#i think willa would have a strange relationship with feelings
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flood
ever think about how willa has had multiple near drowning experiences, more than any other keeper except maybe finn, while having the biggest connection to water? this is unedited and unfinished, mostly to get my thoughts on paper. willa’s such an interesting character and i think she’s been wasted throughout canon
She’s grown up in the water. Cliched, yes, but true.
They don’t travel much when she’s little, especially by the time her youngest brother is born. Two teachers' salaries doesn’t account for much, especially not with five kids needing taken care of.
Besides, they live in Orlando and shell out an alarming amount of money every year for resident passes to Disney and Universal and Bush Gardens and the dozens of other theme parks that call Orlando home. What more could they really want to do?
And then her dad is paralyzed, and suddenly vacations don’t seem that important, anyway.
So she trudges down to the community pool, holding her older brother’s hand and then later her younger’s, dollar fifty flip-flops slapping against the hot pavement, a pair of her mom’s old sunglasses slipping down her nose, smelling like SPF 70. She is eight and a half and her brothers still call her Izzy because Izzy Peterson hasn’t joined her class and made her need to pick a new nickname because now there are five Isabell/Isabellas in her small third-grade class and there can’t be two Izzys and the kids make fun of her when she goes by Isabella so she needs to think of something new, mom.
The pool is always busy; dozens of children all with varying degrees of sunburn running around, splashing and planning elaborate games with rules that change on a whim.
Willa doesn’t run. A sign says not to and that is that in her mind.
She does, however, play elaborate games. Always the ones Michael came up with because he is the oldest and he gets to pick. He usually wants to play pirates and have Willa swim around to avoid being kidnapped because “pirates kidnapped girls and you’re the only one, Izzy”.
Sometimes Michael stays home because he’s twelve now and doesn’t want to hang out with babies so Philip, being the next oldest, gets to pick the game. And sometimes she meets someone new, some other little girl who lives in the neighborhood that she’s never seen before and likely never will again who’ll play mermaids with her and thinks her blue tail and magic manatee sidekick is cool, not lame like Michale says.
They all take swim lessons too, but Willa is the only one who likes them. She’s trying to convince her parents to pay the extra money for a better school, better coach; more lessons because she’s just learned what the Olympics are and they seem so cool, to swim with all those people, but then a drunk driver slams into her dad’s Honda and well.
Hospital bills trump extracurriculars, apparently.
She spends so much time in the water that the idea of being afraid of any of it is laughable. The idea that there are people who actively avoid water, that live states away from the closest ocean, and are fine with that is so utterly baffling to her. Sure, she isn’t about to jump in the nearest lake because there are alligators and water snakes and probably some brain-eating bacteria but the actual water isn’t bad. It’s comforting, most days.
And then she almost drowns.
Like, four separate times.
The first time, on Winnie the Pooh with Charlene she’s admittedly more worried about the impending electrocution than actually drowning. It’s probably what will kill them first, and god, is she really going to die with Charlene? Some girl she hardly knows and isn’t even sure she likes because they’ve only talked, like, five times?
But they pry the doors open, they live, and she takes the bus home, wrapped in a Mickey Mouse towel that had cost way too much for how thin it was, hair damp and curling on her shoulders, and tells her mom they got caught in a rainstorm but yes, she and her new friend had fun.
Overall it isn't very frightening of an experience after all is said and done. Sure, it’s worrying to know that the Overtakers aren’t going to hold back, not even during operating hours, but she certainly isn’t having nightmares about it.
And then it goes and becomes a semi-regular thing.
She is sinking in Echo Lake, murky water rippling with bullets and fluff floating above her, thinking, once more, this is how I die.
She is treading water in the Atlantic, trying to keep Charlene calm and listen to Finn and keep Maybeck in her line of sight while knowing there are needlefish swimming under her, and god, why does she watch so much Animal Planet because she knew exactly how dangerous they can be (needle sharp jaws that can pierce skin like butter; pose a greater risk of injury than sharks) and she isn’t physically drowning but God does it feel like she is.
She has just jumped off a cruise ship, and her hand is slipping away from Finn’s, and even if she doesn’t let go the ship is moving so fast they are going to get pulled under the hull and they are going to drown.
But Ariel shows up.
But Triton helps.
And then he helps again.
And she is left wet, and cold, with damp hair and a sore throat from coughing up lungs full of water but she doesn’t die. She hardly ever has bruises.
And in between it all she still has swim team, still takes her younger brothers to the neighborhood pool, and picks the games they played because Michael and Philip are away at college and she is the oldest now.
And most times the cool blanket of water was just as it’s always been, comforting and chlorinated, the sharp scent clinging to her skin in an oh-so-familiar way.
And then other times.
Other times it feels suffocating, frigidly cold and she’s so certain it’s going to pull her down, down, deep into murky darkness and this time there will be no magical intervention, just her and the tightness of her chest, the knowledge that this time she is going to drown, this time it is really going to happen, she is going to die.
She ends up seeing a therapist in her Freshman year of college, someone found for her by Disney who has to sign a bunch of NDAs and half the time looks at Willa as if she’s crazy, but she helps, a bit.
Sometimes she wakes up cold and wet from sweat, room unfamiliar and the snores of her roommate in her ear and has to think to remember where she is (Harvard, she’s at Harvard, and she isn’t drowning). She calls Charlene or Maybeck, both on the west coast, both two hours behind her and almost always still awake, insomnia and bad habits from worse days still in effect.
#first part is very much inspired by my nostalgia for florida summers#i think willa would have a strange relationship with feelings#brown girl who’s the only girl in her family#she’s insanely intelligent and knows more feminine traits like being emotional will make others respect her less in academic fields#she’s an older sister who has to put her own feelings aside to help her brothers#she’s dealing with an emotionally distant mom as one of her only female role models#and she’s under sonstanr public scrutiny because of her job#so while finn gets therapy and care very quickly i think she waits and puts it off#because it’s admitting that things are wrong and that she can’t solve everything#i think she’d go through quite a few therapists before she actually finds one that sticks because the idea of actually acknowledging#her feelings is scary#she’s kind and nice and loves fiercely and isn’t afraid to speak her mind#but the deeper feelings#the ptsd and guild would be harder#willa angelo#finn whitman#dell philby#terry maybeck#charlene turner#amanda lockhart#jessica lockhart#kingdom keepers#ridley pearson#disney headcanons#my wriring
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The Heart Don't Lie Chapter 72
AO3
He can tell she is distracted. Though she smiles at all his jokes and says the right things, her eyes are distant.
He lays his hand across hers. “What is it love?”
She slowly shakes her head. “Not fooling you, eh?”
“Not a bit. Something is on your mind. Want to share?”
“Aye, I believe I do,” They have been walking through a park. Now they find a bench. He waits as she gathers her thoughts, “ It is my sister.”
“Which one?”
She laughs. “Fine point. Willa. She is,” she has to swallow. Saying the words out loud is difficult. They stick in her throat for a second, “ she is pregnant.”
Andrew’s mouth drops open. She nods. His reaction is spot on, after all. Now she waits on him to talk. After closing his mouth and swallowing, he says, “Not planned, I assume?”
“Goodness no! A complete accident. The details are hers but definitely not planned.”
He looks off into the distance for a moment. A sigh as he turns back to her. “What are her plans? I mean, has she decided to…”
“Adoption or parenting.”
His face loses it’s worry. She then understands what he was concerned about. She isn’t sure of her own feelings on the topic but is happy her sister isn’t aborting her niece or nephew.
“Good. Very good.”
“I agree. The father is coming to Lallybroch tomorrow. She wants to tell him with all our support.”
“That makes sense.”
She rests her head against his for a moment. “I would love to introduce you to them but not until…”
“This situation with your sister is seen too.”
“Aye, thanks for understanding.”
They resume walking around the park talking about everything and nothing in particular. They have the kind of talk that those getting to know each other while building a relationship have.
Serious stuff like his mam’s death and Beth’s. Light hearted things like their favorite subjects in school. Funny things like stunts they pulled as kids.
“Never?” She is asking. He is driving her back home.
“Nope. I didn’t want to just give something so precious away. Ah, please no offense if you have…”
She sighs, Beth in her mind again. “Only Beth and well we, as two lasses ahh…”
He nods understanding, his attention still on the road in front of him. “Understand. I don’t tell many people. Most think me a bit strange being twenty-two and being a virgin.”
She lays her head on his shoulder as the beautiful fall Highlands scenery goes past. “I think it is wonderful. To many people now just throw it away without thinking,” now her mind is on Willa, “to be careful and thoughtful about it is brilliant.”
He gasps at seeing Lallybroch. “Rose, you didn’t tell me you lived in a castle.”
She giggles. “It is a manor house, technically but I get your point. She is impressive.”
“Yes, she is.” He walks her to the door. She takes his hands.
“Will you kiss me goodnight?”
He grins and lowers his head. She meets him. It isn’t until after the kiss is over that she realizes most of her family is watching through the window.
#my writing#outlander fanfic#the heart don't lie#chapter 72#jamie and claire#outlander fandom#cannon divergence#modern au
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Sea Salt: Two
Summary: As a noblewoman from a small (and nefarious) kingdom in the Stepstones and quiet Lady-in-Waiting to Princess Elia Martell, she is accustomed to being looked through rather than looked at. The only exceptions to this rule are Prince Oberyn and Lord Willas Tyrell but they are often far from the dark shadows of the Red Keep or Dragonstone. She finds comfort in her quiet friendship with the princess and the delight of the darling royal children. But as Prince Rhaegar places a wreath of blue roses in the lap of Lady Lyanna Stark and rebellion starts to rage, she knows she will have to live up to her reputation. But luckily, she seems to have two allies lurking in the shadows.
Pairing(s): Willas Tyrell/F!Reader/Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand
Word Count: 24.6k (T_T)
Rating for this chapter: NC-17 for a bit of violence and mention of blood and warfare, my over-use of italics and using time jumps, and my love for ASOIAF lore. Ellaria is the only one in this relationship with a functioning braincell and reader is always happy to learn new things (ie: they have sex. they like it) If you have any questions about the lore or who is who or need clarifications, please just ask! I’m playing fast and loose with a bit of it, and a few ages, too. But I’m always happy to answer any questions you have! Thank you to everyone who was so kind about the first chapter and gave me ideas for this one. I love you.
(Banner by my darling @starlight-starwrites)
Chapter Two: Salt of the Sweat
Read Chapter One Here!
Or read this chapter on Ao3!
The quill was running dry as she finished the missive. A knock came at the door and her uncle Hammond walked in. “Are you ready?”
Y/N nodded and sealed the letter, knowing the ink would smear in her haste. She handed it off to a handmaiden to be sent as soon as they were aboard the small, unmarked ship, before bending down and gathering both Aegon and Jon into her arms with a now-practiced ease. The two babies each pushed out a hand to wrap their little fingers around the silver hanging beneath her collar, enjoying the warmth the delicate metal exuded. The sun charm glinted in the growing moonlight.
Hammond nodded, a bit sad, and kissed her forehead as he stepped to her side. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too.”
Prince Oberyn-
The babes are growing strong. We depart Skilliga tonight. Thank you for the gold and for the necklace. I have sent Arthur and Dawn home with Ashara. Please be gentle with her, she is my last true friend aside from you and Willas. I do not know when I shall be able to write to you again, but I will try.
Ashara had arrived on the sharp rock shores of Skilliga only a few weeks after Arthur had come, holding a bag of gold from House Martell and a small box with a delicate silver necklace tucked inside—a long chain of braided silver and two charms hung at the bottom; a shark and a sun. It was beautiful, truly. Far more beautiful than anything Y/N had ever owned. Skilliga, for all its charms, did not favor pretty things. “Elia had the finest smith in Sunspear craft it for you—it was supposed to be your nameday present.” Her smile was sad. “She swore me to secrecy, you know. Wanted it to be a surprise.”
And the babies were fond of it, too. Their little hands always searched for it when she held them and she would dangle it above their cribs when they would fuss at night, letting the moonlight catch the polished silver. They seemed to like it.
My Prince-
Rhaenys has taken to reading to the boys at night—I think she has memorized the story you sent. It hardly leaves her side. It was the book your mother read to you and Elia when you were younger, was it not? Filled with sparkling waters and talking turtles. She grows stronger and brighter every day. I know you would be proud of her. I know Elia would be, too. I miss her more than words can say. I try to tell Aegon and Elia all I know of her, and I tell Jon what I can of Lyanna, but I feel I am a poor replacement for their true mothers. I know you and Prince Doran are biding your time and I have taken your advice to not stay in one place for too long. But I do hope I am able to see you again soon.
She spent her lonely nights reading about the history she was not taught in Skilliga—of the flight of the Targaryens to Dragonstone before the Doom, of Garin the Great of the Rhoynar, of magic she did not know could be real. All of it. The world seemed so much smaller and larger now, somehow at the same time.
Her book snapped shut at the sound of one of the boys starting to cry in their bassinet. She rose from her cushioned chair and stepped toward their room, ready to help soothe him but was unsurprised when she saw Rhaenys leaning over Aegon’s crib, humming a little tune as she rubbed at her brother’s tummy, a move Elia was fond of when her children were fussy—Rhaenys must have seen Elia do it before…well, before. Aegon’s cries quickly quieted and Y/N smiled at Rhaenys who looked a little bashful as she turned and spotted her in the doorway.
“Would you like some honeyfingers, sunshine?”
Lord Willas-
Lys was strange. But it kept Aegon safe—his silver hair did not look out of place here. But Rhaenys did. A man at the market spotted her—tried to steal her from my arms and screamed of how the Usurper would grant him gold and titles if he brought her back to Westeros. I lost my favorite dagger in his neck. We set sail in just a few moments.
Pentos had been next. And a handful of years passed in the shadows of a Pentoshi tower. The children still kept close to her, hiding behind her legs in the market when someone walked too close or looked too long. But they were growing each day.
Balerion, who was now very large and very mean to anyone he did not like, was the one constant in their lives, it seemed. He had grown even meaner since they had started to travel through Essos, purring contentedly only if in the laps of Rhaenys or her brothers—he would only grace Y/N with his presence when Rhaenys was busy with her studies and he knew not to disturb her and Jon and Aegon were involved with the tutors she managed to hire. He would curl up in her lap and she would have to remain very still if she did not want his razor sharp nails to puncture her breeches (again) in retaliation for being woken from his nap before he was fully rested.
But his fur was very soft and he made the little ones smile—she could take a few moments to breathe, nowhere to go, no one to meet, if it kept the cat happy. But today he was batting at the slip of parchment she was trying to read. It was from a Pentoshi Magistrate named Illyrio or something—Balerion had shredded the bottom—who was hoping to meet with her (and the children he had heard rumors of for ‘quite some time’) and promised more riches and more ‘protection.’ He had ulterior motives, she was sure, but she needed all the help she could find.
Balerion gave up on the shredded parchment and leapt from Y/N’s lap before stretching for a moment beside her feet. His big, fluffy head turned this way and that, as if looking for something. And then, as if on cue, Rhaenys darted out of the manse’s solar and scooped the cat up into her arms and placed a kiss on the top of his head. It earned her a rumbling purr in return.
“How would you feel about meeting someone for supper tonight, sunshine?”
My Prince-
Congratulations on your newest daughter! An even eight—you must be so proud. The way you write of Ellaria is fit for songs. I know your daughters will flourish with your guiding hand. I will tell Rhaenys and Aegon of their new cousin, they are always happy to hear of their family. They miss you. I miss you.
The dinner had been just as dull and filled with lies and platitudes as any other meal they had shared with noblemen and dignitaries over the last handful of years in Essos. Illyrio was very self-assured and tried to tell Y/N that he wanted to see a Targaryen on the throne of Westeros again. “It is better for business, you see. This whole Rebellion has greatly affected my profits.”
“And that is all you care for? Profits?”
Illyrio’s smile was slimy but Y/N curled her fingers into the loose silk of her skirts to avoid reaching for the knife balanced on the edge of her plate. It would not do for her to threaten a(nother) host. “I would not be opposed to being raised to the Master of Coin when the rightful heir takes his place on the throne. It was nasty business what happened to that Dornish Princess.”
“Her name was Elia,” Y/N ground out.
“But I do suppose she served her purpose, bringing these beautiful children into the world.”
Y/N let go of her skirts and reached up to touch the knife. If he said another word, it was going into his eye and she would just steal everything she could hold. Perhaps that was a better plan than listening to him talk anyway. She glanced to her left to see Rhaenys looking down at her lap, little hands folded over her skirt. Hearing anything about her mother usually made her grow quiet and sad. Y/N, not even thinking of what it meant, moved her hand from the knife to cover Rhaenys’ hands. Providing comfort instead of violence.
(Mayhaps that could still come later.)
Rhaenys looked up at her and gave her a small smile, followed quickly by three squeezes to her fingers, a silent signal they had developed over the years to let the other know they were well.
“I swear it, your grace,” Illyrio said, staring at Aegon, another slimy smile on his face. “I will see you on your throne. You shall be king.”
“He is a child,” Y/N bit out. “Do not push him for something he cannot be sure he wants.” Aegon was barely speaking in full sentences that made sense, how could he know if he wanted some stupid crown? Just last night, Rhaenys had pulled her featherbed into her brothers’ rooms to sleep near them because they would not calm down until she was near them. He was a child. Born to royalty, yes, but a child still.
Illyrio laughed, a grating sound that had Rhaenys tightening her grip on her hand. “Of course, but you must teach him his responsibility. In secret, I know the highborn of Westeros are toasting to your survival, stitching dragons into their tapestries, and will come to your aid when you call for banners.”
That would have been a nice thought if anyone knew he was alive. Oberyn and Doran both had told her that most spoke of how they ‘knew’ Rhaenys and Aegon had been killed when the Lannisters sacked King’s Landing—and some others ‘knew’ that Lady Lyanna and her unborn babe had both died at the Tower of Joy before the end of the Rebellion. “I’ve been more preoccupied with keeping him breathing.”
“I don’t wan’ be king.”
Everyone turned to look at Aegon who seemed near tears.
“What, little one?” Y/N asked as she pulled him into her lap. His hand instantly grabbed at the necklace and he pressed his face into her shoulder.
“No king.” He sniffled and shook his head. “Rhaenee is king.”
The magistrate guffawed and Y/N once again looked at the knife. She could do it. “You will be king.” His smile did not falter. “But I do have gifts for you all.” Illyrio, unaware of how close he had come to death, waved a hand and a servant quickly came and placed a large chest on the table, rattling the cutlery and plates.
Jon startled in his little raised chair at her side but Rhaenys was immediately intrigued, even as she reached out to calm Jon with a gentle hand to his back. The lid opened and…
It was a…rock. A pretty rock, but a rock. It was a smoke color with ripples of orange and yellow. Illyrio waved a hand again, indicating she was allowed to grasp it, and she did as Aegon continued to press against her chest. It was heavier than she thought it would be and a little cold to the touch. Her eyes drifted to the small stack of gold also in the chest.
“What am I to do with this rock?” Y/N held the thing aloft with an arched eyebrow, holding back the sneer she felt growing. “Should I crack it open? Will it give me the ability to breathe life into my dearest friend’s lungs again? Will I be able to kill the usurper on the Iron Throne from across the Narrow Sea?”
“It is a dragon egg, my lady,” Illyrio said, enunciating each syllable as if that would help her understand. “Extremely valuable.”
Y/N turned and handed Rhaenys the egg, watching her little fingers curl around it immediately. She reached out and scooped out the gold and stood. The three children quickly did the same, little Aegon still in her arms and Rhaenys grabbing Jon from his chair. “I thank you for your time and meal, Magistrate. I shall think on your offer.”
Illyrio hurried to stand as well. “Yes, as their regent, I do value your opinion-”
But they were already turned away and walking out the door.
Lord Willas-
I wish I could show you the gardens of Volantis. I am sure they pale in comparison to Highgarden, but they are lovely even if the people and customs are intolerable. The dried petals you hid in the folds of your last missive were a welcome surprise—a merchant woman insisted I have them turned into a perfume and it is a delightful scent. I can almost imagine the green grass and pink roses you have told me about so many times. I hope I will be able to see them soon.
The air here is so heavy, it gets hard to breathe. Aegon and Jon do enjoy the elephants that the noblemen insist we ride everywhere. My sunshine likes to steer the large animal when the streets are clear, too. But please, tell me more of your home. Has your father filled the aviary with more hawks? Are the pups growing strong?
Y/N pulled the sword out of the back of the last man, listening to him gurgle on his own blood before he dropped to the worn wooden planks of the dock. Two more bodies were half submerged in the water a few paces back.
Volantis had turned on them, too. But the gold she had taken from the bodies of the would-be kidnappers (or assassins, she had not stopped to ask) would give them a little more cushion when they arrived in Lorath.
“Y/N?” Rhaenys called out from her hiding spot on the small ship docked just behind her. Her head appeared over the railing of the boat as Y/N wiped the blood off her sword onto her breeches before placing it back in its scabbard. “Did you get the pomegranates?”
Y/N turned and shuffled back a few steps to pick up the large bag she had dropped in the scuffle and held it up with a smile, ignoring how she could feel blood drying on her face. “I did, sunshine!”
Little Shark-
Ellaria has been insistent that I introduce you as soon as we are able. I believe you would make dangerous friends. Lorath may not be the most exciting of places to hide, but I know you and the little ones will be safe. My family owes you a great debt. Doran has had to stop me from loading up my family and sailing to wherever you have landed.
I have dreamt of you, little shark. I remember how you would smile and laugh. I remember how the scent of the sea seemed to be pressed into your skin. All of this has haunted me. You have haunted me.
Rhaenys was fond of just holding the silly little dragon egg and seemed to find a strange comfort by simply being near it, even as the years continued to trickle by and the stone egg was unchanged. “It feels warm, does it not?” She asked, holding out the egg toward Y/N.
But it did not feel warm to Y/N as she brushed her fingers against the strange orange ripples. It felt like cold rock. “Maybe I do not have the magic touch,” she said with a wink.
“Rhaenys!” They both turned at the shout of her name. Aegon and Jon, now seven and eight, rushed toward them. Little wooden swords clutched in their hands and their trousers covered in dirt. She had left them, only momentarily, to whack at each other in their garden.
Rhaenys was nearly bowled over by her brothers as they leapt at her and she tried to catch them, always protective. “What troubles you?” She asked as she managed to right them, batting away their swords as they absentmindedly still held them pointed up, ready to spar, while still holding onto her precious dragon egg.
“There is a strange man at the door.”
Ice went down Y/N’s spine and she hurried to push the children toward the back of the room, hiding them away in the back of the wardrobe. She handed Rhaenys a blade of her own, barely larger than the girl’s hand. “Remember what I taught you, sunshine?”
“Eyes, throat, thigh,” Rhaenys said, voice shaking just the slightest bit.
“Yes. And do not come out until I come for you.” She kissed each of them on the forehead and shut the door quietly, hoping against hope that it would not be the last time she would see them. But she steeled herself and patted at her breeches, feeling the four hidden blades there, and then the other four hidden in her tunic. She would fight. She would fight until her last breath.
Slowly but with her head held high, Y/N made her way toward the door and braced for the worst—a haggard Westerosi knight in search of gold and glory. A Braavosi bravo who wanted adventure across the Narrow Sea. A Sorrowful Man. A Faceless Man.
She peeked outside the window nearest the door and frowned. The man standing outside looked familiar and the longer she stared at him, the more she realized she knew him. A knight who had stuck to the Mad King’s side every time she had been forced to go to the Red Keep.
A Targaryen loyalist.
Maybe.
Slowly, she opened the door and stared at him. Willem Darry looked haggard—near death. He smelt like it, too.
“I have been searching for you,” he said, voice rough on her ears.
“What do you want, Darry?”
“I know that you have the little dragons.”
“You are mistaken.” Her hand started to inch toward the knife she had at her back. She could kill him. It could be quick and most people would not bat an eye at a bit of spilled blood. She needed to keep the children safe.
“I’m not. Queen Rhaella told me of a missive Elia wrote to her brother before the Sack of King’s Landing.”
Her hand curled around the hilt. “I know of no such letter.”
“I do not care of what you do or do not know. I am here because I need you. They need you.” He turned and called out for something—she did not care to listen. But the gate at the edge of her property opened and she felt her heart clench. Behind him stood little Viserys Targaryen and his sister, Daenerys.
Her grasp loosened. “Oh.”
My lady Y/N,
Braavos sounds wondrous. I must admit that learning you have found two more dragons was a welcome surprise. It seems you collect them now. Prince Oberyn has been adamant that I visit the palace of Sunspear but I am afraid I will only embarrass myself further. The Usurper has started having a brood of his own. He grows more complacent by the day. Mayhaps I will be able to come to you someday soon. Your letters have become a most cherished treasure to me—even if my little sister Margaery does try to read them over my shoulder at every opportunity. I wish I could tell her about you, about how brave and beautiful you are. But I have promised Prince Oberyn to keep you a secret. And my secret you shall be.
Ser Willem Darry quickly moved Y/N and the children into his house. It was larger, equipped with better possible hiding places, and seemed to blend into the background of their particular road, hard to pick it out from its neighbors, aside from the red door. Darry made the servants aware that these four new faces were to be obeyed just as he was. He was a bear of a man, but gentle.
Rhaenys and Daenerys were thick as thieves, the older of the two quickly schooling the young girl in all things a good, highborn lady should know, and several more things a lady should not. More often than not, Y/N would find them practicing with bits of sharpened wood, stabbing the air with clumsy grips which Willem tried to rectify to the girls’ delights. Viserys had caught them once or twice and had snapped the bits of wood in two and dragged Daenerys away by the end of her silver braid until Y/N stepped in and made him practice his calligraphy until the sun set as punishment for making the girls cry. He was a terrible child, always holding his nose too high in the air and telling Aegon and Jon that he was king because his mother had crowned him at Dragonstone before she died.
“She only did that because she thought Aegon was dead or would be soon,” Rhaenys said, fire in her eyes.
“I don’t want to be king anyway!” Aegon would always shout from the next room over.
It was best to keep them separated.
My Prince-
I am tired. And I must apologize for the tone of this letter. But Ser Willem is not long for this world, his stomach grows more troublesome for him by the day, and Viserys has been burning letters he will snatch from my hands, not allowing me to know their contents. Rhaenys, Aegon, and Jon are still flourishing in Braavos, however. They have asked that I send you this small wooden snake—and you know I am unable to tell them no when they ask so sweetly. Rhaenys has insisted that she read the books you have sent to her brothers and little Daenerys. I had to keep Viserys from stealing the book from her hands more than once. He is a terrible young man. If Aegon were not so attached to him, I might not be so protective of him. But I would not do anything which would bring a frown to Aegon’s face. He has also taken to dyeing his hair blue, to better blend with the Braavosi crowd, letting any passersby think he is just a Tyroshi boy. He is so smart, my prince. He and Rhaenys—and Jon, too, when he is not sulking—are growing to be true heirs to their throne. I hope you will be able to see them soon, just as I hope to meet your daughters and Ellaria. Lord Willas has told me that you are quite the doting father. I miss you.
Aegon and Jon grew stronger and more adventurous with each passing moon while Viserys did try to seem like his nephews’ company and would tell them stories of court life in Westeros, of how Rhaegar was a valiant knight, and how King Aerys was loved by the people.
Y/N had been quick to tell them the truth as she tucked them into bed each night but that did not stop the boys from wanting the older boy’s attention when Ser Willem was deemed ‘un-fun’ when he tired so quickly.
That sentiment quickly soured in their little mouths when Y/N had to explain that Willem had joined their mothers in the Seven Heavens and would not be…around anymore.
“Just say it, he’s dead,” Viserys commanded with an upturned lip.
“You might be crass, Viserys, but that does not mean I need be, too.”
“Why not? Your pathetic little kingdom would not stand under the might of the Seven Kingdoms. That is why you’ve run-”
“Will you braid my hair?” Daenerys’ soft voice cut the tension and Y/N happily turned to look at the youngest dragon.
“Of course, Dany. Go grab your brush.”
“I have a ribbon you can use,” Rhaenys said with a small smile. She reached out a hand toward the younger girl who happily took it.
As Daenerys scurried away, Viserys shot Y/N another glare before marching off. Jon had been watching the entire exchange with his usual pout and Aegon was looking between Y/N and the door where Viserys had disappeared as he fiddled with the pommel of his practice sword.
“I do not understand his dislike of you,” Aegon said.
“He doesn’t like that he is second best,” Jon said. “Or third.”
Y/N snorted and shook her head. “Have you two finished your Valyrian lines?”
Aegon and Jon looked at each other and then darted from the room without a look back, as Y/N knew they would. Daenerys came back in with a smile, her brush, and the bit of ribbon Rhaenys had leant her in her hands. Y/N sat behind Daenerys and carefully brushed her hair. Daenerys seemed to preen under the touch, much like Rhaenys did when she was her age, happy to feel friendly fingers taking care with her hair. She plaited it and tied it off with the purple ribbon, knowing it would probably be a mess by the time dinner was served.
“You will not leave us. Not like Ser Willem, right?” The little princess asked as she turned to look up at her.
