second floor of your large house. Even though you had completely scared the shit out of Joel earlier, and you thought you were a dead man for a split second, he forgave you. He always forgives you - this is why you love him.

Joel had promised you that he would always stay, no matter what had happened between you two. After years of being together, through your ups and your downs, through your serious arguments and your little scares (like this), he was yours. Joel was always yours, and you were always his.

You two come laughing down the stairs, completely soaked from the shower you had taken together. Joel was back in the clothes he wore when you got home, and you were changed into one of his shirts and a pair of sleeping shorts you had. He had his hand in yours as you lead him down the stairs. Before you could even step foot on the first floor, an "ew!" was yelled by a familiar voice.

"That is fucking disgusting- I cannot believe it! I can't leave you two together for more than thirty minutes before you turn into fucking rabbits. I may as well start thinking about names for the baby!" Ellie over exaggerates, acting completely disgusted from you and Joel holding hands.

Joel shoots Ellie a death glare as he drops his hand from yours momentarily, about to open his mouth before you interrupt. "Do I need to send you to your room, or something? You're so fucking crazy Elle!" You had let the little nick name slip out of your mouth, "You know I would never do anything unholy under the same roof as you." Well, you weren't lying. You and Joel never did it while Ellie was there, you didn't want anyone hearing what happened while you two were alone.

"Don't care, that's gross! Dinner is already made, I am GOING TO BED!" She had yelled as she was already half way up the stairs to her room on the second floor. Joel's hand snaked around your waist from behind as you tsk. "We got stuck with the most batshit crazy kid, I'm telling you."

Joel's hand tightens a smudge when you say that, "I love her though, and you I guess." He rests his head between the crook of your neck and slightly lets go once you add that. Even after the little bicker between the teenager, you couldn't help but smile to yourself.

Even though you were in the midst of an apocalypse, life couldn't have been anymore good to you. They gave you Joel, and you were content - more than content - with it.

—

when you wash your hair, matt maltese

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staytinyville · 9 months

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OUTLAW (10)

ATEEZ ot8 x Reader

Cowboy AU / Wild West

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None

The boys had explained to you that at the end of the day when they all got off work they would go to pick you up at your home. You didn’t question it, choosing to take the time to get out of your work stench. You had no idea where it was they were going to take you but you felt much more refreshed after taking a bath.

Your mother had looked at you oddly when you had chosen to bring in buckets of water into the basin from the well. She didn’t question you just yet, instead choosing to watch you closely. It was when there was a knock on the door that your mother came to a conclusion.

“Good evening.” Yeosang’s voice rang out through the house. “I'm here for (Y/N).”

“Oh!” Your mother looked at him oddly. “Yeosang? You're taking (Y/N) out-”

“I'm right here.” You crawled under your mother’s arms, standing next to Yeosang on the porch. “Yes, we are going to the auctions.” You smiled at her.

“Oh, you and Seonghwa?” Your father turned up behind your mother, raising a brow when he noticed the other boy standing at the bottom of the steps.

“Yes sir. I do hope it's not a problem.” Seonghwa answered from where he was.

“Not at all.” Your father shook his head. “I do expect her to be home at a reasonable time though. As much as I like you I still have to be a father.” He chuckled.

You almost frowned at the thought of your parents just letting you fend for yourself. While you were happy to be going out with the boys it did feel like a ping in your chest to realize that your parents were hopeful about you leaving the house.

You were an adult, you were meant to be out of this house by that point. However, you guessed it had to do with the fact that you felt like you weren’t ready. At least two weeks ago you did.

“That is no problem. I'll be sure to have her home before things get too bad.” Yeosang politely nodded his head.

“Be careful, dear.” Your mother gave you a bright smile, hugging you.

“Bye mom.” You hugged her back.

You waved to your father, turning to catch Yeosang holding his arm out for you to take. You gladly hooked your hand on his bicep, letting him lead you down to where Seonghwa was. Subconsciously, when the man went to follow after you two, you hooked your other hand onto his bicep as well. The two men had smiles over their features at how attached you felt towards them.

You noticed two horses waiting at the posts your house had. While vehicles were a thing now, they were much too expensive for your family. Wagons were easy to come by but when it was just two/three people why have to lug such a huge thing around. It was much easier to travel by horse for the three of you.

Yeosang helped you up onto one of the animals, allowing you to sit sideways due to the dress you wore. When he felt you wouldn’t slip off on your own, he hauled his feet over the side of the large animal and scooted closer to the front of the saddle to give you room behind him.

“All good?” He questioned over his shoulder.

You hummed, wrapping your arms around his torso to keep from falling backwards or forwards. It wasn’t a common thing to see women wearing pants. And because of that it wasn’t often they would be riding horses. The ones who did were led by their husbands or were just for show in a parade. You hadn’t really thought about how tough it was to move around in a skirt. It was how you lived and worked.

The two men started moving along the road, heading towards the hotel. You tilted your head, frowning when you began to wonder where it was they were going. As they turned onto the main road, you finally voiced your curiosity.

“We actually going to the auction now?” You grinned.

“Nah, there's nothing good.” Seonghwa answered as he pulled his horse to trot next to you and Yeosang. “Your family is still looking. Can't take you into the woods in front of them can we.”

You hummed, giggling to yourself at the thought of going into the woods with the two. When you all made it a safe distance away from your family’s estate, the both pulled their horses to a stop.

“Seonghwa will take you to the others.” Yeosang got down from the horse, tapping your waist as he helped you down. “I have to go for Yunho at the docks. Jongho should be there already.”

You walked closer to Seonghwa who had gotten off to make room for you. Yeosang grabbed you by the hips to place you back on the saddle of the horse. You scooted forward on the saddle when Seonghwa made way to sit behind you instead of in front like Yeosang did.

“See you in a bit.” Yeosang smiled up at you.

“Pretty girl.” You felt Seonghwa’s breath hit the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver.

“Seonghwa.” You smiled up at him. He gave you a grin back before grabbing the reins and moving the two of you along.

As you watched Yeosang go off in the opposite direction, the curiosity returned tenfold. You sighed to yourself, leaning back onto Seonghwa’s chest.

“What was Yunho doing at the docks?” You asked.

Your eyes lifted up, watching as he grimaced. You could feel the sigh he let out as his chest deflated. Drifting to look back over the surroundings you dropped your shoulders. You were getting too comfortable with them. You had come up with some scenario that somehow they trusted you to tell you what was going on. It hadn’t been that long since they met you. You knew they weren’t going to tell you everything. You even told them so.

“Police stuff.” Seonghwa sighed. “There were a few casualties. People started to claim it was the outlaws so he had to go and check it out.”

“Are they suspecting the boys?” You spoke quietly, watching for his reaction.

“Yeah.” It was quiet for a while after that.

It was a 15 minute ride to the campsite the gang had made. It looked like every other campsite one might come across. They had a small sized schooner wagon between some trees, the entire thing having been set down to rest some. There were tarps placed around the area as well; four by the looks of it. They must have been the tents the boys used to rest. Most of their things were outside hanging up. You could also make out a couple more horses grazing nearby.

Seonghwa had walked you two past the clearing, catching the attention of the others waiting by the campfire circle they had made.

“Sweetheart!” You heard someone’s excited shout from the camp.

Seonghwa pulled himself off the horse, moving the reins just a bit to tighten them up. You watched as Wooyoung made his way over with a large grin on his face. His hands found purchase on your legs, pulling them around your waist.

“Hi, Wooyoung.” You giggled when the boy immediately pulled you off the horse and wrapped his arms around your thighs.

“Come see the others.” He set you down, grabbing onto your hand. “Sannie! Come greet, Sweetheart!”

Wooyoung pulled you towards one of the tents, calling out to the man you remembered to be the sharp eyed one. He had walked out of the tent, stretching a shirt over his arms as he pulled it over his head. Wooyoung subtly glanced your way, wanting to see if you would react to his shirtless friend in any way. However when he saw you hadn’t so much as looked away, he squinted his eyes.

“Darling.” San’s sharp eyes peered down at you.

“Hi.” You bowed your head.

San looked over at Wooyoung, shrugging his shoulders when he noticed his friend’s plan to get you flustered had not worked. Wooyoung turned you back around to the circle where you saw Jongho conversing with the pink haired man. You smiled as the three of you walked closer.

“Hi, Mingi. How's your shoulder?” You asked.

“It's fine.” He spoke quietly. “Really helped to get medical supplies.”

“I'm glad you're feeling better.” Your lips pulled over your teeth, causing the man to look away with a blush.

“Mingi, Seonghwa.” A stern voice interrupted. All of you turned to where Hongjoong stood by a tent, eyes glaring as they looked at each of you. “May I speak to you?”

The two he had called to didn’t question it, following their captain into the tent. You clenched your jaw as you kept your eyes on him. He had given you one last glare before turning around to talk privately with the others. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you went back to looking over the camp.

“What's on your mind?” Jongho appeared next to you, watching the side of your face.

“I wanted to come and meet the other boys properly.” You shook your head. “But it seems not all of them are happy with that.” Your face remained passive but Jongho could see you were upset about it.

“Hey, captain just needs time. He's a good person.” Jongho assured you.

“Captain!” Someone shouted as they entered the campsite.

Everyone turned to see Yunho jump off Yeosang’s horse before the man even came to a complete stop. The three men who were in the tent rushed out, all of them gathering closer to Yunho.

“Yunho.” Hongjoong greeted. “So, what is it?”

“I managed to deter them from searching the area.” The tall man sighed deeply. “The person who was found dead had stab wounds, not bullet. Lucky us that you and Mingi have choice weapons.” He spoke, looking at the two who were considered outlaws.

If it hadn’t been the two who stood next to you that had killed that person, than someone else was running around Cromer with a bloody knife.

“There's a murderer in the city?” You spoke up before any of them had the chance of saying anything.

“There's plenty of killers.” Hongjoong spoke up. “There's just one who was sloppy about it.”

The way he looked at you had you unsettled. But you only looked at him with your own passive expression. You knew he meant a lot more than just the citizens. Hongjoong and Mingi were wanted for a reason. If it wasn’t for thievery, then it must have been for murder.

“Come on, Darling.” San grabbed your bicep, pulling you along. “Wooyoung made dinner today.”

Yunho and Hongjoong had gone into the tent that the captain pulled Mingi and Seonghwa into. The others began to gather around some pots that were steaming over a low flame. Wooyoung had positioned himself behind it as he began to shuffle food into the bowls that were laying on a table next to him.

A smile returned to your face as you watched the boys laugh over things as they waited for their food. You weren’t a stranger to the way they acted with each other, having seen them interact at the hotel. However the last time you had seen them all together was when you had cleaned up Yeosang and it was only for a few fleeting moments.

You waited for all of them to sit down before you began to eat your food. Yeosang took a seat next to you on a log, followed by Jongho who took up your other side. The older man took notice of how you watched the boys all come to sit around the fire, not daring to move the spoon to your lips.

As Wooyoung made his way over with his own bowl, your fingers finally moved over the metal to begin eating. It made Yeosang smile bashfully at your manners, the man quickly taking a spoonful of food to hide his growing blush. It felt nice to see you wait for all the members.

Hongjoong and Yunho were quick to join you all, Wooyoung getting up to serve them plates as well. There was a lot of loud talking and open mouths full of food but you enjoyed their banter. When everyone finished up, you went to help Wooyoung wash the plates in a basin.

“It was really good!” You smiled at Wooyoung.

“Were you doubting me?” Wooyoung bumped his hip with yours.

“Just a bit. You answered nonchalantly.

“I am offended.” He said appalled. He shook his head at your words, going back to grinning. He dried his hands off with a rag before holding one out for you to grab. “Come on, before they start the stories without us.”

His fingers weaved between the two of yours, dragging you along to reach the light of the fire. You looked up at the purple sky, watching as the clouds created a rainbow of darkening colors. Wooyoung pulled you from your view as he sat down on a log, placing you down next to him. You made yourself comfortable as the boy seemed to hold onto your hand in his lap.

The boys all went back to laughing once more, poking fun at each other and rattling off stories about their past. Most of them were tame really, nothing out of the ordinary you would classify as their past. Every gang had stories upon stories to tell about their time spent out camping in the woods or running from the law.

You would laugh along with them as they recalled things for you. Somewhere in that time, Wooyoung had made himself comfortable along your side, moving you closer to him as he wrapped his arm around your waist. You could feel his head nestling itself in the crook of your neck. As you laughed loudly at Yunho’s imitation of something Jongho did, you turned your head to see Seonghwa moving to sit next to you.

“Tired yet?” He asked you.

“With you guys?” You grinned. “Not at all.”

The man looked at Wooyoung wheezing from your shoulder before leaning closer to you so only you would hear him.

“You can move him off if he's bothering you.” He told you. “Woo is the touchiest out of all of us.”

“Not at all.” You shook your head. “He's fine.”

The fire had been caught in your eye which called Seonghwa’s attention. He felt something brush against his heart when he noticed a sparkle in them as you laughed with his brothers. He wasn’t inexperienced when it came to others. He was sure all of them were well versed in carnal desires.

However, thinking about touching you in a way that wasn’t sexual made Seonghwa rethink all that he had done. He wasn’t ashamed, far from it. If he had to do it again he would in a heartbeat. It freed him from the life he was living. A life he felt was the same in every aspect. Like a record stuck on repeat until it was scratched too much to continue playing.

Meeting you opened up something new for him. Something he had never experienced even in his past life. He wanted to be selfish and reach for it. He wanted it to be part of his routine. Unlike everything else this was something he didn’t want to get away from.

“If you say so.”

Series Masterlist

@thefrog3223 , @iarayara , @0rangemilk , @explorewithd , @bangtanxberm , @loveforred , @a1i33a , @detectivedoodle

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onnoffwrites · 8 months

Text

I have been losing my shit over this damn panel for the past THREE DAYS (more or less) and I need to yell somewhere so it's gonna go here.

It all began when I was writing my fic (I think this was for My Immortal), and I needed to recap significant hakukai moments. And I remembered "hey, I should include this one thing saguru said during sunset manor that was stupidly super gay for no fucking reason" bc like, yea hakukai not canon, but if canon was gonna give me a whole ass confession then I might as well use it. So, like always, I head to mangadex to look for this panel... Except... It's not there... The line... The line's not there... But I remember... I remember something about "the only one to disrupt/disturb my thinking/mind"... Where... I didn't imagine that right? I mean I read a lot of google translated Chinese fanfics but... I REMEMBERED reading that line... In a manga... In English... ON mangadex...

This is where I should mentioned, that if you weren't around for the Great Collapse of Mangadex. Then... Well, so there was this period of time where mangadex just DIDNT EXIST. Bc there was some cyber?? Attack??? On the site??? I can't fully remember. But it like wiped out most of the site. The mangas r just, gone. So mangadex fixed it. It took a while bc they figured "might as well revamp our site and system". And they did. And it's great. And it looks beautiful now, even more than before.

But see. The line I remembered? Yea... Yea that was from before The Collapse. And mangadex let multiple translation groups submit their translations. So u can read diff translations of diff group, see how things are interpreted differently... And... I remembered this one, that I posted here up top, but I remembered there was another. One that had The Line.

And it was driving crazy so, like usual, I asked my cn friend. But my cn friend (why am I still saying that, it's @beingvv , that's the friend) has A Life, and isn't always online, and we love that for ppl. So. I'm still crazy. I can't trust my own damn mind and memory bc why tf do I remember something that isn't there (happened before btw, but that has nothing to do with this).

