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iliveformanyfictionalcharacters · 1 year

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ive been getting into twd show only recently (many deaths have been spoiled for me so i might as well) and i love glenn sm and i NEED a gn! reader watching glenn falling in love with maggie, hurt no comfort and maybe MAYBE glenn realizing y/n liked him but they've either moved on from relationships completely/they left the group for some reason(mayhaps theyve been bitten and want to protect the group ? up to you)

ive had this floating in my brain for a while and thought i might as well request. sorry if thisbis poorly explained im exhausted atm 💀

much love ! /p

- anon

Death

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: The Green Farm was a miracle to the whole group. Except for one person.

Warnings: Angst but ends in fluff, Cussing, Unreciprocated feelings from Glenn, Anxiety. Daryl romance. Does not follow the script.

The beating in my chest as I held onto Daryl, racing down a dirt road on his motorcycle, just kept getting louder and louder.

Hearing Carl had been shot while I was searching for Carol's missing daughter, Sophia, certainly wasn't a happy way to end my day. There was still no sign of Sophia, she had been missing for a few hours now. I wanted to try and comfort Carol but before I could we had gotten word of Carl's current state.

The sun was setting as Daryl turned into a farm, followed by the rest of the group. I hopped off of the bike as soon as it stopped, rushing towards the house. It was old, the white paint chipping but homey especially for these days.

As I and a couple others made it to the porch the front door opened swiftly, revealing an older gentleman and a young lady behind him.

“Hello, you must be Rick's group.”, the older man stated. “I’m Hershel, I own this farm. This is Maggie, if you hadn't had the chance for introductions while she was collecting the boy's mother.” ‘Maggie’ raised her hand slightly in greeting.

I decided to speak up, I needed some questions answered before my anxiety got the better of me.

“Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt but is Carl alright? What happened?” The man, Hershel, sighed and nodded. He gestured for Maggie to go back inside as he stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind him.

“The boy, Carl, he was shot by my farm hand, Otis.-” Daryl interrupted him.

“YOUR farm hand did THIS! How can we trust you when it's your man who did it!” Daryl Dixon, ever the man to not know when to shut his mouth.

But Hershel just continued after giving Daryl a pointed look. Dale had to stop Daryl from erupting again.

“The bullet has shattered inside of him. I will need to perform surgery in order to remove all of the shards.” He paused and looked behind him, at the door. “There is a problem though.”

I inwardly groaned. For a moment my anxiety was relived knowing that Carl was still alive, however now it was all rushing back.

“We do not have the equipment to perform the surgery. Otis and your friend Shane have volunteered to go to a nearby hospital to obtain the equipment, the place has been overrun but it's all we can do.”

Fuck.

I couldn't listen anymore, my heartbeat was simultaneously beating in my ears and not at all, my hands were clammy and my face felt hot. I can’t breathe. I-I can’t-

I looked through the group for one certain person. My closest friend in the group, Glenn. When I first arrived in the group Glenn was the first to take a liking to me, he convinced Shane that he should let me join. We reminisced on our lives together and talked about what we would have done had this whole thing hadn't happened.

Finally, I found his face, my vision seemed to be tunneling even though the vision range had not changed. I didn't even care about what Hershel was saying anymore. I didn't care about the people in my way. I just had to get to Glenn.

I pushed through the crowd. I could faintly hear Hershel calling me but I ignored it. I could feel my body giving out. I saw Glenn walking towards me with his hands outstretched, as soon as I made it to him I felt my body drop and I lost consciousness.

I heard birds chirping outside before the sun's light hit my eyes. Even from behind my eyes lids I could tell the light was bright, the time was probably around noon. Under my hands, I could feel the soft touch of a blanket, and under my head a pillow. Blinking my eyes open slowly I saw a yellow-stained ceiling, turning my head I let my eyes search for my friends. I thought the room was empty at first until my eyes were drawn to slight movement in the corner. Daryl stood leaning against the wall.

I wish my heart didn't sink when I realized Glenn wasn't there.

“Ya really scared us ya know” Daryl walked towards the bed. I suddenly felt incredibly guilty, with Sophie missing and Carl getting shot and now me fainting, I knew the group had gone through too much lately. Not to mention the walkers.

“How's Carl?” I asked as soon as I found my voice. Daryl scoffed.

“He's gonna be fine, Shane ‘n that farmhand are out looking for supplies. Are you ok?” I signed.

“I'm fine I just panicked.” I almost asked about Glenn but I stopped myself.

It didn't seem to matter though because Daryl answered my question anyway, “Glenn's talking to that Maggie girl, he just left.”

Oh.

“Oh ok.” I settled into the blanket and looked toward the window by the bed. I shouldn't feel this way about Glenn, I knew that. He only saw me as a friend maybe even a sister. When I first came to this group he was the one who convinced everyone I could stay. He let me stay in his tent until I found my own, he even shared his food with me if he thought I was still hungry.

He became my best friend.

“Why aren't you out looking for Sophia?” That made him scoff too, he sat down next the bed.

“Maybe because the only person I give a rats-ass about passed out for no reason and wouldn't wake up for hours.”

I sat up and swung my legs off the bed.

“Hey, be careful.” He grabbed my arm as I stumbled and helped me rebalance myself. Before he let go I took his hand and forced him to look at me.

“Thank you for staying with me. I don't know what I would have done if I had woken up alone."

For a second he stayed quiet before replying with, “No problem.” as he walked with me out of the room.

For weeks I've watched Glenn grow away from me. I know he didn't mean to, but for weeks I've seen so much change in my little group.

First, Carl seemed to be recovering from his wound. The surgery was a success although the Greene family lost Otis in the process.

I helped Daryl in his search for Sophia, every day from daybreak to sundown we searched the woods for Carol's little girl but we never found anything. Me and Daryl became closer than ever during this time.