Y/N pressed a smile to her face and bit back the words she felt bubbling at the back of her throat. How could she tell a heartbroken little girl that she could not decide when she left this world? She traced a finger down Daenerys’ cheek before gently cupping her chin in her hand. “I promise I will be at your side for as long as I am able, princess.”
Daenerys paused, violet eyes searching her face for answers before nodding. “What are we having for supper?”
My Prince-
Thank you for the wonderful gifts for Rhaenys’ ten-and-four nameday. I cannot believe she is almost a woman grown. I cannot believe it has been so long since I have seen you, so long since my flight from Dragonstone. How fares little Dorea? Has she recovered from her sickness? And what of Sarella? Is she still masquerading in the Citadel? She truly is your daughter. Please give Ellaria my love and I will give Aegon, Jon, and Rhaenys yours.
It had been quite a few years since she had heard Rhaenys wake herself up in a fit. Y/N quietly padded over to her room and let herself in, seeing the princess sit in a mess of blankets, a hand on her chest, obviously trying to slow her racing heart. Y/N stepped inside as Rhaenys spotted her sat on the edge of the bed and smiled as Rhaenys quickly swirled around on the blankets to place her head on Y/N’s lap. Her fingers reached up and tangled with her necklace, thumb brushing against the sun pendant as she had done hundreds of times before.
“What troubles you, sunshine? Let me help you.” She curled her hands over Rhaenys’ shoulders and side, cradling her just a bit—like she did when she was a small child.
“The nightmares have come back.” She did not look up at her, only keeping her focus on the metal sun.
“Tell me what you see.”
Rhaenys sighed. “You’ll think me foolish.”
“Never.”
“There are ice dragons—bigger than castles, bigger than mountains. They come from the cold and have riders made of snow on their backs and swords made of ice, too.” She shivered and her hand dropped from Y/N’s necklace and she curled further into Y/N’s grasp. “The dead walk with them.”
“The dead?” Y/N asked, her face scrunching in confusion.
“They follow them, mindlessly. Like they have no control.”
Y/N pulled Rhaenys a little closer, feeling something cold trace its finger down her spine. “You’ve been dreaming of the cold since you were a child.”
Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before finally looking up at her. “I don’t think they’re dreams.”
And that gave Y/N pause. She had read about Daenys the Dreamer who saved her family from the Doom. She had read how the priests and priestesses of the Mother Rhoyne were gifted with visions of things not yet come to pass. “You have been seeing this since you were a babe, sunshine. Tell me. Tell me what you think it is.”
Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before sighing. “I’ve read the book of legends Uncle Oberyn has sent. Of the Rhoynar, of my mother’s people. It said that some were gifted with something called the Sight. The ability to see things as they happen from across the world, or things not yet come to pass.”
“Like the Dragon Dreams of the Valyrians.”
Rhaenys nodded and finally dropped her hold on the necklace.
“And you think that this cold, these beings, are coming?”
“I know it sounds like nonsense-”
“Almost every country in this world has legends of a night which lasted generations, of cold which reached across the seas. And history repeats itself, my sunshine. It is possible that you have always had the Sight. Do not discount yourself.”
Rhaenys looked up at her, dark eyes shining in the moonlight. “Then I am seeing what is to come?”
Y/N pulled her a little closer. “It is possible. But magic has been gone from the world a long time.”
“But if the cold can come again, magic can as well.”
Y/N nodded. “And I shall be here with you if it does.”
“My father,” Rhaenys grumbled the title, “was fond of prophecy, was he not? The Targaryens always said ‘the Dragon has three heads’ or something like that.”
“Why can there not be four?” She sighed. “Or five. Would not more be better? Surely there is still strength in numbers. And we shall need all the strength we can muster.”
Rhaenys opened her mouth to say something when the door burst open. On instinct, Y/N grabbed the knife she’d hidden in her sleeve and hurled it at the intruder. It missed Jon’s head by pure luck. He only glanced at the blade once before turning back to them. “Something’s happened.”
Y/N stood from the bed with Rhaenys at her side and they ran through the manse, following Jon’s steps but their haste did not change the outcome. Viserys and Daenerys were gone.
Lady Y/N-
Thank you for the information you have discovered about from the Iron Bank. It is most welcome and has helped us continue to truly know how poorly and precariously the Usurper is sitting on his stolen throne. If you discover anything else, I would be grateful. Please give the young ones my love.
-Prince Doran, Lord of Sunspear
“Again,” Y/N said, standing on the edge of the stone platform.
Aegon and Jon both groaned but Rhaenys held up her sword, ready for the next drill to be called out.
They had been training since the sun came up. While the breeze off the water kept them cool, sweat still poured down their necks to wet their tunics. It was a familiar sight—Y/N could remember her own time in Skilliga’s training rooms when she was younger than them.
It felt like ages ago.
She called out the next set of drills and watched as they worked through the steps, each with a bit of room for improvement, but not entirely terrible. As they worked through another set, and then another, Y/N reached for her own wooden sword and leapt up onto the platform as they caught their breath. Perhaps it was time for only one more exercise.
“If you each manage to land a blow, we can call it for the day, hm? I’ll even have honeywine brought in.”
The siblings looked at each other, a silent conversation, before they all turned like a three-headed beast and raised their swords and charged.
When it was all finished—Y/N had only two more sore spots on her arms but she still had honeywine and let them drink the entire bottle themselves. They had earned it.
The manse grew quiet after their small celebration and Y/N sat in her room and listened to the sea beat against the city’s walls as she ran a cool, damp cloth across her face, trying to wash the day’s dirt and sweat away. It was strange, to know that she did not need to make sure that the three did not require a story to help them sleep. They hadn’t in several years. But she still found herself wanting to rise from her cushioned seat to check on them as the air grew still and soft.
A knock at her opened door had her turning and Rhaenys was walking into her room with her lips pulled tight. “Dany is alive.”
“How do you know this?” Y/N asked, rising from her seat. For almost a year, she had heard nothing of the two lost dragons. She knew someone had seen them, she had always known when someone was keeping a secret. But they never told. Again and again, she had thought she would learn of their deaths from a sneering nobleman or one of her missives from Westeros. But she had heard nothing.
“I’ve seen it. I’ve dreamt it.”
My Y/N,
Thank you for the lace and silk. You are a generous soul; I had been searching for the right materials for my Obella’s nameday dress and your package arrived the next day. Oberyn speaks of you often, of little Aegon and Rhaenys, and Jon too. I hope to meet you soon, to finally know your face as I know your name. To know you.
It was two years later that she finally heard of where the two silver-headed dragons had gone.
The Dothraki Sea.
“Why would they go there?” Rhaenys asked with a frown.
“Viserys probably hatched some plan. Brokered a deal he did not fully understand with a man smarter than him.”
“A horse is smarter than him,” Aegon muttered. Rhaenys slapped his arm but Jon roared with laughter.
“Well, we must go to them. To Daenerys, at least,” Rhaenys said as she stood from her seat.
And that was how Y/N found herself selling most of their earthly possessions and setting out away from Braavos with an honest guide whom she trusted and paid well. (Balerion hated the wheelhouse but preferred it to being sat on Rhaenys’ lap on her horse. He curled himself around the petrified dragon egg and mostly slept through the day.)
From Braavos to Norvos and then down the banks of the Noyne to where it met the Rhoyne, the days trickled by.
For only a few hours, she let the three bask in the beauty of the ruins of Ny Sar—of the city Nymeria, their famed ancestor, had once called home—before they continued on. They could not afford to linger.
But she grew more and more fatigued with each passing day.
“What ails you?” Rhaenys asked as they stopped for the night.
“I never sleep well this far from the sea, sunshine.” She pressed a smile to her face and tugged at the silver lock of hair at Rhaenys’ nape. “I will rest when we find Daenerys and I can hear the waves crash against the shore again.”
But she asked again a few nights later as they settled again to make their small camp, quiet and hidden. They were too far south for the Pirates of Dagger Lake and too far north for the Volantene galleys to spot them, but it was still best to be cautious. Even in Skilliga, Y/N knew of the dangers of the Sorrows. And Y/N gave her answer. “We are too close to the Sorrows for me to sleep soundly, sunshine.”
They both settled on the high hill at the edge of the grasslands where it met the sparse forest, and watched the cursed fog slowly roll over the unseen waters she could only barely hear. It was strangely quiet here, in this desolate part of the world.
“This is where the Rhoynar made their last stand—before Nymeria and her ten thousand ships set sail and landed in Dorne.”
“Yes. Centuries ago, Chroyane, this was a proud and fertile land. Filled with celebrations and water magic. A place of laughter and prosperity.”
Rhaenys sighed as she looked out at the curling grey mist and barren trees. “But not now.”
“Before the Doom, when the Valyrians still ruled Essos, they tried to conquer the Rhoynar. Wars raged and, for a handful of years, the Rhoynar were able to hold the dragons off. But that did not last. In a last attempt to make the dragons rue the day they set their purple eyes on this part of the Rhoyne, Garin the Great called down a curse on the Valyrians after being captured.”
“And the waters rose and the fog rolled in, sweeping them beneath and holding them there beneath the waves for all the ages to come. The fog turned their skin to stone, matching their stone hearts and took their minds, too.” Rhaenys nodded. “I remembered that part. Mother would tell me stories of the Rhoynar when father was too busy wish his prophecies to sing me to sleep.” The young girl at her side heaved a heavy sigh as she watched the mist curl across the water. “This is my mother’s bloodline. Snuffed out by my father’s.”
Y/N huffed and knocked her shoulder against Rhaenys’. “You are not your parents. You are not some bit of rock that maesters scribble about in their chambers. You, my sunshine, are both Martell and Targaryen. You are the Sun and a Dragon. The fact that you are here means that the impossible is possible. You are water magic and fire in skin. You are the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. You are your mother’s daughter—her sunshine, my sunshine.”
Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before she nodded and stood, sweeping her hands against her trousers to brush the dead grass from the fabric. Y/N expected her to say that she was retiring again for the night. But Rhaenys always kept Y/N on her toes.
She was suddenly sprinting down the hill toward the water and the cursed fog.
“Rhaenys?! What are you doing?”
Rhaenys would succumb to the curse, to greyscale—what was she doing?! Y/N sprinted down after her, pumping her legs faster and faster to try to catch her—but she was again too late. And she screamed as Aegon darted in after his sister.
But the fog did not engulf Rhaenys’ form. It did not choke the air from her young lungs. Instead, it curled around her ankles like Balerion had done so many times as a kitten. It was welcoming her. Welcoming her home.
For a moment, Y/N could only watch as the unnatural fog almost seemed to sparkle and shine as Rhaenys reached out her hands toward it. She knew Aegon was yelling, saying something to Rhaenys. But she couldn’t hear it. And she doubted Rhaenys could either as the fog closed around the pair.
She could only wait, with a panicked Jon at her side and a strangely calm Balerion in her arms.
“All will be well,” Y/N heard herself saying.
“Are you certain?” Jon asked in return.
“Yes. Yes, I am.”
And when the sun rose in the morning, for the first time in hundreds of years, it shone on Chroyane. The fog lifted. She could see the broken yet still beautiful arches and marble columns of towering stone. Grand palaces jutting from the sparkling waters. Overgrown trees, once foreboding and covered in grey moss, had shining green leaves as large as her arm with delicate pink flowers blossoming. And it was beautiful—even with the bodies of the stone men piled, almost neatly, on the banks of the river. Finally at rest.
Y/N turned her head at the sound of splashing and saw one of the famed large turtles the Rhoyne was known for, sliding through the water, content.
In the center of the river, the water slowly moving by, stood Rhaenys and Aegon.
Jon sprinted to his siblings’ side. “What happened? What did you see?”
Rhaenys only smiled.
**
The siblings had insisted that they take a handful of days to explore the newly ‘recovered’ city. And Y/N could not tell them no—both out of familial duty and personal curiosity. While Aegon and Rhaenys traipsed through the ruins as if they had been there thousands of times before, showing Jon everything they could and telling him of the Rhoynish history, Y/N explored on her own.
The ancient scars of the last battle against the Valyrians were still seen, now dulled by the constant presence of the river water but she could see bits of armor beneath ivy and trees, sun-bleached bone where the water was shallow.
But the river was clear and cool and Y/N let it soak her breeches as she jumped from the small skiff she had found so she could look through the ruins of what appeared to be an ornate bathhouse. Mud and damp greenery sloshed underneath her boots as she walked through, trying to envision what this place looked like before the war and curse. But even now, it was beautiful.
Something clanged against her boot and she looked down to see an edge of a sword. Y/N frowned as she pulled the sword from the muck and wiped it clean on her already-disgusting trousers. The pommel had a head of lion and was inlaid with fine rubies and gold. The blade was long—too long to be wielded by one hand as she had trained to do—but it was far too light to be common steel. Y/N held up the blade to let it reflect the sun and saw the swirling patterns as her heart leapt into her throat.
This was Valyrian steel.
She spent the next handful of hours combing through the mounds of debris on the edges of the river, making sure to listen for where her three charges were and to know that they were safe, and collecting any bits of Valyrian steel—armor or weapons—she could find. And if she had to shake a few bones loose from it? That did not matter. This was not supposed to be the resting place of the dragonriders. This was not their land. So, she supposed that the Valyrians’ former belongings were free game.
They would catch a fine price anyway.
Balerion was perched on a moss-covered rock, watching another large turtle and probably mulling over if the creature was friend, foe, or food.
But Rhaenys eventually pulled her brothers from the ruins and said it was time to move on—“we will come back. I’m sure of it.” And no one argued with her on that, or asked how she knew. They all knew to simply trust her.
The wetlands of the Rhoyne gave way to the grass of the Dothraki Sea and their guide promised that he knew the fastest way to Vaes Dothrak, the one true Dothraki settlement where Daenerys had last been seen. And his promises were kept, thankfully. Y/N was sure if anything else had caught her off guard, she would have fallen off her horse and never risen again. She was so far from the sea. She could hear no river or ocean. No water.
The heat was nearly unbearable. She had nearly thrown herself from the saddle when the seventy-sixth bead of sweat trailed its way down her neck to pool in the back of her tunic. But Rhaenys remained ever positive.
“We are nearly there, I can feel it.”
Even when they learned that Daenerys and what was left of her husband’s khalasar had left Vaes Dothrak and started toward Lhazar, she still voiced her positive outlook.
And it paid off. As Y/N knew it would—eventually.
As the sun set on the fourth day after leaving Vaes Dothrak, they spotted the remnants of a khalasar surrounding what looked like a giant funeral pyre as a red comet bled across the dark night sky. Y/N slowed her horse to a stop and dismounted as she squinted toward the group, trying to find Daenerys. The silver hair quickly stood out and she felt her heart lift, unweighted for the first time since they had left the Chroyane. But it suddenly tumbled down to her stomach as she watched Daenerys light the fire and then edged closer to the heat.
“Daenerys? Dany!”
But the girl did not hear her. Did not turn. Did not blink as she stepped into the flames.
Y/N ran toward the fire but was held back by a strange man—Y/N barely registered that he was not Dothraki—who muttered something about not needing more death tonight.
Sudden movement at her side had Y/N turning and she could not stomach the cry that ripped its way from her throat.
“Rhaenys? What are you—Rhaenys!” She screamed and screamed and leapt toward her only to be too late—again—to stop the carnage. That was her curse.
Rhaenys stepped into the funeral pyre, the egg she had treasured for years held out in front of her like an offering.
Aegon and Jon were screaming for her, for Dany, to come out—come out of the flames and we can go home! We can go home!
But the pair of girls did not. They did not emerge from the flames. Around the large funeral pyre, the remnants of the Dothraki khalasar moved to their knees, watching at the fire burned higher and hotter. And all Y/N could do was watch.
She had failed. She had failed and she didn’t know why. Why did the girls walk into the fire, so sure of their fates? Why did they welcome it with open arms? Why? Y/N sank to her knees and wept. She cried for the first time since Arthur had died at her feet, wept even as the heat from the pyre drenched her in sweat. She had failed.
By the time the sun rose and smoke dissipated, she was certain she would be staring at the bodies of her two girls and once again facing immeasurable loss and now having to handle her boys’ own anger and sadness.
But then she felt her heart leap into her throat.
Surrounded by ash and soot, were Daenerys and Rhaenys. Unharmed. Unburnt. Alive.
And four baby dragons.
“Oh.”
The remaining onlookers yelled out something in their language, hands raised toward Rhaenys and Daenerys.
Blood of their blood.
Y/N, Aegon, and Jon stepped over the piles of ash and still burning embers and toward the two women, naked, and covered in soot—but smiling. Y/N pulled off her overtunic and wrapped it around Rhaenys’ shoulders as Aegon draped his cloak around Daenerys.
“I saw you come again.” Daenerys reached out and grasped at Rhaenys’ hands and the young women cried. “I saw you.”
“I saw you, too,” Rhaenys whispered before shaking her hands free of Daenerys’ grip only to wrap her arms around her aunt in a tight embrace. “How could he hurt you so? You did not deserve to be treated like that.”
Y/N watched Daenerys’ brows furrow over Rhaenys’ shoulder. “What did you see?”
But the answer would have to wait as Aegon and Jon, tired of waiting, all but threw themselves at the pair, and berated them for their actions but thanked them both for surviving.
“I don’t know what we would do without you,” Aegon murmured.
Y/N sighed as she watched them, watched the small group cry and laugh and smile. Aegon did not know how true that statement was—and she hoped he would never know what the world would be like without his sister and aunt.
Rhaenys stepped away from her brother from a moment and held out a soot-covered hand toward her, urging her forward. And Y/N quickly took it, not minding the strange heat.
The yellow and gold dragon hatchling on Rhaenys’ shoulder chirped as Y/N stepped closer. Its little neck craned as she kissed Rhaenys’ forehead, trying to see what Y/N was doing to their mother.
“Never do that again, my sunshine.”
**
There had been a bit of an argument between Daenerys and her guard—Jorah Mormont, Y/N had learned what his name was—and Rhaenys and her brothers as to where they would go next. They could not stay in the Dothraki Sea. The other khalasars were still a threat.
Jorah suggested Asshai-by-the-shadow.
Their guide suggested traveling back to Norvos—and when that was turned down, he took his payment and left. “You will die out here,” was all he said. Charming.
But Daenerys, watching the red comet still bleed across the crystal-blue sky had a different destination in mind. “What is that way?” She asked, finger pointing toward where the comet was flying.
“Qarth, khaleesi. The Queen of cities.”
Daenerys smiled at the sound of it. “We shall go to Qarth.” She turned and looked at Rhaenys who nodded, both of them unperturbed by the dragons using their limbs like a crib.
Aegon and Jon were both looking at the pair of young women with awe and almost-smug knowing on their faces. Like they had predicted this very sight. And mayhaps they did.
Magic had come back into the world. With water and fog and fire and dragons.
It had come back.
**
My dear Willas-
I am not sure if Qarth is to my taste. I do not like how these merchants ‘princes’ and warlocks stare at my charges and their dragons. I do not like how they lathe attention and treasures on the children…young adults, I suppose. I know that these people, man, woman, whomever, they only mean to get their hands on the dragons. And Balerion truly poses more of a threat than the dragons do—and the cat is getting old, he is still something to behold, but his paws move slower now. The hatchlings are defenseless little things even if they are starting to learn how to breathe fire. But I suppose the comforts of this famed city are better than the alternative of getting lost in the Red Waste. But still…I could hear the whispers and feel the people of Qarth all around us. Even our host, Xaro Xhoan Daxos, who had been the first to welcome us into the walled city and has given us an entire wing to call home in his immense estate—I cannot trust him. There is a Shadowbinder here who seems to appear at all hours of the night and day, speaking in whispers and vague prophecy. Truthfully, if she spoke plainly I might actually like her.
But enough of that! What news do you have from Westeros? The new set of hounds—are they still growing strong?
For now, in this strange city, they were comfortable. She could hear the four laugh and see them smile. Daenerys told them of her time at Viserys’ side, told them of how her brother had told her that Y/N and Rhaenys, Aegon, and Jon no longer wanted the pair at their side. She told them of how they had become wards of Illyrio Mopatis who had promised to help them retake the Seven Kingdoms—a familiar promise. He had brokered a deal with Khal Drogo, all but selling Daenerys to the khal in exchange for the large khalasar who was supposed to help Viserys reclaim the Iron Throne. It churned her stomach, it hurt her heart. “You know that you are family,” Y/N had said. “You are always welcome, always loved.” And that gave rise to the question: did any of them actually want the Iron Throne?
And the answer, unsurprisingly, was complicated.
Aegon and Jon wanted to stop running. Daenerys wanted a place to call home, truly. And Rhaenys, her sunshine, revealed her steel core. Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before she stood and set her shoulders back. “Westeros will be mine. It will be mine as it should have been my father’s. As it should have belonged to my mother. The usurper and the lions stole it from her and I will wash them from this earth. I want it. The Seven Kingdoms belong to me—and I will have them.”
Y/N nodded. “You will, sunshine. I promise you that. You are the eldest. By Dornish right and custom, it belongs to you.” Y/N reached out and curled her finger around the silver strand at her ear, and she was suddenly so aware that Rhaenys was growing up. She looked so much like Elia. Where had the time gone? Her hand dropped back to her side. “You will be queen.”
“Y/N!”
She turned at sound of her name and saw Rhaenys walking toward her, draped in a silken Qartheen dress, and her little yellow dragon in her arms. She had named her Vēzos—it meant Sun in High Valyrian. She knew what Rhaenys meant when she had named her dragon. Elia was the Sun of Dorne. Rhaenys had been her sunshine. And now Rhaenys had a sun of her own. Beautiful and terrible and all hers. Y/N could not be more proud. “You are up early, my sunshine. Your brothers and aunt are still resting like the dead.” Last night a grand reception had been held by their host, filling his gardens with all the elite of the city. The Pureborn, the Thirteen, Warlocks—all of them, had descended on the lush grounds and had their fill of fine wood and drink while whispering about the ‘uncivilized’ Dothraki and stealing glances at the dragons while trying to make conversation with the four guests of honor.
It had been exhausting. Most of the party had been spent with Ser Jorah, trying to keep the Dothraki from pilfering anything worth value or Balerion from destorying the guests' fine dresses. Truthfully, Y/N wouldn’t’ve cared but Daenerys said it would not be kind to their host. Oh well.
“They drank much more than me,” Rhaenys said with a smile. Y/N patted the cushioned seat next to her but Rhaenys shook her head. “I have something to show you.”
Y/N arched an eyebrow but stood and followed Rhaenys out of Xaro’s manse, grabbing one of her swords on the way out and sliding it into the belt at her waist. The city was still sleeping and strangely quiet—quiet enough that Y/N could hear the ocean. The port of Qarth was one of the great ports of the known world and Y/N had grown up hearing of the treasure her parents had once plundered from the Jade Gates—it had been the trip they had taken just after they were married. Strangely romantic. The port was a little busier than the quiet of the city and Y/N stepped closer to Rhaenys as they neared the unfamiliar crowd. But, Rhaenys paid no one any mind until she spotted a man with a plumed hat who bowed when she stepped toward him.
“Right on time, Princess! Are you ready?”
Y/N had barely any time to ask what was going on before Rhaenys took her by the hand and ushered her onto the Swan Ship and it pulled away from the port. “Are you kidnapping me, sunshine?” She asked with a laugh.
“Only for a few hours.”
The ship made quick work of sailing through the Jade Gates and toward the East of Essos. And while the sun grew higher in the sky, Rhaenys steadfastly evaded any questions Y/N posed about their destination and she only grew more confused when the ship slowly stopped, rocking in time with the quiet waves—no land in sight.
And Rhaenys’ smile only widened. “Welcome to the Jade Sea.”
Y/N had to laugh and little Vēzos chirped at the noise. “Oh, sunshine. You never fail to surprise me.”
“My ladies!” The captain called out from behind the helm. “We only have a few moments before the Qartheen galleys stop us for taxes—I recommend you make the most of it.”
And that was how Y/N found herself diving off the side of the ship into the cool waters, uncaring that she had left her only weapon on the deck of the boat. Rhaenys was next to her, the folds of her dress floating around her like a sparkling sea creature. And little Vēzos, still unable to fly just yet, had taken to the water too, strangely enough. She flitted around the pair, yellow wings keeping her afloat.
This was paradise.
**
Oberyn-
I cannot believe little Dorea has celebrated another nameday. It feels like yesterday you have told me of her coming into this world. Did she like the little jade sun we sent? Aegon had it commissioned at the market here in Qarth.
The deal between the Pureborn and our little band of Dothraki and displaced regents is nearly solidified. We will have nearly twenty galleys with the small mountain of Valyrian steel we had reclaimed from the Rhoyne. (I, of course, have hidden several bits of armor and the lion-headed sword, and a few other weapons I had found, outside the city. Just in case. I am saving a spearhead I have found for you. I do hope you like it.)
But it does seem like the deal is taking longer than I had ever anticipated. Or perhaps I should have anticipated it—the Pureborn, the warlocks, no one wants Valyrian steel. Not when dragons have come again. For now, everyone is safe. Thriving. I know you weren’t particularly keen on any of the names chosen for the hatchlings but I am still mostly unable to tell them no when they ask so sweetly. Drogon does seem to be the largest still, followed by Vēzos, then Aegon’s Viserion, and Jon’s little Rhaegal is still…little. Mayhaps that is a cosmic joke. But you should see them when they are all together. There is something magical there, powerful. The sun shines brightly on all of them. I am so proud.
Please give Ellaria my love.
On the end of the fourth moon of their time in the city, the woman in the lacquered mask, the Shadowbinder Quaithe who still did not speak plainly no matter how much they insisted, appeared again in their rooms.
“You have not left the city, dragonriders.”
Y/N drew her sword but the masked woman did not flinch.
“What do you want?” Aegon asked.
“I have told you. You did not listen. Soon, you will not be permitted to leave the city. You all must learn the truth. And you must-”
“Pass beneath the Shadow,” Jon finished, obviously having heard the request before. “There is nothing for us in Asshai. Truth or otherwise.”
“You will learn.” The woman paused. “Do not trust the whisper.” And then she vanished, as if conjured by shadows herself and the door to their chambers burst open and the small khalasar filled in, shouting something in their language Y/N was still learning—but she caught “dragons” and “gone.” And that was all she needed. And her four charges all let out screams of anguish, as if they had lost limbs with the news. Perhaps that is what it felt like.
They all poured out of their temporary home and into the garden, past the dead bodies of a handful of Daenerys’ handmaidens, to see Pyat Pree and Xaro waiting for them. Y/N would not be able to recall anything they said, only the gist.
The other warlocks had stolen the dragons, seeking power. Xaro and Pyat Pree would lead the four (Aegon, Jon, Rhaenys, and Daenerys) to the House of the Undying, the warlocks’ seat of power in Qarth, where they were holding the hatchlings. In exchange, the two wanted Daenerys and her khalasar to help them establish a ‘new order’ in Qarth. They wanted to be kings.
In short, Daenerys agreed. She wanted nothing more than the hatchlings back and her niece and nephews happy again. But there were, of course, conditions. Only the four could go.
“This is ridiculous,” Y/N muttered.
But the four wanted to go, feeling the need—no matter how unsafe—to be near the hatchling that had chosen them.
“At least take a knife,” she said, pressing one of the (many) daggers she had into each of their hands when Xaro and Pyat had turned their backs. And that was all she could do. They would not be argued with. Y/N could only wish that she had been left in better company than Ser Jorah Mormont who seemed to be already in love with Daenerys. She did not like it. But she knew she could not always fight every battle for them, even if she wished she could, even if she wished she could shoulder the burden she knew they felt on their too-young shoulders. Their heartbreak, their anger, it was hers, too. And she would do anything she could to help make them smile again. And now? It seemed that meant waiting.
As the sun rose in the sky and then set and the moon soon followed, Y/N had not moved from the seat she had taken on the steps leading inside. Jorah had spoken to her, about his life in Westeros but she did not particularly care. He seemed to have received a lenient sentence for his crimes. But he had been proven loyal to Daenerys while Viserys had traded her to Drogo. An ally was an ally. Sending him away when they had so few this side of the Narrow Sea would be unwise.
Smoke rising on the horizon made her finally move from her seat.
But then the gate opened again and Rhaenys, Aegon, Jon, and Daenerys came rushing back, each with their hatchling carefully held in their grasps.
“We must go! Now!” Daenerys said—she quickly said it again in Dothraki and the assembled khalasar splintered, quickly picking up anything worth value as they moved.
“Khaleesi? What happened?”
Daenerys did not answer—but Jon did. “It was a trap. We’ve killed them. We must leave.”
“Where are we going?” Y/N had to ask, following them back inside to gather her things and to help pilfer.
“We will figure it out later! We must go!”
With a sword in one hand and a golden candelabra in the other, Y/N felt a chill slide down her spine and she turned to see Quaithe again. The woman simply stared at her, unmoving for a heartbeat or two, and then she slithered from the shadows. “You are their shadow, my lady. The sharp shadow. A shark with dark teeth.”
“That is not helpful!” Y/N hissed in return.
“You will learn. Just as they have—they listened. They did not trust the whisper they heard.”
“Y/N! We must go!”