Luckily, I have a friend who knows jp. UNLUCKILY, I don't have the jp raws and it's from chapter 300 and we are in the thousands. So, I went back to losing my mind. Until I found it again, and realized. Heyyyyyyy there's a whole ass ANIME. So like the baggage my dear friend had the misfortune to be saddled with, I went to find the ep, timestamped it, yelled begged them for help.

This is where I lose my damn mind the first time in the recent weeks.

(thank you my dear piglet, u don't even go here but u tolerate my insanity)

THIS. THIS WAS THE LINE. THATS WHAT I REMEMBERED.

So, I feel a little more sane (bc my mind didn't fabricate a memory again) and also A LOT more insane bc WHY WOULD U SAY THAT, HAKUBA SAGURU 😭😭😭 WHY WOULD U SAY IT LIKE THAT 😭😭😭

In any case I feel validated. Told beingvv about my discoveries (for whenever they come back) not that they need it cn fandom already got the correct translation. And finished writing my fic.

And then Saguru's comeback was announced.

So I've been losing my shit for 3 days on twitter, looking at all my fave KR and JP accounts and the things they say.

And then someone dug up and old tweet thread that talked about this panel. Specifically, op talked about the nuance in the word choice used.

Here's the og thread if anyone wants to read or Google translate it urself.

(mkppyong my love, bless you)

Bc mkppyong talked to a jp acquaintance about ??? Uh I dunno just language I guess. POINT IS. They pointed out that gosho used specific words/phrases that really wasn't needed if all he wanted to say was "the only one who drives me crazy/mad." But he did used them. It's specifically "his thoughts/mind" that's being driven crazy. And that if he wants to just talk about Saguru's mind being disrupted/confused, then there's rly no need to use the words "go crazy"

And then they wrote out a whole symbolism about clocks and saguru and being broken down/disrupted and I lost my shit over the clock symbolism, sue me 😭😭😭

I don't think I'm making sense anymore bUT WAIT, THERES MORE, THE FINAL BLOW

THE THAI TRANSLATION

This is where I expose myself more than I ever want to, but here's a fact. I'm thai

Here's a second fact. I'm SHIT at Thai. I've been bad at this language before I got good at English. My Thais as good as an elementary student. Every time I understand difficult words I get confused bc where did I know THAT from???

In any case, point is, I saw that tweet, read the text, immediately understood it and began losing my shit all over again... And then I doubted... Bc like, I'm not good with this lang anymore... Maybe im understanding it wrong? So I look up Google.

Google: คลุ้มคลั่ง just means go crazy

So I was like, damn guess I'm wrong, read too much into this. BUT SEE BC I LIVE HERE I HAVE FRIENDS WHO ARENT A DISGRACE. And so my friend said:

SO WELCOME TO MY THIRD ROUND OF INSANITY.

HAKUBA SAGURU WHY WOULD U SAY THIS SHIT IN FRONT OF LIKE NINE OTHER PPL 😭😭😭😭😭 BOY WHY R U TELLING THEM UR OBSESSED 😭😭😭 youre driving ME crazy 😭😭😭

So. Here we are. At the end. I have no idea how tf I'm supposed to end this post. I'VE been obsessed for 3 days straight. I don't have a lot of braincell left in me (there weren't any to begin with). I don't have a statement to wrap this post up in a nice little bow. Go make ur own conclusion I dunno.

But I would not have been losing my shit over this stupid panel for a month if it wasn't for the fact that eng translation was missing a pretty crutial thing in what Saguru said. I don't know if this was a mistranslation or a misunderstanding or something, but the English translation was lacking. And I love and have always been thankful and grateful to the ppl who worked hard to translate mangas in their free time, and do it all for free, bc I haven't had any real way to rent/borrow mangas from renting shops/libraries in years. So this was one of the only ways I can read mangas. But, even as I checked the raw panel with Google lens just now, even google translate it as "the only one to make my thoughts go round." No where was there any mention of "case" and "solving." So that's just, multiple accounts of ppl who knows jp, including native jp speakers, all saying that this panel is Saguru saying "the only one to drive me crazy". And man I rly hope this doesn't make me come off as ungrateful or like shitting on the translation team, I'm rly not. But yea. Uh. The translation was wrong. And I remembered that there used to be a diff eng translation. And it led me to go to all this trouble and journey to find out what was actually said. And here we are, at the end.

The only one who could disrupt Saguru's thinking.

The only one who could disturb Saguru's mind.

The one whose sole existence drives him mad.

The only one to make his mind obsess over till he's driven to madness.

Or to use the symbolism mkppyong wrote: the only one to break down the clock, the precise and accurate mechanism, that is Hakuba Saguru.

#hakuba saguru #hakukai #magic kaito #dcmk #sagukai #ramblings #oh god this is long #lost in translation #tbh it's also FOUND in translation #long ass fucking post holy shit #im sabotaging my own fics by tagging this with thr ship tags tbh #now my fic posts are completely buried #edit: not me noticing several typos months later

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humanpurposes · 2 months

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Karma is a God, Chapter 15: The Lakeshore

The Dance of the Dragons begins on a lie, and Aemond owes a debt, one Lucerra will see repaid in Fire and Blood // Main Masterlist

Aemond x Lucerra Velaryon (fem!Lucerys)

Warnings for this chapter: 18+, spoilers for F&B and future seasons of HotD, canon divergence, descriptions of violence, angst, mentions of death and war

A/n: We're back after five whole months!! I've been deep in the brainrot for this fic recently, and I'm so happy I've come back to it. I've had this series planned out since December 2022 and I'm really excited to see it through.

Also, psa I guess, this series is no longer going to be updated on Tumblr, all future chapters will be posted on AO3.

I do want to say thank you to everyone who's shown this fic some love on here, it makes me so happy seeing it come up in my notifs, I can't wait for you all to continue reading it :)❤️

Full Chapter on AO3

The voice in Luke’s head whispers again. Blood.

It is everywhere, in the colour of the sky, in the clouds and the setting sun. It’s in the water, spilled from the bodies of two dead dragons. Watery red waves ripple over the lakeshore, rushing over her boots, running back to the lake and seeping through the pebbles into the earth.

Aemond is covered in it. He is on his knees before her, an arrow lodged in the shoulder of his sword arm, his riding leathers sodden, his silver hair soaked and stained pink. She wonders if he can taste it, the blood of Caraxes and Vhagar on his tongue.

Even when she takes up Dark Sister and places its point to his throat, he is staring at her with the intent of a hunter. His seeing eye is wide, his eyepatch washed away and his sapphire almost black in the absence of light. The scar that frames it, the scar carved by her hand, is inflamed, furious and red.

The last time she had seen it, he was holding a knife against her cheek, demanding retribution, seeking payment for her debt.

It seems like another lifetime ago, before Arrax, before Shipbreaker Bay, before she had clawed her way through endless, agonising pain to find her way to Jace, before she had buried two of her siblings, when Rhaenyra was her mother and not her Queen.

The sword– Daemon’s sword, feels wrong in her hand, but then it should not be hers to have.

“Remember all he has taken from you,” her step-father had said.

And she does. She remembers it all.

Aemond’s arrogance to not weep and grovel and beg for his life, after everything, is an insult.

She had never felt so sure of herself, so determined that she knew what path the Gods had mapped for her. Aemond would not have a noble death or the burial rites of their family. He would be lost to the lake with an arrow pierced through his black heart, remembered as a traitor and a kinslayer. She would be his end. It was only right.

Daemon had trusted her, handed her the bow she would use to kill him, told her to stay hidden amongst the trees and wait for the right moment to strike.

In the blur of battle, as night engulfed the sky and poisoned the air with its cold, she had missed her mark. She knew it the moment the arrow left the bow that it would not be enough to kill him.

The danger in that was Vhagar. The dragon howled in fury and surged towards her atop Grey Ghost. Aemond had his chance then. He could have finished what he began at Storm’s End, claimed her life, seen his debt fulfilled.

Then Vhagar had steered away.

It was hard to see what became of them in the final struggle. The dragons were a single mass of bloody flesh, joined with teeth and talons. Daemon leapt from his saddle, sword in hand. She might have screamed, either way it would have gone unheard.

Aemond must have realised what was happening when he started to fuss with his chains. He released himself and then they were falling.

Aemond and Daemon were lost to darkness but Vhagar and Caraxes plunged into the God’s Eye with a colossal splash that reached so high it appeared to match the height of Harrenhal itself.

She was standing on the lakeshore before she found herself in the mind of her dragon.

She watched through Grey Ghost’s eyes as he flew towards the lake and dived beneath the surface of the water. In that void his claws curled around a body.

She was standing on the shore again, inside her own mind again, waiting for Grey Ghost to deliver what– who he had found.

Grey Ghost set the body down. He may have had stained silver hair and Dark Sister clutched in his hand, but she knew right away it wasn’t her step-father. There was still life in him– in Aemond.

What will her mother think now?

She feels Aemond swallow against the blade, the movement of his throat piercing his skin. A droplet of blood trails down his neck, below his collar.

She knows what she has to do– what she should do: push forwards, watch him choke on blood and steel.

He draws his tongue between his lips. His voice is almost a whisper, thick and strained. “Please.”

Her hold on the hilt falters. Perhaps she should feel some semblance of pride, now that she has him at her mercy, breathless and broken.

“Please.”

She watches the blood trail from the small cut she has made in his neck. She imagines it spraying from a larger wound, coating Dark Sister, seeping through his teeth and his lips.

“You can beg better than that, surely,” she says...

Read the rest of Chapter 15 on AO3

Tags (comment to be added to either)

Series taglist: @adragonprinceswhore @toodlesxcuddles @arcielee

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @theoneeyedprince @targaryenrealnessdarling @jamespotterismydaddy @tsujifreya @blackswxnn

#aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x oc #aemond x ofc #aemond x fem!lucerys #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond x original female character #aemond x reader #fem!lucerys #lucemond #my fics #karma is a god

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bigd1ckdavey · 1 year

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♢ Troubles Washed in the River ♢

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Male Reader

Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

1,053 words

AO3 Post

Masterlist

ALSO DON'T KILL ME FOR THE WRITING THIS IS THE FIRST FULL FANFICTION THAT ISN'T A JOKE IN YEARS.

»--•--«

You rub your eyes, taking in the bright sun that shone through them. Sat in your bedroll, you feel the same dreadful feeling you have for days now. You’ve had no motivation to even get yourself out of bed, let alone do anything productive. You stare down at your crossed legs, struggling to muster up the drive to pull yourself up and get some coffee. You hoped it might help you through this, as stupid as it felt.

You had to fight yourself just to wake up and start your morning. It took everything in you to not just sleep through the day. It took everything in you not to cry. You had no idea why you felt this sad. You’d been doing so much better these days, why you went back to this was beyond you.

The sound of a familiar voice caught your attention. “Hey, you alright there?”

Arthur leaned against one of the wooden poles that held up your tent, his hand rested on his belt.

Leaning back with your hands resting on your thighs, you give him a shrug. “I guess.”

“That don’t sound like a guy who’s alright. Not to mention you’ve been glued to that bedroll for ‘bout three days now. What’s on yer mind?”

You looked off into the distance, contemplating his words. The last thing you wanted was for him to worry about you, but it seems like it’s too late now. You wished that if you didn’t answer he’d leave you alone and go on with his day, despite how unrealistic it was. The camp was anything but private, which had you even more bothered about telling him anything.

After a few moments of silence, Arthur spoke up. “How’s about we take a ride down to the river? It’ll get ya outta this tent.”

“Sure.” You used your hands to help you up on your feet. You felt heavier than you thought. Once up, you felt a throbbing pain in your head. Trying your hardest to ignore it, you trudged over to the hitching posts with Arthur.

Everything that you never paid any mind to now feels so tasking. Just getting on your horse feels impossible. You grip onto the saddle horn, foot lodged into the stirrup to help yourself up. You almost stumble and fall in the process.

You notice Arthur gripping his reins, waiting for you.

“Sorry for makin’ ya wait, Arthur.”

“Don’t pay it any mind. Let’s just get on.” Arthur’s horse trots through the wooded trail. You squeeze your horse’s ribs to cue it forward, following behind Arthur’s.

It wouldn’t be long before the two of you reached the Dakota River, riding down the hill that connected Horseshoe Overlook to the land near the water.

Arthur pulled his horse to a stop at an open spot of grass near the river, a bit north from the town of Limpany. He unmounted and went to rest on the dirt, sat with his arm slung over his knee. He looked as if he were waiting for you to join him.

You hop off of your horse and tie the reins to a nearby tree before going to sit by Arthur. A herd of deer gathered by the other side of the river, lapping up the flowing water. The tranquility of the scenery distracts you from your current situation. All you could focus on were the sounds of the chirping birds and leaves rustled from the faint wind.

“So, what’s been yer problem? I’d say you ain’t pullin’ yer weight around camp anymore, but you ain’t even eatin’. All anyone’s seen ya do these past few days is sleep or lie in your bedroll.” His gaze fixed on you. You couldn’t even look in his direction.

You didn’t know how to put what you felt into words. You didn’t know how to explain to him why getting up in the morning felt like a constant fight, how you felt weighed down to the bedroll. That feeling of being so tired yet unable to sleep. You feared Arthur might not understand, or say that you were overreacting.

“I don’t know, Arthur. I haven’t found the energy to get up. I feel exhausted but I can only get a couple hours of sleep, and I constantly feel on the verge of tears. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I haven’t felt like this in such a long time and it makes it extra upsetting that I’m back to this.” You choke back stray tears. The more you speak, the more you feel the waterworks come on.

“Back to this? It’s happened before?”

“Yeah.” You wiped your eyes, vision turning cloudy from the tears. “Was on and off a lot. Used to have to get forced to eat or drink so I wouldn’t starve. I’ve done better for myself and it hasn’t happened in a few years. I have no idea what brought it on again, but now it feels worse than any other time.”

You feel a hand rest on your shoulder. The touch was hesitant and awkward, yet the warmth still soothed you. “Well I’m.. not very sure how I can help ya. Whatever ya need, just holler for me, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod and lean into his touch, head resting on his shoulder. Arthur tensed up from the sudden movement. His shoulders unbunched as he relaxed, his hand trickling down from your shoulder to your upper arm to pull you closer. Taking a quick glance at his face, you notice the faint red on his cheeks.

The two of you sat in silence, enjoying the soft embrace of one another. Above everything, you were glad to know Arthur would be there to support you. You knew this episode wouldn’t go away just like that, but having Arthur might lighten the load.

“Don’t tell a soul about any of this, y’hear?”

“Don’t plan on it. Thank you, by the way. For gettin’ me up and out. Felt useless and guilty for rotting away like that.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself for it, now.” Arthur’s thumb rubbed against your upper arm in slow strokes. “We should be headin’ back to camp, don’t want people suspectin’ anything.”

“Can’t we stay a bit longer? I only just got comfortable.”

Arthur sighs. “Only for a bit.”

»--•--«

#rdr2 arthur morgan #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x m!reader #arthur morgan x male reader #arthur morgan x reader #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption fanfiction #rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur rdr2

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swaps55 · 7 months

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Prompt from the Big Place discord server: Write a short fic with the words 'terror,' 'ghost,' and 'haunt.'

Kaidan finds Shepard in the barn in front of Echo’s stall, surrounded by black fabric, wire, scraps of wood, and most worrisome, a can of black paint. A pumpkin sits on a haybale right outside the stall door. Echo sticks her head out the open window, supervising the whole thing. “Do I even want to know?” Shepard holds out an arm’s length of fabric, deep in thought. “I had an idea.” “I can see that. Hence my concern.” “They’re doing that ghost thing in town next week.” He waves the fabric like a bat. Echo throws her head up and snorts. “The Halloween parade, yes.” “I had an idea.” That much is apparent. Kaidan rubs Echo’s forehead. She promptly uses him as a scratching post. “I am very afraid to ask what that has to do with the horse.” “Gonna ride her without a head.” Kaidan parses this for a moment before arriving at the intended interpretation of that sentence. “You want to be the headless horseman.” “Yup.” Kaidan looks at the impromptu craft pile, then looks at Echo, who tries to lip at the pumpkin perched just out of reach. “Doesn’t the headless horseman have a black horse?” Shepard pauses what he’s doing and examines the very much not black Echo with a critical eye. “Yeah, you might be right about that. Do you think fence paint is safe for horses?” “No.” Kaidan picks the can up and puts it away, just to be safe. “Then I guess in this case, the headless horseman rides a red horse.” Shepard wraps the black fabric around himself with a flourish and waggles an eyebrow. “I need a cape. And a way to hide my head.” Kaidan rubs his forehead with his fingers. “Unbelievably, my mother has done this before, and might still have the rig somewhere in the hay loft.” Shepard grins the kind of grin that used to be reserved for the Mako. “Gonna haunt the shit out of that parade.” Well. The tiny town of Summerland is about to get a face full of Sam Shepard. Or...something like that. ~ The air is brisk on the 31st, but the skies are clear, and a larger crowd than usual turns out for the occasion, perhaps in no small part because the moment Shepard expressed interest in participating, they made him the grandmaster of the whole thing.

The parade itself is simple but constructed with love. Locals, several who Kaidan recognizes, put the finishing touches on homemade floats and costumes. More than a few kids who have crept “backstage” to catch a glimpse of their hero wear hand crafted N7 armor. Shepard sits tall in his saddle, an admittedly impressive black cloak draped around his black breeches. Kaidan wonders if he even noticed that his mother stole it and stitched an N7 on the back. The black shirt he’s got on underneath will be on the floor as soon as Kaidan gets his hands on it, but that’s for later, when they aren’t in the middle of downtown, surrounded by families and kids in costume. For now, he holds a rein while Shepard makes his final adjustments. “Well, how do we look?” Echo, stomps a bored foot and swishes her tail, ears hanging lazily to the side. The ornate black bridle and hefty black breastplate would look pretty intimidating if not for the clump of grass hanging out of her mouth. Kaidan reaches in to tug it out, and is rewarded with a smudge of green slobber. “Like a terror of the night.” “To hell we ride.” Shepard settles the headless rigging over his actual head. “Can you see anything?” “It’ll be fine,” he says, voice muffled. Echo snorts and attempts to root for a carrot in Kaidan’s back pocket. With Shepard, it sure will be something. Further down the street, an emcee announces their heralded haunted guest. The agreement had been that Shepard would parade at a brisk trot. Instead, he urges Echo into a gallop with a whoop. Together they streak down the road, a red comet with a black horseman, to the delighted roar of the crowd.

#mass effect #mshenko #kaidan alenko #otp: after all this time #my fic

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torashisama · 7 months

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WoT 207 ''Daes Dae'mar'': A detailed theory-analysis

DISCLAIMER :

This explanation is a detailed one. It is a deep dive into the season taking into account the point of view of all the relevant protagonists and antagonists of the game of houses that took place in Cairhien before our eyes in S2E07.Therefore, It's seemingly endless. If you don't enjoy reading or simply does not want to take the time to read, listen and watch all of it. You can check the following links to find the initial (shorter and less detailed, also outdated but still relevant) version of this explanation:

FOREWORD :

Excuse any eye piercing mistakes I might make or clunky phrasings you might notice, I'm French and ADHD's a bitch.

I've seen a lot of confusion about how Lan figured out about Moiraine. So, I analysed his POV throughout the season and those of the relevant characters in all of this so that it's clear for everyone as understanding part 1 is the central and fundmental part of this theory. It would be best for everyone, if there was no confusion.

PS: THE SCENES ARE IN HYPERLINKS FORMS BECAUSE I CAN'T PUT MOST THAN 1 VID PER POST, also forget about the backlinks. I forgot that the url would change if I went back to the different scenes after posting so that it'll stay like this but they won't work. ( no even sure they'll be necessary, i added them in case it was, so it'ss not an issue)

Let's theorise now, shall we ?

Part 1. Lan's and other relevant characters point of views throughout the season

E01 : A taste of Solitude

Here, his point of view is not important as it's mostly about how the bond being severed for the last 6 months affected him. What we can still point out from this episode is that at the beginning, Moiraine finally understands what the broken piece of Cuendillar at the Eye of The World meant. She understand thanks to the poem that was written on the back of the one that Bayle had, that all this time Ishamael was freed not defeated.

And that, at the end, when she first tried to leave without Lan, they ended up getting hurt and almost dying then getting rescued from the Fades who were following Bayle Domon by Verin and Tomas. ( (educated guess thanks to E08)Lanfear used him to get to Mo trough the fades, Moiraine was supposed to die before she had the chance to intervene.)

E02 : Strangers and Friends

After the Fades attack, Moiraine and Lan have been healed.

She's cold and leaving for the "docks", Verin tells her that Adeleas and her will accompany her and suggests that she goes to the White Tower first. She agrees. Later, at night, seated around a campfire listening to Verin, Adeleas and Tomas reminisce about their youth, Lan and Moiraine gets to do the same and remembers the first time they met each other. Sometime after, it's time for them to say goodbye and go their separate ways. Lan, while Moiraine is distracted, searches her saddle in which he finds a worn out piece of paper that is laced into what appears to be a thin thread of leather, before he can take a look at it, Moiraine comes back and he hides his findings in his cloak. They talk.

"I should have sensed the Fades were coming. I should have… I'm sorry. "

"Do you know when I actually decided you'd be my Warder?"

[…]

"You'll go to the Tower and I'll continue alone."

[…]

"We didn't defeat the Dark One, we set his strongest lieutenant free. The Forsaken are 3000 years old. They're the strongest channelers that ever lived, and Ishamael may be waking the others. What they can do with the One Power make the Aes Sedai look like tavern magicians conjuring birds from their sleeves. I mean, he cut me off with a flick of his wrist."

"But it takes eight Aes Sedai to cut someone off. Alone, he couldn't, no matter how…"

"You have no conception of the power they wield. "

"Well, then tell me.You and I walk this path together. […]"

"We've never walked this path together. You've never seen the forest for the trees because I have never shown it to you."

"You can't push me away."

"Rand's alive."

"No. You said he was dead."

"You assumed."

[…]

"I took an oath to defend you. "

"And without the bond, you're unable to fulfil that oath."

"I'm still your Warder.""

"No, you failed me.""

[…]

"I am not letting you walk away from me again."

"I know. Alanna will see you to the Tower. I'll have her take your bond by force if I must."

Lan from his last conversation with Moiraine before Siuan, Alanna, Maksim and Ihvon becomes relevant factors learns that :

He had been chosen as her warder because she thought "he'll ultimately will be fine if I die"

She wants to leaves him behind again

They did not defeat the Dark One at the Eye but only made things worse by releasing his strongest lieutenant, a forsaken: Ishamael a.k.a Ishy.

Ishamael is most likely than not on a quest to release the other ones.

The forsaken are so much more stronger than the Aes Sedai that the difference is hilarious to think about.

Ishy apparently stilled her by himself.

Mo's betrayed his trust for the last 6 months by lying the Aes Sedai way ( purposefully misleading him) about Rand's death.

She thinks that he failed her and isn't her warder anymore.

She never thought of him as her equal.

She'd betray his trust again by letting Alanna take his bond by force (violate him) so that he'd let her leave alone on her suicide mission.

E03: What Might Be

This episode is unusable as Lan only appears as a part of Nynaeve's trial in the arches. However, we can still count the day or days passing in this episode to try and know how long it's been since Moiraine and Lan have been separated.

I've found that it's only been a day since they left each other by the end of episode 3.

E04: Daughter of the Night

When we first see Lan again since he's been forced to leave with Alanna, He's already been 2 days and 1 night away from Moiraine. This episode will be the 3rd day and 2nd night.

During the day, he's with Alanna and instead of heading straight back for the Tower they pay a visit to Alanna's family.

He eats with them ( lunch ) then he leaves the table to go take a piss, he expected Maksim or Ihvon as before but this time it's Alanna that came to see him. They talk.

[…]

"a warm memory. Something worth living for. And at that point… "

"So we're going to skip all of that.,I don't think you're gonna kill yourself. Your bond wasn't ripped from you. She took it. So have you decided what you're going to do now?"

"Have I worn out my welcome? "

"The three of us, we are going back to the Tower tomorrow. Will you come with us?"

[…]

"I wish you could've known Moiraine before. "

"Before what? "

"Something happened to her. About years ago now. A year or two before she bonded you. One day she was simply… changed. The way water becomes ice, and you look at it and wonder how it was ever water before. "

"Was she happier, then?"

"I don't know. I don't know if she's ever been happy. "

Later during the day, in the afternoon, he talks with Maksim.

[…]

"Moiraine has left the bond masked for… the last six months or so."

"I thought I was the only Warder who could go that long. When Alanna first bonded me, it was miserable for everyone. I didn't like having an audience in my head, and she didn't like the show. So, the three of us talked it through, and we decided that she would mask her bond with me. Except in battle. And bed."

"Does the Tower know about this? "

"Have you ever known a marriage that is exactly the same as another? I know the others will tell you…you can't go back to Moiraine. But I'm proof that you can. If you want to."

And finally, at night he talks with Ihvon.

[…]

"It's something she said. You keep saying it to yourself over and over. A thousand cuts for her one. People don't understand that we quiet ones… are quiet because the conversation's always… playing out in our own heads."

"She said that, all these years… Mm…she never considered me an equal. "

"Of course not. We are not their equals, Lan. We're not supposed to be. An Aes Sedai can… call down lightning, raise mountains. The rest of the world only sees their power. We see their weakness. We remind them that they are not gods."

"I wouldn't think that… Alanna needed a reminder."

"Yeah, well, she knows we want the same thing as her. "

"What's that? "

"The triumph of the Light over the Dark. And dessert after. "

"What about Moiraine? What does she want? "

"Maybe that's the problem. I don't think I know anymore. "

While they're talking, Maksim who was meditating with them but left them alone before they started talking, found the old and worn out piece of paper that Lan previously took from Moiraine. He shows it to Alanna, who reads it and immediately understand what it could mean about Lan and maybe Moiraine too. Is he a dark friend ? Are they dark friends ? Later during the night, while Lan is asleep, Ihvon joins them and they talk it out, outside the house, Ihvon then reads it and they figure out that it's a prophecy in the Old Tongue about a forsaken, specifically about the Daughter of the Night, Lanfear. They're not sure of what to think yet, but they now suspect Lan.

E05: Damane

In this episode we do not follow Lan, Alanna, Ihvon or Maksim. There's is no point of view for them while they're travelling together but we can add 2 nights and a day to the counter. It's been 4 days and 4 nights away from Moiraine and as many days and nights spent with Alanna and her warders for Lan. However, we do get Verin's point of view.

After just arriving at the Tower, she asked after Nynaeve and Egwene but it turned out that they were nowhere to be found. Not in their rooms, not doing chores or in class and somehow, it was the same for the Daughter-heir of Andor, Elayne. They seemed to have disappeared so she went to see Sheriam Sedai, the current Mistress of Novices to try and understand where they could have vanished.

[…]

"Why, Verin Sedai. I was unaware you'd be visiting us."

[…]

"Uh, what can I do for you, Sister?"

"I was hoping to have a word with two of the girls in your care, Egwene al'Vere and Nynaeve al'Meara. Do you know where I might find them?"

"Uh, they are likely busy doing their chores. "

"In fact, they aren't. Nor are they in their class, nor in their rooms. And, um, also the Daughter-Heir of Andor is nowhere to be found."

"Is it possible they may have left Tower grounds?"

"The Daughter-Heir? It's worth taking a look, don't you think? "

"Oh. Uh… Oh, goodness, yes. Here it is. A visit to Elayne's home in Caemlyn. The three were signed out just the other day."

"That seems worth remembering. "

"It is. I, um…I don't know how it slipped my mind, frankly."

"It's quite unusual".

"That it is."

[…]

"Oh, yeah, I have another question for you. I was in the library asking after a book, Meditations on the Kindling Flame? Oh, yes, I've been meaning to return it. It's in my room, actually. Do you need it? Just for a short passage on the Amyrlin Tetsuan, uh… if you could. "

Verin went to the library before going to Sheriam and asks Nomy and Yassica about the "new very powerful Novices".

We don't actually see this happening, but since she went to the tower knowing about Moiraine's adopted kids and particularly about Rand, she must have wanted to meet them as opposed to being able to meet the Dragon Reborn himself ( being bothered by her insatiable curiosity again). She learns that they are nowhere to be found, knowing what link they might have with the Dragon Reborn, she finds suspicious that just after Moiraine got attacked by 3 Fades and went looking for the Dragon Reborn, again, that her girls would appear to have left tower grounds with no one knowing about their departure. With these information in mind, before going to see Sheriam, she takes some precaution to ensure that she discovers the whole truth if for some reason Sheriam was not revealing it all. Knowing all of this, we can deduce that she had the following course of action:

Go to the Library and asks her fellow trusted brown sisters about the girls, after she tells her that it seems like they're not in the tower anymore, She asks them to help if she suspects that Sheriam, might not be telling her the whole truth during their talk.

ask about a book she borrowed and did not return yet, so that they can use it's mention as a signal and use it as a diversion (Meditation on the Kindling Flame).

Look for Ny, Eggy and Elayne

Ask and look around for them

Go to Sheriam and ask about the girls disappearance and determine whether it would be wise to use the backup plan.

Signal to Yassica that they're following the plan, that their conversation is coming to an end and that they'll soon get out of her study.

Distract Sheriam long enough so that Yassica retrieves all of the supposedly useful information.

Meet Yassica to talk about her findings.

Get the names of every Aes Sedai who left the tower in the last few days because it seems that a weave of compulsion was used on Sheriam (so Black Ajah).

Get the prophecies about the DR for Moiraine ? (not sure that she ever did)

Liandrin cross examination

Liandrin successfully fails

[…]

"I, um, I thought you were in Jurene hunting a young man suspected of channeling. "

"Luckily it was nothing."

"Hmm. "

"But… I did… bring back some white asparagus. If you'd like some. It's a delicacy from the village. You can only… "

"Procure them there and only at this time of year. "

"Yes."

[…]

"That's strange. Novices shouldn't be allowed to… "

"Well, they've, uh… they've gone to a name day ceremony in Caemlyn. "

"I'd heard on the road back that a royal envoy going to Caemlyn was attacked south of here. "

"By whom?"

"Uh, a soldier at the inn. He said it was… bandits or Whitecloaks. But if the girls were with them… Come, we must talk to the Keeper immediately. Those girls are worth more than gold itself. Hurry."

Even though her suspicions about Liandrin are at an all time high, I think that she did go with her to go "talk to the Keeper". It's the last time we see her before Cairhien.

E06: Eyes Without Pity

It's been 4 days and 4 nights, Moiraine got to Rand the night before and finally separated him from Lanfear. Defeated and her plans for the Dragon Reborn interrupted.

MOIRANE AND RAND

[…]

Lanfear: "But, if you actually want to work with me… I have one condition. "

Moiraine: "What did she say?"

"I have to go."

"Where? Did she tell you where… "

"No. Away from you. That was her condition. If she sees us together again, she'll kill you".

Lanfear, goes to Liandrin who she's been prying on in the World of Dreams. They talk.

[…]

"Ishamael said he'd freed you, but I…"

"Tell me, why do you work for him? For Ishamael? You hate men. With one exception, it seems."