She turned at the sound of the outburst to see Aegon, arms full of sacks filled with thieved treasures and Viserion on his shoulder. When she turned back to Quaithe, she was gone. Again. Y/N pushed out a sigh and turned, dashing out of the manse and not looking back. They only stopped for a moment for Y/N to dig up her buried treasure.
“You could not help yourself, could you?”
“Now is not the time, Jon.”
When they reached the port, she could already hear the screams coming from the city. Whatever had transpired at the House of the Undying was clearly more than anyone could have anticipated. Some of the Valyrian steel they had meant to sell to the Pureborn was handed over to a captain of a large ship—large enough for them and the small khalasar—and fast enough, too. Quickly, she bought a bit of ink and parchment from a vendor who seemed nonplussed at all the commotion.
She needed help.
She needed Oberyn. She needed Willas.
I do not know where we are going after Qarth, I only know that both Rhaenys and Daenerys seem to be answering a call I cannot hear. Aegon and Jon follow where they lead. Toward destiny or ruin or both, I do not know. But I do know that I cannot do this without you. I cannot guide them without you. I need you. Please.
She wrote a few lines more on each of them, asking them to bring who they wanted, pleading with Oberyn to bring Ellaria, asking Willas to continue to write to her if he could not or would not come. All of it. For the first time in over a decade, she prayed to any of the deities she could remember as she signed her name. She shoved the pair of missives into a familiar captain’s hands along with a small sack of gold and told him where to have them sent as their small group boarded the boat. All she could do was hope.
**
Astapor would not have been her first choice.
It would not have been her fifteenth choice. But Jorah had convinced Daenerys that they needed an army, a true army, not the small khalasar that they currently had. The famed Unsullied of Astapor could provide that…supposedly.
But there was a certain set to her jaw, and an unspoken look between Daenerys, Rhaenys, Aegon, and Jon that had Y/N thinking they all had ulterior motives. She had seen that same look between Ellia and Oberyn years ago, a silent conversation only they would understand. While it made her sad, it also made her hopeful. Hopeful for a future where they could all love and care for each other without fear.
Fear. A terrible thing.
Another reason why Astapor would have been avoided if she had been asked. But Ser Jorah had Daenerys’ ear and had filled her mind of thoughts of Unsullied. An army made entirely of men who would follow orders without question, who were thought to not feel pain or fear.
But, Y/N found that his words had soured the more he spoke of their ‘training’ and they stepped into the red-bricked city. Daenerys grew furious when they were given a ‘taste’ of the Unsullied and the good master, a terribly mustachioed man named Kraznys, had bragged about how they did not feed them or give them water for a day and a night and they would stand guard until they dropped. ‘Such is their obedience,’ his translator, a delicately beautiful young woman from Naath named Missandei said. All of it made Y/N’s skin crawl.
“Khaleesi. The Unsullied are chosen as boys and trained-”
“I have heard and seen all I care for about their training!” Daenerys hissed before she cracked a slap across Jorah’s cheek, tears glistening in her eyes as they retired back to the manse they had ‘graciously’ been given for the night.
Y/N glanced back at Aegon and Jon who suddenly found the manse’s ceiling very interesting but Rhaenys kept her eyes firmly trained on her aunt.
Jorah clutched at his reddened cheek. “If I have displeased my queen-”
“You have displeased me greatly, Ser. If you were my true knight, you would never have brought me to this vile sty.” Daenerys’ bottom lip trembled as if she wanted to say more but she kept quiet and turned to Y/N. “We should not have come here; I am so sorry.”
Y/N shook her head and drew Daenerys into her hold. She did not have words to soothe her. What could she say? But she watched Jorah slink from the room and kissed Daenerys’ forehead as she had done hundreds of times in Braavos. Before all of this. Before dragons.
“I want to help them,” Daenerys murmured as she pulled back from Y/N’s arms. “They are people in need of help. They do not… they do not deserve this. If we are in a position of power, should we not help them?”
“Our position of power is fragile and small,” she stressed the word. “We must be smart. There are thousands of them and only a few dozen of us.”
“That has never stopped you,” Rhaenys said with a smirk that had Y/N sighing. “And there might be thousands of them but we have dragons.”
“Baby dragons,” Y/N murmured.
“But dragons all the same,” Daenerys said, reaching out to Rhaenys who quickly took her hand.
“We have been running all our lives, unsafe for who we are. Unsafe because of something we did not chose. If… if I am to be queen, I do not want to know that there are people in this world in shackles when I had the power to help them.”
Aegon and Jon stepped up, hands on their swords. “We will help you.”
Y/N nodded. “In Skilliga, all people are free—we were looked down upon because of that by the supposed Free Cities and the Valyrian Empire before the Doom. I will fight this battle beside you. As always.”
And that is how they found themselves back in the revolting company of the good master. At first, they offered the small mountain of Valyrian steel. But, just as in Qarth, the ‘good masters’ of Astapor did not want Valyrian steel. They wanted dragons. And Kraznys always posed his questions to Aegon and Jon—as if Daenerys and Rhaenys were not there at all. Missandei, however, seemed to understand immediately that it was the women who were truly steering this possible transaction.
Y/N liked Missandei.
“We will need time to think of your offer,” Aegon said as he stood from his seat. The rest of them followed suit. There was no way any of the dragons were going to be forfeited for an army, but Kraznys did not need to know that just yet.
Kraznys sneered as he looked at them and Y/N did not need Missandei to translate his next insult. And she really didn’t think ‘stupid sunset girls’ really applied to all of them. At all. But that did not matter. When they arrived at the manse and one of Daenerys’s handmaidens, a petite woman named Irri, greeted them at the door, she was speaking rapidly, and pointing toward the manse’s solar.
For a moment, Y/N had the horrible thought that the hatchlings had been stolen again but then she caught the words “sun” and “prince.” And then she and Daenerys were darting away from the group and running toward where Irri had pointed.
She could hear them before she saw them.
But she turned a corner and saw a head full of brown curls and a familiar, shining black cane and her heart leapt into her throat as he turned to face her.
“My lady-”
She threw her arms around him in a hug and held him tight. “Oh, Willas. Oh my dear, sweet Willas. You’ve come.” And she nearly wept when she felt his arms wrap around her back and squeeze, she didn’t even care that the handle of his cane was digging into her spine. She didn’t care. He was here and in her arms.
“You have not changed at all, my lady,” he murmured as he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “Your latest letter was a…most welcome surprise.”
His warm hand gently cradled her cheek and she felt tears stinging at her eyes at the soft touch. It had been far too long since someone had touched her…at all. Especially with such care.
“I’ve missed you,” Willas whispered.
Y/N opened her mouth to respond, to tell him that she had missed him more than she could have ever put into words and so she did not try, but then the rest of her brood were rushing by her and into the solar.
“Uncle Oberyn!” Rhaenys nearly wailed.
Y/N pulled back to see Rhaenys fling herself at Oberyn who was crying into her two-toned hair with a broad smile on his face. He was older now, true. But still as handsome.
Willas’s hand gently grasped hers and led her a little further into the room. “Let me introduce you to my fair traveling companions.” He smiled at her, as if feeling her sudden nerves through her hand as it clutched his. “They were kind enough to let me stowaway on their ship after we received your letters.” He laughed but then waved a hand at the woman nearest to him. She was tall with thick, wavy black hair, dotted with golden jewelry and soft yellow samite wrapped around her in a beautiful dress with a copper belt around her waist. “This is Lady Ellaria Sand.”
Ellaria was even more beautiful than Y/N could have ever imagined. She had a regal beauty and kind eyes. Her hands were soft as she reached for Y/N and she happily let the other woman pull her into her grasp in welcome. “It was kind of you to think of me.”
“I would not have Oberyn part with the love of his life,” Y/N said as she stepped back, still smelling Ellaria’s fine perfume. “It was kind of you to join us across the Narrow Sea. I hope your daughters did not mind the waves.”
Ellaria turned and smiled at the young girls who were already surrounding Aegon and Rhaenys and cooing over the still-growing hatchlings who preened with the attention. “This was their first ship ride of this length. But they are simply happy for a bit of adventure.”
Three more women were sitting with Jon and Daenerys, speaking quietly in the corner. “That is Nymeria, Obara, and Tyene,” Willas informed her in a whisper.
“Sarella is still at the Citadel?” Y/N asked.
Ellaria nodded with a chuckle. “I am sure it was a heavy decision for her. Oberyn has promised to bring her back all the relics our ship can hold.”
“And I shall deliver on that promise, will I not, my love?” Oberyn said, appearing at Ellaria’s side and kissing her slowly at the corner of her mouth before turning to Y/N. Before she could even try to think of an appropriate greeting, Oberyn reached out and his large hands were grasping at her face and he was kissing her. She was frozen, like a scared little mouse cornered by a viper. But he tasted delicious—like citrus and spice and heat. And as soon as it started, he stepped back. His smile was large, large still as he looked at her confused face. “It is good to see you, Little Shark.”
Willas’ warm hand on her back pulled Y/N back to reality before she glanced at Ellaria who only winked at her. This did nothing to ease her growing confusion but Y/N shuffled the group toward the small hall the manse provided, telling everyone to sit more comfortably instead of standing.
Oberyn told them of how the Usurper was dead and how the Seven Kingdoms had fallen into war. The War of the Five Kings they called it. “Your mother’s family,” Oberyn said as he looked at Jon, “seem to be the largest threat to the Lannisters. They have captured Jamie Lannister.”
Jon seemed pleased with that, in his own quiet way.
“Perhaps an alliance could be made,” Ellaria said. “It would be good to have a Northron ally,” She turned and smiled at Willas, “Aside from our sweet Willas and his band of fair flowers.”
Willas’ cheeks bloomed with color at Ellaria’s words. “My grandmother and I are ready whenever we are needed. Right now, we are letting Margaery play at being queen. She knows it will only be temporary, but she has been…trained by my grandmother in all the ways she knows to sway the opinion of the low and highborn. I am sure by the time we make landfall, they may be waiting for you all with open arms.”
“I do not believe it will be hard to sway them when Cersei Lannister and her little golden children are waging war and starving them,” one of the older Sand Snakes, Obara, muttered. Y/N liked Obara.
“But enough talk of Westeros! Tell us of your lives here in Essos.”
And so they did. They started from the beginning—the four of them told their family of how they jumped from city to city, evading assassins and would-lords in search of gold and glory, all while learning of their family and former homeland across the Narrow Sea. Rhaenys was nearly glowing as she recounted their time along the Rhoyne and everyone at the table seemed entranced, too, promising to see for themselves the land that had once belonged to their ancestors. And all of that led to Astapor and the possible deal with the good master.
“You cannot truly be thinking of giving him a dragon?” Tyene asked.
“I will play his game.” Daenerys slid her hand down Drogon’s neck and the ever-growing hatchling trilled as he looked at his mother, as if agreeing to what she wanted. “He will simply not know that it is my game, my rules.”
The rest of the night was spent filled with terrible Astapori wine and shared food and laughter. Y/N was yawning but smiled when she felt Willas’ fingers trace across the back of her neck as Balerion was curled contentedly on his lap beside her. He seemed to realize what he was doing and his hand snapped back to his side, disturbing the old cat who meowed, displeased, before leaping across the table to settle in Rhaenys’ hold.
“Sorry, my lady.”
But she shook her head, still smiling. “Never apologize.”
They spoke for a little longer before Dorea and Loreza started to fall asleep in their seats and Ellaria excused herself to tuck them into bed, letting Aegon lead the way to one of the guest rooms. The group dispersed, little by little, until it was only Y/N, Willas, and Oberyn left in the hall.
“I must take my leave, my lady,” Willas said with a yawn. “I am sure I will need all my energy for tomorrow.” He looked at her then, and she could not read his face though she tried. But his intentions became clear as his lips touched her cheek before his cane tapped against the floor as he retired for the night.
Y/N nearly leapt out of her skin when Oberyn’s hand enveloped hers when he settled beside her as she watched Willas walk away. But he only chuckled. “Peace, Little Shark, peace. It is just me.”
She huffed out a laugh and let her other hand cover his. “It is good to see you, truly. You and your family…you all seem so happy.”
“We are. My daughters are healthy and happy and Ellaria is the light of my days. And you,” he squeezed her hand, “you, little shark, have raised my sister’s children. You have kept them safe and healthy and happy.” He untangled their hands only to touch the sun pendant around her throat for a moment and a brief, sad smile pulled at his lips before he reached up to grasp her face again, gentle and warm. “You. Do not think to undermine yourself to me. You love them as they love you. You have taken on a responsibility you needn’t call yours—all because you loved my sister.” He kissed her forehead. “You have loved my family.” He kissed her right cheek and Y/N felt her breath stutter in her lungs. “You have helped them bring magic back into this wretched world.” He kissed her left. “And you…you still smile like the girl I knew all those years ago.” And then he kissed her again, brushing his lips against hers with a happy sigh and all Y/N could do was let him guide her, let him rob her lungs of air for the second time that night, let him fulfill a dream she had selfishly kept since her girlhood in Westeros.
But then she remembered Ellaria. Her hand found Oberyn’s chest and she gently pushed.
“What is it?” He asked, voice soft. “If I have overstepped-”
“The mother of your youngest is asleep in the other room, My Prince.”
“And she would take the time to kiss you properly as well. And she will, when or if you give her the opportunity.” His familiar roguish smile made her stomach twist with pleasant butterflies. “My heart may have found its match with my love, Ellaria, but that does not mean yours does not call to mine as well. We were made to delight in all the gods have given us. Ellaria and I often share in our delights. If you, my little shark, are amiable, I would like to keep kissing you. I would like for Ellaria to have her chance to kiss you, too.”
And when she went to bed that night, slipping under her blankets, her mind hazed with thoughts of soft lips and kind words and the scent of roses she could not place.
The next day, they solidified the deal with Kraznys. He had tried to say he would only give them all of the Unsullied for all four dragons, but Daenerys stood firm and only agreed to one. The biggest. Drogon.
“And I shall take you as well,” Daenerys said as she turned to Missandei. “As a mark of a deal well struck.”
Missandei quickly translated to Kraznys who then waved a dismissive hand, allowing it. As if Missandei were not a person. It turned her stomach.
As soon as they were back at their manse, Rhaenys took the thick collar from around Missandei’s neck and threw it into the hearth, letting the leather smoke and burn.
“Is there a family on Naath we might reunite you with? A father, a mother?”
Missandei shook her head. “There is no one left of my family on Naath, your grace. This one is…alone.”
Daenerys reached out and gently took Missandei’s hands in her own. “You are no longer alone. You are with us. You are a free person—if you ever tire of our company, simply say so and we shall let you go wherever you wish. We will give you gold, a ship—anything you may need. I swear it.”
Missandei’s dark gold eyes searched Daenerys’ face before looking to Rhaenys and doing the same. “I will be able to leave?”
Rhaenys nodded. “Now, tomorrow, ten years from now. If you want to leave, we will make sure you are given all you require to make a comfortable life for yourself.”
“And what of the Unsullied who become yours tomorrow?”
Daenerys and Rhaenys wore matching, Cheshire smiles. “We have plans for them.”
**
“Are you certain of this plan?” Willas whispered as he watched Y/N place one of her (many) swords into its scabbard around her waist. They had been speaking all morning, of his time at Highgarden, of him traveling to Sunspear under the pretense of meeting with Princess Arianne, all of it. And she found herself realizing how easy it was to speak to him—how easy it had always been. But then the topic suddenly changed as he ask of the plan Daenerys and Rhaenys had hatched.
“I am,” she said.
“They are all destined to rule, in one way or another. They are queens; I am only an advisor. I must trust in their judgement.”
“And if it fails?”
“It won’t.” She slid another blade up her sleeve. “But I am never unprepared.” Y/N turned to Willas and smiled as she reached out to press a hand to his cheek. The mustache he had grown since she had last seen him suited him. He was always so handsome. “It is good to have you here. I shudder to think of the state of my nerves if you had refused my call.”
Willas smiled and reached up to cover her hand with his. “You know I could never refuse you, my lady.”
Y/N wanted to say more—wanted to say something, anything—but Aegon appeared in the doorway of her chambers before she could. Her hand snapped back down to her side. “It is time to go, Y/N.” His dark purple eyes shifted to Willas, “and you as well, my lord.”
Y/N nodded and stepped away from Willas with a strange, shaking smile.
In a strange procession, their group, growing by the day, arrived back at the Plaza of Pride (a stupid name). Drogon had been wrestled into a small cart that morning, his little belly filled with fine steak and Daenerys had peppered kisses along his scaled head before she had sealed him away. The battalions of Unsullied were all standing at rest, spears and shields held in front of them. Slowly, Daenerys walked to the small cart and undid its strappings, pulling Drogon from his makeshift cage with the chain on his foot. He pulled against his bonds as he neared the master. He knew.
“Is it done then? They belong to us?”
The master answered and Missandei translated. “It is done. You hold the whip.”
But the master continued talking, once again calling them all a bunch of bitches and mongrels but Daenerys did not flinch. She merely turned toward the army she now commanded and held up the whip.
“Unsullied!” Daenerys called out in her perfect High Valyrian. Y/N watched Missandei’s head snap around to look at the petite woman.
They instantly moved to attention.
“March forward!” They did. “Halt!” They did.
Y/N looked to Daenerys and then to the other three, seeing them all strangely calm. They were conquerors. They were blood of Old Valyria. They were Nymeria’s heirs. They were her charges.
“Tell the bitch the beast will not come,” the master said as Drogon continued to pull against his hold.
Daenerys slowly turned to face him, still holding the whip. “A dragon is not a slave.”
“You speak Valyrian?” He asked, aghast. But still not embarrassed.
“I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, of the blood of Old Valyria. Valyrian is my mother tongue.”
Aegon had to hide his smile behind his hand.
But then Daenerys turned back toward the Unsullied, her face set in stone. “Unsullied! Slay the masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who holds a whip, but harm no child. Strike the chains off every slave you see!”
And they did. In the next breath, the handful of masters walking at the flanks of the Unsullied had spears through their backs.
“I am your master!” The man screamed. “Kill her! Kill them all!”
“Dracarys.”
Y/N watched Drogon open his mouth and scream. Fire consumed the ‘good master’ and he screamed, too. It was a glorious scene. And, all at once, the square devolved into chaos. The assorted masters, who had come to witness the glory of the dragon, were killed where they stood. Jorah drew his sword but Y/N simply crossed her arms and watched everything unfold.
And, it was over within a span of only a few moments. The slavers were burnt and bloody. Dead. As they should be. But they were not finished.
Daenerys and her niece and nephews mounted their horses and rode through the Unsullied ranks. “Unsullied!” Daenerys called out. “You have been slaves all your life. Today, we give you freedom.”
“Any man who wishes to leave may leave, and no one will harm him. We give you our word,” Aegon said next. Y/N looked out to see a few of the helmeted men covertly glance up at him.
“Will you fight for us? As free men?” Daenerys’ voice rang out and was met with silence. For a moment. And then a single spear was smacked against the sand. Another joined. And then another. And another until the plaza was filled with the sound of the strange sound of the spears in sand.
They had their army. The city was theirs.
**
They did not leave Astapor immediately. They could not leave the city unguarded or without a stable ruling body. And a way to stabilize the economy.
The city needed to rebuilt from the destruction and just…overall. It was not well kept outside the former masters’ manses. Weeks turned to months as they met with the city’s population, trying to establish a ruling council of men and women who knew the city best and wanted to see it thrive. The Valyrian steel they still had was traded for brick and mortar, food, and medicines. Weapons. And while the city seemed to be getting its metaphorical feet back under itself again, it did nearly deplete their coffers. The gold from the dead masters was seized and redistributed to the freedmen to make sure they could provide for themselves as they settled into the new normal of the city and started their new lives.
The new Kings and Queens of the city took up residence in one of the manses and Balerion found the large open windows a favorite place to nap when he was not harassing the hatchlings, unafraid of their literal ability to breathe fire.
Rhaenys met with a small council of freedmen who had been in charge of the city’s infrastructure and had devised a plan to irrigate the city and its surrounding lands by diverting the water from Astapor’s river, which had been called Worm since the city’s inception. A terrible name, if Y/N was being honest.
But the irrigation was quickly done with new aqueducts and small orchards for plums and olives and lemons were planted, the small khalasar carrying in the plants from outside the city. A vineyard for persimmons was also widened in the center of the city, as Rhaenys knew that Astapor had the ability to make a fairly expensive and tart wine with the fruit. It made Y/N smile to realize that Rhaenys had a gift for creating (an albeit small) fertile wetland out of patch of a desert landscape.
Schools were fitted into the empty manses and training schools were established. It was slow work, true, but Y/N could not argue with the tired smiles that she saw on her charges faces each night as they gathered for dinner.
Jon and Aegon were fond of training alongside the Unsullied who were also helping other freedmen learn how to handle a sword and shield. The army was a force to be feared, truly. Grey Worm, the man they had elected to speak as their commander, had become another advisor. He spoke only High Valyrian as the rest of the Astapor did, but Missandei had been taking the time to teach who she could the Common Tongue. He was a man of the sword in all ways—but Y/N did see how his eyes softened ever so slightly whenever Missandei was in his presence. Small rebellions from former masters were quickly dealt with. There would be no room for it under their new rule. Oberyn and Willas were firm and fair advisors to the four younger regents. When to dispense bloody justice and when to stay their hand, how to broker trade with foreign kingdoms and settle arguments and disputes between their subjects—they provided guidance that Y/N and Ser Jorah could not. Missandei was a voice of the people and helped them truly know their subjects. She was the strongest of them all, Y/N was sure of it. Ellaria had a strength of her own, endearing herself and the young regents to anyone and anyone she encountered by showering them with gold for their trades and commissioning songs.
And the hatchlings were growing even faster, larger by the day. Y/N often went to market in the mornings to buy goats and cows to feed them when the others were still asleep, trying to keep the dragons from eating someone’s livestock without being compensated for it (again).
Drogon nudged her side as she dragged the fresh meat toward him and she patted his warm snout in greeting. “Good morning to you, too.”
Viserion and Rhaegal were still sleeping, curled around each other over the remnants of a fire that had been burnt last night. But Vēzos was already high in the sky, yellow and orange scales glittering in the early morning glow. But she landed after spotting her breakfast and let out a puff of smoke around Y/N’s face in thanks before she devoured her share.
“Y/N!”
She turned abruptly at the sound of Jon’s voice and frowned when she saw the unhidden panic on his pale features. Rhaegal suddenly rose from the embers of his bed and huffed, sensing his bonded’s dread. “What is it?”
**
Mayhaps Y/N should not have been surprised to see Xaro amongst the ‘envoys’ from the other slaver cities. It was not as if they had left Qarth on the best of terms…or unscathed.
“We will give you all the boats and soldiers you want or will need to retake Westeros, as long as you leave Slaver’s Bay. Immediately. And allow us to rectify the mess you have made of Astapor.”
“Removing shackles is a mess? Freeing men, women, and children is a mess?”
Drogon and Rhaegal both rumbled from behind their parents and the envoys all stumbled back, some tripping over their ornate robes and gilded slippers.
“It is our way of life!” Someone from Yunkai shouted, voice trembling.
“And their lives have value—more than the coin that line your palms.”
“Astapor is prospering,” Oberyn said. “Our coffers are twice as plentiful now with our wines and citrus and olives as they were when they traded in flesh and bone.”
“And your slaves have heard,” Rhaenys said. She looked regal on the throne beside her brothers and aunt. The Astapori gown she had commission from a freedwoman was made of a beautiful soft yellow linen and her hair was braided with a pair of golden bells at the end, a gift from Irri who had said she had earned it by helping take Astapor and the defeat of the Warlocks in Qarth. “They have heard of our people prosper. How they are free.” And that was true, there had been whispers of a start of an uprising in Yunkai and Meereen since they had taken Astapor.
“You are suggesting that we should free our slaves for a chance-”
“You were the ones to demand an audience,” Daenerys said. “And we were gracious enough to grant your request. But now that you are here, we do have a request. Free your slaves, pay them for their labor from the time you have sought to own them, and set aside your whips and chains.”
“We will not!” “Never!” On and on, the envoy refused.
“The Harpy will have her due!”
Aegon moved in front of Rhaenys, not even bothering to put his hand on the hilt of his sword. “The Harpy is a legend. A statue you have all built from the gold you have accumulated through the blood of innocents. We have four very real dragons and an army better trained and better equipped than your pampered slavers. Send your harpies.”
**
Y/N groaned as she saw yet another slash she had not remembered receiving when she was readying for bed that night. She had taken to sparring with Jon and Aegon alongside the Unsullied who were not on guard or patrol duties. It had apparently been far too long since she had dedicated time to training of that caliber—not that any of them could even hope to compare to Grey Worm and his compatriots. For now, the threats from Yunkai, Meereen, and Qarth had been unfulfilled. But they were still on their guard. But she did take a few moments of the day to help Dorea and Loreza and Obella work on their fighting stances. Elia, the eldest of the Sand Snakes born to Ellaria, was already very comfortable with her spear and had been taking to training with the Unsullied. Well, they were very patient with her and very gentle—as gentle as they could be. They were a fearsome bunch.
Y/N pulled the linen chemise over her head and reached for her dressing gown after cleaning the small wound.
“My lady,” a soft spoken handmaiden stuck her head into the chambers. “You have a visitor.”
“Send them in, please. I am just about decent enough for company.”
The handmaiden laughed quietly and nodded as Y/N tied the sash around her waist.
“Willas has been quite beneficial—he seems to have a magic touch when it comes to those persimmon trees. They bloom more every day.”
Y/N smiled as she turned to see Oberyn walking into the room. “Well, I have been told he is quite good with anything green. I would not be surprised if he and Rhaenys managed to raise a forest to rival Qohor from the sand.”
Oberyn chuckled and he held out a hand toward her. “Come, take a walk with me before you rest for the night. The night is cool enough for us to enjoy the moonlight.”
Y/N happily took his offered arm and let him lead her out to the gardens around their manse. And it was true, the air was cool and she could hear the faintest rumblings of the sea alongside the murmurs of the city. The gardens were still blooming with flowers despite the heat and the strange flora was a welcome respite from the red brick and sand of the city. It curved and cornered in a strange maze, leading around small fountains, and statues of legendary creatures, never reaching higher than their waists.
“How are your daughters finding the bay?”
“They find the air much like that of Dorne, so they do not mind the heat. But they do enjoy putting their Valyrian lessons to use and trying to learn all they can from the Unsullied.”
“They are formidable.”
Oberyn chuckled. “I would have them no other way. Dorne may be kinder than the other kingdoms of Westeros, but I would not have them unprepared for the rest of the world.” He squeezed her hand. “Just as you have made sure that the four under your care are prepared as well.”
“I have tried my best, my prince.”
Oberyn pulled them to a stop as they neared a bench and they settled next to each other and watched two of the dragons test their wings above them. “We have entered a new world. Dragons have come again. The Martell bloodline is conquering cities.”
“They want to make it a better world. And I want to see them succeed.”
“I will help them in all of their goals, I swear that to you.”
Y/N smiled, knowing what he said was true. She had never known him to break an oath.
“It seems, little shark, that we are not the only ones who thought of admiring the gardens tonight,” Oberyn whispered. He pointed toward the other side of the maze with a growing smile. Willas was standing at Ellaria’s side, looking as red as could be and trying to hide it behind his hand. Ellaria was smiling at him as if she hadn’t a care in the world—but the glint in her beautiful eyes told Y/N that Ellaria knew exactly the effect she was having on the lord.
“He does not quite know how to hold his wine,” Oberyn said with a smirk. “If given too much, he would accept any challenge.”
“Is that why there is now a golden pearl on his ear, my prince?”
Oberyn only chuckled. “You must admit, he looks quite dashing.”
“Yes, he does. But you know I’ve always been fond of his shy smile.”
“And he has been fond of you.”
Y/N clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Perhaps when I was younger, still a young wife in the making with connections to a royal court or two. It has been ages since I have made him smile like that.”
Now it was Oberyn’s turn to shake his head. “Little Lord Willas, heir to one of the most powerful kingdoms in Westeros, has remained unmarried and unattached since you disappeared from Dragonstone, little shark. And it is not for lack of trying from the many unmarried women who know of his status.”
It would be a lie to say that her heart did not clench when it was said aloud and so bluntly. “It would be foolish to think-”
“Despite his family’s animosity, he and I have…become friends.”
“Friends?” Y/N parroted with an arch of her eyebrow.
Oberyn’s wolfish smile made her stomach flip, as it always did. “You know I treat my friends well.”
Y/N shook her head with a smile, biting her lip. “No wonder he has remained unmarried. Who could compete with the Red Viper?”
Oberyn’s warm hand settled over hers and squeezed. “You know I am not opposed to having a married person in my bed. It was not me who kept him from calling someone wife.”
Y/N scoffed. “You cannot be insinuating that I-”
“I’m not insinuating anything, little shark. I am telling you. The man has been in love with you since you first came to Westeros. When he was still a shy young thing and you were the foreign maid who acted as my sister’s shadow.”
“We haven’t seen each other in over a decade. I am now old enough to be considered an old maid-”
“And the heart wants what the heart wants. He has come half way across the world because you asked him to. Now, tell me, why did you ask him?”
“I…” She tried to think of an answer. Because he had helped her flee. Because he was a friend. Because because because. But none of those reasons seemed like the truth. “I do not know.”
**
A small skirmish had broken out on the borders of Astapor. The sellsword company known as the Windblown had allegedly been hired by Yunkai to deal with the ‘dragon kings and queens.’ It, of course, hadn’t worked and they were pushed back the Unsullied.
The fight had only given them all credence to continue to feed the rebellions in the other cities and slowly cut off their supply chains at the mouth of the bay. This morning, Y/N was reviewing the takings from the ships they had seized when she noticed a familiar face was missing.
“Where has Oberyn gone?” Y/N asked as she entered the kitchens, finding Ellaria there, pouring a bit of honey over a bowl of berries.
“He set off in the night, some mission on his mind.”
“You did not go with him?” Y/N asked as she slipped into the seat beside her, plucking a handful of berries from the bowl. “I am surprised he would not have you at his side.”
Ellaria chuckled and shook her head. “He asked, but I did not think our daughters would like to be too far from the excitement of the cities.” She popped a berry between her beautiful lips with a growing smile. “And I did hope we could know each other a little better. Oberyn always speaks of you so fondly. I feel as if we are friends already.”
Y/N felt a wash of warmth as she looked at the other woman and nodded. “I feel that way as well. But I would be honored if I could steal a bit of your time today, if your daughters would not mind.”
Ellaria gave her another dashing smile. “I am sure they will survive a few hours without me.”
And so, Y/N let Ellaria lead her around the city, mostly through the markets that Y/N had not had the chance to truly peruse. And it was true, they had settled into a camaraderie that usually took years to build. Ellaria might have been the most beautiful woman Y/N had ever seen, but she was also kind and funny and had a sharp wit with a matching, striking smile. Y/N only wished she’d had the fortune of having her as a friend years ago—but Y/N would take what she could get now. And hold to it desperately.
“This?” Y/N held up a pale lilac bit of silk, they had been trying to find the right fabric for a new dress for Y/N—apparently Ellaria found Y/N’s lack of dresses something to be rectified.
Ellaria shook her head and picked up a stretch of red lace, filled with delicate flowers with tiny golden thread woven within. Ellaria draped it over Y/N’s shoulder with a smile. “This suits you. The flowers. Just a touch of gold. It is delicate—like you.”
Y/N chuckled and let her finger slide against the edge of the lace. “I do not think I have ever been called delicate.”
Ellaria’s soft fingers gently grasped Y/N’s chin and there was a steely determination in her gaze as she looked into Y/N’s eyes. “You are delicate, Y/N. Your skin and soul may have been forged in steel, but your heart is delicate. You have a soft, gentle heart. And you are ever the more beautiful for it.” Her hand moved to cradle Y/N’s cheek, surely feeling its warmth. “Do you not see yourself as I do?”
“Apparently not,” Y/N said with a shake of her head, not too rough to have Ellaria’s touch leave.
“You are,” she said and then leaned close enough to just barely brush her lips against hers before she pulled the lace from around Y/N’s shoulders and turned back to the merchant. “We will take all of this. Thank you.”
And then Ellaria was all but hauling her back into the cooled shadows of their manse and out into the gardens again, dropping their lace and silks off into the hands of a smiling handmaiden who giggled as they walked by.
It was just the pair of them in the garden, listening to the trickling of water and the wind as it rustled the rigged leaves and branches of the maze. But all Y/N could feel, see, hear, was Ellaria.
Ellaria and her beautiful lips.
Ellaria’s mouth was soft as it moved against hers. And she sighed so prettily when Y/N tangled her fingers into her thick hair and tugged.
“Oh.”
Y/N pulled away from Ellaria’s beautiful mouth to see Willas standing near one of the fountains, a pink tinge to his cheeks and a white-knuckle grip on his cane.
“Lord Willas,” Ellaria called out, her voice husky, “join us.”
Willas looked away, cheeks still roaring with color, and shook his head. “I am afraid I would only…get in the way.” He cleared his throat and turned. “Please, excuse me.”
Y/N watched him go, mind clearing for a moment, and frowned.
Ellaria dragged her lips against Y/N’s cheek. “He will join us when he’s ready. I promise you that.” She sponged a kiss at the corner of Y/N’s mouth. “But I do not want to be interrupted again. If you are agreeable, I want to see what you have hiding under this hideous tunic.”
And well, Y/N could never tell her no and led her back to her chambers and locked the door.
Ellaria was even softer beneath her fine, silk dress that Y/N slowly pushed down her arms to greedily cup her full breasts in her hands.
“Eager,” Ellaria said with a breathy chuckle.
Y/N could only whine against her mouth as she felt Ellaria’s nimble fingers slide easily beneath the tops of her leather breeches. They were pushed down her legs and her loose tunic was pulled up and over her head before Ellaria all but shoved her back onto the featherbed, watching her bounce with a smile. Y/N didn’t even have thought to be a little shy over her nakedness—she just wanted Ellaria close again. And then Ellaria was crawling up the bed and settling across Y/N’s stomach, warm thighs bracketing her ribs. And there was something nearly magical with knowing she was the cause of the slick spot she could feel growing just above her belly button. She had made Ellaria feel like that.
Y/N’s hands slid up her smooth skin to hold her hips and Ellaria’s hands settled over hers with a widening smile.
“I like seeing you like this,” Ellaria said before leaning down to lick across Y/N’s mouth before kissing her thoroughly, oh so easily stealing the breath from her lungs. Then she moved. Her lips trailed down Y/N’s neck, to her chest, teeth scraping against the curve of her breasts as she slid down Y/N’s body, and dragged her slick lips against Y/N’s skin.
Her mind was a warm mess—all there was, was Ellaria and her beautiful mouth. Ellaria and her perfect hands. Ellaria and her wet tongue.
Ellaria slipped between Y/N’s legs and kissed her left hip and then her right before licking a bold stripe against Y/N’s folds, wrenching a broken moan from her lips. “So pretty,” Ellaria cooed. And her grip tightened. Again and again the Dornishwoman’s tongue curled and twisted and Y/N could feel an unfamiliar coil start to tighten in her stomach as her thighs suddenly clamped around Ellaria’s head. The woman only laughed against her core and the vibrations had Y/N moaning, hands reaching down to tangle in Ellaria’s perfect, perfumed hair. Ellaria managed to wriggle her hand between them and curled one finger and then two into the wet heat of Y/N’s core and started to slide them in and out, in and out, wet sounds filling the air alongside Y/N’s growing moans.
It was perfect. She was perfect. And as soon as Ellaria curled her fingers, the coil snapped and Y/N sobbed. Her heart was racing, sweat and dotted her chest and brow but she felt beautiful and her vision cleared and she looked down to see Ellaria pressing her cheek against her hip, drawing shapes against her heated skin with the dull nail of her forefinger.
“You must teach me how to do that. I want to make you feel like this.”
And so…Ellaria did.
**
The next morning, Ellaria was still sleeping peacefully, tangled in Y/N’s silken blankets as she rose with the sun. Y/N gently pressed a kiss to her cheek and slipped away from her comforting warmth to ready for the day and found Daenerys sitting on one of the manse’s balconies, watching the four hatchlings soar above the gardens as the sun grew hotter and higher in the sky. Y/N sat beside her and had a bit of food brought out so they could break their fast together. Daenerys seemed…happy. Truly. Happier than she had been since Y/N had seen her last, as a child. But there was something she was not saying. Y/N knew it.
“Tell me what is on your mind, Dany.” She reached out and gently grasped the young princess’ hand and squeezed three times.
“I do not…” She paused. “I was born on Dragonstone. I am the princess of the rightful ruling family.” She pushed out a long breath. “I will see my niece on the Iron Throne and I know the kingdom will be better for it.”
“But?” Y/N asked, knowing there was something else that needed to be said.
“But I do not know if Westeros is my home. I have no memories of it. Jon and Aegon do not either but they still feel some sort of calling, a need to go back.” The wind blew a bit of her silver hair across her face as she looked out across the bay. “I do not feel that. Viserys sold me for the throne he thought he deserved and I found a small bit of solace in my few friends in my khalasar and then more here with the Unsullied and the freedmen of the bay.”
Y/N watched a few emotions flitter across Daenerys’ face before she turned back to the bay, too. “You have been pushed and pulled to one place or another your entire life, Dany. Finding a place where you feel at home is something to be proud of. Do not let other people’s opinions or aspirations dictate yours. You deserve a home. Peace.”
“And where is your home? Skilliga?”
Y/N shrugged. “Skilliga has housed me and raised me just as much as Westeros and Essos has, I suppose. I know my uncle and cousins are safe and happy there. I know that I will be able to hear and taste the sea from my rooms again if I ever went back.” She sighed. “But I think I have seen too much of the world to be happy on my little island again, for the rest of my life.”
“Mayhaps you can find a home with Lord Willas. I have heard how he calls on you—ever so sweetly.”
Y/N groaned. “Not you as well, Dany!”
The girl only laughed.
Y/N sighed. “Either way, if you want to stay in Essos, you can. What is a few thousand miles to a dragon, hm? Nothing. Your family will never be too far.” She tugged at the end of Daenerys’ braid and listened to the Dothraki bells she had earned ring. “But you mustn’t think of it just yet, Dany. We still have so much more to do.” She pressed a smile to her face. “We have time.”
Daenerys giggled and shook her head. “And we still have so much to do this side of the Narrow Sea.”
**
It had been ages since Y/N had thought of sacking a city. She used to dream of it as a little girl, bringing home riches and other pretty things to fill her rooms and make her parents proud. But perhaps her parents were more bloodthirsty than the rest of Skilliga—and that had been why Uncle Hammond had sent her away to Westeros, to try to quell that need for violence with the niceties of a foreign court and responsibility. But, she had to ask herself as she looked over the maps of the cities and waterways and tunnels, that hadn’t quite worked, had it?
Obara and Nymeria were near-master tacticians, easily finding ways Y/N did not see to surround the city and infiltrate even the thickest of defense walls. But their true expertise, it seemed, in planning diversions.
“I can take a small battalion of freedmen to the west gate and use the two battering rams we have made from the scraps of Valyrian steel.”
“That will give Grey Worm’s host enough of time to march through the South Gate which will be raised by Belwas.”
Dorea was seated on Y/N’s lap, as she often was during war room discussions, moving the pieces across the war map along with her sisters’ plans. Y/N never did mind when she first crawled atop her legs without invitation but had welcomed her every time it happened. She reminded Y/N of the quietly intelligent but playful Rhaenys used to be.
“I like this color,” Dorea said, holding up the Martell orange token embellished with the familiar red dragon of House Targaryen.
“It is pretty, is it not?” Y/N answered. “Can you put that at the West Gate for me?”
The little girl did happily.
“Thank you, Dorea,” She said as she gently swept Dorea’s hair away from her forehead, it had fallen from the intricate braid Ellaria had woven this morning. “We shall make a strategist out of you yet.”
She happily laughed and it drew more smiles from Obara and Nymeria. “I’m hungry.”
“I think the kitchens are just about ready for luncheon, little one. Why don’t you go see?”
Dorea leapt from Y/N’s lap and scurried away with another laugh.
“You are good with her.”
“I have had plenty of practice.”
“When you have your own, I am sure even the nurses will know less than you.”
Y/N huffed at Nymeria’s well-intentioned remark. “I am not sure if I will have any of my own.”
“Why not?” Obara asked, arching one of her dark eyebrows. “It is obvious you crave for some of your own.”
Y/N opened her mouth to respond when the door to the war room opened and Tyene ran inside, her pale cheeks were filled with color and her eyes darted to her sisters.
“Someone has breached our walls.”
Y/N was running out of the room before she could hear the rest of what Tyene had said—she sprinted toward the kitchens, where she knew her charges were probably gathering for their next meal.
And she was, unfortunately, correct.
And it seemed the intruder knew their schedule as well.
Two men with golden harpy masks had Daenerys at the end of their swords. Little Dorea was standing behind her, eyes narrowed. The bodies of the kitchen maids were on the floor, crimson puddles staining the marble floors.
Y/N had meant to sneak up on them. Truly. They hadn’t noticed her presence just yet-
But Aegon and Jon burst in through the other door and drew the harpies’ attention. They pivoted and their swords raised. Y/N shoved Aegon out of the way and felt the warm steel sink into her stomach. And then it happened again, the blade finding the bone of her hip as it broke through. Blood bubbled in her mouth with her next breath and she watched, in a haze, as Jon took one of the men’s head from his shoulders.
“Y/N?” Rhaenys’ voice was fading in her ears as she fell to her knees, she barely saw her eldest standing in the kitchen doorway.
There was a scuffle with the other man, but she hardly noticed, feeling her heart beat in time with the warmth coating her hands. It drip drip dripped onto the marble in an uneven staccato.
It took her a moment to realize that both Rhaenys and Daenerys were trying to speak to her, their little hands pressing over her wounds and trying to staunch the bleeding.
“That hurts,” Y/N said, words tumbling from her mouth without thought. Of course it hurt. She had been stabbed.
“I cannot do this without you,” Rhaenys cried.
“You will be just fine, sunshine.”
Daenerys was yelling for the healers as Aegon and Jon held the other Harpy on his knees.
“Don’t speak like that,” she whispered. “I need you.”
Y/N wanted to say something, wanted to say that she knew Rhaenys and her brothers and aunt would be fine—they would shape the world into a better place with Oberyn, Ellaria, and Willas at their side. She knew because she had seen it—that maybe a bit of the old magic had finally stirred in her foreigner blood. But her blood was currently filling her mouth and her world went dark.
**
She remembered very little from her time under the healer’s hands. Pain, the smell of Milk of the Poppy, someone was crying. And then nothing. Nothing.
Nothing until a warm, soft hand gently cradled her cheek. “I will wait,” someone whispered. “I have waited years, I can wait a few moons longer.”
But she woke, fully, as soon as she could and was told that her movements would be stilted and painful for some time.
Willas was at her side when her eyes opened, clear for the first time in weeks even if her brain did still feel fogged with the Milk of the Poppy. “It is good to see your beautiful eyes again, my lady. We have all missed you.” She spotted Balerion at the foot of the featherbed, looking more content to be in her presence than he had ever been before.
Y/N reached out and scratched behind Balerion's ears before she touched Willas' hand and watched his shoulders sag, as if he had been carrying some unseen weight across his back and had finally been relieved of it. “I mean this in the best way, my lord. But you look as if you have not rested in weeks.”
Willas huffed. “I have not. Most of us have not. We have been taking shifts to be at your side. The healers have said it would be best to keep an eye on you. Lady Ellaria just left, she has been the most dutiful to be at your bedside beside Her Grace, Rhaenys. Oberyn has been diligent in making sure your wrappings were changed.” He squeezed at her hand. “Do I truly look so unwell?”
Y/N smiled, feeling her dry lips crack with the motion. “Still handsome. As always, my lord.”
“Please, call me Willas.”
“We are alone, I suppose it could be appropriate-”
“Always, please, simply call me Willas. We have known each other long enough. Willas. I am Willas just as you are my Y/N.”
“My Willas.” She liked the sound of it. She liked it even more when his cheeks once again bloomed a pretty pink. “Tell me, my Willas, what have I missed since I have come to this bed?”
Apparently she had missed quite a bit.
Yunkai and Meereen had both fallen under the weight of the combined armies of the Unsullied, trained Freedmen, and the Second Sons—and bolstered by the revolts Aegon and Grey Worm had started by slipping into the cities under the cover of darkness to speak to anyone who would listen. Daenerys had united almost all of the Dothraki under a single khalasar and had been named the Great Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, commanding a group of Dothraki the world had never seen. Ser Jorah had been sent away after it had been discovered that he had been sending information to King Robert about the movements of Daenerys and Viserys and had been the reason assassins had been able to track them across Essos. Norvos and Qohor had freed their slaves without the threat of dragons—both cities cited the coming of dragons and magic and prophecy (but Y/N hypothesized that the Dothraki might have ‘helped’ their decision). It was all very…strange. Whispers from the red priests and priestess of the Red God of R’hllor, the Lord of Light, were spreading through all of western Essos, calling the four The Princes who were Promised. Azor Ahai, a prophesized hero. And Oberyn had contracted his old sellsword company, the Second Sons, bringing them under his employ to help bolster their forces. That was where he had gone, apparently he had returned only a few moments after Y/N had been carted off to the healers. Blood was still covering the kitchen when he had come in.
“I have only seen him so distressed once before,” Willas said, still holding her hand.
“Oh?”
“Yes. Lady Ellaria, after bringing little Loreza into the world, she kept…bleeding. And Loreza was called ‘sickly’ and ‘weak.’ The maesters told him to expect to lose them both before the sun went down. I have never seen a man so in love and so enraged. He raged at the world. Pleaded with the gods, cursed them. Oberyn threw the maesters out of the palace and sent for a healer from the Orphans of the Greenblood, an elder wise woman who kept the old gods of the Rhoynar. And she came. When the moon rose, Ellaria was holding little Loreza to her breast and she was smiling.” His thumb drew small circles on the back of her hand. “He only smiled again when he kissed them, moon high in the sky and with river water on his skin.” He sighed and a small smile pushed up his lips. “And then he saw you, covered in your own blood and about to welcome the Stranger with both arms. And I saw that desperate, raging man again.”
Y/N looked at him then, watched his untamed, dark curls fall over his forehead and she reached out with her free hand to gently push them back. Willas leaned into her touch and her heart leapt into throat when he turned his face just the slightest bit to slide his lips against the pulse of her wrist. “But I am here now. I am healing.”
“You are. But there is much more to do, is there not? And you will not stop. Not while your hatchlings, Aegon, Rhaenys, Jon, and Daenerys, still need you.” His grip tightened on her hand just a moment. “You will not stop,” he repeated.
“You know I cannot.”
“Then I will be beside you until this is finished.” He brought their joined hands up to his mouth and he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “And I still have more to tell you.”
The declarations of war from Lys, Myr, Tyrosh, and Pentos were more of what she was expecting. The might of Braavos and the few war ships little Lorath had were pledged to the Martells’ and Targaryens’ cause.
War had come to Essos again.
**
Y/N supposed she should not have been surprised that a few hundred people decided to leave the Bay and follow them toward the Free Cities. Leaving a city in search of a better life was something she had done, many times over.
Volantis had fallen, surrendered and another city had been added to the growing empire. Like in Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen, they had settled in the city and weeded out possible uprisings and subterfuge while redistributing the former masters’ wealth and resources to those who deserved it.
When they continued on, part of their army was left to help protect them and help the new council of Freedmen who had pledged loyalty to Rhaenys, Aegon, Jon, and Daenerys.
But before they moved on toward the Free Cities, who were already warring with Braavos and a few battalions sent by Qohor and Norvos, they stopped, once again, at Chroyane.
“I have never seen anything more beautiful,” Oberyn said, a large smile splitting his face. “Even in ruin, she is magnificent.”
The two littlest of the Sand Snakes shrieked at the sight and all but leapt from their horse and into the clear river water. Ellaria laughed as she watched them before tying up her skirt to follow suit.
It was a welcome reprieve. Y/N’s scars ached when she moved too quickly sometimes and the constant jostling of her mare sometimes only made it worse. It felt good to dip her feet into the cooled waters and listen to the children laugh and splash in the river. Balerion once again watched one of the giant turtles with calculating eyes as he let the sun warm his black fur.
Oberyn settled at Y/N’s side on the bank of the river and watched the sun set in a quiet companionship. “I never thought I would see this. I never thought the sun would shine on this part of the world again. And here it is, as beautiful as ever.”
“It is almost as if the Mother Rhoyne was simply waiting for them,” Y/N said, tilting her head just so to indicated Rhaenys and Aegon who were now splashing around with Ellaria and her daughters, dodging Tyene and Nymeria’s hands as they tried to dunk them into the slow moving waves.
The four dragons trilled above them in the crystal blue sky, as content as their bonded.
Oberyn’s roughened, warm hand settled over hers on the bank. Without a word, he leaned into her and pressed a slow kiss against the side of her neck but she felt him smile against her skin as she shivered. “You are magnificent, little shark. I owe you, my family owes you a great debt.”
“I am owed nothing. I only want to see them grow and succeed. I love them.”
“And they love you,” Oberyn said as he sat back to look at her, smile at her in the sun. “My family loves you. I love you.”
Her heart stuttered. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It is. You have made it easy.”
Y/N dropped her chin to her chest, hiding her smile before Oberyn’s finger hooked under her chin and he kissed her briefly.
“Papa!” Dorea called out. “Come play with us!”
Y/N drew back to see his daughters waving him forward, all of them positively drenched. “Go,” Y/N said with a laugh. “You are being summoned.”
Oberyn kissed her cheek before rising and then making a show of running and jumping into the river near them, splashing them all in one motion.
Y/N roared with laughter at the scene but quickly stood when she saw Nymeria and Ellaria turn their gazes to her, hands cupped with water and ready to splash. “Not today!” Y/N stumbled to her feet and managed to evade most of the aimed water as she laughed.
She walked barefoot through the ruins and over the riverbank, seeing their traveling party all partaking in the clean water and cool air. For a moment, there was peace. She spotted Missandei and Grey Worm quietly speaking on the broken stone of a palace, their feet in the water. Irri and Jhiqui were happily watering their horses further downstream while a few other members of the khalasar were racing their mounts through the tall, green grass. Daenerys and Jon were both pulling more weapons from the muck at the opposite bank and handing them off to whomever was by.
But it was Willas, sitting a little further away from the river, which caught her eye. He was cross-legged on the green grass, fiddling with something on his lap while his cane was settled beside him. The sun was shining on his dark hair, curls once again a bit mussed.
“What are you making?”
“A crown,” Willas said, cheeks once again blooming with color as she sat beside him. “My little sister taught me how to do it a few years ago. We would sit in the fields around Highgarden and pluck wildflowers to string together. Hers were always much more polished than mine.”
Y/N leaned a little closer to see that while it might not have been perfectly braided, it was still tightly woven and the flowers were in full bloom. “I think yours is well done, Willas. Will you teach me?”
Y/N laughed as Willas dropped the haphazard crown of white blooms onto her head and it nearly fell over her eyes. “I will let you have mine,” he said, but he did tried to teach her—until Y/N’s indelicate fingers ruined her third crown and she gave up, throwing herself back into the soft grass with a laugh. She reached up for a moment and grabbed the back of Willas’ tunic, pulling him down beside her.
They spoke for a little bit, of magic, of Highgarden, of their adventures in the Bay—now affectionately and rightly dubbed Dragon’s Bay. It was easy.
“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”
Y/N hummed at the question, mulling the answers in her mind. “I have lived and crossed the Narrow Sea, the Summer Sea, too. I have tasted and tested the Jade Sea. The Shivering Sea holds no value to me and that only leaves…”
“The Sunset Sea.” Willas nodded. She might have noticed a bit of pink touch his cheeks but she did not mention it. “The Mander, the river in the Reach, rushes by Highgarden and empties into the Sunset Sea.” He cleared his throat. “I could… House Tyrell has barges which sail that route easily. I would be happy to make sure you see your wish fulfilled.”
Y/N smiled and shook her head as she turned in the grass to look at him. “You are far too kind, Lord Willas. But what of you? Where would you go?”
The pink was raging on his cheeks now. “I would wish to only be at your side.”
Y/N felt her next breath stall in her throat and she looked at him, his cheeks still filled with pink but his blue eyes were so earnest—they had always been so lovely. “I suppose I do provide a bit of adventure.”
“You provide much more than that. I promise you.”
She wanted to say something. She wanted to say that he provided so much more than anything she could have hoped for but, it seemed that fate had other plans. “Y/N!”
She sat up from the grass to see Daenerys and a still-damp Rhaenys waving her over. The ground shook as both Drogon and Vēzos landed. They made quite a pair, the black and the yellow. “What is it, my loves?”
“We are taking them up to test their wings with riders again.” It had been a new practice, apparently, for all four of them to take their dragons to flight. They were surely large enough for it now.
Daenerys quickly climbed onto Drogon’s back and Rhaenys did the same.
“Come with me,” Rhaenys said, extending a hand toward Y/N. “Fly.”
Without thought, Y/N took Rhaenys’ hand and let her pull her up onto Vēzos’ back. And then, with a rumble, they were taking to the sky, the cool air whipping over her skin as she held, probably too tightly, to the spikes along the dragon’s back. But she listened to Rhaenys laugh and saw Daenerys smile and her momentary fear vanished. They were happy.
And she was flying.
When they landed, a small group of Freedmen were waiting for them and asked for an audience with Rhaenys which she quickly agreed to, always willing to hear anything her subjects would bring to her.
“Your Grace,” one man said, a timid smile on his face. “It would be a great honor if we could rebuild the palace for you and your family. The city.”
Rhaenys shook her head as she reached out toward the man and gently took his rough hands. “Your life is your own. You do not need to rebuild the city simply because I find it lovely.”
The man ducked his head, smile growing. “We know it is not an order you would give, Your Grace. We have made a…” he frowned, searching for the word, “council, as you have in Astapor and Yunkai and Meereen. And we want to stay here, rebuild. The soil is fertile, the trade possibility is strong. We could build a home here, beautiful and strong like it once was.”
Y/N watched Rhaenys’ eyes fill with tears and she diverted her gaze, letting the young queen compose herself.
“And you truly believe that your families could be happy here? It could take years before it is fully rebuilt.”
The man nodded and looked at Rhaenys, his small smile growing. “It will be hard work, but I know it would be worth it, Your Grace. A new home for us, for your family.”
Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before she squeezed the man’s hands again. “Then it would be an honor.”
**
The Disputed Lands had been feuded over and razed and rebuilt over and over again since the Doom. Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr all laid claim to them and would war with the others over the fertile soil. But they now belonged to Rhaenys and her brothers and aunt.
Braavos and Lorath were making almost embarrassingly quick work of conquering the cities with the help of another set of sellsword companies from the north and east, and with the Dragons and their armies making war on them from the west and Y/N and Willas led a small fleet of ships outfitted with weapons salvaged from the Chroyane sailing from the South, it was finished within a few short moons.
The Sealord of Braavos met them just outside the high walls of Pentos, presenting them with the signed surrender of the magistrates and city prince—and a few extra ‘gifts.’ One was the head of Illyrio Mopatis. The next two were faces she barely recognized—and truly, she recognized their names more than their persons. Tyrion Lannister and Varys both had chains around their wrists but seemed pleased with the situation. “They say they want to swear loyalty to your dragon kings and queens.”
“Yes, well,” Y/N’s eyes dragged over the pair, distrusting. “Most do after they see dragonfire.” The fire still blazing behind the walls scented the air.
Y/N left her charges to speak politics with their ally and went to check on the dragons as they rested in the fields. The four had fought bravely, if not a little erratically. They were still getting used to battles and they were still young. They were fearsome though, and Y/N loved them as their riders did. The large creatures huffed in welcome as she neared and she patted their sides in hello.
Oberyn carefully walked toward them, knowing that the dragons recognized him but was still cautious. When they accepted his familiar scent, they either lowered their heads to rest again or nudged him once in greeting. “They are protective of you,” Oberyn said as he watched Y/N stroke at Drogon’s nose, content. “You may not be their bonded rider, but they know you just the same.”
“I think it is because their riders smell like me.”
Drogon huffed.
“He disagrees,” Oberyn said with a laugh. “They recognize you because they feel what their bonded riders feel.”
“I would not argue with a dragon,” Ellaria laughed as she joined them in the field. She reached out and stroked Rhaegal’s side. “They are calling for the Queenmaker,” she said as she watched Rhaegal’s wings stretch.
Y/N sighed. She had earned a few monikers during the conquest of western Essos. She had been called Queenmaker. The Sea Dragon. Preposterous names, truly. The four had given themselves their crowns, forged their own paths. She just made sure they had survived to this point. She did not make them. And she had no dragon of her own. But she answered to the monikers anyway. It was less of an argument. “What has happened now?”
Ellaria chuckled. “I do believe it is to settle a dispute between a few of your Corsairs.”
Y/N nodded and excused herself but was stopped when Ellaria grasped her wrist. She kissed her quickly with a smile. “Come back soon. It has been a long day.”
And Y/N quickly hurried off, a smile on her face.
**
They settled in Pentos. The throne that once belonged to the Prince of Pentos had been divided into four equal chairs, just as all the thrones of the cities they had conquered had been. The rooms were thankfully spacious and an entire room had been filled with the scrap Valyrian Steel they had taken from the ruins and mud of the Chroyane. It would provide food and protection for their new empire if spent correctly—and Willas was already making sure that food was being traded responsibly and fairly between the cities while the sellsword companies they had paid were continuing to be paid to keep their loyalty. And he was also mostly in charge of the ‘care’ of their two Westerosi guests. Tyrion and Varys had proven mostly useful with their knowledge about the political turmoil currently engulfing the Seven Kingdoms and bringing news of the “terrible” death of Tywin Lannister while also providing possible battle plans when they finally did make land for Rhaenys’ crown. But Y/N still did not like them.