[…]

"Men hurt us… betray us, and still, we love them. You swore your oaths to keep him alive, but this is not life. "

"I know. "

"He's holding you back. The last tie to the girl you used to be. The girl who was beaten and starved, and forced to marry before she bled. "

"I know. "

"And that's why I'm here, to do what you can't. A gift only one woman can give to another."

[…]

"You swore your oaths to the Dark, not to Ishamael. You cannot take them back. It's impossible. But there are many paths to walk through the night."

(optional but recommended) : Torashi's thoughts about Lanfear and Liandrin

Liandrin ends up switching sides at the end of this conversation. She will now aid Lanfear, not Ishy and Lanfear gives her the task of killing Moiraine (it's the 2nd assassination attempt). She needs to get rid of her but can't kill her herself because she wants Rand to trust her and believe in her and her cause.

Meanwhile, Moiraine is in Cairhien with Rand and at some point she attempts to write a letter in response to her "Dearest Siuan" to update her on the situation and finally tell her the truth about being stilled but she can't. At least, not yet. Only, she did not expect Lan to overtake her.

Lan's point of view (during night 4)

It's night, Lan, Alanna, Maksim and Ihvon are travelling. We don't know where exactly they're going but we can expect them to be going towards the Tower as it was what was planned. All this time spent with them, Lan has been pondering on the idea, that, maybe, Moiraine, really is not stilled but something else. He does not know what but he needs to at least dissipate his doubts. On the other side, Alanna, Maksim and Ihvon still suspects Lan of being a Dark Friend. During their trip, they purposefully choose to stop at a Forsaken temple to observe his behavior and judge him. Lan having these doubts in the back of his mind, wants to get to the Amyrlin seat, Siuan Sanche, who happens to be Moiraine's secret wife. He needs more information on the forsaken and needs to know where to find Siuan, so that she can help him dissipate his doubts ( he understands the old tongue- he understood what Ihvon meant by "Blood calls blood") and help him find how to help Moiraine.

Alanna : "Here's as good a place to stop as any. I'm dying for some tea."

Lan: "This is a temple to the Forsaken. Interesting choice."

Maksim: "Shelter's shelter. "

Lan: "We'll need the Amyrlin's permission for me to return to the Tower. Moiraine's banishment applies to me until our bond is formally removed from Tower records."

Alanna: "The Amyrlin won't be back for another few days yet. She's returning from a visit to Caemlyn."

Lan: "Forsaken. Do you believe they had powers the Aes Sedai have lost? Weaves this Age has forgotten?"

Ihvon: "They were the generals of the Dark One's army. The things they did, our Aes Sedai would never even consider."

Alanna: "What you're willing to do changes depending on what you're faced with."

[sometime later Alanna, Maksim and Ihvon are supposed to be distracted, having fun in their tent. Lan attempts to leave but they were watching him all along. He's cornerded by Ihvon and Maksim then trapped in the One Power by Alanna.]

Maksim : "It's rude to leave while your friends are sleeping."

Ihvon: "Ruder still to use your weapon against them."

Lan: "I don't want to fight you. "

Maksim: Rejection's a relatively new experience. You'll have to forgive me for asking, but… where are you going, old friend?

Lan : That is my business.

[…]

Alanna: "The Amyrlin did not banish you from Tar Valon. You know that. You wanted me to tell you where she is. Why?"

Lan: "I need to find her."

Alanna: "What do you want from Siuan Sanche ?"

Alanna: "You will tell us the truth, al'Lan Mandragoran. We will kill you were you stand if you don't."

Lan: "We found the Dragon Reborn."

[Lan goes to Siuan to tell her the truth about her wife, so that she can help him check whether he was right to doubt a forsaken's ability to still someone alone and help her.]

It's the last time we see them before the new day starts. They had all night to talk to each other, research (if needed) and come up with a plan.

DURING DAY 5

-MORNING

Lan is preventing Rand from leaving to go to Falme, alone, without Moiraine. He's accompanied by Alanna, Maksim and Ihvon.

Moiraine sends Jonas to give a letter to a trusted sister of hers of the Blue Ajah so that she can "get it where it needs to go" (To Siuan I suppose). She apologises to Barthy and he hugs her, they're interrupted by Anvaere.

"The Amyrlin Seat is here, in Cairhien, with 14 Aes Sedai, and she's demanded an audience with you."

Liandrin's in Cairhien, thanks to her, we know that Siuan summoned them without disclosing why.

"The last time the Amyrlin Seat called 14 sisters to meet with her in Cairhien, we installed a new king on the Sun Throne."

"Well, maybe this Amyrlin is a little more frivolous daughter."

"Hmm. "

"We'll have to wait and see."

In this part, we learned that :

Lan was suspicious from the moment that he learned how Moiraine got stilled by Ishy.

He doubted what his next step should be and thanks to Ihvon and Maksim, he knew that he had to get back and COULD go back to Moiraine.

He needed to get to Siuan before so that she could help him get back to Moraine and check whether he could have been right or not about her not being stilled.

He told Alanna about Rand and never disclosed that Moiraine could not channel or that Siuan and her were working together or that they are lovers.

He went to see Siuan, they talked and planned an intervention to save Moiraine from herself.

Lanfear used Domon to get to Moiraine trough the fades to kill her before she could do anything about Rand. (educated guess when informed by E08)

Lanfear rallied Liandrin to her cause and tasked her to take care of Moiraine for her. (educated guess when informed by E08)

Verin now knows about the dragon and is going to the Tower to look for prophecies about the dragon for Moiraine.

Verin suspected Liandrin of being Black Ajah and of being able to use the weave of compulsion and left with her to "go see the keeper"

Siuan, Lan, Alanna, Ihvon and Maksim went to Cairhien

Siuan summoned 14 Aes Sedai there but did not disclose the reason why and demanded an audience with Moiraine

Lan prevented Rand from leaving without Moiraine for Falme accompanied by Alanna, Ihvon and Maksim.

Part 2. Liuan : Their off screen talk

Thanks to part 1, we can be assured that Siuan was the one who showed up at Cairhien and not the Amyrlin Seat. It was about Moiraine not the mission or Rand. They were secondary motives and afterthoughts. All that mattered when she saw Lan, was Moiraine. It would have been five days since she answered to Moiraine from their previous letter and she still did not have an answer, so she was already worried. In E06, when Moiraine attempts to write to Siuan before Barthy interrups her. It either was the first letter from E01 or a follow up one that Siuan sent out of worry. Lan showing up alone, probably was horrifying. As for Lan, is sole purpose and worry from the night Moiraine got "stilled" and they lost their bond was to help Moiraine, support her, be close to her again. Basically as he said:

Moiraine: "I don't know what you think you'll gain from this."

Lan: "Hopefully, everything we've lost."

Now onto the talk.

credit: @aflawedfashion

What we can deduce from E07 and the previous episodes we just deep dived into is that Lan told her more than she had just been stilled. He confirms that he went to Siuan doubtful near the end of episode 7 when he says :

"It never made sense to me, Moiraine. What you're feeling? Ishamael didn't still you. Not even a Forsaken could do that alone. It is a shield that he's tied off, which means… "

scene

He just told her what he tried to say from E02 (except this time he knows what it is if not stilling and how to fix it), but she wouldn't listen to him.

scene

So, between Liuan this is what he must have said:

Siuan, At the eye of the world, Moiraine actually fought a forsaken, he was not defeated.

She was mistaken, a few days ago she realised that we released him. We were wrong, we,lost at the eye of the world.

She's lost her ability to touch the source but she said that Ishamael stilled her alone. I don't think she's been stilled, Verin Sedai said that most stilled women ended up dying and that her behavior was not aligning with what's usually expected. After she told me that he stilled her alone I strongly doubted that she really was, I thought maybe it was something else, I told her but she brushed me off. Are they really that strong ? Can a forsaken really still someone alone ?

She's been casting me out for the last six months so I only learned about all of it 4 nights ago when she left me behind to go find Rand. He wasn't with us, she let me assume he died and let him leave.

She forced me to stay back with Alanna Sedai and her warders by threatening me of letting her take my bond by force. They were to take me back to the tower but before Moiraine left me I took a poem she had in her saddle, it was about Lanfear. Ishamael released her, Alanna Sedai found it and cornered me earlier as I was trying to get to you to confront me about it. She wouldn't let me go, she thought that I was to harm you and a dark friend, she was ready to kill me so I had to tell her about the dragon reborn so that she'd let me go.

Lan told her and knew everything she needed to know to be able to help her wife as she's always been doing. Only, this time, Moiraine would have to stay out of the loop. She's emotionally unstable and is not in a place where she could allow herself to think of such a possibility anymore, giving her hope for no reason wouldn't make for anything good.

optional but recommended : Thoughts about why Liuan decided to keep Moiraine out of the loop

We now wonder, what did they plan ?

Part 3. Liuan : The Plan

Before diving into this part, we need to know what might have happened between them beside their talk.

What can we deduce happened ?

Lan tells her everything and Siuan comes up with the plan and tells him what he'll have to do and they'll obviously use Rand as a pretext (well, Siuan will).

(I used to think that she could have not know as soon as he'd tell her since Moiraine herself did not think that a Forsaken wouldn't be able to do that but after further research and taking into account the fact that Lan immediately suspected it and that Moiraine judgement was clouded by her emotions, I now think that Siuan knew as soon as he told her. Anyway, whether she needed to check or not they had their plan which was not about the dragon in case you forgot but about Moiraine.)

Now, onto the discussed plan:

Siuan explains :

Lan you'll :

Get the boy, try to make him understand that he'll be fine but do not tell him the truth, we can't trust that he won't talk to Moiraine or that nobody will spy on you. I'll meet him and try and do the same and use our meeting as my main motive for coming to Cairhien, also, we'll need him to unshield her as I can't see Saidin (men half of the One power).

You'll check with Logain to know if we were right about her being shielded, we have to be sure before attempting anything.

Check if she ever wanted to kill herself if you have the chance.

Everything may not go as planned so be ready not to reveal that there's more than me meeting the boy and follow along with whatever I do.

This is what you'll have to do to un-shield her if we were right

If we get attacked you'll take her there. This will be our escape route in case we ever need it.

As for Alanna and her warders they'll be on the look out.

Most importantly, keep her safe, be careful and stand by her.

Siuan

I'll

Summon 14 Aes sedais and take them with me to Cairhien since we have 2 Forsaken on the loose trying to get him, they'll be useful in case we get attacked.

Meet and talk to Moiraine and distract her from what you'll be doing.

Meet the boy and try to make him understand that i'm on his side.

Alanna, Maksim and Ihvon

Look out for the Forsaken

Alert

Backup

Goals

The goal is to help Moiraine and that is it, probably discuss their next course of action regarding the plan since she might be stilled (which she can do with no problem since she doesn't know for sure that she isn't). As i've stated before, Rand and the mission in this case were the after thoughts as it is Siuan that decided to go to Cairhien and not the Amyrlin Seat.

Moiraine: "Siuan said you were leaving. Where were you going? "

(While they're the same person, they are not the same characters, Siuan isn't the Amyrlin Seat and the Amyrlin Seat is not Siuan but only a part of her, I thought the show made it clear enough but I'm reminding you all again anyway as i've seen that a lot (even other theorist and siuaraine shippers) seems to think that Siuan really went to Cairhien to take Rand away from Mo, cage him and stuff as if they did not show us that it simply was not how it worked between them and that she simply was not her position at all. Most misunderstood and underappreciated character sincerely (those who voted Hopper, i'm looking at y'all). Anyway, SHE IS NOT THE AMYRLIN SEAT AND THE AMYRLIN SEAT IS NOT SIUAN BUT ONLY A PART OF HER.)

So, Siuan shielding and putting Rand in a cell was improvised as he was leaving without Moiraine knowing and she needed him to be around anyway.

Daes dae'Mar : The Game of Houses, Liuan's plan put into practice

House Sanche-Mandragoran

Siuaraine meeting in the Sun Palace

Goals :

Meet and talk to Moiraine and distract her from what Lan will be doing.

Use meeting Rand as her main motive for coming to Cairhien.

[MOIRAINE] Mother. [SIUAN] Leave us, Daughter. She's no threat to me. [LEANE] I'll be right outside, Mother. [SIUAN] Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me you'd been stilled? Six months of letters, Moiraine. And not one word about this…this violation. [MOIRAINE] Well, what else did Lan tell you?

[MOIRAINE] That you threatened to let Alanna take his bond without his permission. You know he told her. That you found the Dragon. (half truth and deflection, she knew about the forsaken and talks about it later,)

[MOIRAINE] Why are you here, Siuan?

[SIUAN] I've let you carry this burden for years, love. You've given everything for it. From here on out, I row beside you. ( half truth, because she also was there to help Lan check her powers)

Moiraine: [SCOFFS] (not convinced)[gets hypnotised by Siuan's touch]

[SIUAN] It's time I met Rand al'Thor. (deflection)

scene

Lan takes Rand and prepare him to meet Siuan

Goals:

Prepare him to meet Siuan :

make him understand without telling him the truth that Siuan is on his side. Even though she's the Amyrlin. ( for the reason mentioned before but also, it's Cairhien)

[LAN] Tuck in your shirt. [RAND] What does the Amyrlin Seat want from me? Is this a trial? I saw what she did to the last man who called himself Dragon. (scared) [LAN] Is that why you ran from the Eye of the World? Why you hid here? (wonders why he left and questions if it was because he was afraid about sharing Logain's fate) [RAND] I left to protect the people I love. (angrily answers, offended by the assumption) [LAN] Don't be so selfish. You were born to protect this world. Every person in it. Not just the ones you love. (reminds him of his responsabilities as the Dragon Reborn)

Listen to me. The Amyrlin's a smart woman. She's a good woman. (reassures him about Siuan) And she comes from humbler beginnings than you. (she's not what she seems) [RAND] Does Moiraine know you're doing this? (asks about the only Aes Sedai he kind of trust) [LAN] There's one rule above all others for being a man. Whatever comes, you face it on your feet. ( ignores and teach him what his answer should be to the fear he's currently feeling)

Put this on. Give me your blade.

Heron Dips the Wing. You've been learning sword forms. (proud uncle moment) [RAND] I've learned a couple of things. [LAN] Keep the sword. (let him keep his sword as he is still stressed)

If the Amyrlin's afraid of you, it won't be for a sword. (build his confidence up)

If you're going to use one of the forms, use Cat Crosses the Courtyard, keep your back straight, every muscle loose. As if hung from a wire at the top of your head. (teaching moment)

Go. The Amyrlin waits.

scene

Siuan meets Rand while Mo'an are talking

[RAND] As you've summoned me, Mother, so I've come. I stand ready. [SIUAN] Do you now, boy? Lan has prepared you, I see. What else did he tell you? [RAND] That you aren't exactly what you seem. [SIUAN] Most people are not. In this world, it is wise to guard your truths, but not us. Not today. (she won't lie, since she can't but she's going to aes sedai her way out of his questions not to reveal blatlantly that she's on his side) I have questions for you. Answer truthfully.

[LATER]

[RAND] And then what? [SIUAN] You say you've been careful. How many times have you channeled? [RAND] Not many. Not deliberately. [SIUAN] You will continue to channel, as sure as roe makes fish. You can't help it. And if you don't learn to control it, you won't live long enough to go mad. (INFODUMP) [RAND] What kind of a choice is that? (when did she give him a choice exactly, please ?), (ignored question) Dying or going mad and killing everyone I love? (ignored) What if I'm tired of being a spoke in the Wheel? (acknowledged) [SIUAN] You're not a spoke, boy. You are the water that turns the Wheel itself or dashes it to pieces. (answers)

Do you know what Tower law says the Amyrlin must do if she finds the Dragon Reborn? (question and attemps at making him understand) [RAND] Gentle him? [SIUAN] Gentle him? No. How do you fight the Dark One without the One Power?