But that was not her mission for the day (despite realizing how handsome Willas looked while poring over the parchment detailing food storage and trade routes in his chambers with a slumbering Balerion on his lap). No. Aegon’s ten-and-six nameday was nearly upon them and Y/N had the perfect present in mind. She had given a set of Valyrian Steel-tipped arrows and a dragonbone bow to Rhaenys for her ten-and-sixth nameday, and now it was Aegon’s turn. The stupid lion head pommel was not Valyrian steel so she had no problem seeing it hacked off and reworked. The smith was quick and skilled, easily melting the gold into a puddle to be reformed. She watched him work, perching on the rickety stool in the corner and talking with him as the smoke and steam from his work clouded the forge. He was a genial man, happy to tell his story and hear hers in return. “They are blessed to have you, the little kings and queens.”
Y/N laughed and shook her head. “No, no. I am the blessed. They have been the lights of my life.”
“You have no children?”
Y/N nearly choked on her breath at the blunt question. “N-no. I have been… They have been my children, I suppose.”
The smith nodded at that and then continued to work in silence, attaching the new pommel to the rest of the jeweled hilt. He made it look easy and handed over the sword, now topped with a sun. It was perfect—and finished just in time.
She presented it to him at the end of his favorite meal and laughed when he tried to hug her, still holding the blade out in front of him.
“Let me see it!” Oberyn said with a laugh and Aegon happily handed it over to his uncle who inspected it with a practiced eye. Y/N did not expect the laughter that bubbled out of Oberyn’s throat but it made her smile either way. “Did this have a lion’s head, little shark?”
Y/N nodded.
Oberyn handed the blade back over to Aegon with a flourish. “You are holding the Valyrian steel sword that House Lannister once wielded. I find it…poetic that you will now call it your own.”
“But it needs a name!” Jon said. “All good swords need a name.”
Aegon held the sword up as Rhaenys and Daenerys cheered alongside their family. “It shall be called Sunshard.”
Perhaps she could convince him to change it later or Jon would come up with a better name for the Valyrian Steel axe she had stowed away for his next nameday or the dagger she would give to Daenerys for hers. But for now, she let Aegon swing the sword around like he was a little boy in the training grounds again.
For now, they were happy.
When the celebration died down and they dispersed for the night, the taste of honeycakes and lemon still on their tongues, Y/N found herself surprised to find Daenerys and Rhaenys waiting for her in the small solar connected to her chambers.
“This is a surprise, my loves. How may I help you?”
Rhaenys reached out her hands for Y/N to take and squeezed them both three times with a smile as she pulled her down on the cushioned bench between them. “Today was a joyous day. One finally filled without war or training or bloodshed.”
“We have all fought hard for it,” Daenerys murmured.
“You were a child yourself when you took us with you to Essos. Where had your childhood gone? The court at the Red Keep. Running and hiding with three babes who were not yours through a foreign land.”
“I made that choice. And I would make it again-”
“I am asking you to make the choice to be happy. To let yourself have an adventure without worrying over us.”
“I will always worry over you.”
“Just as we worry over you. You have been our guiding hand, our fiercest protector and staunchest supporter. Our most loyal older sibling. You have loved us. We love you. And we want you to be happy.”
Y/N turned to Daenerys as if that would provide some sort of answer. “Are you asking me to leave your side?”
“Never!” Both Rhaenys and Daenerys shouted.
“We will never send you away. But, we want you to know that if you are called to someone’s side, we want you to be happy.”
“What has brought this on? Have I said something?” The words caught in her throat but Rhaenys simply squeezed her hands again. One two three.
“No. But we have realized that you have set aside everything for us. And we simply want you to be happy.”
They each leaned forward and kissed her on the cheeks. The three spoke for a little longer, calming Y/N’s strange fear of being sent away, before they excused themselves with matching yawns. But Y/N could not sleep. Not with that strange revelation singing in her ears.
She pulled on her dressing gown and padded down to the gardens of the palace. She could hear the sea and it was a small comfort. But she turned at the familiar tap of a cane against stone and smiled as Willas settled beside her.
“You could not sleep either?”
He shook his head, curls sliding against his ears. “I suppose I am now accustomed to a little more excitement during the day to tire me out.”
Y/N chuckled and angled her head up to look at the glittering stars. “But it was a good day. I can sleep late tomorrow.”
The pair was quiet for a moment, the comfortable silence between them only broken by the inconsistent chittering of a bird or the sea crashing against the city walls.
“When this is over, will you rest?”
Y/N frowned at the question and turned to look at him. “Rest?”
“When the little hatchlings are settled in their kingdoms and safe. Where will you be?”
“I…” She tried to find the words she needed but she did not know the answer.
Willas reached out and gently grasped her hand. “You deserve rest too, my lady.” He looked at her, blue eyes shining and a familiar pink tint to his cheeks.
The quiet moment was cut short by a violent scream—one Y/N knew too well. She leapt to her feet and dashed back into the palace. Y/N pushed through the hall and burst into Rhaenys’ room to see her shivering on her bed. “Oh, my sunshine.”
Rhaenys reached out for her and Y/N instantly wrapped her arms around her as they sunk into the plush featherbed. “They have come again,” she whispered. “The cold. The ice. The terrible dead men. They are haunting me again.” Rhaenys reached up and played with the sun pendant. And then she was a little girl again and Y/N was reading her a story about talking turtles to help her sleep. “We have to go back to Westeros,” Rhaenys said, voice soft but steady. “They are coming.”
A/N: Please let me know what you think! Your reblogs, likes, and comments mean the world to me!
(and another banner by the lovely @thesadvampire)
Beautiful people who asked to be tagged: @pettyprocrastination @evyiione @elinedjarin @xsadderdazeforeverx @revolution-starter
#Oberyn Martell x Reader#Oberyn Martell imagine#willas tyrell x reader#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones#asoiaf#oberyn martell#willas tyrell#ellaria sand
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“Still dating,” I really don’t mind elaborating the kind of relationship and interaction Levi and I had every time we were together. As long as he’s happy and contented, I won’t ask and won’t even dare open up if he has plans to level up ‘us’. It’ll just make things complicated between our hearts and our real agenda.
“Did you fuck each other already?”
“What? No.”
Although, some nights, he’s in my dreams, fucking his loads into me until he fulfilled his bank of satisfaction.
Let’s just say I’m indebted to him that’s why I am letting him use me as a bait or a shield againsts those women who tries luring him to a marriage or to any responsibilities that would tie him up in a kind of life he never wanted.
Willa flashes a malicious grin and pinches my side, “what if he asks you to do some job for him, will you do it?” I did not falter when I responded.
“I will if he wants me to but, I’m just a bait and nothing more than that.”
“He’s here.” My friend cocks her head to the main gate and we watch his expensive rover enters our University and park right in front of us, “Levi.” Willa acknowledges his arrival and he responds with a nod, “Willa, it’s good to see you.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Wils.” I give my friend a hug and hop on in his car.
Levi drives in silence which was his usual behaviour when we’re together. We lived in a same house but sleeps in different rooms and definitely not into romantics. Though, I’d be happy if we could engage ourselves into it.
He’s just uh, too uptight to be as sweet as a candy.
“Hey there, wait a sec.” His left hand almost got squeezed by the door of my room but he managed to remain calm and unbothered.
The door creaks open and slams closed when we stepped in to my room, him dragging me to the bed I don’t sleep on.
“Wh–why?” I ask when he instructed me to kneel. He sits on the edge, unzips his pants and freed his thing.
I gulp secretly and even curse under my breath. My eyes water at the sight of it and he’s very attentive in cupping my face and wiping the moisture on the corner of my eyes.
“We’ve been dating but you haven’t had a taste of me, right? Let’s start from the bottom, yeah?”
Can I do it? I have never sucked a man’s thing before nor had a chance to touch one.
“You can do it, baby. I’ve seen you licked an ice cream before. Close your eyes if you must, hmm?”
Sounds easy but too hard to execute. I shut my eyes closed. Pray first. Put my trembling hands around his long rod and breathe in strength and confidence.
Its skin feels soft and delicate between my lips but the whole thing is far different. It’s thick and hard as his fingers combing my shoulder length hair, slightly pulling the tension from the scalp. My mouth feels full by just having the tip around the circumference of my lips. It is bigger and harder, enough to piston down the sensitive muscle of a woman.
“Full already?” he teases, grabbing my hair fully as he lifts my head to spit in my mouth. It caught me off having a man’s saliva on my tongue but it feels warm and sweet and arousing that when he dropped his lips onto mine and kissed me hard just to force more of his spittle down my throat, I did nothing but moan alongside with his rough and sloppy kisses.
“Ooh, God!” I gasp after feeling his tight pull on the strands of my hair.
“Do it, baby, ‘kay?” I nod, lowering my head back to his tip, swallowing it first and clenching it against my lips. Levi let out a grunt and before I could even ask if I’m doing the job right, he pushed my head deep to his member, slamming the hard cap against my throat. I squeal and squirm and cry in my head all at once. The feeling of his erection installed fully and deeper in my mouth feels lethal and the tension down my pipe was forcibly undeniable. I let out choking noises and I heard him laugh at it, pulling my head up and slamming it back again. Then pulled again, withdrawing his size to look down at my tears dampened face.
“First time, baby?” I nod again, muffling my cries from the rough force that lingers in my mouth and down my windpipe. I failed in suppressing my cries that’s why I ended up sobbing on his muscular thighs, “ssshh, baby, it’s fine. You hurt?” I shake my head no. Liar. I scream in my head. My throat was throbbing in pain and my mouth feels numb by his huge size that previously stuffed in my airways.
Levi pulls me back to my feet, squeezing my sides with his calloused palms and fingers, face leveling with my chest.
“Why are we doing this?” I sob, holding onto his arms that continuously squeezing and kneading the skin under the uniform I am wearing.
“Can’t we do it?” he asks back, lips thinning into a mischievous grin.
He warms my heart and eases the pain in my throat by lacing his fingers along the lines of my lips, then pushes a digit between it, pressing softly and then poking my tongue with his sharp nail. I closed my eyes as I moan his name, almost like a whisper but loud enough for him to hear.
“Le–Levi... Levi... ” want him to do something to me. Something dirty. Something new. But how can you name a feeling so new, so strange and so addicting?
Another digit was added between my lips, pumping gently, heating the already burning fuel in me, “say it, baby. Say it.” He knows I’m craving for that heat. He’s putting me on the edge like how a bait should be treated. On the edge. On the brink of death.
Completely succumbed, I whisper those filthy shits, “fuck me, please.”
Those words were just a whisper but strong enough to snap him out of his own reverie. I’m just as lost as him. So high and dumb that I didn’t even notice the force he uses on me, tearing the front of my blouse, buttons flying everywhere. Finally, the part of me that aches for some attention, he didn’t think twice and cage the perked buds alternately in his mouth, lapping the pad of his tongue around its tiny size, sucking it hard that makes me bend my top body in a curve of delight as I ask for support through his head.
“Oh my! Levi!” the sounds of his lips between those cruel kiss as he pops each buds with force were enough to take away the remaining sanity in my head. My knees betrayed me, trembling down from the obvious defeat, Levi scoops my weight onto his lap, wrapping my legs with eagerness around his waist, putting his mouth back to business, my grip tightened on his hair, pulling his face tight against my aching breasts.
“Shit, baby!” I feel soaked and it was because of his habit spitting the spot he wants to claim as his own, “damn tits! I can suck these all night aah!” I follow his thirsty moan with a loud gasp and tight squeeze on his shoulders as he devours my chest with so much hunger. The kisses were soft but the teeth works were harsh, leaving marks of his pure desires.
“Come on, Levi! Aah! I–I hhyaahh! I–I need to pee, ooh!” I push his face and look at him pleadingly. The heat was turning up in my stomach. I really need to pee, “Hwait—Aaah!” He bites hard the left bud and I swear I fucking shit myself in my skirt but it was far different from my normal urine. It feels warmer and thicker that a question in my head pops up, “you’re quick to cum.” He confirms it, humping my hips against his protruding erection that has white cream on its tip.
Panting, I crash my lips on his and he’s quick to catch mine and give it the kiss I wanted.
“Levmmpphhh! Haahhh! Too hard hhmmpp!” He uses more of his teeth and tongue, biting the corner then licking the part he made to bleed a little. Levi was strong, his arms were crashing me with its tight embrace, holding me with so much force and selfishness. Trying my best to cope up with his need, I return the kiss in a very sensual manner, moving softly on his lower lip, nipping it, sliding my tongue inside his mouth. The table was turned. His kisses changes course, mimicking the slow pace of my mouth on his.
“Hmmm... ” I moan between his hungry but careful kisses, swallowing everything he could.
The kiss paused for a moment, engaging our eyes full of lust, I dip my mouth once again for a quick smack on his softness. He smiles, tugging down the blouse he tore apart down my elbows, exposing the cold skin of my shoulder and back. I tilt my head voluntarily for him to dip his own with ease. His hot mouth touch my skin, tracing warm kisses from my shoulder up to my neck. He blows a kiss on my throat and suck its skin, nibbling, determined to leave another mark .
“Fuck me, Levi. I want you in. Rail me, please.” He chuckles against my skin, peppering my softness with his cruel kisses. God. Unknowingly, humping and grinding my bottom against his hardness that screams for attention and womanly flesh.
“So desperate, baby huh! Can you take me huh? You don’t blame me if things gone wrong huh?” I won’t hold him accountable for things I pleaded him to do. I want it and I’ll deal with it.
Levi lays me down on the bed, pulling my lower half near the edge, folding my thighs to his heart’s desires after removing my undergarments. He eyed me down there carefully, constantly looking at my worried face. He must have noticed it, the flesh blocking his passage.
“I won’t scream. I won’t make a sound and I won’t hold on to you.” I heard these information from all the girls he had fucked to sleep. He despises women who screams, who cries and those who dares touch him while reeling deep a hole.
It would be painful, I know, but I prefer myself ready if something like this happened and it’s happening.
Levi tosses the clothes around the room, flaunting his perfect built and massive thing. I hold my legs for him, shutting my close as he rubs his tip on the hood, gradually pushing its head.
“G–go on... ” I encourage him, tilting my head to the left, biting my lips hard.
“You desperate little shit!” I unconsciously let go of my legs to cover my mouth when he goes really deep and penetrates the intact hymen to reach the place only his thing can touch.
My whole body shakes as my fingers clutches the bedsheet for external support.
His thing burns the life out of me, burning the core further, suffocating me with how his thing feels like, throbbing ang growing bigger from the fact that he’s the first man to use me like this.
I breathe his name helplessly, “Levi. Levi.”
He’s not making a move yet. He’s watching my every reaction and how my face contorted due to the pain he caused me.
“Are you expecting something after this?” his thing throbbed, growing even bigger. What a cruel way of knocking down my airway.
My lips parted, gasping for air. Pain from the bottom flesh increasing rapidly all over my veins, “N–No... don’t worry.” I give my most genuine smile and swallow my cries and sobs.
“I–I know my place, Levi.” I added before he gone merciless with his deep thrust and cruel kisses.
“Levi, ooohhh!” tightly, hold on to the sheet tightly. There’s no one to cheer me all throughout this session so I did what I needed to do. I comfort myself on my own, grabbing for support onto the sheet as he strikes harder and fast with those thick hips and thighs, spreading my legs with his expert hands.
“Shit, baby! So tight here hah! Damn!” hard blow followed by another blow, forcing my core to accommodate his growing size by folding my legs and spreading them when he’s not comfortable.
I need something to hold on but who and what to hold.
“Lev—” his lips crashes back again on mine, kissing me torridly, fucking my tongue with his tongue, swirling, tasting my mouth full of his spittle.
My heart swells in affection, my tummy from his long and thick manhood. He says, surprisingly, “hold tight, baby.” When I didn’t move because I couldn’t comprehend his words, Levi grabs my right hand and put around his toned arms while lacing his other with my left as he picks up his face and strength. Drilling his rod deeper and fast as he buries his face on my neck, sucking its crooked part, licking his way up to my mouth to kiss me again.
“Aaahhh~ oh my God! You’re so deep! Aahh!” I couldn’t contain my moans anymore. It’s getting louder and he’s not bothering himself with it. He keeps ramming his hips against mine, creaming the already drenched hole.
Another heat is building up in me, making me hold tighter on his body and hand. I started squirming when he put a finger on my clit, rubbing it hard as he pumps hard his long shaft, “shit, baby! Aahhnngg cumming! Aah!”
My body convulses with his shaking ones, pumping even harder, filling me with warm cream until it oozes down my core down to the anus.
“Levi... ” his name rolls out my tongue before I dropped flat weakly on the bed, him on top of me, pressing more of his weight ‘til he completely dry his member out of his jizz.
He moves again. Blowing off another strikes but I’m too weak and too tired to cooperate with him. I just let him use me again and again.
He’s the love of my life after all.
•••
I woke up alone on my bed, feeling numb from the last night activity. He wasn’t here. He must be out and working already. My stomach growls, hunger occupying my senses. I force myself out from the bed, heading to the bathroom to clean myself. His marks are all over my body. The most visible were the one around my neck and my left wrist. He’s gone hard and wild last night, holding me by the neck to kiss me while fucking me from behind. Ah, Levi, what a poison you were.
I dress in my usual boyish clothes, leaving the house with my sore body and numb legs.
The day was peaceful and I’m having my breakfast at a café when this man storms in and snatches my aching body.
“Ouch.” I hiss lowly, not wanting to draw attention on us.
He sits me back on my chair, setting down really close to me, pressing our forehead together.
“You’re not allowed to leave me, Y/N! Fuck. I was so scared!” he’s breathing heavily and angrily.
I sip my coffee before answering, “I can’t even if I want to, Levi. Not in this condition. I can’t even feel my legs.”
I giggle at my own helplessness but he’s still mad, “I have been calling you! Where’s your goddamn phone?!”
“Oh! I think I left it in our house.” I answer innocently, grabbing a waffle from the white china, “hey! that’s mine!” my lips pouted when he stole my food and bit it angrily.
“I love you!” I think I misheard him.
“Huh?” I questioned.
“What an idiot and slowpoke.” Levi commented before gripping my chin and pressing his lips hard on my mouth.
•e n d•
#love#imagines#smut#levi ackerman#levi attack on titan#levi x reader#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#dirty imagines
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Is There Something There - Tom Holland
During an interview that you were doing with Tom for Endgame press, some of the questions catch you both off guard and one leads to you two talking about something you’ve both been feeling about each other.
A/N: I’m going to be honest. I don’t really like this one because I already feel like I use a lot of dialogue as a writer and this is an interview so there is a lot of dialogue, but I also like the story here so that why I decided to post it. Also, it’s my first Tom fic so I hope you all enjoy and feedback is greatly appreciated!
Warnings: some curse words
Word Count: 4.1k+
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“I can’t believe you didn’t know who Obadiah Stane was,” you giggled with Tom as you two left the room you had just been in doing an interview to head to another one in a few minutes.
“He asked what an Obadiah Stane was, so I thought it was a thing, not a person,” he defended, his smile stretching as his words brought you more laughter.
“I’m sure Robert would love to know that his little buddy didn’t even know the name of the villain in the first Iron Man movie,” you teased Tom while he chuckled along with you. “But I will give you the infinity stones question. All I could remember was the reality stone and the time stone, but you rattled off the first five in a matter of seconds and then the last one came to your mind shortly after. It was impressive.”
“Thank you, thank you,” he stated sarcastically with a bow and a tip of his head. “You know what was funny? When you said Sebastian would be a bad baby name. That was hilarious,” he brought up before dying of laughter again at the joke you made earlier in the interview.
“Yeah, and I can guarantee you that he said my name too when they asked him which MCU name would be the worst as well,” you told him while laughing along with him.
“This is it I think,” the man who had been leading you to your next interview announced to you both before opening the door.
“Ladies first,” Tom said to you while holding a hand out to show you the way. You playfully rolled your eyes at the dork you had been paired with for the day as you walked into the room.
It was no secret that Tom Holland could not keep his mouth shut when he needed to. He just gets too excited and has to tell someone. He along with Ruffalo were terrible secret keepers and when it came to interviews, they had to do them with someone who could pay attention to them and catch them before they slip up. Benedict got paired with Mark and you obviously were with Tom.
“Good morning you two! I imagine you both have been very busy today,” the woman who would be conducting the interview asked when you and Tom walked over to her and got settled in your spots on the couch after you each shook her hand.
“Yes ma’am, we have been busy, but it has been loads of fun I would say,” Tom responded first while he got comfortable on the couch and stretched his arm to lay against the back of it before you nodded your head in agreement at his previous statement.
“Super fun especially since we get to do it together,” you spoke to the lady before meeting the dashing brown eyes of your partner for the day.
“She’s just saying that because she has to be with me. She actually hates me,” Tom teased while you rolled your eyes at him.
“I do not hate him. Does he get a little aggravating from time to time? Yeah, but I don’t hate him,” you played along with the boy’s joke as he chuckled lightly at you.
“Wait, y/n has to be with you, Tom?” the interviewer inquired, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion as to why you were forced to be with him. She probably thought it was a little weird that you, the actress who plays Guardian of the Galaxy Willa Adler, and Tom, the actor of Peter Parker who was also known as Spider-Man, were doing press for Endgame together. If she saw Infinity War, she knew you were both onscreen together a good bit in that movie, but still she most likely was wondering why you were not doing interviews with Chris Pratt like you normally were since he played your older brother figure in the past few Marvel films you have done.
“Well, yeah, someone has to be with me because I can’t keep my mouth shut and y/n is good at telling when I’m about to say something I shouldn’t, so she is here to help me not spill the beans on anything,” Tom laughed while a slight blush of embarrassment dusted across his cheeks.
“Yeah, I have been told I’m good at reading people and we’ve become really good friends lately, so I guess I better at reading him than some of the others. I don’t know. I think it’s funny that he has to be with someone, or he’ll spill all the information on everything,” you giggled as you responded to the question too.
“Oh well, I guess it’s good you two have been paired together and later on I’ll have some questions specifically for the both of you. Anyway, I spoke with Anthony Mackie and Sebastian Stan and that pair,” she paused for a chuckle, “They like to tease you two, don’t they?” As soon as she mentioned their names, you both knew where the question was headed and you and Tom both nodded towards the woman.
“Yeah, we have quite the rivalry with those two, don’t we?” Tom led the answer for you to continue.
“Yes, but it’s all out of love,” you reassured the interviewer while you all shared a laugh.
“It’s all love, for sure. I think it’s because we are the youngest and easiest to pick on because we take the jokes well and we’ll shoot them right back. I find it funny how it's them against us. We will tease them and they’ll tease us, but at the same time, we split it up and it’ll be me and Mackie going at each other, and y/n and Stan will pick on each other quite a bit. It’s like the big brothers teasing their younger siblings and they each have their favorite one to pick on. I love it. I find it so hilarious,” Tom told the woman, a chuckle falling past his lips.
“Especially the juice box joke,” you laughed. “That one is my favorite.”
“Juice box joke?” she asked, her emerald eyes dancing between you and Tom while you both wore huge smiles on your faces from all the laughing you both had been doing.
“Yeah, Mackie likes to joke and say that ‘I need my juice boxes or I’ll go crazy without them’ that I need the sugar or something,” Tom expressed using air quotes with his fingers to show Anthony’s words. “They say I need juice boxes and y/n needs water bottles.”
“Why’s that?” the lady quizzed at the second part of his sentence as a light laugh escaped her mouth. You audibly groaned, knowing which story was about to come up next.
“She forgets to drink water sometimes and then she’ll get dehydrated and when we’re shooting harder scenes or if there’s a lot of light on her and it gets hot, then it doesn’t end well,” Tom told the interviewer honestly before she looked to you to continue or confirm his statements.
“It was one time and I just forget to drink water sometimes. I’m okay,” you reassured before taking a sip of water from the glass next to you.
“One time?” the blonde woman inquired further. You loved doing these interviews, but at times the people conducting them tended to be a little pushy and don’t pick up on the hint that you don’t want to share this story. You knew she wasn’t going to give so you spoke.
“Tell the story, Tom,” you instructed with a sigh before turning in your chair to face him better. His hand still rested on the back of the couch behind you and he brought it down slightly to rub at the top of your back and play with your hair a little, a friendly and comforting gesture that you were very thankful for at the moment as he was about to share one of your more embarrassing experiences.
“Okay, so you know that scene in Infinity War where the Guardians, Strange, Tony, and I are in that spaceship and the Guardians are coming at us because they think we’re with Thanos?” When she nods her head, Tom continues with the story.
“Well, that particular day, y/n forgot to drink basically anything and in the makeup and suits and stuff, it gets really hot. It’s the scene where Willa has Peter Parker in a chokehold and Peter Quill has a gun to my head. So, when we were shooting that, y/n has her arms around my neck, not tightly obviously. She’s not actually trying to choke me, but you can feel it, you know. So, as I said, she wasn’t holding me tightly, but I felt her arms loosen from around me before she was supposed to, and she leaned against me a little.” The interviewer let out a slight gasp before looking at you and you nodded towards her, letting her know his words were true.
“I turned my head and asked her if she was okay, but she just nodded her head. She didn’t say anything, just nodded her head, and right then I knew something was wrong just by looking at her. I turned around and grabbed her before she fell and sat down with her. Chris came as well and was checking on her while Benedict and Robert went to get help and some water. But we got her some water, and she was good to go shortly after.”
“That must’ve been scary for the both of you,” she commented while her widened eyes jumped from yours to the set of honey brown ones to your left.
“It was honestly one of the scariest days on set for me,” Tom added before looking to you, his fingers still switching from rubbing small circles into your neck and twirling your hair between them.
“I was in and out of it, so I don’t remember much. All I remember is leaning against him and him helping me down. It was more embarrassing to me and I hate thinking about it, but now I will never get to forget about it because Anthony and Seb won’t ever let me live it down,” you told the woman with a small laugh which she joined in on along with Tom.
“Your characters both have this relationship with someone older than you that you look up to, Peter Parker with Tony Stark and Willa Adler with Peter Quill. How was it for you both to do your death scene in Infinity War with those people?” she asked you and Tom. Tom looked to you for you to start off the question so you do.
“Both Willa and Peter have had it rough as far as a mentor or someone who can really help guide them in life because they keep losing them. Peter lost his parents when he was younger, then his uncle, and then he disintegrates in Tony’s arms. Willa lost a lot of people in a short amount of time. Quill and Willa were both taken by Yondu at different times for their own good to save them from their terrible fathers, so she didn’t have anyone to look up to on Earth. Then she lost Yondu and feared she lost Quill when things with Ego went down. Then in Infinity War when they are all trying to take the gauntlet off Thanos, she finds out that she lost Gamora, the only girl Willa has ever had by her side, so that breaks her even further. Then after the snap, she watches all of her found family turn to dust around her. She watches Quill turn to ashes right before she can get to him and then she tries to run to Nebula who is the only person she has left before she goes with the rest of them. Right after that, we watch Peter and Tony hold each other and Peter goes so the scene overall is a terribly sad one. It took a lot of emotion for both of us I think.”
“Yeah, like she said, both of them have experienced great loss. Peter is a little more used to it while Willa loses someone before she’s done grieving the last person she lost. She definitely had to put a lot more emotion into it, but Willa is also the kind of person who holds her emotions in. You can see in that scene she was talking about, Willa tried to hold it in when she found out about Gamora but started to break down as she saw everyone she loved dissipate into nothing. Peter was emotional of course and he didn’t want to go like he just saw everyone around him do but at least he went out in the arms of someone he loves and looks up to a lot,” Tom added to your explanation with his own.
“I would say that scene after the snap with you two is the saddest in my opinion. So, to lighten the mood a little, there is a lot of talk about the family feel that the cast has, and the people wanted to know if that is true?” she asked as she flipped through her cards.
“Yes!” you immediately agreed.
“Of course, we all get along and it is super fun especially in films like these where we get to be together. Peter got to be with Iron Man, Doctor Strange, and the Guardians of the Galaxy and it was amazing filming with everybody. I loved it, didn’t you?” Tom pushed the question over to you.
“Yeah, it was super fun. I always get to film with a large group of people, but I got to film with Chris Hemsworth and then later on with RDJ and Benedict and Tom. It was great to work with so many amazing people,” you commented while you shifted in your seat a little, trying to get comfortable again.
“Mackie and Stan are like our annoying older brothers as I said earlier,” Tom mentioned with a light chuckle.
“Yeah,” you giggled before continuing with his analogy. “RDJ, Evans, and Hemsworth are like the fathers, the founding fathers really since they’ve been there since the beginning. Umm, Pratt and Rudd are the funny uncles. Elizabeth, Zoe, Karen, Scarlett, and Danai are the cool aunts. And then you’ve got people like Benedict, Chadwick, Pom, Letitia, and Tom who are absolute sweethearts. Everyone is just super cool and fun and sweet, and we couldn’t ask for a better group of people to work with.” The lady awed at your words while Tom’s eyes softened at them.
“That was really sweet, y/n, and you are amazing to work with as well,” he grinned as he spoke which you returned him on as well while you nodded at him. His hand shifted down to your shoulder and he kept it there, something you didn’t mind at all. “Everything she said was spot on and everyone we get the opportunity to work with is awesome and they’re great people. I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“Do you think your characters will appear onscreen together in the future?” the interviewer questioned before she looked up from her card to the both of you.
“Um, I’ll take this one,” you said to both of them, but mainly to Tom so he knew he wouldn’t have to add anything or spoil anything without knowing it. “So, Peter normally protects Queens, and Willa’s territory is all of outer space. In Infinity War, you saw that Peter’s experience in space wasn’t the best and Willa had a terrible life on Earth though she didn’t know it at the time because she was so young when Yondu took her. I don’t see them crossing paths again in the future if everything gets ‘fixed’ like everyone is hoping for, but if another space titan comes to destroy half of all living things or something big like that, then yeah maybe you’d see Willa and Peter onscreen again, but I don’t think it is likely,” you told the woman as she nodded her head.
“Marvel is full of surprises though, so you never know what is going to happen,” Tom added, earning a laugh from you since you knew firsthand how true the statement was.
“The fans love seeing you two together and you both clearly have good chemistry so what is it like working with one another?” the blonde asked before pushing some fallen hair behind her ear.
“I’ll go first,” Tom stated as he turned a bit in his seat and smiled your way. You playfully rolled your eyes, getting ready for him to completely roast your ass.
“She’s mean, a total diva, a drama queen,” he started listing off several false claims before busting out laughing at your pouting face. “I’m kidding,” he chuckled while he leaned over to grab your chin, forcing you to look at him.
“No, go on. I’m thinking about teaming up with Mackie and Seb and all three of us can rip you to shreds,” you sarcastically smiled at him before you dropped the grin and shot him a death glare.
“Okay maybe I wasn’t lying about the mean part,” he joked causing you to smile again. His brown eyes lit up at the sight and he finally continued with answering the question.
“No, but for real, she is amazing, as a person and as an actress. Every time I watch her, I am reminded of how phenomenal of an actress she is. You all have seen the gag reels of me and how I can’t keep a straight face if my life depended on it, but I watched her and the person she was filming with slipped up. She kept a straight face until they started laughing so she started laughing too. If that was me, I would’ve started laughing before anyone even messed up. And even when she’s feeling poorly, she performs so well. Y/n is so incredible to watch and work with. She is truly a great person and an even better friend. I’m glad we have each other to lean on when we get teased for being the youngest out of everyone,” he chuckled after literally just melting your heart. You leaned over to wrap your arms around his torso, his arm going around your back to rest his hand on your side.
“That was really sweet, Tom,” you whispered while giving him a little squeeze before pulling away from him. He did not remove his arm from around you though, so you scooted closer to make it more comfortable for you both.
“He may say my acting is good, but I’ve got to brag on his as well. He is so good at improvising and going with the flow of things. I am a very ‘follow the lines and stick to the script’ kind of person, but his improv makes his scenes and character so much better. That may be because he is basically Peter Parker in real life so when the cameras are rolling, it is truly interesting to see. He lights up any room he walks into and makes every day easier when we are working. He is a delight to work with and just generally be around and I’m glad we’re friends.”
“Thanks y/n,” he grinned down at you and you smiled right back.
“How is he like Peter Parker in real life?” the woman further inquired as she adjusted herself in her seat to sit more comfortably.
“For one, he is a major dork,” you started before snickering at Tom’s furrowed brows and stuck out lip.
“You just said all that nice stuff and then called me a dork,” he huffed and turned his head from you. He dramatically removed his arm from around and placed his hand in his lap.
“Oh, come on. You know it’s true,” you told him to which he sighed.
“Yeah, it’s true,” he gave in before nodding at the interviewer.
“So, there’s that,” you continued to answer the question. “He’s a little awkward, but in a charming and lovable way. He cannot keep a secret at all. There’s probably more, but that’s all I can think of right now. Everybody loves Peter Parker and everyone loves Tom Holland. I mean it when I say they are the same person.”
“So, there is a good bit of speculation of a budding romance between the both of you and the people want to know if there is something there,” she stated before playing with the rings on her fingers.
Before you could open your mouth to deny the suspicion, Tom grabbed your hand in his, interlacing his fingers with yours. A blush crept up on your cheeks when he placed his lips against the back of your hand.
“Do you want to tell her, babe?” he asked as he shot you a wink, the small act telling you it was a joke. The growing grin on his face told you his actions were false as well, but you couldn’t help how your heart fell that it was all a lie. You once again rolled your eyes at the boy who held your hand.
“You can tell her, sweetheart,” you giggled while Tom held your hand in both of his and you leaned your head on his shoulder.
“Y/n and I have been in a relationship for a little while now and that relationship has been completely platonic and we are just friends,” he laughed as he placed your hand back in your own lap. You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t miss the feeling of his hand in yours, but now was not the time to think about that.
“Yeah guys, we’re only friends,” you chuckled, making eye contact with the camera that was filming the whole thing while you lifted your head from its previous resting place on his shoulder. “Nothing more.”
Later after the interview, you and Tom are walking to the car that was going to take you both back to your hotel and the events of earlier kept circling through your mind. The way it felt to have his arm around you and you leaning into his side. You craved that feeling. His hand in yours and his lips pressed to the back of it. You wanted more of that. Just being with him, you strived to have more moments with him, but you always thought that it was because you were really good friends and you liked having his presence near. However, you feared that you were into something more that he was not going to be interested in.
“You did good with the whole dating joke. That was funny,” you giggled lightly as you bumped his shoulder while walking by his side.
“Hopefully, you didn’t think it was too funny,” he mumbled, his own eyes widening at his slight confession. Your eyebrows drew together in confusion and your feet stopped moving forward.
“What?” you spoke the only word that was running through your mind at the moment. Tom stopped walking as well and turned to face you.
“I kinda liked holding your hand and I kinda like you,” he stated sheepishly, his gorgeous brown eyes looking everywhere but at you.
“What are you saying, Tom?” you asked, knowing exactly what he was saying but you wanted to be sure. He stepped forward a bit and took your hand in his, interlocking your fingers just as he did before.
“I’m saying that I like you, y/n, and I want to be with you. We can just try it out for a little bit?” he asked more than stated.
“You mean we can try out being together?”
“Yeah, we can keep it quiet until we’re sure and then if you want, we can go public with it. I was not lying when I said I love working with you. It wasn’t because you’re great to work with because you are. It was because you are great to be with. So maybe we try this out and see how things work with us while we do press and see how things work after this when we are separate and doing our own thing. We can go from there and see if this is something we want to continue or announce?” he questioned nervously while his eyes finally locked with yours. The corners of your mouth turned upwards in a huge grin, happy to be hearing what you had wished to hear for a while now.
“I’d love to be with you, Tom,” you gushed, grinning ear to ear.
“Well, that’s great, babe,” he chuckled after using the nickname he called you earlier. His other hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You felt his breath fan over your lips before he closed the space between you two.
“But you know that Mackie and Seb are going to pick on us about this too right?” you reminded him when you pulled away slightly and he giggled.
“Yeah, we’re never going to hear the end of it.”
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Saw your headcannons for Sausage and was curious. I know in RCU you have him know what his name would have been near the end of the fic where he is made king, why didn't he use it as the name he'd be addressed by others (such as Gem & Fwhip)? Hope that makes sense ^^;
hi anon! yes, your question makes sense, and don't worry, it's something i've actually thought about :]
so, in the RCU, as i mentioned in the ask game post, Sausage doesn't have a 'real' name because he never had a naming-day ceremony. i think what i missed out on explaining in that post is that in Mythland, this would be a Big Deal. your naming-day is essentially the day you become a person and are claimed by your family, and there's a lot of Mythlander superstition that if something goes wrong on your naming-day, you'll be followed by bad luck the rest of your life. because of this, most of Sausage's family doesn't call him by the name his mother wanted to give him--his oldest brother just refers to him as 'no-name,' while his other two brothers gave him the name Sausage as a nickname because that's what they said he looked like when he was born. only his sister Willa calls him Jurio, the given name he was supposed to have, but she can only do it in private. he isn't allowed to tell anyone else what his name was supposed to be since he never received it, and as a child he's so traumatized that he wouldn't even consider breaking this rule.
the scene in 'Chosen' where he states his name is meant to be a moment of growth for him--he may not have had the blessing of a given name, but he is still a person, and one worthy of being chosen to rule his kingdom, no less. he takes the stupid nickname he was given and chooses to own it as his own name, to claim power over it for himself. he's also used to being called Sausage at this point, and his 'real' name feels strange to him.
he does tell fWhip and Gem what his name would have been, but it's later in their relationship, when he actually prefers that they call him the name he's used to.
hope this answered your question!
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Catching Rain
Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe
Genre: Wolf!AU
Pairing: Minseok x Reader
Summary: You were more than satisfied with your life. You attended a nice college, had nice friends, a nice boyfriend. That’s what your life was: nice. You weren’t looking for anything more, so what were you to do when this seemingly harmless boy walked into your life and turned your nice little world into one much more dangerous?
Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Epilogue
**
The theatre was loud, opposite of its normally hushed nature. People were yelling back and forth, saws and drills screeching as they tore through wood. In the background, sewing machines could be heard, along with the occasional curse as the needle got stuck in the fabric. One person, however, was quiet, focused. The paintbrush in his hand was small. The hairs tightly pressed together in order to create the perfect details on the backdrop. Erik was hunched over, sitting cross-legged on the stage floor as he squinted at the distant forest he was perfecting. Setting your bag down in the second row, you headed up the stage stairs.
“Hey,” you said softly in order not to scare him.
Blinking, he turned around. His glasses were on the very tip of his nose, having slipped from the slight bit of sweat that had conjured on his face from the glaring stage lights. With a green speckled finger, he pushed the frame back up to its proper position. “Hey! I thought you had a project?”
You shrugged. “I did, but… I kind of hit a wall and needed to give my brain a rest. I’m sorry, I guess I should have gotten lunch with you anyway.”
“That’s alright. If you want, I still have half of my sandwich left.”
Smiling, you ruffled his hair. “Thanks, I’m not really hungry.” Minseok’s dismissive response had ruined the idea of food for you. Later you knew you would be starving, but right now food sounded like a great way to churn your stomach and see what it had been brewing all morning. “I’m just going to go hang out in the seats, if that’s okay?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “No one will bother you or question it. Not that anyone would notice in the first place.”
“It’s pretty crazy around here, isn’t it?”
“You missed the big explosion when Dorothy couldn’t find the armchair for the second act. Turns out, someone just leaned a piece of wood for the set against it and hid it from view. Still took us half an hour to find it.”
You snorted. “Wow. I’m actually kind of sad I missed that.” You kissed his cheek, careful to avoid a smear that you were sure he had no clue about. That stupid guilt knocked once again.
The seat was only slightly comfortable, the cushion long ago worn down from a thousand performances. You stewed there in the second row. Though it wasn’t appropriate during shows, you didn’t think anyone would care if you set your feet on the seat in front of you. Folding nearly in half, you hid your face from those who might look your way as you cranked the handle to get the gears in your head to turn.
Confusion seemed like too weak a word to describe what was going on in your head. You were angry, frustrated, sad, relieved. There had to be some language in the world that tied those emotions all together. You just didn’t know it. Perhaps that one word could be the pill you needed to no longer feel this way. If you could shove all of that into a single box, you would be fine. But is it ever that simple? When you closed your eyes and tried not to think of anything in particular, Minseok’s face faded into view. You’d shake your head to drive the image away. It came back anyway.
You felt powerless against this unseen pull, this innate desire to see him again, even after what had just happened in the courtyard. Your mind made excuses, told you that if you simply asked him to explain then he would. Looking up at Erik, you sighed.
There was no comparison because they were two different people. Erik was the sensitive artist, the kind who went to coffee shops on Friday nights to hear a mediocre guitar player sing his “poetry” because he believed everyone deserved an audience. Minseok, on the other hand, was a strange combination of math lab nerd and soccer team captain. He was goofy and dorky, easily amused by corny jokes, but also had the physique of someone who ran five miles in the A.M. for the fun of it. What you couldn’t figure out was what drew you to him in the first place. In any normal, not-already-dating-someone situation, you wouldn’t have been interested in his type. Yet, it was almost… effortless, being around him. Even after all these years, you sometimes had to force yourself into conversation with Erik. Comfortable silences didn’t exactly exist in your relationship, but you always chalked that up to your own personality. Now you wondered if those moments would be better with Minseok.
Was this a normal thing? You heard stories of college sweethearts all the time and for the last few years, you thought you and Erik would join that club. You hadn’t thought about marriage, per se, but you hadn’t seen an end either. The idea of coming to a fork in the road had never occurred to you. While logic and third party advice you’d casually picked up over your life told you to stick to the left, you were being drawn to the right. One road you could easily see where it led, signs, clear pastures, and everything. The other way wasn’t as clear, disappearing into thick woods that were both inviting and foreboding. You didn’t know if there was another side for the road to come out to. The only way you would ever find out would be to follow it.
You were able to sit there in that second row seat for a few hours, surprisingly, with your phone and the internet as your companion. Only occasionally would you contemplate that fork again. Left, right, left, right. Easy, hard, easy, hard. In the end, you decided you needed to see Minseok again to really decide.
The stage manager called it quits late in the afternoon. Erik washed up his brushes and came to meet you. “Hungry yet?” You nodded, more for something else to do before you were alone again. “Good. I’m starving.” Taking your bag like the gentleman that he was, he waited for you to stand up and then walked you out of the theatre.
Dinner ended up being a small burger joint that Erik had been craving all day. You gave no complaints as you started salivating at the thought of their fries. Surely they had to have some sort of secret, addictive ingredient to make fried potato sticks so incredibly delicious. The two of you ended up splitting a large basket of the side. It stayed equally in the middle of the table so no one could say that the other was hogging. Yes. Safe. Easy. Seeable.
Erik offered a follow up to dinner, but you feigned exhaustion (though there might not have been any faking truthfully, as your mind was tired from constantly running throughout the day). He walked you all the way to the door of your room. As usual, he told you goodnight and leaned in for a kiss. But unlike your normal anticipation, you flinched back to avoid his lips. He stared at you in confusion. Clearing your throat, you made it up to him by kissing his cheek before running for cover in your dorm. From the light of the hallway, you could see that Erik stood on the other side for a few seconds, hesitating to understand what had just happened, before finally walking away.
Teeth clenched down on your bottom lip, you pulled your phone out of your back pocket. Thankfully, Willa was still out so you were alone. The glare of your phone burned in the darkness. You squinted as you moved your thumb across the screen, unlocking it before opening the contacts. The number you wanted was easy enough to find. The pad of your thumb hovered over the little green phone. It accepted the slightest touch and switched over to calling mode. You placed the speaker to your ear.
Rrriiinggg. Rrriiinnngggg.
“Hello?”
You sucked in air. He’d answered. You didn’t have a plan for this. You didn’t have any sort of plan after pressing call. You’d hoped that he was one of those people who didn’t have a voicemail set up.
“Hello? (y/n)?”
You hung up.
**
Minseok watched you stalk off in the exact direction he wished you hadn’t. Anywhere else; he would have been fine with you going anywhere besides the theatre where your boyfriend was. His wolf growled and clawed with jealousy. Why was he so stupid? Since when was keeping his mate a secret more important than being with you? Of course he wanted to eat lunch with you, to see how you got along with his brothers. But the idea of Baekhyun figuring it out had caused him to panic. As obnoxious as Baekhyun could be, he wasn’t stupid. At some point during the meal, Minseok would have done something a little overprotective and Baekhyun would have started to connect the dots. Unfortunately, he’d already picked up on something.
“Oooo, breaking the rules, are we?” The brat even had the audacity to wiggle his eyebrows at the eldest wolf.
Not holding back, Minseok swung, hitting a good target on the upper arm.
“Ow!”
“First, it's not a rule,” Minseok grumbled. “Junmyeon simply suggested that we don’t date. Besides, you’re one to talk. How’s Daisy?”
Baekhyun was hardly phased. He sported a cheeky grin. “She’s great.”
Bored, Sehun asked, “Can we just go eat now? Who cares who Minseok was flirting with?”
“I wasn’t flirting with her!” Minseok shouted. He explained in a lower voice, “She’s having trouble in her math class so I’m doing Sungkyu a favor and helping her out so she can pass. That’s it.”
“So why didn’t you want her to eat with us, then?” Jongin asked innocently.
Minseok flinched. Jongin was more observant than anyone would give him credit for. Not that Minseok was subtle in any sense of the word. “I didn’t say that I didn’t want her to eat with us. Knowing you all, you would have let something slip about what we are.”
“Minseok, we all caught that she was willing to join us,” Chanyeol said.
Huffing, Minseok grumbled, “Are we going to go eat or should I just go by myself?”
Shrugging off the odd behavior, Baekhyun turned and headed for the parking lot. Minseok was quick to follow, feeling smaller than normal surrounded by his pack members. In his head, he pictured himself running back towards the theatre, bursting through the doors, and - in true dramatic fashion - declaring you his.
That would be a complete disaster. He should only do that if he wanted you to never talk to him ever again.
Minseok hardly paid attention as Chanyeol drove them to his favorite pizza place. He was in a trance as the others took control of what to order. Physically, he sat in the booth next to Sehun with Baekhyun on the other side. His shoulder was pressed into the chipped wooden guard rail that ran along the wall but he hardly noticed the uncomfortable poke in his skin. His mind was still back at the campus. He was driving himself crazy trying to figure out how he was going to make this up to you, how he was going to explain his bizarre switch up to you. He hardly ate, which was fine since the others were more than happy to devour the three large pizzas with varying toppings. The others weren’t bothered by his quietness since it was nothing new. Minseok was always more of an observer than a participant. In a time like this, it worked to his advantage.
There was no consulting Minseok when the lunch was through. They all simply piled back into the car and headed out of town towards the woods. Vague mentions of going for a run were tossed around. Minseok didn’t voice any sort of agreement. He wasn’t in the mood. Ha. A wolf not in the mood to run wild among the trees? He really was turned upside down because of you. While the younger ones headed straight for the trees, Minseok headed up the porch and through the front living room until he came to the kitchen. Oh, thank god. There were still beers in the fridge. He grabbed one and immediately opened it, still chugging as he walked over to the breakfast booth.
“Did you have fun?”
Junmyeon slid into the booth across from him. Minseok put the can down. “Yeah. At first. We had fun with the project. It was when the others showed up that things… went bad.”
“What do you mean?” Junmyeon asked with a frown.
“I… panicked. The others invited her to join us and I….” Minseok shrugged.
“Worried that the others would figure it out?” Junmyeon guessed. The response was a nod.
“Figure what out?”
Shit.
Baekhyun stood in the entryway, looking back and forth between the eldest and the alpha. Minseok gulped. He thought that all four of them had gone out on a run and he hadn’t heard anyone else in the house. Stepping further into the kitchen, Baekhyun asked again, “Figure what out?”
Minseok looked to Junmyeon for help. None was to be found.
“You should probably tell them.”
“I’m not going to tell just Baekhyun so he can go running and tell the others and exaggerate.”
“I can always call a family meeting.”
“I don’t want to make that big of a deal out of it.”
“Too late on that. Besides, that’s the best way to get everyone here. Get it out of the way.”
“Or to get none of them here.”
“I’m still standing here,” Baekhyun scoffed.
Minseok looked at him. “I know.”
Junmyeon sighed. “Baekhyun, will you go get the others? Tell them it's important?”
He nodded. “Sure. Be back in a flash.” He left, already shedding the hoodie over his head.
Slumping down in the booth, Minseok felt defeated. Junmyeon sensed this immediately. “It really won’t be that bad. And they need to be prepared.”
“Prepared?”
“Yes. Once a pack member finds the first mate, the others will slowly start to find their own. It won’t be immediate. It could take years, really. But it’s like a domino effect. They should be aware that it's their turn next.”
It made sense. The pack was always connected, both in mind and in instinct. But it had been just them for so long, the idea of bringing in mates to the fold was odd. Minseok wasn’t sure how the others would react. Fists clenched on the table, he leaned his head down. It took almost half an hour before the rest of the pack came back. Yixing had arrived first, coming back from a lab he was making up from earlier in the week. The rest came into the kitchen ten minutes later. They were knocking into each other as they yanked on shirts and pants.
“Okay, Junmyeon, what’s the emergency?” Jongdae asked, very prepared to be his usual sarcastic, troll self.
But Junmyeon didn’t reply, letting Minseok take the reins instead. Minseok didn't want to do this. He wanted to run, to keep his secret a little while longer while he figured this whole thing out. But Junmyeon was right. It was time.
“(y/n) - the girl that some of you met today… she’s my mate.”
It was pure silence in the kitchen. It was unnatural in this household. The only time it was ever this quiet was when the house was empty.
“I’m sorry,” Jongdae said. “You said… mate? Right?” Minseok nodded. He growled. “Fantastic.”
“You really found your mate, Minseok?” Yixing was more enthusiastic about the news. He looked elated, even. A small smile was creeping up.
Despite the stunned silence, Minseok found Yixing’s energy infectious. “Yeah. I did.”
“Have you told her yet?” Chanyeol asked.
“She has a boyfriend,” Jongin reminded him.
“Oh. Right.”
“I’m working on it,” Minseok said. “I just-” His phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, his eyes widened at the name popping up on the screen. With sixteen eyes on him, he answered, frantic. “Hello?” A gasp on the other end. “Hello? (y/n)?” You didn’t answer. Two seconds ticked by and you ended the call. He stared at his now black screen in shock. Then his brain started again. “I got to go.”
“Was it her?” Junmyeon asked.
“Wait, I have more questions!” Baekhyun whined. Minseok was out of the kitchen in a heartbeat, jumping into his car and flying down the road. He didn’t know if you were hurt or in trouble. Why had you called him? Why didn’t you say anything? He was determined to find out. There was only one problem.
He didn’t know your dorm number.
You’d briefly mentioned the shared campus housing with your best friend, but that was all the information he had. Looks like he would have to find it the old fashion way.
Asking.
As soon as he parked, he headed towards the dorms, thankful at least that the two large housing buildings were close in proximity. He headed for the smaller cafeteria located in the lobby of the first building. The kitchen was closed but there were still students taking advantage of the open seating. Okay. Here it goes.
The first few groups that Minseok asked had never heard of you. He was starting to berate himself on what a stupid idea this was. He should have called you back and asked you to call him when you were ready because it most certainly would have gone to voicemail. But his luck soon turned around. He approached a group of three girls sitting in a corner. One of them had a camera.
“Excuse me?” They looked up. Minseok cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, but I’m trying to find (y/n) (l/n)’s room. Do you happen to know her?”
One girl narrowed her eyes. “Why do you want to know?”
Minseok swallowed. “I… I have her notebook. She’d left it behind earlier at study group. She really needs it for class on Monday but I can’t get a hold of her.” Please believe his stupid lie.
The girl who’d spoken made eye contact with her two friends. “She’s in room twenty-three-nineteen. If she doesn’t answer, just slide the notebook under the door.”
He could almost jump from elated joy. “Thank you!”
Taking off, he headed for the stairs. Your dorm room was only on the second floor so it didn’t take long to follow the signs until he was right outside your door. Only now did the possibility that your roommate would be the one to answer cross his mind. What lie would he have to come up with then? He had to take the chance.
After knocking, he waited, shifting from foot to foot in an attempt to release the nervous energy surging through his body. The door swung open.
It was you. Thank goodness.
You were not the same level of relieved. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Crap. He probably should have thought of that. “You called me.”
You looked back over your shoulder before stepping out into the hallway, letting the door shut behind you. “So? That doesn’t mean you can just show up here!”
“I need to talk to you.”
You licked your lips. No, please don’t do that. It’s too tempting already to grab your face and kiss you against the door. Without speaking, you went back into your room. Well, that was a bust. But before he could walk away with slumped shoulders, you came back, this time with shoes on and your bag. “Let’s go.”
He gave no protest as you led him out of the dorm and into the dark. He had no idea where the two of you were headed, but he planned on embracing whatever came his way. The two of you were going to talk. His heart was thumping hard against his sternum. He was getting more alone time with you. Who knew what would end up flying out of his mouth in these next few hours. Would this be the night of truths and revelations?
#exo#exo wolf au#exo wolf!au#minseok x reader#kim minseok#xiumin#exo werewolf au#exo werewolf!au#exo fanfic#exo fanfiction#exo supernatural au#exo series#The Untamed Universe#Catching Rain
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Cuisine 🥘 🍞
Ten: Cuisine – do they have any sort of relationship with food? What they grew up eating or making for others?
echoes of the past event
@arcana-echoes
Willa Clary, she/ her
The outskirts of the city, Vesuvia
A few months after the events of The Arcana
Words: 1444
Warnings: fluff, like highland sheep levels of fluff
the recipes they make: bread + stew
“Hey Muriel, what do you want for dinner?”
It’s the same question Willa asks him every day around noon. She likes to plan these things in advance, and it takes time to gather ingredients out here in the forest. Dinner plans are just one of many new daily rituals Muriel is getting used to.
He wanted to be upset at first when his careful daily routine, waking at the same time, doing the same chores the same way day after day, had been disrupted. Routine was the only thing keeping him going for a while, and she’s come in and changed everything. But it’s hard to be upset when he gets to wake up to her face every morning.
Things are never quiet with Willa around, and it’s an adjustment that’s been surprisingly easy to make. She hums while she works, talks to the animals and the trees, and fills their evenings with constant stories he’s more than happy to listen to. She’s become part of his routine now, and though he might try to deny it, he likes things better this way.
The first change she’d made was making sure Muriel ate proper meals. He doesn’t usually stock the hut with much, relying on eggs or his small garden for food. Willa insists on buying more ingredients, spices, flour, sugar, anything she fancies while she’s out at the market. She loves to cook and Muriel finds that he loves to watch her.
She asks him to help sometimes, but he’s always too worried to mess things up. Sometimes he cooks dinner for them, but he’s always a bit embarrassed when he makes simple dishes and she makes multi course meals. She swears that a simple omelette made by him is better than the finest restaurant, but he thinks she’s biased.
This time when she asks him if he wants to help with dinner, he agrees- if only to see the smile on her face.
“What should we make!” She asks, already rummaging through the kitchen cabinets.
“Whatever you want.” He answers readily, peaking his head out of the front door to watch the rain that’s just started to come down.
“Oh come on Muri, you have to have some preference.” Willa turns to look up at him, hand on her hip. She’s always trying to coax favorites out of him, and most of the time he’s never thought about the questions before. There was never a point to having favorites before her.
“Mmmm no.” Muriel murmurs. “Make something you like.”
“What about something I liked when I was younger?” She suggests, getting on her tiptoes to reach the top shelf where they keep the flour. He reaches up to grab it for her and she beams at him in thanks.
“Do you, uh, do you remember stuff like that?” Muriel asks, watching as she continues rummaging.
“Some of it, yes. I remembered this recipe when I was cooking with Asra a while ago, it’s a simple stew but my mother always made it on rainy days.” Willa explains, “And we can make bread to go with it.”
“Isn’t that a lot of work?” Muriel’s never tried to make bread before, he’s only ever gotten it from the baker’s the few times he’d bothered to make the trip.
“It’s not as much work as you’d think! It’s just a few simple ingredients and some patience.” She starts measuring ingredients into a bowl, “Would you be a dear and go get an egg please?”
“Of course.” He brings the hood of his cloak up to ward off the rain and steps out to the chicken coop. When he comes back he finds her already covered in flour and shakes his head in endearment at the sight.
“I may have been a little hasty with my mixing.” Willa laughs, holding her hand out for the egg. She leans up to press a kiss to his cheek, “Thanks for the egg.”
“You’re welcome.” He blushes. “What next?”
“Can you add the milk?” She smiles, gesturing to the bottle. “My mother used to make this bread too. I found the recipe written on a card in one of my old books.”
“Now we mix?” Muriel asks now that all of the ingredients have been added.
“Now we mix!” Willa says, rolling up her sweater sleeves and reaching into the bowl. Muriel watches as she kneads the dough, not minding the sticky mess it makes. “Here, you try.” She dumps the dough out on the counter and sprinkles flour on it. He reaches for the dough tentatively and she smiles encouragingly, threading her hands through his to show him the motion.
“Like this?”
“That’s perfect!” She moves her hands, letting him take over. “You could be a baker, you’re a natural.”
When it’s time to let the bread rise they start preparing the stew. They go out in the rain together to pick vegetables, Inanna trots along beside them. Willa shows him how to chop the vegetables neatly and he’s soon a pro, handing her handfuls of perfectly cut carrots and potatoes to add to the pot.
“The secret ingredient,” Willa leans in towards him as if it really is a secret, “is beer.”
“Beer?” Muriel lets out a little laugh and she grins at the sound.
“Yep! We only need a little, so we can drink the rest.” Willa holds up the bottle to show him and takes a swig. She hands him the bottle and he takes a sip before handing it back so she can add the rest to the stew. Feeling a bit bold, Muriel steps up behind her to put his arms around her waist, watching as she stirs the stew over the wood stove.
“Hi.” Willa twists her head around to look at him, smiling.
“Hi.” He smiles shyly, but keeps her pressed to him. She leans up to kiss him and when she pulls away he follows, stealing another fleeting kiss. She laughs and presses a kiss to the tip of his nose.