Some of my Red daughters would want that, I suppose, but… (beware of the reds basically) we are meant to cage you. (teaching, infodumping)

Keep you shielded, channeling only when we want, what we want. And when we go to fight the Last Battle, you will be the greatest weapon in our arsenal. But not our general.

This is not a conversation. (yes it is) You already made your decision. (indeed, 20 years ago dumbass) You made it before you ever met me. (how do you know? she made it looking in your other mom eyes the day you were born and ruined their retirement plans, BEHAVE RAND)

I won't live in your cage. (did she say SHE, would cage you or that the Amyrlin was MEANT to cage you ? she infodumped, you stupid boy)

(she had no other choice but to shield him as he was getting hostile, then Mother got mad, i can't blame her I would have too (actually I did), because how can you be so dense, mistaken and dumb, like why would you think you'd be able to do anything against the Amyrlin Seat, when you know nothing about channeling- je souffle (I sigh), je souffle, je souffle. Il fatigue(he tires).)

scene

Six months you've known what you are, and… you've learned nothing.

Six months! Huh?

She taught you nothing. (she's mad, and it takes a lot to get her to snap according to New spring so leave my girl alone, Mo took the decision alone, said nothing and did teach him nothing also from an objective stand point, she's not necessarily talking about chanelling. She's been over their whole discussion since he pulled a Nynaeve while asking about being tired of being a spoke or whatever )

A single Aes Sedai can handle you like baitfish. ( just an astute and accurate observation made with an iconic fish metaphor)

[SIGHS] (me too)

We would've been so much better off if you were a girl. (i'm sorry not sorry to the men who got butt hurt by this comment but she's right, had it been possible it would have been so much better and it's an objective truth, she basically stated a fact so get over it)

scene

Mo'an talk during Rand and Siuan are talking

Goals:

Check if she ever wanted to kill herself ( symptoms of stilling basically)

Do not to reveal that there's more than Siuan meeting Rand

[MOIRAINE] I don't know what you think you'll gain from this. [LAN] Hopefully, everything we've lost. [MOIRAINE] Leave. I have nothing to say to you. [LAN] I have a question for you. And I hope someday you'll forgive me for asking it. ( a single question huh ?)

After you were stilled by Ishamael, has there been a time… in all these months when you thought about ending it? [MOIRAINE] killing myself?

I read the Tower records. (keep that in mind,take a mental or physical note.) There have only been two women in history who were cut off who didn't. Most did it within the year. [MOIRAINE] No, I didn't. (Rand & Moiraine getting offended by Lan's perfectly reasonable and logical assumption)

Not for one second.

Because I know that protecting Rand, guiding him, that is the only thing that matters. More than me, more than you. More than anything. [LAN] That's what I thought. (happy Lan)

[MOIRAINE] And this whole thing you're doing with Siuan, it puts all of it… the Last Battle,the fate of the world… in jeopardy. (Yes, it's true but do I need to remind her "when have ever followed the rules?" or simply that these two never let her not take care of herself? WHY DID SHE EVEN EXPECT THEM TO CARE ABOUT THE WORLD IF SHE WASN'T FINE ? SUCH A DEPRESSED LOVABLE AND ANNOYING PUFFERFISH).

I apologise for my lack of professionalism,

It will definitely happen again though,you've been warned.

What isn't she telling me? (was not convinced by Siuan earlier, just hypnotised)

You have to trust someone at some point, Moiraine. You can't do this by yourself. You can't. And if it's not going to be me… then I thought it might at least be her. (deflect)

scene

Siuaraine, Mo'an, Liuan fight (+ red haired misbehaving toddler)

Goal:

distract Moiraine so that Lan can do his thing

improvised: shield rand and prevent him from leaving, as he's shown that he's ready to be hostile and harm, he's caged and to be kept shielded by Leane who knows nothing but that she has to shield him.

[SIUAN] Let them through. [MOIRAINE] Release him, Siuan. ( Mo, you don't even know what he did) Now. [SIUAN] No. We tried our way, Moiraine. -> true

And we nearly lost everything. -> true

The Tower's laws have stood for , 3000 years.-> infodumb

It's time we obeyed them. -> it was time from the moment they became accepted, it was already time in their hut when Moiraine was asking when did they EVER followed these rules. [LAN ] This is not what we agreed to. (true but he also remembered that bro was leaving alone when he found him and will stay quiet and follow along from now on)

[MOIRAINE] The Reds will gentle him.

[SIUAN] Not while I hold the Seat. -> true, even if she really wanted to follow the rules, she wouldn't let them.

[MOIRAINE] The Tower is filled with your enemies. -> true, she knows

You're this sure of your power? -> true, and siuan stays quiet because she can't Aes sedai her way out of this one

We each had a task, Siuan.

I was to find the Dragon Reborn. You were to get the Tower ready to support him. Or have you forgotten that day? -> something here snapped in her brain people, Moiraine angered her with this one and she loses her temper ( which is, AGAIN, hard to do according to New spring in case I needed to remind you)

[SIUAN]

Of course I have not forgotten.

But you were supposed to be with him, ready to shield him if he starts to go mad.

Yet here you are, stilled. (still isn't sure and it's what it appears to be so she can say it, and she is pissed)

You can't control him. -> true

You can't guide him. -> true

Can you imagine, Moiraine, if one of the Forsaken got their hands on him? (she gave herself away there, remember in the first meeting when I referenced this ? )

He's no more ready now than he was before you found him. -> true

You left the fate of the world to chance… -> true, she let him leave at the eye when she was not sure of what the fight they just "won" meant + she never told her that he left because she couldn't tell her why she let him leave and there was no other reason than she couldn't protect him anymore from the dark and himself and it was best if he laid low + it meant that telling, and admitting that she'd never touch the source again could be delayed

… for your pride. -> so yes but for those not agreeing with her statement there, we do not care, she just need to believe something to be able to say it. IT DOES NOT MATTER.

Tomorrow, when Queen Galldrian returns, we shall announce him as Dragon here in Cairhien… with Sisters by our side to show he is under our control. -> he's supposed to leave with Moiraine as soon as she's unshielded if they were right, no one knows about Rand but them and those who learned about it this season and it's one of the possible choice they could have made by actually having a conversation about what to do if Moiraine hadn't come in there after Lan told her to trust, ordering Siuan around, wanting to hear nothing else, when she didn't even know why he was shielded (he deserved the time out sincerely.)

Prepare him for what is to come.

I think she was saying this to both of them, and it had a double meaning.

Lan: Still on board, even though things got heated carry on with the plan, just lost my temper. ( would explain why the camera shows him and not Moiraine even though the whole conversation had been only between Siuaraine)

Mo and us: yeah i'm apparently ditching the plan we sacrificed 20 years for, and the one I came up with Lan, last night, without a discussion, just because i'm pissed after I told you her earlier that I was there to support you her. Yes, that is right, this is what is happening.

scene

Since there had been no objection, no attempt at bargaining or anything, just plain old silence. Siuan thought Moiraine had dropped the ball. She let her be, and Moiraine chose to stay with Rand. ( good because she'll still be distracted even though they're mad at each other right now) Had Moiraine been imprisoned too, she wouldn't have been allowed to be in the same cell, and Siuan would have disclosed that she had been stilled to Leane but she did not. Siuan trusted her, still, even though they just had a fight about their kid and knew that she had been Aes sedaying her way out of transparency for months. So,to her everything was mostly going according to plan but then Rand happened and introduced another player to the game that was currently unfolding before our innocent, untrained eyes and unaware minds.

House Lanfear- Al'Thor

Goals:

Get rid of Moiraine

Get Rand to Falme alone

[RAND] What is happening to me? [MOIRAINE] You've been shielded from the One Power. [RAND] Um… it feels… [MOIRAINE] As if you've lost everything you ever were and everything you could possibly be. Don't worry, it's temporary. She has to channel to keep the shield in place, but when it drops, you'll feel yourself again. [MOIRAINE] Siuan said you were leaving. (off-screen first meeting)

Where were you going? [RAND] Falme. Egwene is there. Ishamael has her. [MOIRAINE] Lanfear showed you this in the dream world? [RAND] I know they want me to go there. But why Falme, of all places? [MOIRAINE] The Dragon is supposed to proclaim himself there. "Bannered 'cross the sky in fire." [RAND] They want everyone to know who I am before they try to kill me. If they need me in Falme, then they certainly don't want me being held prisoner by the Amyrlin Seat.

He happened, and Moiraine broke Siuan's trust there once again by indulging in it.

As Justine Juel Gillmer( S1E06 and S2E07 writer) pointed out and explained : Moiraine feels like she lost Rand to Lanfear, operates without a clear path to follow for the first time and is all alone. She focuses only on Rand, nothing else matters (as i've pointed before myself too, during Mo'an's talk). (in the bonus)

So, she does nothing else than what she felt she could do : She stays by his side and tries to win him back. She says nothing,let him and indulges in his tendency to call on Lanfear (the dark) for help, thinking that she would be able to outsmart her even though she knows that she wouldn't have been able to see their interaction in the world of dreams, she trust Rand to give her all of the information that she'd need to know if something was wrong and Rand ends up asking Lanfear. A fair price to pay to gain some of his trust back: trusting each other and only one another and further harming the trust Lanfear made sure they would build while she was away and unaware. Without realising it, she built trust in one of her relationship, while harming one of hers too.

She breaks the trust that Siuan chose to still have in her, even though she knew that she was not in the right head space right now because of the shield, by actually trying to escape when she had dropped the ball earlier.

scene

Meanwhile, Liandrin is working on fulfilling the mission she has been given by Lanfear in episode 6. […]

[LIANDRIN] I remember her at that age. You have the look of her, you know. [BARTHANES] Why are you here, Aes Sedai? [LIANDRIN] To deliver an order. (from Lanfear) [BARTHY] What does our master ask of me? ( he assumed it was from Ishy or the DO) [LIANDRIN] Remove her from the board. [BARTHY] She is my aunt. [LIANDRIN] Exactly. Even she will be unprepared for this. Do it today. She's being held in a cell in the palace. (Lanfear or you got this one wrong Liandrin, she's in there voluntarily.)Oh. And if your mother suspects anything… take care of her, too.

scene

Meanwhile House Lanfear-Al'Thor,

[LANFEAR] You didn't even make it out of the city. ( she knew already) [RAND] I need your help. I'm in a cell in the Sun Palace. The Amyrlin's holding me. [LANFEAR] I know. [RAND] Can you get me out? [LANFEAR] Hmm. Isn't Moiraine with you? Surely she could do something. [RAND] Maybe she will. Maybe I won't need you. [LANFEAR] Oh, I do like it when you try to manipulate me. [RAND] Can you get me out or not, Lanfear?

scene

On the other side,

House Sanche-Mandragoran

Goals:

check with Logain to know if they were right about her being shielded, They have to be sure before attempting anything.

Alanna and her warders will be on the look out.

[ALANNA] Through there. What did he say? Does the Daughter of the Night walk in our world? [MAKSIM] Forsaken. Dragon Reborn. I miss the farm, Alanna. I even miss your cousins. [ALANNA] Come now. Did you expect we would fight the Last Battle against an army of kittens?

[LOGAIN] I would offer you a match, but.. stones is a gentleman's game. Tell your master that I'm still waiting for her to keep her promise. Or you can just run me through with your blade now, save her the trouble. [LAN] I can do better than that. You can see male weaves. What do you see when you look at Moiraine? [LOGAIN] A desperate, lonely woman who has given her life to a cause… beyond her understanding. [LAN] A half a year in an asylum, and you're a madman still. [LOGAIN] Madness is expecting a straight answer from the man you helped lock away. There are weaves on her. From a man. Thousands of strands pulled together, held in place, but nothing being channeled into them. [LAN] How is that possible? [LOGAIN] I don't know, it's just like…

scene

House Lanfear-Al'Thor

[PEOPLE SCREAMING IN BADASS LANFEAR ANNOUNCING HER ARRIVAL]

Meanwhile House Sanche- Mandragoran,

[ALANNA] There's a fIre. In the Foregate. [LOGAIN] The key. [LAN] You think I've forgotten what you did to Kerene and Stepin? You will get this key when they take you back to the White Tower. There are two Brown Sisters that are desperate to study a man who can channel.

[LAN] Go. (to Moiraine) [LANFEAR] 3000 years pass and I'm back to this.

scene

And another player comes in, unexpectedly,

House Damodred

Goals:

Save Moiraine

Save the name of House Damodred

Save herself

Get yourself absolutely adored by the Fandom in one action

[BARTHANES] You're sure my aunt's alone? [SERVANT] As you asked, my lord. And a sedative in her tea. She should be asleep already. [BARTHY]] Good. [SERVANT] Would you like me to open it, Your Grace? [ANVAERE] I didn't think you would do it. [BARTHY] Mother. No. No! No! No. [ANVAERE] Why? In Light's name, why? [BARTHANES] I did it for us. I did it for you, Mother. For our family name. Why do you think that we've risen so far so fast, Mother? I am to be king. And you would throw it all away for what? For-for her? Mother, Moiraine doesn't care about you. She trust no one. She cares about no one. She… She will leave this place, and she will not give us a second thought. [ANVAERE] I know. But there are two things my sister understands better than anyone. The difference between right and wrong, and how much harder it is sometimes to do what is right. [BARTHY] Mother. Mother, please. Mother, please. You can't tell the queen. You can't tell anybody. [BADASS, HEROIC ANVAERE] I already have. [CRYING BARTHY] Mother. Mother. Mother! No! Mother! Mother!

scene

House Lanfear-Al'thor

Goals:

release Rand while Lanfear's being the perfect diversion

give him the map leading to the Waygate.

[VERIN] The city's burning. The Amyrlin requires your strength to protect Cairhien. [LEANE] I've been told to watch the boy. [VERIN] This is an order, Leane Sedai. (from Liandrin or Lanfear?) I'll take his shield. [LEANE] Don't let her get close to you. (still doesn't know Mo is "stilled") [MOIRAINE] You are very clever with your words, Sister. (did not realise that she couldn't have known she'd need help) [VERIN] The Dragon Reborn. I'd say you've spent long enough in Cairhien, wouldn't you?

There's a Waygate hidden in the city. (how did she know she'd need to plan for this from the morning she arrived in Cairhien ? Lanfear or Liandrin but really just Lanfear has if not herself she'd give the order trough Liandrin) [MOIRAINE] That's just a rumor. [VERIN] With a grain of truth. An Ogier Stedding once stood in the inner city center. Cairhien families built right over it. Here. [VERIN] Where will you take him? [MOIRAINE] Falme. Toman Head. [VERIN] "Above Toman's Head shall he proclaim himself bannered 'cross the sky in fire." ( here's the reason you might be looking for if not for compulsion by Liandrin when she followed her to "go see the keeper") You plan to have him declare himself the Dragon Reborn. The Wheel weaves.

scene

House Sanche-Mandragoran

Goals:

If we get attacked you'll take her there. This will be our escape route in case we ever need it.