“Cheeky.” She grins, pulling away to resume cooking. “I’ll burn the stew if you keep kissing me like that.”
Muriel blushes and steps away, on the pretense of going to add another log to the fire. After she sets the stew to a simmer, she joins him where he’s sitting by the fire and Inanna patters over to lay down in front of them. Willa settles into his side and he puts an arm around her waist again to pull her in.
“I remember my mom used to make these special oat cookies,” Willa says, launching into her story telling voice. “I don’t remember what she put in them but I know I used to love them. I think I used to feed them to the sheep sometimes as a treat.”
“You gave cookies to the sheep?” Muriel asks, he normally doesn’t interrupt her stories but the idea is so strange to him.
“You’d be surprised how many animals enjoy sweets!” Willa replies, burrowing further into the warmth of Muriel’s cloak. “I miss them sometimes, even though I don’t remember them.”
“The sheep?” Muriel keeps his eyes trained on the fire, he’s always afraid to hurt her by asking about her past.
“I meant my family, but I suppose I do miss the sheep too. I don’t really remember any of them either, but I know we had quite a large flock.” She continues, “But hey, at least now we can make new memories.” She smiles up at him again, hope and adoration clear in her face. He nods in agreement, at a loss for words, and she sighs in contentment.
They put the bread in to bake and in a few hours everything is ready to be served. Muriel feels a surprising sense of accomplishment when he sees the loaf come out of the oven, perfectly round and browned on top, and Willa’s excitement makes him smile. Dinner is delicious, and it’s made even better as Willa shares her few memories of home, and the repeated stories that Asra’s told her about her past.
As he’s trying to fall asleep that night, Muriel wishes he had more of his past to share. There’s so little he knows about where he’s from, and he doesn’t have many happy memories of his own to tell her about. He listens to the quiet sounds of Willa breathing next to him and feels comforted as she unconsciously burrows into his side in her sleep and an arm gets thrown over his chest. At least today is a memory he can think back on, and she's right- they can always make new ones.
#arcana eotp#apprentice willa#food#i made bread recently which inspired this#i want to make this stew though it looks great#so willa and muriel... i would die for them...
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Me thinks that for how much both the Willa and above all the Jolene theories might be rad(and they might have something else to do with the garden, especially with that strange ball comin from the well), that Nicole gotta be Nicole. Of course not ours, because ours is somewhere else. In my theory she s a memory, whatever memory Waverly has left of her; which really would be s1 Nicole after 1x09(or else they d not be kitthy kitthing) and me thinks that her apparition is mixed feels,because the Garden summons her in a “dress”of cherry blossoms; upon a further research i feel like that s meaningful because cherry blossoms indicate a happy relationship in some interps; so does this mean that the garden is tryin to “fool”her into staying or is it simply her memory tryin to help her to not let go of her earth life?
Me thinks they get three cards on the train: Death, The fool and
The Fool: gotta be Waverly, because the garden is trying to fool her into....staying? acting out for it? becomin part of it? or something...
Death: gotta be Nicole because...she keeps on shufflin between settings....the garden, with wynonna, on the train, on the other side with Jeremy (wherever the hell he is); and also she metaphorically “dies”to save Wynonna.
and the last card is the Empress (always Mary El tarot cards deck for reference)
would that mean that the empress is wynonna? i mean she s the “heir”that s her thing, also for figurative reference the empress carries a baby....and wynonna got little michelle....also it s accompanied by apples....and i ve seen lots of us are already referring to Wayhaught as the “Adam”(Eve) and Eve of the garden.
Thoughts? Impressions? Theories? Fears?
Let’s discuss them.
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Jaime x Brienne Modern AU Fics: Part 2
Part 1 is here.
I’m back with 10 more Modern AU recommendations, just in time for the train wreck that we all know is going to be 8x05. Same rules apply: all complete fics, all happy endings for Jaime and Brienne.
I hope to keep these lists going, at least intermittently, so I’ll be tagging them all #jb fic recs. There’s so many great Modern AUs that I could probably do quite a few more posts on just this theme, but I might change it up for my next post (still won’t be touching canon, or at least show!canon, for a bit, just for my own sanity). If you have any particular themes you’d want to see, let me know and I’ll see what I can do.
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A Year in the Life by Coraleeveritas
rating: M | word count: 34159 | chapters: 12
A just-completed story by a longtime JB fic writer, Brienne is a paramedic/firefighter who encounters Jaime when he crashes his car just up the road from where she’s driving. (Jaime is just as ‘pleasant’ as you’d expect at their first meeting.) Each chapter follows on calendar month, and explores their strange developing friendship and subsequent relationship (with added adorable Tommen). A comforting read in these trying times.
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Stacked by QuizzicalQuinnia
rating: E | word count: 11819 | chapters: 3
Jaime is a professor trying to convince PhD student Brienne to be his research assistant (honestly I wish there were more fics that began with this premise). Brienne issues Jaime a challenge to help her track down a medieval-era song called The Bear and the Maiden Faire for her own doctoral research. It ends in completely indulgent sex in the library and it is great.
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In Your Own Words by @bratanimus
rating: M | word count: 7845 | chapters: 1
There’s something dark and hypnotic yet fundamentally charming about this (very American) college AU. Jaime and Brienne are already friends (sort of) at the start of this fic, and a chance meeting in a club becomes the catalyst for the consummation of their mutual attraction. I particularly enjoy Jaime’s stream-of-consciousness thoughts – the way he’s on the precipice of understanding his feelings for her.
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Ten Days by SandwichesYumYum
rating: E | word count: 98421 | chapters: 11
I remember always hearing about SandwichesYumYum but I found her fics relatively late because they aren’t tagged with the J/B pairing. Tyrion books a last minute trip for himself and Jaime, and they meet travel rep Brienne. A whirlwind romance in ten days, as the title promises. (I wish I had been there for when the author was updating the fic once a day, at the equivalent time of that particular chapter. What a lovely way to make the story feel more immersive.)
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you, & you, and you. by @sapphireoftarth
rating: M | word count: 14760 | chapters: 1
The soft and sweet pregnancy/baby!fic you didn’t know you needed. I really love the experimentation with the structure and how flashbacks were woven in and out of the story. It also explores a lot of the insecurities and challenges that are part and parcel of Jaime and Brienne’s relationship.
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Mile High by bergamot
rating: M | word count: 20659 | chapters: 10
Jaime and Brienne bicker and bond (i.e. fall in love) when they’re seated next to each other on a flight to King’s Landing. That Mile High Club situation does happen, but not as soon as you might think. Mostly just heartwarming and hilarious.
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On the Night’s Watch by @miss-m-calling
rating: M | word count: 105820 | chapters: 26
I recommended Miss_M’s ‘Ball and Chain’/’Golden and True’ in Part 1, and gosh I wish she’d come back and write more Detective Brienne stories because I live for them. Here’s a long and dark one from her where Brienne is assigned as Jaime’s new partner, and they go on to solve some pretty intense cases (and then, of course, they become not-just-partners). The procedural element really makes their relationship compelling, but this definitely has mentions of violence, (non-graphic) rape, etc. that might not be everyone’s cup of tea.
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Extracurricular Activities by divine_twig
rating: T | word count: 9718 | chapters: 1
@mothdogs reminded me of another college AU from a few years ago, and there’s a sequel in the works. Just a warning that Jaime does come across pretty blunt here, even by canon standards (‘wench’ > ‘She-Hulk’), but their developing relationship is still very endearing. It ends with just a sort-of acknowledgement of feelings but would love to see where the sequel takes this.
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The Best Legs You’ve Ever Seen by @jaimebrienneonline (I think! Correct me if I’m wrong!) aka ikkiM
rating: E | word count: 5081 | chapters: 1
The most hilarious case of smut-filled mistaken identity – Tyrion books Jaime an appointment with call girl Ros, Brienne is supposed to meet Willas Tyrell for a blind date, they get mixed up while also getting exactly what each of them needed.
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Beast and the Beast by SigilBroken aka @chickren
rating: E | word count: 98317 | chapters: 11
I’ll end with one from the legendary SigilBroken. She’s written some amazing canon continuation/divergence, but this slow-burn fic about Jaime and Brienne as college athletes is... something else. Jaime is the star quarterback, Brienne is on the swim team and is hired by Varys to help him with his academics. SigilBroken says this fic was such a struggle for her to write, but goddamn is it worth your time.
#jaime x brienne fic recs#jaime x brienne#game of thrones#asoiaf#got fic#asoiaf fic#fic recs#fic#braime#ugh this wasn't showing up in the tags#hope it works now#lol still not working why me#brienne x jaime
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When Jon and Sansa think about each other
Book dabbles
I debated a lot before writing this because to be honest I’m no book expert and also the topic of Jon and Sansa thinking about each other in the A Song of Ice and Fire series has been covered so extensively in our corner of the fandom and by some truly fantastic meta writers.
But some thoughts did occur to me and I thought I might as well share them … :)
The main thing that has always struck me about Jon and Sansa’s thoughts on each other is not only just how rarely they occur. In Jon’s case, in particular, it’s quite strange to say the least because he doesn’t think about her even in moments where it’s practically impossible for him not to even spare her a thought.
However, sparse as they are, what I find truly moving about their thoughts about one another is that they concern two important aspects.
In Jon’s case, his thoughts on Sansa are centered around her romanticism, her wonderment at beauty and her love of songs.
He thought of Sansa, brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself
This is a particularly idyllic memory he’s picked there. Almost intimate I dare say. This is speculation, of course, but it does conjure up that image of watching someone you admire from afar, so to speak.
Sansa would call this an enchantment, and tears would fill her eyes at the wonder of it
This is one of my favorite quotes from the books because it feels so true to Sansa’s character and her desire to see the best in the world, to be filled with wonder at it and be moved to tears by beauty. The fact that, for some reason, Jon knows this about her always manages to surprise me.
There’s also a pretty stark contrast between his imaginings on Sansa’s reactions and Arya’s reactions.
“Sansa’s eyes filled with tears at the wonder of it” is very much an image he will be struck by later on when he meets Ygritte whom he starts falling for partly because she would cry when she talked about giants or sang songs.
Of Arya, he says this:
but Arya would run out laughing and shouting, wanting to touch it all
Clearly this is not the kind of reaction Jon is having at the moment. He’s pensive and blown away by the view (“there was magic beyond the wall after all”). His reaction is much closer to his imagined Sansa than his imagined Arya who, here, is placed in the role of the noisy, cheerful child, who is running around happily while the two “adults” look on.
But what is the most interesting thing about these quotes is that Jon, out of all the Stark children, is the only one to think of those characteristics of Sansa in a positive way. Bran also makes mention of Sansa’s love for songs but he calls the songs she likes “stupid”. Arya thinks most of what Sansa does and says is stupid. And we never get access to Robb’s thoughts but he doesn’t appear to spare Sansa much thought at all. Jon alone seems to be the one to value these aspects of Sansa that are so integral to her character.
Also noteworthy that while in the beginning Jon’s thoughts on Arya and Sansa are conflagrated:
He missed the girls too, even Sansa, who never called him anything but “my half brother” since she was old enough to understand what bastard meant.
The girls do not even have that much, he thought. Their wolves might have kept them safe, but Lady is dead and Nymeria’s lost, they’re all alone.
As the story progresses, his thoughts on the two split more and more and are often given in contrast to one another, as Jon begins to reflect on the two as individuals instead of “the girls”. This is far more important for Sansa than it is for Arya since Jon and Arya’s relationship is much more prominent in Jon’s thoughts so far, in the story.
The other important aspect here is that just as Jon begins to reveal his appreciation of Sansa’s romanticism, her qualities as a lady and her love for songs, Sansa is slowly beginning to lose those things. First she loses Lady, a loss Jon comprehends on a level that even Ned ignores. She also begins to say things like:
I thought my song was beginning that day. But it was almost done.
There were no heroes. In real life, monsters always win.
There is even a contrasting image of what Jon conjured up on the Wall, when Sansa enters the gardens of the Eeryie. But while she is struck by the beauty of it all just like Jon imagined, she also thinks this:
A pure world. I do not belong here.
This is often taken as Sansa saying that her place was in Winterfell but I also think this is Sansa internalizing her abuse to such a degree that she no longer feels worthy or “pure”. *cue me ugly crying here*
In order for her to regain those aspects of herself that abuse and isolation have stripped away from her, she’s going to need someone who knew just how important those characteristics were as well as have a true appreciation for them. Need I say more …
In Sansa’s case, the most moving aspect of her thoughts on Jon is that she considers things that others don’t, for whatever reason. All the Stark children think fondly on Jon when they think of him but Sansa finds herself wondering about his actual, current situation.
This quote here in particular is immensely interesting:
If this was what the Night's Watch was truly like, she felt sorry for her bastard half brother, Jon.
Faced with the reality of what the Night’s Watch actually is, instead of the brave and heroic Black Knights she was lead to believe protected the realm from unknown “invaders”, Sansa feels sorry for Jon. The reason why this is so moving to me is because it encapsulates Jon’s entire Night’s Watch drama. He goes to the wall thinking he’s going to join this illustrious and respectable Brotherhood of honorable Knights only to be faced with the reality of a group of thieves and rapists or simple, poor boys forced to go to a place where they’ll likely starve, freeze to death or be murdered because they had no other choice. Talk about a rude awakening! And Sansa of all people is the one that acknowledges this and empathizes with Jon’s plight.
And then there’s the famous:
She had not thought of Jon in ages. He was only her half brother, but still . . . with Robb and Bran and Rickon dead, Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her. I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again.
This is quite the leap Sansa made from this:
It would have been easier if Arya had been a bastard, like their half brother Jon. She even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. And Jon's mother had been common, or so people whispered.
Every anti-Sansa commentary circles back to her derision of Jon as a bastard. And you can clearly see in the second quote just how low an opinion she had of the position to begin with. She even thinks Jon’s mother must have been common, because how else would he have ended up a bastard? Also Arya’s attitude disturbs her to such a degree that she thinks it would have been easier if Arya had been a bastard as well.
But easier how? I think the answer is that if Arya had been a bastard, Sansa would have been able to find a more suitable place for her in her world view. She’s been trained to think that bastards by nature are lacking in some way, are less suitable for respectable society than legally born children and because Arya’s behavior is so out of the spectrum of what she’s been led to believe is “normal”, bastardhood would have offered an explanation.
And so I must ask, is it a coincidence that Sansa finds herself in the position of becoming a bastard herself? Of suffering people’s suspicions of her nature, their insults and humiliations? Is it GRRM punishing her for the thoughts that her society put in her head since she was old enough to speak? Or is it perhaps a way for her to understand Jon’s situation and his frustrations in a way that she could never do before? Is it likely she’ll think the same of him, after her own experiences? And after conveniently spending part of her Eeryie arc around two other bastards?
There’s already a marked difference between the Alayne quote and the Night’s Watch quote in terms of how she refers to him. In the Night’s watch quote she calls him “her bastard half brother” which feels like overkill, like she has to clearly state his exact position to keep it straight in her head, lest she slip and think of him in a more affectionate way. In the Alayne quote she abandons the “bastard” before “half brother” all together and then brings it up as a way for her to breach the divide she most assuredly knows is there.
It would be easy to imagine Sansa saying to Jon: “I was a bastard just like you. I understand now.” in order to try and forge a relationship with him, once they’re reunited.
On love:
These quotes are obviously not Jon and Sansa thinking about each other but I do think there’s something interesting about how they connect.
When Sansa is dealing with the Tyrells and thinking about a possible marriage to Willas Tyrell, this is the image that she comes up with of her married life:
She pictured the two of them sitting together in a garden with puppies in their laps, or listening to a singer strum upon a lute while they floated down the Mander on a pleasure barge.
On the other hand, Jon has started a relationship with Ygritte, he just had sex for the first time and is a very young man. This is the time he should probably work on perfecting his first imagined porno flick. However, this is what he thinks about:
If I could show her Winterfell…give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us.
Both of these quotes have very little to do with their respective partners. Sansa has never met Willas. He might be allergic to puppies for all she knows. On the other hand, Jon knows that him doing any of the things he wants to do with Ygritte would be impossible because she’s not the type of woman to be gifted flowers, be dined in the Great Hall or appreciate the stone kings that are probably responsible for keeping her people beyond the wall for centuries.
However, looking at both those quotes, what stands out is just how similar they are. Both Jon and Sansa conjure images of domestic bliss, filled with romance and tranquility. Also, for some strange reason, both Jon and Sansa think of being with their respective partners in water … Granted, Sansa also wants puppies and she doesn’t think about making love beneath the stars but she’s a sheltered and very young girl who thinks kissing is about the most risqué thing you can do.
You can kind of see just how easily both their fantasies could fit together in a way that wouldn’t rob one or the other of what they want.
Lastly, I’ll leave you with this:
If I could show her Winterfell…give her a flower from the glass gardens …
One of the main reasons why Sansa became romantically interested in Loras Tyrell was because he gifted her a rose at the joust. Jon wants to woo his lady love with flowers from the glass gardens. I say they should just skip the middle man. Also, Jon should get a hold of some puppies to seal the deal … And maybe some kittens too … It’s important to be original, after all.
*gifs do not belong to me!
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Music Monday (3/4/19)
March is here, along with an influx of exciting releases and new favorites. I’ve got so much to talk about, so let’s get right to it.
New Releases
Now That I Found You by Carly Rae Jepsen: She’s back again and she’s saving the music industry. This perfect slice of synth pop is a ton of fun, full of Carly’s signature energy and genuine eagerness to just be full out, unapologetically pop.
Sight Of You by Sigrid: I swear Sigrid is joy incarnate. I need Sucker Punch to drop like I need air to breathe.
No Plan by Hozier: Take me to the Wasteland, Baby! I love how intense this track is, when I heard that electric guitar at the start of the song for the first time, I was shook. I like the jazzy feel of the instrumentals, Hozier’s rich vocals, and the summer, laid back atmosphere this song presents. Hozier, just Hozier. We don’t deserve him.
We Talk All The Time by The Japanese House: I was so excited for The Japanese House to release her first album, and Good At Falling is finally here! It’s certainly a mood album, very chill but intricate in its sound. (Every track flows together, and I’m all for albums that do that, like Expectations by Hayley Kiyoko.) It sounds like falling up into the clouds, if that makes any sense. This song was released as a single, but I put off listening to it until the album dropped, and I really love it. Amber Bain’s vocals are entrancing as always, and it’s so soothing while still having a great pulse.
Take It Or Leave It by Willa: I’m just so here for this Willa comeback. This song is even more of a bop then Cause You Did, (and I really like Cause You Did.) Willa has a lot of personality on the vocals, and goddamn is that chorus catchy. I’m not always into distorted-vocal drops, but instead of being plunked into the song all at once, it’s intertwined with the chorus’s lyrics, so it never feels like dead air in the song. Check Willa out, she’s really cool and deserves more attention.
Cruel To Care (Voice Memo) by LÉON: We’ve got another highly anticipated album drop with LÉON’s self titled debut! Along with her catchy as fuck singles, (Baby Don’t Talk, Falling, You and I,) that I talked about in past Music Mondays, this album also features a lot of quieter, more restrained moments. This song is a prime example, with minimal production and a first-take charm that allows LÉON’s vocals to shine. Tell me why this song has me sad over a lost relationship that I’ve never had in the first place? Because it does. ‘
Flux by Ellie Goulding: A new Ellie Goulding single! Without a rap verse! I’ve been waiting for this for a long, long time. Ellie’s voice is so unique, dusky, and wonderful, and this track gives it the spotlight by backing it with quiet strings and pianos. Just lovely.
Sucker by Jonas Brothers: Okay, I have no nostalgic attachment to the Jonas Brothers. I never watched their TV show, (or Disney channel at all for that matter,) and I’ve only heard their older songs a handful of times, (though yes, I can confirm that Year 3000 and Burnin’ Up are bangers, in a not-only-ironic way.) This song is a bop, with some Feel It Still by Portugal. The Man vibes, and is about how much they love their wives. So yes, 10/10 respect. I’m ready for this comeback.
Other Favorites
Lemonade by Rubblebucket: I mentioned Rubblebucket in my favorite songs of 2018 list for their song Fruity, (which is a major bop to the top by the way, check it out.) But we’re not here to talk about Fruity, we’re here to talk about Lemonade. This song is very synthesizer heavy, with a slinky beat, a surprising but refreshing trumpet solo, and an enticing vocal melody. I like the mood that this song projects, a bit jazzy, a bit strange, and a bit sexy.
Mowgli’s Road by MARINA: In preparation for Love + Fear, I’ve been catching up on MARINA’s past discography, and since I’d never heard The Family Jewels, I decided to check it out. And this song is particular. Holy lawd. It’s a bop. Just, the biggest bop. I love how weird this song gets, with the endlessly charming “cuckoos” sprinkled throughout to the canned toy laughter to the tangents about silverware to the all out nightmare that the song shatters into in its last quarter or so. I’ve had it on repeat this whole week. (Also, the music video? Absolutely wack. I can’t stop watching it.)
Dirty Dirty by Charlotte Cardin: I’m in love with Charlotte Cardin’s voice. It’s so smoky and sensual, like Grace or Amy Winehouse. This song in particular is one of my favorites from her. Just think one of the songs that would play in a romantic piano bar scene in a spy thriller. It’s like that, and it’s great.
Saint Claude (Version Française) by Christine and the Queens: Now for another music video I can’t stop watching. For some reason I was watching old Lorde interviews from 2013 on YouTube, and the interviewer asked her about songs that she liked, and she mentioned this. Now I’m not one to turn down the words of the Lorde, so I gave it a listen, and of course it’s amazing, what else did I expect? This song is so ethereal and pretty, it feels like floating up into the clouds, and I don’t even care that it’s in French and I don’t know what any of the words mean. I haven’t heard the English version of this song, and I don’t know if I want to. If anything, the fluidity of the French language adds to the atmosphere of the song.
Check out my last Music Monday.
Follow my personal playlist on Spotify.
#new music#music recommendations#carly rae jepsen#sigrid#hozier#the japanese house#willa#LÉON#ellie goulding#jonas brothers#rubblebucket#MARINA#charlotte cardin#christine and the queens#taste in music#taste in music monday
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where do you think scarlett leithold could fit? this rp looks amazing !
thank you so much ! i think she could fit in a lot of different families : steve rogers ( adopted ), loki & sigyn, hope van dyne, black tom cassidy & eilish sullivan, caitlin snow & ronnie raymond, stephanie brown & cassandra cain ( adopted ), dan espinoza & chloe decker & lucifer morningstar, eddie brock, kara zor-el, hal jordan & carol ferris, harley quinn & pamela isley, jason todd ( adopted ), hela & thanos, koriand’r & raven roth ( adopted ), natasha romanoff ( adopted ), stephen strange & clea, bruce wayne, oliver queen & dinah lance, warren worthington iii, michael jon carter & ted kord ( adopted ) !
and if you’re interested, some familial wanted connections she could fit :
VIDAR BJÖRK-THORSON & TOVA VIDARSDOTTIR, our CHARLIE HUNNAM & EMMA MACKEY fcs are looking for a CHILD / SIBLING connection who looks like BILLIE EILISH, MARGOT ROBBIE, HENRIK HOLM, ELLIOT FLETCHER, KATELYN NACON, JOE KEERY, JENNY BOYD, NAT WOLFF / UTP who is 17-19 or 23 you DON’T have to contact prior to applying at ofichvr / tofuisms. ( but you can if you want ! ) ( tova would… die for each of them, any time any place, but also… you know how ur sibs are your best friends but also your worst enemies? .. yeah. when they’re good, they’re reALLY good - but when they’re bad, mom or dad probably has to step in eventually to referee the arguments. the dynamic would prob be different depending on whether tova is older or younger ; if she’s the eldest, then her natural protectiveness extends to them, and if they’re older… well, same, but she’s probably a little bit TOO textbook ‘annoying younger sister’ a lot of the time. it is very possible that vidar isn’t close to this child due to him not being around for AWHILE - he was in the army from age 18 to early 30s but would come home whenever he was able to - which was NEVER enough! so they could have a relationship where vidar tries and ur chara just doesn’t want that, ur chara looks up to him but they don’t rly know how to interact , etc! it is also an option for the chara to be a TWIN but thats completely up to u! please check out vidar’s INTRO for background info and more fc options! )
THEORA TREVOR, our KATE SIEGEL fc, is looking for a FOSTER CHILD connection who looks like CAMERON BOYCE, LISA TEIGE, AMANDLA STENBERG, KARAN BARR, DAVID CASTRO, RJ CYLER, ABIGAIL COWEN, PARIS BERELC, YARA SHAHIDI, IMAN MESKINI // PLAYER’S CHOICE who is 16/17. you DO have to contact prior to applying at WVTCHFUL. ( credit to rachel for giving me part of this idea !! theora works in the e.r. and one day a kid ended up there for some reason.when it came time for them to be discharged, they had nowhere to go and theora got temporary custody while they waited for the situation to be worked out. flash forward a few days, theora is attached and filling out the paperwork to become a foster parent. )
EMMA FROST, our KATIE CASSIDY fc is looking for her LIL DEATH MACHINES / STEPFORD CUCKOOS X3 - CELESTE, MINDEE, PHOEBE who look like GIORGIA WHIGHAM, KIERNAN SHIPKA, JENNY BOYD, ANNASOPHIA ROBB, ANY MATCHING BLONDE FC who are 16-26 YEARS OLD. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( we all kno the stepford cuckoos. they and their sisters - two named dead, thousands of unnamed - are emma’s clones, and though they appear to be mature, are actually, chronologically, like, five or smth, cos they were grown rapidly in tubes. it wasn’t known from minute one that they were emma’s, but the minute this became public knowledge, she accepted it and started to think of them as her daughters. diamond form, telepathic hive mind, coordinated outfits ; how much more could u want? )
GRÁINNE CASSIDY, our SOPHIE RUNDLE fc is looking for her SIBLINGS / TWO OLDER, TWO YOUNGER who look like FINN COLE, OLIVIA COOKE, CILLIAN MURPHY, EMILY BROWNING, DOUGLAS BOOTH / ANY FACE CLAIM who are anything from 20-40 YEARS OLD. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( do u want to play a member of a crime fam, but ur not sure which to pick? do u want to play an irish char, but dont know what to do? if the answer is yes to the first and no to the second, but ur ok with settling, then boy o boy do i have the crime fam for you ! mutant on their fathers side and mobster on their mothers, the cassidy-sullivan’s are honestly… p hot, if i say so myself. their matriarch was left the only member of the fam after they were wiped out in gotham about ten years ago, and now they’re all getting older, the kids are restarting that specific fam business. i love the idea of them all having like… conflicting ideals, conflicting ideas for their fam, conflicting LIVES. gráinne fancies herself the head of the family right now, and at least for the minute is continuing their loyalty to the falcone’s. her sibs could want to challenge her… could be happy working alongside her… could mayb not even wanna be apart of the family - it’s honestly up to YOU ! )
JEANNIE DRAKE KENT, our STEFANIE SCOTT fc is looking for a HALF SIBLING ( via warren ) connection who looks like ( EMMA DUMONT, ASAMI ZDRENKA, RYAN POTTER ANY ½ WHITE FC )) who is ( 19-23 YEARS OLD. ) you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( half siblings that are known publically to be worthington – nothing is set in stone with this connection but feel free to message at gods lost roomba#5813 to hear more about it! )
PERSEUS XAVIER-LEHNSHERR, our NICK ROBINSON fc is looking for an UNKNOWN BIOLOGICAL FAMILY connection who looks like any white/half white (brunette) kid !! / grace phipps, jake t austin, madison davenport, noah centineo, piper curda, richard harmon, thomas hayes, willa holland, xavier serrano who is 20+ YEARS OLD. you DO have to contact prior to applying at JEEZPERSEUS. ( he was born to two degenerates in camden, new jersey. neither good parents, but he never experienced it because he was very little when he & his seven siblings were placed into the custody of the state for neglect. they were a high powered family, two mutant parents, but there’s a possibility one of the kids was human. they can be siblings or half-siblings or even cousins. or even his twin sister!! they’d be 20 or older if they’re a (half-)sibling, bc percy is youngest. go wild. ) ( thalia, more )
ROSARIO HILL, our MELISSA BARRERA fc, is looking for a YOUNGER HALF SIBLINGS / ADOPTED SIBLINGS ( 1 to 2 ) connection who looks like DIEGO TINOCO, TRINITY ANNE, EDEN ESTRADA, SOFIA REYES, CIERRA RAMRIEZ, ISSA LISH, DANNA PAOLA, ARIELA BARER, MANPREET MABRA, LAURA HARRIER, TRISTIN MAYS, LULU ANTARISKA, KEKE PALMER, TAZZY PHE, TINA TAMASHIRO, TOMMY MARTINEZ, MARLON LANGELAND / AT LEAST HALF MEXICAN IF BIO, ANY FACE IF ADOPTED who is UNDER 25 you DON’T have to contact prior to applying.