Alanna: Backup

[LAN] Good work. We'll take him from here to the Waygate. ( did not take the map or hear them speak, Verin and Thomas followed as he had the same destination than the one they had planned for Rand) Just make sure that we're not followed. [ALANNA] You're not alone in this any longer, Sister. But you need to hurry. This city is not safe. I hope you're worth this, boy. Light be with you. [LAN] Let's go.

sceane

Meanwhile, Siuan isn't worried about the dragon reborn being protected by a single abled Aes Sedai when she knows that it probably is one of the Forsaken, she carries out her duty as Aes Sedai and Amyrlin Seat with the utmost calm. She even seemed bored of it for a second. Then again, in the utmost calm and collected manner, she sees the only Aes Sedai supposed to be shielding the boy and doesn't pannick and order that they rush there and find him, NO, she calmly ask who's shielding her son and it's only when she hears Verin's name that she's not okay anymore, suddenly she needs time to process what she just heard and then leave in a rush.

[SIUAN] Link with me. [LEANE] I'm here, Mother. [SIUAN] Who's shielding the boy? [LEANE] Verin Sedai. You… you sent her. [SIUAN] Lead your Sisters and heal the injured. That boy must not leave the city. -> something is wrong I have enemies I did not expect and doubts to clear he mustn't leave before they are cleared. [EXHALES]

All the while, Lan is still oblivious that something is wrong and is just following the plan.

[LAN] It should be somewhere. There. (did not use the map) [MOIRAINE] You'll have to channel into it. Split it open with sheer force if you have to. [LAN] No, he won't. You're going to open it. [MOIRAINE] Just do it. [LAN] Look at Moiraine. With the Source. [MOIRAINE] Lan. [LAN] Not just your eyes. What do you see? [MOIRAINE] Don't. [RAND] It looks like a knot tied together. [MOIRAINE] That's im… It's impossible. (see, this woman really wouldn't allow herself to even think about it, Rand tells her he see them, yet she won't believe it)

[LAN INFODUMPING BECAUSE MOIRAINE IS STILL BEING STUBBORN ABOUT HER "STILLING"] There's a story from the Age of Legends about the Foresaken's powers… a skill that's been lost for thousands of years… to tie off weaves and leave them in place. It never made sense to me, Moiraine. (reminder that it is proof he went to Siuan with doubts about this) What you're feeling? Ishamael didn't still you. Not even a Forsaken could do that alone. It is a shield that he's tied off, which means…

[MOIRAINE] It can be removed. (finally) [LAN] Yes. [RAND] What do I need to do? [LAN] You don't have the skill to untie this knot. You'll have to cut it. [MOIRAINE] I trust you. [LAN] Go on. Cut through it. [MOIRAINE] I feel it. I feel it. Thank you. Thank you. [LAN] I am sorry it took me so long to do my duty.( it took you 4 day and nights but go off king)

scene

House Sanche-Madragoran + House Lanfear-Al'Thor

Siuan arrives, shields Rand as he was super dense and leave Lan alone.

[LAN] Stop! No!

Siuan yeets Lan to the side, she does not have the time to explains and maybe he lied to her too.

[SIUAN] Close the Waygate, Moiraine. Now. -> she needs a proof You lied to me about being stilled. -> the aes sedai way obvi

[MOIRAINE not suprised to see her as she knew they were hiding something from her, and she must have her coming with her Siuan tingle.] No. I cannot. -> ok cool you didn't but you know she doesn't literally mean lie -.- I've been more truthful with you than anyone else. -> this just means that she told her the truth more than to anyone else, not that she told her all of it. Moiraine speaking in codes is tiring sometimes.

[SIUAN reminds her, in an attempt to convice Moiraine to close the Waygate herself. ]

We failed, Moiraine. -> They did fail together At the Eye of the World, you failed. -> She did fail at the eye. The stakes are too high to fail again. -> stating facts

Close the Waygate. -> she asked

[MOIRAINE being the bratty bottom that she is] also where was she going ? SO dramatic i swear, she turns around and start walking to the Waygate as if Siuan was just going to unshield Rand and let her leave because she said no) No. [SIUAN] I don't want to force you.-> but I need and have to know.

You swore to obey me on the Oath Rod. An unbreakable oath, bound by the One Power. -> Moiraine knows , she knows she voices it because she doesn't want to have to use it, feels cornered and is trying to convince and brace herself for whatever will come of it if Moiraine ends up forcing her to use it. A real betrayal or she just violated her wife because of this damned Mission. Both, horrific for her.

Siuan… -> surely Moiraine understood after hearing this what was really going on for Siuan. She doesn't know if she can trust her anymore. For Siuan, surely Moiraine understood why she insisted so much and was ready to do what she never even though about as a possibility or as something that was anything but just wrong ( throwback to Lan's bond in the first suiaraine meeting)

Close it. -> this one feels like she's desperate at this point for her to close it there, not the same intonation at all, she's bracing herself for what is coming. No more feelings, no more asking, no more plea, no more bargaining, she has too know before it's too late, she orders. Even though, that's the intent she puts behind the intonation we can still see it on her face, hear it in her voice, see it in her eyes and in the way she moves.

[SOFTLY] Siuan… -> this one must have felt like a ruse, the same way Moiraine first rejected Siuan's touch because she knew what would happen. The facade would break into pieces and she'd give in. Here, Moiraine softly calling her name, almost like she's begging, after she's been warned, after her herself showed how much she just needed her to at least close it did not feel like something she could allow herself to hear so she cuts her off and the rest is history.

Moiraine Damodred… [MOIRAINE] No, if you have ever loved me, don't do this. [SIUAN] … I command you… … to close the Waygate.

House Lanfer-Al'Thor

[MOIRAINE surprised to even see Lanfear as she thought she escaped having to deal with her, when Verin freed her. I believe that she pieces things together here, not all of it but just enough to understand what she couldn't believe happened to her from Siuan, the last person she'd think would ever do this to her just the moment before she arrived, they did not talk but she understood]

Lanfear.

[LANFEAR LAUGHS]

[MOIRAINE] She's too strong, Siuan. Don't. No. [LANFEAR] I told you the next time I saw you two together, I'd kll her. [RAND] You're not going to touch her. Not if you want my help.

[LANFEAR] Every day you grow more like Lews.

Lucky for you, a broken Amyrlin is more useful to me than a dead one.

[SIUAN] Moiraine, please. (go)

[LAN] Moiraine, please. (come)

Highly recommend you watch this scene in particular

Conclusion

All along Daes Dae'Mar was being played, and we failed to realise that in the current game of the houses we were witnessing, there were 4 houses.

House Lanfear-Al'thor

Lanfear

Verin

Tomas

Rand

Liandrin

Barthanes

House Damodred

Moiraine

Anvaere Damodred (unknowingly)

Siuan

Lan

Alanna, Ihvon & Maksim

House Sanche-Mandragoran

Siuan

Lan

Moiraine Damodred (unknowingly)

Alanna, Ihvon & Maksim

House of The Dragon

Goals: different for each person but utltimately related the Dragon.

Rand Al'thor : leave Cairhien, to go to Falme to free Egwene

Moiraine Damodred : Help Rand, avoid Lanfear.

Siuan Sanche : Help Moiraine, Protect her and Rand from the Forsaken

Al'Lan Mandragoran : Help Moiraine, Protect her from the Forsaken and secondarily Rand.

Alanna Mosvani : Help the dragon reborn/ Moiraine

Ihvon : Help Alanna, the dragon reborn/Moiraine

Maksim : Help Alanna, the dragon reborn/Moiraine

Verin Mathwin : Help fulfill the prophecy

Tomas: Help and assist Verin

The Daugther of the night, Lanfear : Seperate Moiraine and Rand, Kill her, Get Rand to Falme

Liandrin Guirale : Kill Moiraine, Help Lanfear

Barthanes Damodred (unkowingly) : Help his house regain it's lost glory

4 houses playing against each other and for each other at the same time. What went wrong ? Everything. Who won ? No one. What was left of what was before ? Nothing.

I wanted to be a little dramatic. On a more serious note, they all lost and won something, except for Barthanes.So that is all.

To sum it all up, everything that went down with Siuan and Moiraine was genuine and real, Lan and her had a plan all along, everything was going fine until the other players of this game of houses started to place their pawns on the board to try and win the game. In the end, as they were all playing for each other and against each other at the same time no one really won.

On the first board,

Moiraine regained her powers, but still has to deal with Lanfear, Siuan is hurt and in a precarious position for both herself and their mission because she did not listen to Lan and trusted her.

Lan regained Moiraine's trust but Lanfear is still a threat and Siuan.

Rand is still manipulated and a pawn in someone else's game, no matter how much he thought he wasn't anymore because of Lanfear.

Siuan is heart broken that she had to do this to Moiraine, even though her plan still worked and Moiraine regained her powers which is a win but then again did she really win, when she's lying on the floor, hurt and surrounded by enemies, even in the tower, where she was supposed to be at her safest and strongest ?

Lanfear gets Rand but Moiraine isn't dead and she even have to deal with Lan now, as she said in E08, they're dead weight.

On the second board,

Liandrin being Black Ajah is known because of Elayne, Eggy and Nynaeve but now, even Anvaere.

Verin is black ajah and known ( or least suspected to be) because of Siuan (thanks to Leane), because she knows Verin couldn't have known about her plan to help Moiraine or known that she'd ever need to escape. Tomas goes with Verin.

Alanna and Maksim seems to have lost Ihvon.

Thank you for reading, answering the poll, carefully listening and watching. Leave a comment and tell me what you think about this theory-analysis of episode 7. I'd love to hear your opinions, answer your questions etc…

Well, it is finally over.

Onto the next one now,

Here..."Daes dae'Mar theory-analysis : What has been proved so far ?"

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writingseaslugs · 2 years

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Savanaclaw: Halloween with Them

Now for Savanaclaw! Honestly had the hardest time figuring out what I wanted to do with this dorm.

Disclaimer: All characters in this series is aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please do a quick read of THIS post.

Halloween with Them

Theme: Movie Night

Savanaclaw normally has one of the most laid-back Halloweens out of all the dorms. Some students would go hog wild, while others would rather just hang out in their rooms. It really did depend; as for events, though? Well, you’d have to convince a pretty lazy lion to host one, which isn’t going to be happening.

Since there was no event, most students just treated it like any other week leading up to the giant party that Night Raven was hosting. However, there were a few students who did want to celebrate in different ways.

Movies. Scary movies, to be exact. Who better to show these horror movies to than someone who has never seen horror movies in this world? So, of course, you being the prefect from another world, were invited by a very specific someone to watch one.

Leona Kingscholar

Honestly, it wasn’t Leona’s decision to watch a horror movie in the first place. It was Ruggie who sent you the invite to watch the movie with him and Leona, only to go out for one of his part-time jobs last minute because they needed someone to fill in. This wasn’t going to stop you from seeing the movie, though, you made the long and treacherous journey over to Savanaclaw to watch a horror movie, and you had every intention of doing just that.

You shuffled over onto Leona’s bed, getting yourself comfortable on your stomach as the lazy man looked over at you with an unimpressed glare, “Why are you still over here?” he asked before yawning. You raised an eyebrow at him, wondering why he was being so grumpy all of a sudden.

“I want to watch a horror movie with you? Pretty simple, really.” You said, booting up the movie. It was some slasher movie Ruggie had recommended to you. You were curious as to what the slasher films were like in this world, judging by how Ruggie said the main cast had a few beastmen in it. The anticipation was killing you as you got a bit more comfortable in your spot.

“Well, I don’t….” Leona grumbled but still saddled up right next to you. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his obviously fake annoyance. He would do just about anything if you asked him to, but like hell he’d ever admit to it.

“Well, then you can leave.” You pointed out and Leona looked at you with a pissed-off glare.

“You’re in my room.” He reminded you; the laugh that came out of your mouth was sharp while you moved a bit closer to him, your hip bumping against his own.

“Then guess you’re stuck watching this movie with me.” You cooed; the title finally came up, and the movie began at that moment. Not even five minutes into the film, you heard soft snoring next to you. Leona’s arms were propped against his forearms and were tilted towards you, almost on your shoulder, as he dozed off. You couldn’t help but think how adorable he looked when he was fast asleep.

Sadly his rest didn’t last long after the first jumpscare made you scream…he’d probably get over it later.

Ruggi Bucchi

“Ruggie, this was a horrible idea.” You said, smooshing your face against his chest. He was currently lying on his back while watching the movie upside down while you laid right on top of him on his chest. You thought it was going to be some cheesy horror movie, but oh no. He managed to pick out a psychological horror that was really screwing with you.

His arms wrapped around your waist as he chuckled at your reaction, “It’s not that scary.” He said, and you groaned, propping your head back up to see the screen. The scary part had ended, and Ruggie felt you visibly relax into him again as he mindlessly rubbed circles into your hips.

“You’re not even watching it; you’re watching me.” You pointed out, and his ears twitched at your accusation. He snickered and shook his head, resting to look at the movie. It was one he had already seen a while back and compared to what was out now, it was considered an older film. It didn’t much scare him, but you weren’t exactly from this world. The special effects that they could pull off in this Universe were leagues above what they could do in yours. Even the old films of this world rivaled the newest ones where you’re from.

“I told you I’ve already seen it,” Ruggie said, noticing the movie was almost over. Good thing, too, because he was getting a bit hungry and wanted to grab something to eat before you guys watched another movie. “You’re the one who suggested a horror movie marathon.”

While what he said was true, you hadn’t anticipated they’d be this scary. You were certain even horror movie fanatics who didn’t get scared where you’re from would be jumping from some of the special effects here. “I didn’t think you’d choose something like this….” You grumbled, and Ruggie gave you a soft squeeze.

“This is just the first movie. We’re starting off easy.” He teased before wiggling his eyebrows, “Don’t tell me you’re already chickening out.” He said, and you huffed.

“Have you seen all these movies?” You asked, and he nodded, “Then we’re finding horror movies that you haven’t seen and see how well you take it.” This got Ruggie to freeze in place with a far-off smile.

“How about no?” He said, wanting to appear braver by watching movies he already knew all the twists too.

“How about yes.”

Jack Howl

The pillow and the blanket fort were up, the snacks were scattered about, and the laptop had a faint glow to it as the movie's title screen appeared. Everything was perfect as you laid next to Jack on your stomach, close enough that your arms were just touching. The warmth he radiated was comforting compared to the gore-infested title screen that was currently flickering. The soft red glow of the fairy lights was the only other light source as you clicked the play button.

“So you seriously haven’t seen a horror movie in years?” You asked Jack, who was currently snacking on some beef jerky you had bought. He grunted, leaning in a bit closer to you so he could get a better view of the screen.

“Never seen the appeal.” He shrugged, “I know they’re just actors in a movie, so they’ve never been scary.” Damn, you wished you could be like him. At least he was there for when you screamed at jumpscares. From what you heard from Ace and Deuce, this movie was filled with them and terrifying scenes. Grim was currently off with them at the moment since he claimed that scary movies were a waste of time. This left you and Jack alone at Ramshackle to watch the movies all night long.

“Not even the jumpscares?” You asked, and he nodded, “Man, you’ve gotta be built differently. I know they’re just actors, but it doesn’t stop my mind from wandering, you know?”

“I get it,” Jack murmured as the movie finally started to take off. Midway through it, you found yourself grabbing onto Jack's bicep, squeezing it whenever you got scared and sometimes curling into him. You were cursing Ace and Deuce, judging by how they didn’t tell you the movie was about a serial killer who broke into homes. You were freaking out the entire time, and that’s when it happened.

The ending, when a flash of white text appeared in front of the black screen reading “Based on a true story.”

“You’re spending the night, Jack.” You said, already freaked out. His arm was now wrapped around you to hold you a bit closer, and he froze for a moment.

“You’re that scared?” Jack asked, not realizing just how much it terrified you. He knew the jumpscares got you, but he didn’t think you’d be forcing him into a sleepover.

“Didn’t you read the last part? Based on a true story? I ain’t staying here along with that. I don’t have magic or your muscles. If someone breaks in, you’re dealing with it.” You said, and Jack huffed. He guessed he could spend the night, judging by how you two were already in sweatpants. He’d have to ensure that next time you two did this, it wasn’t based on true events.

#Twisted Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST #TWST x Reader #TWST Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland Disney #TWST Disney #Leona Kingscholar #Leona Kingscholar x Reader #Leona x Reader #Ruggie Bucchi #Ruggie Bucchi x Reader #Ruggie x Reader #Jack Howl #Jack Howl x Reader #Jack x Reader

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cowboydisaster · 1 year

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The Fire In Your Eyes

part II: blackwater i

originally posted on 22 february 2023

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 4k

summary: you start to settle in with the gang, making some friends and some enemies. As you acclimate to your new life, parts of you miss the freedom of solitude, while a new feeling drives you towards companionship.

a/n: chapter two is here! For those of you that missed the post, I will be updating this series with a new chapter every wednesday. I'm super proud of this one. Thanks to @margowritesthings for being my beta reader, biggest supporter, and my ride or die

SERIES MASTERPOST

"The hell did you buy in there anyway? A book?" You ask, trotting closer to Arthur and Boadicea to peek over his reins. There's a little leather bound book in his hands that he angrily stuffs into his satchel. You’ve both just left the general store in Blackwater after picking up some supplies for the good of the camp. You have no money, but Arthur had brought camp funds to purchase supplies for everyone. While in the store, he’d found a small leather bound book, and you’ve been thinking about it since you both left the store.

"Ain't none of your business lady, now let's get back." He huffs, spurring Boadicea into a canter past the old withering Blackwater church. The sound of hooves on dirt is loud as you push the horse, gripping tightly onto the saddle horn for extra stability.

"Well if it's none of my business, you shouldn't have bought it in front of me. That's on you." You counter, curious if Arthur even knows how to read, let alone enjoys it. You’ve only been with the gang for three and a half days, but in that time you’ve been able to observe the other gang members. Mostly, you’ve stuck to yourself, eating and working alone unless Ms. Grimshaw makes you work with the girls. But in that time, all you’ve seen Arthur do is physical labor, like chopping wood, going out on jobs, or planning with Dutch and Hosea. You had wrongfully assumed he’s the type of man who only entertains himself with liquor, women and fighting. Every day you seem to be proving yourself more and more wrong.

"I bought it in front of you because I have to take you with me. You're like a goddamn pet, take my eyes off ya for a second and you're starting something. Dutch didn’t want you causin’ trouble so he told me to keep an eye on ya."

Fury bubbles in your chest at the new information. This is about that big ugly bastard, what's his name. The past few days you've spent at their camp all he's done is sleep, drink and annoy everyone. He hasn't changed his sweat stained blue flannel since you've been there, and his big brown draft horse has never left the hitching post. He had made some rather crass comments about Arthur bringing you back and you punched him right in the face for it. Nearly knocked him on his ass. It got an amused chuckle out of Arthur, but the other gang members weren't too pleased about you strutting into their camp and starting fights. He started it, you just finished it. But of course you, the newcomer, are to blame and now you need a babysitter.

"Gonna keep an eye on me, that's it? What- you're gonna sleep next to my bedroll too? Make sure I don't go out and start beating up the folk, even the ones that need it?" You growl, irritated with Dutch for giving you a chaperone, and at Arthur for being the chaperone.

"If that's what it takes to keep that damn temper under control then, sure" Arthur laughs.

"I guess I'd rather go buyin' romance novels with you then sittin' back there with some of those fools." You bite, cantering towards the opening of the camp.

"I- dammit woman, it ain't a book. It's a journal. Lost my old one some months ago in a fire. I saw this one and I just picked it up..." He says.

You're utterly shocked. He journals? A new little layer of this big tough outlaw falls away and you can peek into the man inside. He goes around saving women in distress and writes about his feelings? Well shit.

"Never took you for a writer, Mr. Morgan, but it suits you well. Maybe one day you'll have to let me peek in there, see what goes on in that head a you-"

You stop in your tracks at the sound coming from camp. It's a rat-like voice with a greasy, nasty vocabulary. He's yelling, harassing someone for something. It's an unfamiliar voice and you spur the buckskin faster after Arthur to find the source. Arthur doesn’t look entirely alarmed, more annoyed, as if he knows the voice. When he sees the worry on your face, he’s quick to respond.

"That's Micah… you steer clear of him, alright?" He asks, to which you don't answer.

As your horses slow, stepping into the camp, you hop down from the saddle, tossing your reins over the hitching post and jog into the open area filled with tents.

"The hells goin' on now? You've been back five goddamn minutes and your stirrin' up a ruckus." Arthur calls out from beside you.

A medium height, blonde man with a nasty smile and pale blue eyes turns around, running his fingers over his thick mustache. His red shirt is stained with what you assume to be the beer that he reeks of. It has filled his stomach, giving him a drinker’s gut and painting his nose with red blotches. Just the sight of him has you backing up a few steps.

"Awe, didntcha' miss me, Morgan?" He asks sarcastically, holding his arms out in mock disbelief.

Arthur sports a deep scowl as he glares at Micah, stepping towards him. It's then that Micah notices you standing beside Arthur. You're much shorter than him, but you hold your chin up high, shoulders pushed back. Micah’s lips curl up in an eerie smile as he runs his eyes over your body.

"Well who might you be, madam?" Micah sneers. Pure anger and aggression pump through your veins as he slowly rakes his eyes over your figure. Then his eyes move around to the people in camp, lingering on Arthur's.

"She claimed? You Morgan's whore then? Say, you think he'll share you with me?" Micah laughs maniacally, bending back and resting his hands on his gun belt. His blonde hair is filthy, his teeth even more so, everything about this man repels you. He's a snake, a shifty rat and you can see it from a mile away.

"I ain't no one's whore." You squint, wishing to just take this bastard out and be done with it.

"Careful, Micah. She'll tear you a new one." Arthur warns, seemingly hoping that you will. God, he would love to watch you beat the shit out of Micah. He'd pay to.

Micah seems to be amused by this, laughing loudly and glancing around the camp to see if anyone heard Arthur. He doesn't believe for a fraction of a second that you could best him.

"I ain't afraid of an itty bitty lady," Micah steps forward, glancing down over you before shifting his eyes and addressing Arthur,

"She'd look real pretty on her knees for me, wouldn't she Ar-"

You knee him as hard as you can, right in the groin, causing him to bend at the waist and groan in pain.

"Y-You bitch!" He yells, right before you slip a pair of metal knuckles that were in your pocket over your fingers and punch him square in the cheekbone. The knuckles cut up his face, blood trickling down his cheek before he falls over, completely knocked out cold. You're a small woman, but with some little adjustments, you're stronger than the men. You slip the knuckles off, sliding them back into your pocket and tapping them for good measure.

"Tried to warn the bastard…" Arthur sighs, grabbing Micah by the feet and dragging him towards the outskirts of camp where he'll probably wake up later. You realize that you'd gained a bit of a crowd, blushing as you look around and see several pleased faces. You remember most of their names. The red haired Irishman, Sean steps over to you, proudly slapping you on the back with a huge grin.

"Ha! Ya knocked him right on his ass ‘tere! So much for an itty bitty lady, eh?"

A blonde haired woman, a little taller than you comes over with a big smile. She’s under the arm of a young gang member, you think Lennys his name.

“Well I’ll be damned! Hell yeah, It's good to see another badass woman around here, I was gettin’ tired of puttin’ all the boys in their place.” She laughs, pulling Lenny behind her and moving forward to hand you something. It's a five dollar bill, and you reach out to take it, confused.

“We had a bet that someone was gonna knock him out soon as he got back. Entertaining us with a show like that? You deserve it. I’d do anything to see that bastard get put down by a lady.”

You smile up at her, nodding to the stranger as you place the bill in your pocket.

“I'm Jenny by the way. Say, you're new as a shiny penny, figures these boys can't control themselves. Buncha assholes, especially Micah. He gets his fill of torture from all of us though, don't you worry miss." Jenny smiles at you, her blonde hair frames her freckled face beautifully.

"You wanna come officially meet the girls? We can get you set up, get you a tent and some new clothes. Figure you wanna get away from Mr. Morgan over there for the day, he's a sour bastard." Jenny yells the last part in Arthur’s direction so that he can hear.

“You’ll hear no argument from me on that account, ma'am.” Arthur quips, dropping Micah into the woods,

You eye Lenny and Jenny, a little unsure. It's hard for you to trust people, especially other outlaws but they seem kind enough. You turn your neck around to see Arthur, the only one you've really interacted with besides the two men you knocked out, and then you look back to Lenny and Jenny. They're both young and bright eyed, hopeful. It's a change you're grateful for, albeit not used to. What could be the harm?

"Alright then, the girls…" You whisper nervously. You've seen a few other women walking through the camp in the past four days, and they've eyed you with curiosity but none made a move to interact with you. You'll never show it but you're a bit nervous. You keep to yourself for the most part. You've had to because you have no one else. But that's changing.

You follow the two past a few tents, and to a wagon with a few boxes sitting around to be used as chairs. Wolf pelts and blankets are stacked into a makeshift bed on the ground under a hanging canvas. As you take in the little details of the camp, you don't miss the way Jenny and Lenny's hands intertwine, and you smile for it. It's apparent that someone has been through a lot of effort to make the camp homey. Fluffy pelts line the seats and chairs, beautifully decorated animal skulls top some of the tents and each person’s designated area is filled with their personal preferences and belongings. Pictures and books line the little tables and crates around the place and boxes of beer and whiskey as well. It really is a home.

There's a wagon with canvas material making a little lean to, and under it sit three girls. The first one to notice you has short blonde hair and a contagious smile. There's wonder in her eyes, and optimism.

"Well hi! We was wonderin' when we'd get to meet you, we could barely hold back from goin' over there but we didn't wanna push ya! Say, you’ve been here just four days and you’ve already knocked down the two biggest bastards here. First Bill and now Micah? I like you already!" The blonde haired girl says before adding, "Oh, I'm Karen by the way. And this is Marybeth and Tilly.” She adds, pointing towards the other girls who smile and wave coyly. The girl furthest from you with dark colored skin and braided hair that collects into a low bun, Tilly, speaks up.

“Don’t be shy, we don’t bite. Well Karen does, but only when Ms. Grimshaw comes around. Doesn’t seem like you’ll be dealing much with her though. You gonna run with the men like Jenny here?” Tilly asks, nodding towards Jenny. You notice the contrast in their attire. Tilly, Marybeth and Karen are wearing dresses, apparently you and Jenny are the only two women who work out of camp. You haven't thought much about what your role will be in the camp though.

“Uh, yeah I guess I will be. I haven’t thought about it much though, just gettin’ here and all…And I’m only stayin’ till I'm back on my feet, so I’ll do whatever needs done till I get enough money to head somewhere else.” You mumble, looking down to your raggedy clothes. The girls grow a little quiet, sensing your dilemma before Jenny speaks up.

“Well for now, you’re stuck with us! C’mon, we’ll get you some new clothes and have Ms. Grimshaw set you up a tent. I assume you’ll want a tent by Arthur, y’know with him bringing you in and all.”

— —

By nightfall you have three new pairs of jeans, two black and one blue, four new shirts, dark green, white, black and red, and a brand new pair of boots. They’ve accommodated you well, and you try not to think about your growing debt to the gang.

Your tent is nicer than anything you’ve had for a long while. It's a white canvas ‘A frame’ tent with a nice sized cot, a wardrobe and a nightstand. The girls have given you some blankets and items to decorate around the place and it looks good, it’s rather cozy. Currently you sit cross legged on the cot, writing in your journal. The soft glow of candlelight alongside the campfires outside provide enough light for you to write without straining your eyes. It's a beautiful night, and owls hoot as warm wind blows across the Great Plains, it's a perfect moment.

It’s the fourth day I've been here, but today was different. I met Jenny, and she introduced me to a few others. She’s a lot like me. Jenny doesn’t follow the rules, she makes her own way. I admire her for that. And Arthur? Well, I haven't seen much of him. He’s been working on some big job with Dutch, and they’re keeping it real quiet. Oh, and he journals too, he picked one up in town today. Never thought a man such as himself would take to journaling. There’s a heart in there somewhere, deep down as it may be. I guess he’s like me in that way…

You startle at the sound of a knock against the beam of your tent. You jump a little, reaching down to your holster before you realize it’s only Arthur.

“Shit, sorry. You scared the hell outta me. Ain’t used to livin’ with other people.” You laugh, folding your journal shut and tucking your pen into the book’s spine. Arthur is leaning against the tent beam with two bowls in hand, it looks like he’s washed up, probably in the lake or the river, but he's wearing a clean black stand collar shirt and a new pair of jeans. His wet hair drips a little, and the smell of soap travels to your nose.

“You’ll get used to it. Here, I brought ya some dysentery.” Arthur jokes, holding out a bowl of Pearson’s stew to you. You take it, grateful for it even though it tastes awful.

“Thanks. Here, come sit, keep me company.” You scooch to the other side of your cot, once again sitting cross legged.

“Well I ain’t no good company miss, I can promise you that, but sure.”

Arthur sits down on the cot, and it dips under his weight. He watches you out of the corner of his eye for a moment, then glances at your book while you both eat.

“So what were you writin’ in that book a’ yours?” Arthur asks, nodding towards your leather journal.

You crack a smile, prodding at the mushy soup with your spoon.

“You really wanna know? I'll show you mine, but you gotta show me what's in yours.” You offer with a raised eyebrow. Arthur’s cheeks glow a little red and he scratches at the back of his neck.

“Well I just got it today, and I ain’t put much in it yet.” Arthur says a little awkwardly. You take note of his embarrassment, and make a mental note to peek the next time he has it out.

“So how's it been so far? The camp I mean. Everyone treatin’ you well? I'm sure you’ll give ‘em hell if they don’t.” Arthur asks, looking to you, before bringing the metal bowl up to his lips and drinking down the broth left over in the bowl. You can’t help the smile that brightens up your features while you nod.

“It’s been good. Jenny’s real nice, I like her a lot. All the girls are kind too. I ain’t talked to much of anyone else, well besides Micah, is he alright by the way?” You ask, hoping you didn’t kill him. You don’t really care if the bastard is dead or not, but killing him on your fourth day in the gang would not help your chances of getting along with Dutch.

“I think he left for a while, didn’t wanna come back and be the camp idiot for gettin’ beat up by a little lady-” He starts before you interject.

“I ain’t a little lady.” You bite. Arthur chuckles, putting his hands up in mock surrender. He disagrees, you are a little lady, but he also wants to keep his head.

“Whatever you say, miss. I'm partial to keepin’ your fists far away from this old mug,'' Arthur's smile falters for a moment, and he looks over to you with sincerity, “but I'm glad to hear you’re settlin’ in alright.”

You nod, unsure of how to respond as you extend your arm to place the empty stew bowl on your nightstand. Arthur takes it out of your hand instead, standing up and stacking your dishes on top of his own.

“Well I’ll leave you to it, I don’t wanna take up anymore of your time,” He tips his head to you, “Goodnight miss.”

“G’night Arthur.” You watch his back as he leaves your tent and returns your dishes back to Pearson’s table.

You think of him as you dress down and tuck yourself into bed. It’s been a long time since you’ve enjoyed someone’s company. He intrigues you. There's so many layers to Arthur Morgan, and you find yourself wanting to peel them back and discover the man at heart. You toss and turn in your bed, angrily fluffing your pillow and tearing your blankets off of your bare legs just to pull them back on again. Despite the new bed, and the tent, you find yourself longing for the freedom of the grass, you miss the stars.