TRIXIE ESPINOZA DECKER MORNINGSTAR, our CHRISTIAN SERRATOS fc is looking for her ( TWO ) YOUNGER HALF-SIBLINGS VIA CHLOE & LUCIFER who look like ANY HALF WHITE, HALF MEXICAN FC who are anything from 16-22 YEARS OLD. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( i’m tweaking the timeline that i’m mainly working from - the lucifer tv show - just a bit to allow for a broader age range of siblings, but what i waNT here is !! lil decker-morningstar kids !! i’m not even fussy on whether they’re like, bio or not, i just think… trix would be an awesome big sister, and it would REALLY solidify the fam connection here for there to be a lil fam running abt the place. )
WILLIAM WADE WILSON, our BRANDON FLYNN fc is looking for a FULL SIBLING connection who looks like CAITLIN STASEY, MERRITT PATTERSON, NINA DOBREV, DAISY RIDLEY, COLIN FORD, ALEX LAWTHER, TYLER YOUNG, THOMAS HAYES, UTP+ who is 16-17, 22+ you DON’T have to contact prior to applying at willicmwilson. ( Okay, I’m not super duper picky with this connection- I really just want to explore their relationship/the family dynamic. Also, it’s completely optional but I think it’d be cool to continue the whole 3 W tradition when naming them! Feel free to contact me if you do have any questions!)
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[last goodbye]
hello and welcome to the Most Extra Request Ever™. welcome. pls strap in! this request is for a cohort of people that (mostly) graduated from magnolia high in the class of 2011, and who are all interconnected through recently-deceased sam friar. as it often goes in small towns, kids who spent their whole lives being around each other tend to part ways at graduation and never see each other again. in this group’s case, they have no choice but to come back together for better or worse, and it’s done a great job at pointing out any cracks that still remain from years ago.
if you want to look at the chart above, pink = romantic / green = friendly / red = antagonistic / purple = familial. each character has a p...retty extensive blurb with lots of connections so we can try and ensure connections and interaction, but i think it’s rly important that everyone knows that these were relationships in high school (for the most part) and definitely don’t have to represent current relationships unless specified (like people who dated in high school don’t have to be dating now, people could have gone away even if it doesn’t specify, etc etc). also!! there will obviously be more connections made, i just could only put so much into graphic and writing before it got to be Too Much!
if you’re interested in a spot pls reply to this or message me or send me a lil msg on discord (morg#3278). xoxo bless
G1 - loren friar, 23, kat mcnamara (played by morgan)
G2 - graziella zavala, rafa constentino (played by betty)
G3 - heidi hope, 24, danielle campbell (played by maddie)
G4 - teddy townsend, 24, zoey deutch (played by suki)
B1 - noah foster, 24, quenten a (played by nicole)
B2 - first last, age, charlie rowe (played by liv)
B3 - micah friar, 24, carter jenkins (played by nick)
B4 - first last, age, face (played by emily)
samson friar (deceased): brilliant but lazy
sam grew up as the kid who acted out, who threw fits in class and got into fights on the playground. not many people really knew how hard sam had it, with strict evangelical parents who took all their frustrations out on him. at the end of the day, after using most of his time and energy being the protective big brother for twin boy 3 and little sister girl 1, he didn’t have much left for school. even though he’d always been smart, brimming with potential, he fought forces both external and internal - including only later-diagnosed borderline personality disorder - on his short-lived path to success. as he got older, the bad boy persona he’d acquired by acting out stuck hard and he rolled with it. he had his siblings and best friends since childhood, boy 4 and girl 3, to fall back on. their ragtag bunch got a pretty gnarly name for themselves, skipping class to smoke and throwing parties in abandoned houses. no one ever expected sam to start dating girl 4, universally known to be an uptight prude bitch. something clicked between them, and even though girl 3’s longstanding crush stood in the way of their relationship, it flourished regardless. for a while, she influenced him for the better. he shaped up, got his grades up, even made plans for college. that phase of their relationship was clearly a manic one, since those dreams died quickly. the romance was intensely passionate but also toxic, and despite the animosity she held for him for convincing her to stay local for school to be together and the personal struggles he faced, they refused to break up. in fact, they even decided to get married. about six months before his death, on the heels of the discovery that girl 4 had fallen pregnant, they got engaged. despite the romantic gesture, it couldn’t save their relationship or stop fate from intervening. when girl 4 miscarried, sam went off the rails. a minor drug habit that was once recreational became much more, and not long ago he ended up overdosing, leaving the carnage of family, friends, and lovers behind.
girl 1 (22-24): baby bookworm
sam and boy 3’s little sister, girl 1 was always tagging along with them. she never really fit in with people her age, never really fit in with people her brothers’ ages, so she was often left feeling isolated from everyone. this meant she often retreated into herself, not pursuing academics because of passion but instead because it was all she really had, one constant she could point to that would always be there. she hadn’t realized that perhaps some of the turmoil she felt came from her repressed sexuality until one night, after a party her brothers had begrudgingly let her go to, girl 2 kissed her. she’d never felt a crush like that before and never thought it would be with another girl. when boy 1 moved to magnolia, the two outcasts got along very quickly, becoming best friends and hanging out every single day. understandably, girl 1 was crushed when she found out that girl 2 had taken a liking to him and, apparently, the feelings were reciprocated. caught between her friendship and the protection of an almost-relationship she couldn’t even admit to, she decided to cut off the friendship with boy 1. just before her brother’s death, she finally gave in to boy 4, her brother’s best friend’s long-standing crush, and it’s not that she doesn’t like him, or that she doesn’t like boys, but that she still sees girl 2 at the grocery store and wonders whether it meant as much to girl 2 as it did to her. there’s also the strange fact that, when she looks at boy 4, she gets subtle reminders of her brother that make his loss easier, and isn’t it close enough to love that they’ve gotten each other through this?
girl 2 (24-25): prom queen
never the smartest in the bunch, girl 2 had to rely on street smarts, common sense and good looks to get along. clever in her own way, she was always particularly attuned to people - how to make them tick, how to get what she wanted, how to make connections like no other. maybe that’s why she was always flitting from guy to guy - though girl 1 would certainly say otherwise. she went from one bad relationship to another in high school, trying to find something in a guy that she couldn’t find on her own. after an ugly breakup with her long-term boyfriend, boy 2, that ended in absolute chaos, she was surprised to find herself interested in the unassuming new boy, boy 1. her friends, including part-time friend and part-time enemy girl 4, were surprised that she’d go for a nice guy - but she knew she needed a change of pace. getting girl 1 to leave her alone in the process was just an added perk - i mean, she was never gay or anything, just curious, and was that so wrong?
suggested faces: nicola peltz, cierra ramirez, camila mendes, madelaine petsch, taylor hill, halston sage, sofia carson, natalie alen lind, virginia gardner
girl 3 (24-25): bad genes
girl 3 was hardly given a fighting chance by the Powers That Be. her drug-addicted parents abandoned her early, leaving her with her not-much-better relatives, a revolving door of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and the like. it was no wonder she started hanging out with fellow garbage kids, boy 4 and sam. it was a surprise to her, though, that she found herself head over heels in love with sam. the feeling was never returned, really, outside of a few awkward kisses or fondling when he was off with girl 4. everyone was always asking why she didn’t just date boy 3, but the girl was perpetually oblivious to his advances because she was always focused intently on sam. at least she thought she was - but his death proved otherwise. she had actually thought things were looking up, and had been given renewed hope for her repressed love after they slept together one night. when he overdosed despite everything she’d done and everything she felt, girl 3 blamed herself more than anyone. the only thing keeping her from going off the rails (just like her one-time true love) is boy 3, and she’s starting to see what everyone was always talking about when they insisted she choose him instead.
girl 4 (24-25): academic alpha bitch
how do you not crack under the pressure when the weight of the world is on your shoulders? girl 4 was always so good at that, not without the help of anti-anxiety meds and meticulous journaling, always keeping up appearances to be the good, smart, promising girl everyone expected her to be. sam was her break from that, something that shocked absolutely everyone. she was too good, too smart, and had too much potential to be with someone like that. really, though, he was the only thing that made her feel anything but anxiety or anger. she made enemies everywhere she went, seeing everyone as a competitor, from her so-called best friend girl 2 to sam’s best friend girl 3 to her class president opponent, boy 2. sam was always her ally, no matter what, even if they fought. everyone blamed it on him, but she made mistakes too - namely, sleeping with boy 2 after a particularly bad fight. in truth, she wasn’t even sure whose baby it was, but either way she was relieved in a way when she miscarried. sam… not so much. she watched his downward spiral but didn’t have the tools to stop it as he froze her out and distanced himself further and further away from her - and, as she saw it, toward girl 3. girl 4 was the one to find him, and it’s a memory she could never forget, something that makes her regret the relief she felt not to be inextricably linked to him. grief-stricken as she is, how can she not see this as a fresh start?
suggested faces: willa fitzgerald, haley lu richardson, naomi scott, jessica sula, saoirse ronan, olivia cooke, zoey deutch, alycia debnam carey, camila mendes, halston sage, daisy ridley, logan browning
boy 1 (23-24): foreign exchange student
texas was nothing like where boy 1 came from. when he transferred to magnolia high, he didn’t know up from down or this from that. he was helpless - and girl 1 helped him. he developed a crush on her quickly, warming to her southern drawl and the way she talked when she got excited about something she was telling him about. at the same time, he started getting closer and closer to his mentor, the girl who was assigned to help him get acclimated to his new home and his new school: girl 2. it was strange to him that, when he became friends with girl 2, girl 1 stopped sitting next to him in economics, stopped eating with him at lunch, stopped answering his texts or calls. he didn’t see the correlation until later, when girl 2 made tasteless a joke about girl 1 being a lesbian. he had to adapt, either sink or swim in the high school environment he found himself in, and being with girl 2 meant swimming - and anyway, girl 1 clearly wasn’t interested anyway.
suggested faces: timothee chalamet, tom holland, john boyega, noah centineo, xavier serrano, avan jogia, keiynan lonsdale, nick robinson, tye sheridan
boy 2 (24-25): big man on campus
boy 2 had everything he needed to succeed in life. his family had money in oil, he was exceedingly smart, he was good at sports and great with the ladies. he had everything going for him - well, almost everything. the only thing standing between him and success was a little temper that found him getting into fights on the football field or getting into screaming matches with his ex-girlfriend girl 2 in the middle of the hallway at school. he just needed something to channel all that energy into, so he signed up to run for class president, a good old fashioned competition that he could put some positive energy into. he never expected it to be such a tough battle, and much less expected to get into it with girl 4. perpetual rivals in school, their rivalry came to a head during the presidential election. she won, but he developed a fascination with her and a hatred for her garbage boyfriend, sam. he went off for college, but she never really left his mind. he came back recently after losing his job (he says he resigned, but that’s twisted the whole truth a little) and met girl 4 in a bar, and he thought their getting together would be a good thing for them - he could give her everything sam couldn’t, everything she needed and deserved. turns out he was just a distraction, and he told himself he’d draw a line. the line has been drawn even further since sam’s death, since boy 2 definitely doesn’t want to get involved with a dead guy’s fiancee. still, he can’t help but wish she’d reach out…
suggested faces: keith powers, dacre montgomery, ansel elgort, jacob elordi, matt noszka, carter jenkins, thomas doherty, gregg sulkin, logan shroyer
boy 3 (24-25): the unassuming one
boy 3 always felt positively boring, not good or bad but somewhere plainly in the middle. his twin brother sam was always getting the attention - mostly negative, but boy 3 quickly became a firm believer in life that all attention is good attention. he was always grateful for the protection he got, for himself and for little sister girl 1, but at the same time was resentful of his brother for his notoriety. they shared everything, like best friend boy 4, and everything else went automatically to sam. sam never respected what he wanted to do or who he wanted to see, including girl 3. sam always knew that he liked her, and yet sam used her crush on him to his advantage at any possible time. as close as they always had been, the resentment was too much for boy 3 to handle and, when he got the chance, he decided to go off and backpack across europe to find himself before going to college across the country. he’s back now for the funeral, and while he know better who he is now, he can’t help but hate himself a little for driving a wedge between himself and his other half. he’s falling into old habits now, trying to reconnect with the person he used to be in any way he can - like how he’s fallen back in with girl 3. now, he can’t tell whether this is growth, or if he’s just regressing back to his lesser self.
suggested faces: logan lerman, joe keery, nat wolff, cole sprouse, carter jenkins
boy 4 (24-25): class clown
no one ever took boy 4 seriously. he was always sort of dumb, this caricature of a class clown that had nothing else to offer. after a while, he sort of saw himself as that, too. he moved in a pack with boy 3 and sam, cracking jokes whenever he could and coasting along until high school would finally end. he spent so much of his young life hanging out with the twins that he became well acquainted with girl 1, their little sister. the boys had their own things, girlfriends and schoolwork and everything, and as they got older and boy 4 found himself devoid of any real passion, he spent a lot of idle time with her, learning from her and maybe, secretly, falling in love with her. he always knew how protective sam was of her, though, and as fiercely loyal as he was, he would never sacrifice their friendship for anyone - not even someone as amazing as her. sam dying was the worst pain he’s ever felt in his life, and if being around girl 1 is mutually beneficial, wouldn’t sam be okay with that? he has to tell himself yes, otherwise the guilt would overtake him and he can’t deal with that on top of everything.
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why do you ship jonsa? my best friend is a hard core jonerys shipper but lately ive been really critical of daenerys, so i cant really hop on that train. i dont really have a preference for jon either way so i wanted to know why you ship them
Oh hello! What a lovely question to ask, though I must warn you this could most likely get draggy and long because I’m so passionate about these two and this ship, they’re my OTP. Actually I only started reading the books last year, before then I was a casual watcher until up to Feb 2016 before season 7 aired. Jon and Sansa had just reunited on the show and I came across this Jonsa instagram on my explore page and I thought, what the fuck is this? It was such an absurd ship to consider - and this is coming from someone who was crack shipping Tommen and Sansa! But I kept scrolling through, the captions in the post came from posts on Tumblr(with credit) explaining the parallels and the ways in which Jonsa could go down and it was sort of like… this strange theory that I subscribed to and was soon convinced of. I tried bringing it up to my friend but she was a casual watcher and didn’t really pay much attention to it so I was craved of my need to discuss this. So come season 7, I rejoined Tumblr and the Jonsa tag was SO rich in content and meta, detailing all the parallels, how it could happen, why it makes sense and how it would wrap up up the narrative in the most satisfying manner. I’ve never shipped something so hard and wanted it to be canon more than with Jonsa(though canon or not I’m not fussy lol).
I’m gonna outline to you some of the main reasons why I think Jonsa has a strong chance of happening in canon, because they’re really why I ship them so hard, they complement each other perfectly though it’s very easy to miss this. I’m keeping this under a ‘Keep Reading’ tab because I know this will get lengthy. Also, any of my followers/people seeing this, do add on in the comments why you ship jonsa or perhaps leave some links to some of your fav meta’s in the comments for OP to screen through if they feel like it!
This will be lengthy but remember I am trying my best to be brief, hopefully the other Jonsa’s will link some metas/parallel series to give you a better idea - I’m only outlining the backbone of the ship!
The Ashford Tourney Pattern
So it actually began when I came across this theory: The Tourney at Ashford was held in-universe, and I wont go much into detail except to mention that all of the 5 champions in that tourney coincide with the houses of the men Sansa is betrothed/married to (i.e. Sansa’s suitors). It goes
Lyonel Baratheon
Leo Tyrell
Tybolt Lannister
Humfrey Hardyng, and,
Valarr Targaryen.
Now, granted the show’s made some changes but ultimately they’re coming to the same conclusion, and as for book!Sansa(i.e. canon) she’s first betrothed to Joffrey Baratheon, then is promised to Willas Tyrell(changed to Loras on the show), marries Tyrion Lannister, is currently in the works of being betrothed to Harry Hardyng(in the Vale - the Ramsay plot is not hers), and so the logical conclusion would be to complete the pattern by marrying her final suitor, the endgame - a Targaryen. That makes Jon the only candidate viable to her, and yes that sounds ‘out there’ but if you take a look at the narrative, it could make complete sense, so let’s go into how this could logically happen.
Logic
Given the story began with the Starks being the heart of the series, you can only anticipate that the final installation, initially named A Time For Wolves would promise a continuation of the Stark line, and that could come about through Jon and Sansa. They are the only Starks left who’s storyline touches on ideas of fatherhood and motherhood - the only Starks left to ever consider having future children(and weirdly enough where Sansa wants to name her children Bran and Rickon and thinks of a girl who looks like Arya in her dreams of children, Jon wants to name his son Robb - even their dreams complement each other, they’d be rebuilding the Stark family with themselves), the only Starks left to think of restoring Winterfell(and they already go on to do this on the show) etc. When you think of Sansa and how she’s had to fight hard to retain her Stark identity and reclaim it, I cannot imagine GRRM marrying her off to some random lord at the end of the series, when she’s just made it back home. For Jon too, he’s wanted Winterfell, and dreamed of that domestic life as Lord of Winterfell, as a Stark, and Sansa, the Key to the North, could give him that - the same way her marrying Jon who’s actually a prince would be fulfilling her childhood dream as well. They both get what they want in the way they least expect it, something very GRRM-esque. There’s the narrative convenience of R+L=J that would allow for some catharsis once Jon realises he’s not her half-brother, and the convenience of them being the only Starks to not have an established relationship beforehand. But despite that, whenever they do think of the other in the books, it’s never with any resentment, contrary to popular belief, they don’t hate each other(they think of each other fondly, even). It’s something that could work politically in show!verse just as well, say word gets out that Jon’s a Targaryen, the Northern lords would never accept him unless Sansa brokers a political marriage to tame them.
History would also be repeating itself in a poetic way, but done right this time. Jon and Sansa marrying would parallel Ned x Cat, they each parallel them so much and S7 has hammered those visual parallels more than ever. A Stark would be wedding a Tully. And if you embraced Jon as a Targaryen, then they would parallel Rhaegar and Lyanna in a sense too by having a Targaryen prince wed a Stark lady. It also nicely twists what happened to Cersei, where she was supposed to marry a Targaryen prince(Rhaegar) but ends up marrying a Baratheon(Robert) - Sansa was betrothed to Joffrey Baratheon, but would be marrying a Targaryen prince in Jon, which only adds another layer to her being the YMBQ from Cersei’s prophecy if you subscribe to that!
Complementary Storylines
If you take a closer look at Jon and Sansa’s arcs, they tend to echo off of each other, always linking the two through themes, yet the author does a great deal to ensure they’re the last two Starks we ever associate with each other which honestly, would be something he’d do if he meant to pull them marrying as a huge plot twist no one would expect. But thematically, both Jon and Sansa:
start their arcs as naive,
are the Starks most interested in leaving WF - Jon goes to the Wall where he assumes the men are ideal knights, and Sansa journeys South with romanticised ideas of court, and both characters are quickly disappointed.
Jon gets dubbed “crow” for most of his arc, the same way Sansa gets dubbed “little bird/dove”.
Both characters at the same time, have to pretend to be something they’re not around their enemies - Jon going undercover as a Wildling, while Sansa had to blend in with the Lannisters.
They both get dubbed traitor around the same time too, Jon’s seen as a traitor for leaving the Wildlilngs while Sansa gets dubbed traitor/murderer once they thought she poisoned Joffrey as she leaves KL.
Jon who starts off as a bastard, rises to the title of Lord Commander at the Nights Watch the same time Sansa, who starts off as a Lady, gets forced to pose as Littlefinger’s bastard daughter.
It’s the same case on the show, and there’s reason enough to believe Jon and Sansa will be the first Starks to reunite in the books and reclaim Winterfell as well(though the circumstances may be different, it’s heavily foreshadowed in Sansa’s final ASOS chapter).
Complementary Dreams
GRRM has a weird way of connecting these two through their shared dreams. Where Sansa’s final chapter in ASOS heavily foreshadows that she’ll come to rebuild Winterfell with Jon(and she already goes onto do this on the show with Jon), Jon is also the only other Stark to think of reclaiming and rebuilding it, and this occurs in the same book. They’re both weirdly also the only Stark kids to be referred to as the Blood of Winterfell. ASOS(the 3rd book in the series) is also where both these characters start to undergo a sexual awakening(Ygritte’s attempts with Jon, and Sansa coming into her own body and developing).
It’s the same book where Jon considers having a son of his own, thinking he could name him after Robb, and Sansa thinks of giving her betrothed children, noting that in her dreams her children looked like the brothers she had lost and that she wants to name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon(after the brothers she’s lost). So yes, while that sounds very odd, these two coming together would actually be giving each other what they long for in a family, children who look like named after their pack. Once you remember that book wise, Jon looks like a carbon copy of Ned and Sansa looks like a more beautiful version of Catelyn then you could only assume their children would look very much like the siblings they grew up with too.
It’s actually strange how alike they are and how their arcs tend to echo off of each other but it even comes down to the same romanticised idea of courtship. Sansa remembers the rose Loras gave to her during the Hand’s Tourney, and when met with the prospect of marrying Willas, starts fantasising of sitting with her lord husband in a garden. Lo and behold, a couple chapters later Jon thinks of showing Ygritte Winterfell, and plucking a flower for her from Winterfell’s glass garden. In other words… they would be perfect together.
Their first loves are stand-ins for each other
Ygritte could actually be seen as a foreshadowing for Sansa, namely because so many of her traits are things we’ve come to associate with the latter but GRRM makes a point to keep this out of Jon’s subconscious in his POV chapters. First in the choice of words in her description, her red hair, her blue-grey eyes(sansa’s eyes are blue), but people tend to stop right there and use it as an excuse to mock the idea of Jon x Sansa immediately which honestly, is lazy. It goes deeper than that. Ygritte weeps when she sings and hears the song of the last of giants, and she’s known to favour songs and tales - things we again associate with Sansa. There’s also the instance of her telling Jon Snow that she’s “half a fish” which seems to nod at the fact that Sansa’s basically half a fish too(Half Tully). Strangely, right after Ygritte words out her famous line “You know nothing, Jon Snow,” in Sansa’s chapter, Sansa sees Margaery’s cousins and comments that “they know nothing,” on their naivety. When Jon gets stabbed, the line is again associated with Sansa in his final thoughts:
“Of Sansa, brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow. ”
In Sansa’s case, her first love(crush, really) was a man of the Night’s watch named Waymar Royce(“She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar,”) - who is described as grey-eyed, graceful and slender the same way Jon is first described in AGOT as having grey eyes, being graceful and being slender. The connection between Waymar Royce and Jon Snow is further strengthened in the fact that Waymar(who appears in the very first prologue of the first book) death foreshadows Jon’s death.
Other parallels and easter eggs
There are other ways GRRM’s linked the two in his novels through easter eggs too, for e.g. Sansa calls out for the heroes she knows, calling for Prince Aemon the Dragonknight(from the songs), and then we get a flashback of Jon remembering how he’d play with Robb in the field and pretend to be Prince Aemon the Dragonknight. Sansa also wishes someone would behead Janos Slynt, and Jon goes onto do this in ADWD, unknowingly being the literal hero she asked for.
They both have a strong connection to the pomegranate symbolism, tying them both to the greek mythology of Persephone. And in terms of actual history, Jon and Sansa share heavy parallels with Henry Tudor and Elizabeth of York(who ended up joining their houses through marriage after the War of the Roses of which one of the main conflicts of GoT was based on).
There are plenty of other parallels throughout their chapters, one off instances of both characters put in the same environment or situation, more than I could count really. But what I personally find most odd is how some of their chapters completely mirror each other’s in terms of environment, theme and situation. Look to Jon and Sansa’s first and second ASOS chapters(that come right after the other’s) and you’ll find it’s almost like reading the same chapter twice. GRRM’s a man with words, it’s strange how similarly he words and crafts the environment he puts them in, unless he meant for their chapters to echo each other.
It’s not beyond GRRM
We know from his original outline that he intended for Jon and Arya to be the first Starks to reunite at the wall and struggle for non-platonic and very inappropriate feelings for each other which would torment them until Jon’s parentage is revealed in the final book - sounds not that far from what’s happened with Sansa tbh. Again, you have to remember that yes things have changed from the outline, Sansa was meant to choose Joffrey over her family, bore him children, then die, and none of that happened. Arya was also supposed to do a heck lot more in her storyline but what seems to happened is that GRRM knew he could never have Arya accomplish that much plot in so little time and so he might’ve split initial Arya into a fully fleshed version of Sansa, thus why Sansa and Arya are two sides of the same coin. It would also explain why while Arya looks like Lyanna, both sisters possess her traits and parallel her in their respective ways.
With Jonerys… listen… it’s just a doomed pairing. I was open to the idea but there are one too many kinks in it to have it be endgame not to mention Jonerys on the throne would completely go against the anti-war message ASOIAF has established. Not that doomed pairings have ever stopped me from shipping but they’re just so fundamentally different at this point that the idea of them just doesn’t work anymore(season 7′s rushed tryst was problematic and didn’t sell it to me either).
Additional Thoughts
I could drag on but these I think are some of the main points for me. There are a plethora of other reasons backing this up but yeah I think they have a solid chance. Points aside, I guess I also ship them because there is literally no man who’s a viable suitor for Sansa and her status, that could treat her how she deserves - show!Jon has proved himself worthy, and Sansa has fed him with the well deserved validation he’s needed and craved, acknowledgement of him being a Stark. They work so well together.
Jon is the only man in her arc who canonly has acknowledged that “Winterfell belongs to […] Sansa.” i.e. the only man who wouldn’t marry her for her claim. For a girl who came to the realisation that “No one will ever marry me for love.”(which was followed by Jon’s chapter right after btw), that’s a huge deal. A JonSa endgame would be done so out of political reasons but love would no doubt follow. He is the only man to respect her boundaries and treat her as a human being, to see her for more than just her beauty. You can comment a suitor in her arc she was involved with and I will be able to point out how it’s problematic and wouldn’t work for endgame, how Sansa deserves better. JonSa is my OTP because they genuinely and effortlessly are perfect for each other :)
Trust me I could point out more and more, but hopefully people who see this post link some of their metas/own reasons in the comments in case you want to learn more! Thanks for the ask, this was lovely x
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succession
send me a fandom and i’ll tell you…
[under the cut bc this got Long fhdskjfhsj]
the first character i ever fell in love with:
I don't even remember, honestly! It was probably Roman, Greg or Shiv though. Maaaybe Kendall.
a character that i used to love/like, but now do not:
I don't really think there is one! (Honestly something I love about the show is that like. Every single character is just such a legitimately awful person that you can root for literally whoever you want and it doesn't matter because EVERYONE is morally bankrupt fhdskjfhskj)
a ship that i used to love/like, but now do not:
Again, I don't really think there is one! I mean, it isn't really a show with too many legitimate ships - at least, not in the same way that a lot of other shows have them.
my ultimate favorite character™:
Oh god I'm so awful at picking ultimate favorites of anything.... but my favorites are Shiv, Greg, Connor, and Kendall. And Roman. And maybe Tom. Every character is so interesting and complex I don't think there's a single one that I dislike (at least, as a character, there are definitely a lot that I would hate as people)
prettiest character:
Oh definitely Shiv
my most hated character:
I mean, Logan, but that feels a bit obvious fhdkjshfj
my OTP:
I don't have one, honestly. A lot of the ships are really funny (for example, the tension between Tom and Greg is absolutely batshit and hysterical), but I don't have an actual OTP.
my NOTP:
I mean... I guess Kendall and his ex-wife? Kendall and literally any woman given how he's been acting lately? I don't really have one ig!
favorite episode:
Ooooooh.... This Is Not For Tears and Nobody Is Ever Missing are obviously super good, and so are Austerlitz, What It Takes and DC (honestly i love pretty much every episode), but I've gotta say I think Mass In Time Of War might be my absolute favorite! (At least, at the moment!)
saddest death:
I mean, there's only been one, so the boy in the car
favorite season:
Hmmmm... I'm not sure! 1 & 2 were both super good, and 3 is shaping up to be incredible too!
least favorite season:
Honestly, I can't really think of an episode I've really disliked let alone a season
character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but i hate:
I don't think there is one! I mean, I've seen some people who really love characters like Tabitha or Willa and I mean, they're not my favorite characters but I don't hate them
my ‘you’re piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave:
Literally everyone on the show fhdskjfhskjvb I think Shiv and Kendall take the cake. Though, Kendall's been becoming even more overtly awful this season so he's sliding down in the rankings a bit
my ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave:
I mean, he's still not the best person, but in terms of vibes I have to go with Greg because he's the only one who I feel like could actually be referred to as a cinnamon roll fhdksjhfsk
my ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship:
Idk.... most of the ships on the show I like more because they're funny or interesting than because I actually ship the characters. But I guess Tom and Greg just because their relationship is just.... so ridiculously strange
my ‘they’re kind of cute, and i lowkey ship them, but i’m not too invested’ ship:
Again, I don't have any legitimate ships (any of them could come true or crash and burn and I would be fine either way fhsjfdskjsdf), but I do think the concept of Kendall and Stewy being college boyfriends is fun
#[ooc].mun#[jetzt wissen sie].asks#munday#long post#[oh no you're enabling my succession shitposting outside of succession sunday hjkhKSHDFKJ]
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