With a sigh, you reach down onto the grass below your bed and grab your boots. You swing your legs over the edge and pull them on, not bothering to dress yourself half decent. The shirt you’re wearing is a man’s, it's huge on you, but Jenny figured it would make a good night shirt. The white shirt swallows your figure as you step out of your tent and into the night. Everyone has gone to bed already as you tiptoe to the outskirts of camp. There's a dark forest at the edge, and maybe it's your exhaustion, but you find it enticing. You walk through the grass, wishing that you could feel it on your feet. It’s only been four days, but dammit, you miss the freedom. Solitude can be a beautiful thing, you’ve found out. And even though you’re glad to have been saved by the gang, parts of you ache to return to the wilderness.

You slip your cowboy boots off, abandoning them on the ground between you and Arthur’s tent. They slump to the ground, spurs clicking as they hit the floor, and you step into the trees.

You pick wildflowers, humming and singing to yourself as you pluck their stems from the earth and add them to your collection. The breeze is warm and it flutters through your hair. A few times you feel eyes on you, but you dismiss them as animals lurking in the night. Some find the woods as eerie and unknown, but they’ve always been your home. You make a little bouquet of wildflowers, they're all different colors and sizes, and you hold them up to your nose and inhale that deep, specific scent. Lastly, you lay back on the grass, holding the flowers in your hands and look up to the stars.

“A coach and six white horses,”

You twirl a poppy between your fingers, bringing it up to your nose before you continue singing,

“Blacks and bays, dapples, and grays,”

You bring your knees up, crossing your legs as your hair splays out in the grass.

“All the pretty little horses…”

You’ve always been on your own, and this will be hard. Acclimating to a new place, with new people, and handing your control over to a new leader, all of it has you nervous, uneasy. You’re not sure how long you’ll stay. A part of you, the part that led you into the forest, begs for your freedom back. And yet a new feeling piques your interest as well, and it scares you. You look up at the constellations, tracing the big dipper with your eyes and grounding yourself with the familiarity. This new pull… it’s dangerous. You’ve distanced yourself from others for a reason, and yet here you are, breaking all of your rules.

—

Arthur’s eyebrows draw together as he leans up on his elbows in his cot. He’s been unable to sleep tonight, too distracted with the Blackwater job, and with you to get some shut eye. He’s stirred up by some quiet click noises, followed by some shallow singing. The song reaches his ears and immediately he recognizes it. It's “All the Pretty Little Horses,” a lullaby his momma used to sing to him when he was a kid. There’s some emotion there that he pushes down, sitting up to peek out of the open tent.

And there you are.

Arthur's smile is bittersweet as he watches you, laying in the grass in nothing but a goddamn shirt. Because of course you're the type to pick flowers, barefoot in the dead of night. Of course you’re the type to sing to the stars. He chuckles to himself, and doesn’t even think about it as he grabs his empty journal that he’d bought in the morning. He rests the leather book against his knee, leaning over to grab his pencil off his nightstand. As he does so, his eyes collide with the framed picture of Mary. Arthur sighs, gently grabbing the corner of the frame and tipping it so the picture lays face down.

“Long time ago now…” Arthur whispers, lingering over the photo for a moment before grabbing his pencil.

He doesn’t think, he just draws, starting with your legs that are crossed over each other, your torso and the flowers in your hand, and then your face and hair as you look up to the stars. He hums along lowly with your singing as he finishes up his sketch. There’s an incredible amount of detail to the picture, and he tries not to think about why that is as he adds a note to his sketch.

She’s a lot like the stars in a way, I’ve realized. A force, fiery and burning as a flame, not to be reckoned with. She’s got no ties, she’s on her own. And yet she’s kind, singing and picking flowers in the middle of the damn night. She's something else, that woman.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic

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misguidedasgardian · 11 months

Text

The White Dragon (42)

42. The Trident

MASTERLIST

Summary: It was not finished yet

Pairings: main Harwin Strong x Fem!Targaryen reader

Warnings: cursing, medieval and A song of ice and Fire AU customs, injury, burns, dragon fire, death, violence, armies, death, war and all that comes with it. Might miss some warnings but you know what this is about :)

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 2.3 K

Notes: well, this is a shorter chapter that i anticipated, but many things happen in this chapter... ALSO... couldn't wait to post it

You looked at the sun hiding behind the sunset sea, smell of burn shops still in your nostrils

“Mama”, you turned to face Maekar, “everything is ready, we need to get back”

You had sent your son to Casterly rock to struck and deal, and he just got back

“Where exactly?”, you asked back

“king’s Landing”, you shook your head

“I want to go home, I need to see Aemma”, you whispered, “I will leave Saera and Vaegor there”, you continued.

“Mom, we should go straight to King’s landing”, he said, but something told you otherwise

“We go home first”, you commanded, and he seemed to understand, as he didn't push you

“Very well, but then we should get back we don’t know where Aegon is yet and we need to find him to end this”, he whispered, you only nodded, “it’s a matter of time until he attacks the city”

You took to the skies again, Saera and Vaegor with you on your big saddle, tied tightly to you, you will not let them out of your sight again, they seemed alright, but you never knew what things they might have seen on board of Dalton Greyjoy’s ship. The Iron born were not known for they peacefulness

Something told you you needed to go home, you didn’t want to face Rhaenyra yet, and you were not sure about what you were going to do once you did. What happened with the Green army must have been considered treason, and you knew it had gone back to your sister’s ears, and there were consequences to face.

For a second you really wanted to take the Iron Throne for yourself, perhaps you did still, if you did, all your troubles and dangers to your family could be over. If you just decided tot ake the capital with Cregan’s help and your children and your dragons…

Take the Iron Throne by force, or flee far from this country, as far as you could

A tough choice indeed

But nothing could prepare for what you found when you reached Harrenhal.

. . .

16 hours earlier

Aemond took to the skies in Vhagar, with a strange feeling in his chest, the night was calm… too calm for his own liking, he felt a warm breeze hit his face, he could feel the humidity in the air.

A storm was brewing in the clouds

The wind hit him hard the furthest he was getting from the ground, but he didn’t seem to bother. The sun was barely setting and from here, he could see some of the edges in the ground underneath him.

He could not see much, but he could see if a large force was approaching, or hear better if there was a dragon nearby.

They didn’t know who they were in the lookout for.

The position of his sister in the war had dwindled, Rhaenyra had proven to be unstable, and well, so was his brother, who had been missing for a couple of months now, nobody knew where he was, but one thing was for certain, he did not surrender

He was injured, so was his dragon, Aemond guessed he was gathering his strength, gathering those who still called him King, his supporters, maybe, this was not over yet.

The night found him restless, nervous, cold, on top of Silverwing, and Aemond found himself missing his old mount, Vhagar, a formidable creature, the Queen of Dragons, not to discredit the mount of Alyssane the Good Queen though.

But Aemond had no more time to ponder… when the sun was coming out of the horizon, taking everything with a golden glow, a shriek cut the tranquility of the morning sky like a knife, making Aemond tremble in combination with the cold.

His single eye looked out for the fearsome blood wyrm, the only known dragon that had a high pitch shirk like that

Silverwing growled underneath him, unsettled by the sound.

Of all the members of his family that could come for him, Aemond never thought it was going to be Daemon, the Rogue Prince, who was going to come for him first

Caraxes’ shriek resounded even more close right now, and Silverwing called back, but not to the blood wyrm, it was not a warning, it was a call for help. Aemond looked frantically around for the source of the sound, and suddenly, from the clouds above, appeared Caraxes like an eagle diving to catch his prey.

“You have betrayed us too long, Hightower!”, screamed Daemon, as Silver Wing dived, dodging him for mere inches.

“And you have lived too long Uncle!”, he screamed back, moving Silverwing’s reigns with ease. the silver dragon moved through the clouds easily, with an elegance and quickness Aemond thanks her for, but it was not the time, he could not scape Daemons forever

When he came out of the cloud Aemond was hiding in, he met Craxes in an open sky.

Columns of fire lightened the early morning skies, and both dragons growled in the air, receiving their enemies’ fire to prevent them for injuring their respective riders.

Aemond commanded Silverwing to take distance, which the she-dragon obeyed him swiftly.

He took flight lower, diving close to the ground, soon he saw the river near the Crossroads Inn, and he never realized how far he had flown from Harrenhal on his route

Silverwing proved to be faster than Caraxes, so she could easily scape him, but Ameond also knew he could not run from this, he had to end this now, if Daemon prevailed over him, nothing could stop him from taking Harrenhal, and kill Aemma and then her mother

And if he could not take him, which he doubted he could, he at least could injure him or take him with him.

But he gave Daemon the advantage of the higher skies, Caraxes dove into Silverwing, fangs and claws ready to rip her to shreds.

But in the probability of it, a huge bolt cut through the skies, whistling as it cut the air in its wake, it missed Silverwing for an inch, but dove into Caraxes side.

Daemon cursed and Caraxes shrieked in pain, not deterred but certainly angry…

Aemond looked down to see from where it had came, and he found a single ship on the River

“Die you fucking flying worm!”, shouted Crestan from the bow of his ship, where he had installed a huge scorpion.

The pirate had to face many adventures to come across his ship again, when he did, he killed half his crew for betray him, and he had to go to Braavos to find new sailors, there, he installed the weapon, said to be able to kill dragons, which the Iron Bank happily provided him with. He then returned to Westeros in the hopes of being of service to the Princess, but a storm had drive him to sail upwards and then to hide in the banks of the Rivers, from where he planned on anchoring his ship to the coast of the river and march with his crew towards the White Hall, but he encountered something more than he expected.

The chance to avenge his pride against the man who deserted him in King’s Landing.

Aemond found an ally in his fight, so he made Silverwing fight back, taking the speed advantage that she provided, she started circling Caraxes to confuse him.

Now, from the River, Crestan did not have the advantage, he thanked the other dragon that was there to distract the red beast so he could not get attacked and have a clean shot, but still maneuvering that thing was one of the hardest things he had done.

Daemon cursed on top his saddle, as he watched the boat floating apparently idle in the River, like it was mocking him, when another bold flew through the air, this time, it went through the soft part of Caraxes’ wing, not injuring him, but Daemon could tell noe his dragon had to flap his wings as twice as much to stay in place.

Another column of fire illuminated his face and impacted Craxes on his chest, and that is when he got angry.

The red ebay attacks silverwing, biting her on one of her arms, near her chest, and the silver dragon screeches in pain.

He had come here to eliminate Aemond and then his niece’s daughter, to punish her for betraying them, but now, he was really thinking he might not be able to survive this.

So he was going to at least take the “Hightower” with him.

That is when he decided to unclasp the leather straps that tied him securely to Caraxes’ mount.

He held on tight as Caraxes and Silverwing, both similar in size, coiled together in the air in a mortal embrace, both dragons trying to bite the other. Silverwing blew fire into Caraxes’ face, making his drawing wail in pain. That is when Daemon, seeing a moment in which his dragon flapped his wings trying to stay above Silver Wing, in which he stood on his saddle, ready to jump. He unsheathed his sword, ready to pounce on the other young Prince

Aemond could feel nothing, the adrenaline had taken a hold of his body, acting on instinct, he had evaded the jaws of Caraxes that twisted in ungodly ways trying to get to him. But then came a moment, a second, In which Craxes bore over him, his red eyes looking down at him. His uncle was hovering over him.

And then it hit him

He was going to die

The last thought that came through his mind was of Aemma’s sweet face, her sparkly eyes, the perfect shape of her hand and how well it fitted with his the day they got married.

He closed his eyes.

But today it was not going to be the day he died.

Another growl, savage, low, could be heard, and a shadow covered both dragon as the King of Dragons himself descended upon them

Vermithor closed his huge jaws around the mid body of the Blood Wyrm, where Daemon was preparing to jump taking both with him. He released him, Craxes still shrieking when Vermithor then caught one of his wings and ripped it off his dying body.

Then dragon and the remains of his rider fell down, and sunk to the river underneath, missing by mere feet Crstan’s boat, who he had named “The Dragon Queen”

Daemon Targaryen was dead

. . .

Aemond grabbed Aemma’s shoulder making her turn around from the river and look into his husband’s eye

“Are you alright?”, he asked shakily, the Trident had an impressive Riverbank, apparently, large enough to have one of the largest dragons sink in its waters and not show signs of it

“Yes”, she answered, but Aemond found uncertainty in her tone, she just killed someone, and not just anybody, she had killed Daemon Targaryen, but then, after a bit of thought, the look in her eyes got… darker, “he was going to kill you, kill me next probably. so…”, her expression was plain, “he had to go”

It was done, they had killed Daemon, in self defense no less but, still, the repercussions to this… could be dire.

So, with Crestan behind Aemond, they flew back to Harrenhal, where the dragons could lick their wounds together in the castle’s ruins, while Aemond, Aemma and Crestan went to the castle.

“We might be under attack in less than a fortnight!”, Aemond screamed to the battlements and the soldiers in them, immediately they started shouting, that being said, with the Targaryens in power and dragons in the air, it meant to receive Fire & Blood

The entire castle became alive with the news of Aemond, as captains were being called and soldiers assembled in small groups and the men being recruited from the village. You were in the midst of a war, so the Harrenhal part of the Riverland army was on call, so it assembled easy as the day passed

And that is what you found when you landed near the old castle.

An army assembled

And that sinking feeling you had in your belly, boiled to life.

You knew something was terribly, terribly wrong when you walked by the main doors.

You found your daughter, Aemond, and surprisingly, Crestan discussing battle plans with the captains of the army

“What happened?”, you asked as soon as you walked through the doors, all eyes where on you

“Daemon Targaryen is dead”, said Aemond, correcting his posture that was leaning and now he stood straight.

And you stopped in your tracks

Daemon was dead

Your uncle was dead

THE KING CONSORT WAS DEAD

“Who…?”, you asked as you held tightly the hand of your youngest child

“I did it mom”, Aemma whispered, and right there, you truly panicked

You sent your children to their rooms so you could talk, and they could explain what had happened

Daemon Targaryen had come for your child and Aemond, and they were both alive because the Gods wanted it that way, because of mere luck, because Crestan was there, because Aemma was awake and realized Aemond had not returned at the time he was supposed to.

Because of fate, your brother and your oldest daughter were alive.

But Daemon had come, wanting to kill them

Who knows what he really wanted to do after he plucked Aemond from the skies

And the decision was made for you

“Send a Raven to Cregan Stark”, you commanded, “we march on the capital as soon as we are able”

“Mom”, called Aemma, “what is going on?”

“We are going to take the Iron Throne”, you said strongly, and everybody stopped whatever they were doing to look at you, “I am going to take the Iron Throne”

And to your amazement, everyone cheered.

@tearsarcane @integra1127 @aestmilky @thanyatargaryen @tythaitie @lostinworldofdarkness @voodoogoul @wildmindedbeauty32 @lil-pudd @alicattx @electric-bloo @astaaan-lol @stargaryenx @kaitieskidmore1 @bregarc @lilpnd @jcpenneyyy @janelei @fexibau @ladyoakenshield157 @danielle-leah1997 @lady-ragnvindr @cecilyjmorgenstern @omgsuperstarg @bugheadskid @batprincess1013 @her-fandom-sanctum @holb32 @blue1006 @stargaryenx @grippleback-galaxy @mikariell95 @genesisliveson @mendes-bae @caspianobsessed @notmundane3000 @kamisunshine @just-someone11 @ietss @joliettes @whodis-26

#misguidedhotd #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon #harwin strong x reader #ser harwin strong #targaryen!oc #targaryen!reader

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