“So how was your life before all of this shit?” I looked at him startled at the question. No one ever talked about the past, at least not anymore. Dodging a large snake next to my foot, I answered.

“It was ok. Nothing too exciting, I had a job and some friends I hung out with but not much worth noting.”

“I'm sure everything about you is worth noting.” I looked at him startled once again but he continued walking like he didn't say anything.

As the days continued I felt myself becoming less heartbroken over the fact that Glenn spent most of his time with Maggie. At first, I couldn't stand to see them together. And even though I'm not thrilled that they seem to be a match made in heaven, I'm starting to think maybe my match was never Glenn, to begin with.

As my feelings for Glenn dissipated my heart grew for none other than Daryl Dixon. However, it seemed as the history was repeating itself. Harboring feelings for a friend didn't go too well the first time and I can't afford to lose Daryl, so I kept them quiet waiting for the day he would eventually fall in love with someone other than me.

Sophias gone.

She had been gone this whole time, trapped in a walker right next to us in the Greene barn. I watched in horror as Rick shot her and suddenly I felt sick. I watched as Carol lost it and the whole group fell into mourning. I was going to puke.

I left, I left as fast as I could. I wasn't thinking. I couldn't stop thinking about the girl I considered to be a niece who had been a fucking walker this whole time. She was dead. Carol had lost her daughter. How can one exist in a world like this?

I started to run. I didn't stop running. I ran straight into the woods not caring about the stinging I felt as sticks scraped against my arms and legs. And I kept running with tears in my eyes until I found the river. The river where we found Sophia's doll. This was probably where she had died.

I collapsed onto my knees. I screamed and cried and I thought about how Carol must be feeling so much worse. I didn't think about anything other than that poor girl. The fear she must have felt and the god-awful death that befell upon her. She didn't deserve that. No one does.

So I screamed and cried until my throat hurt and I couldn't physically cry anymore. I knew the walkers were coming, every little noise I made put me in more danger but I just didn't care.

And I didn't care for so long until I heard the disgusting gurgle of the horrible creatures that had taken Carol's daughter away. Made her one of them.

But still, I didn't move. I sat and I knew what was going to happen and I stayed there. I stayed still until I heard the whistle of an arrow through wind. I heard the sound of flesh being penetrated and a collapsing body. I felt someone grab me, shake me, and yell but I didn't comprehend them, instead, my gaze stayed on the sand below my fingers.

So they picked me up and carried me back to the farm and still I didn't speak.

I sat on the bed, the same bed from weeks ago, with Daryl kneeling in front of me. As he looked at me neither of us said a word only staring holes into each other.

After a few minutes, the door opened to reveal Glenn standing on the other side. He didn't say anything but as we looked at each other, we knew. He knew how I felt and I knew how he felt and we both knew it was going to be ok between us. We would always be good friends. As he closed the door, Daryl spoke.

“I-Why? Why would you do that? I don't think you understand how much I was worried, I searched for you for hours. I felt like I was looking for Sophia all over again, and right after we found her like that…” He looked down and grabbed both of my arms almost as if making sure I wouldn't do it again.

“I- I don't know. I feel like the world is gone. Everyone is dying and there's nothing to stop it. I wasn't thinking but I didn't care. I didn't care what happened to me. I didn't care if I…died.” I was crying again, sobbing as I realized Daryl had a couple of tears running down his cheeks too.

Without warning he engulfed me in his arms and rocked me. I cried for so long and I think he may have too, though I didn't mention it.

“I … care about you so much.” He started, “So much it hurts sometimes. I've never felt like this before and if I'm being honest I wish I didn't. I wish I didn't because it's new and that fuckin scares me. But I can't be without you. Please don't ever do that again. Just talk to me.” His voice cracked making me hurt even more. “Please.”

I could only nod as we stayed together, never letting go. It might not be okay today and it might not be ok ever again but only then in that room sitting on that bed, it felt like it was ok.

#twd fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader

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wherestoriescomefrom · 1 year

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no new years resolutions for this year...... but. i would. mayhaps. like to write again. its been a depressing few years for a number of reasons but i was always writing. and having lost it for two years feels so insanely painful, it even now hurts my soul. i keep getting afraid of moments when i feel like writing again, scared that this is once again another moment that won't stick. it's been really difficult figuring out who i am without writing. you know how you make one thing like the lynchpin of your personality??? me with writing. without it im litcherally so lost......... ive found new and fun ways to be me........ but i want to be that person who wrote 1000 words a day again.

however....... this year i will be gentler with my demands for this. maybe not 1000 words a day. maybe this year i ask myself to write once a week and see how i feel.

#hello void this is ridiculosity #Just a diary entry #Idk. New year new me whatever #But..... Would be nice to write.

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hematomes · 7 months

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You should correct it. I am very interested. Just do it on your own post mayhaps?

YOU ASKED FOR IT im gonna do it here then <3 disclaimer i only speak france's french as i was born and raised there (shudders), not the one spoken in belgium, switzerland or québec so some of it might be lost on me for that reason!!

first the original post

none of the funny horny expressions actually exist.

"coup de fou" means nothing, "foutre" does mean cum but i have never seen the expression "coup de foutre". most likely google translate fucking something up/translating words individually

next, this part

this is... mostly wrong (so much for an interesting fact). first, it doesn't "work for nearly every word" (i can't even find ONE example that would actually be rude), and it's not specific to french? it's literally only used as an apostrophe (figure of speech). for example you could (if you were kind of arrogant/rude, in my opinion) call a waiter by yelling "garçon !" (= boy), but just saying "fille" (= girl) has NOTHING to do with sex workers unless the context is already about sex workers. and calling a waiter by screaming "boy" at him also feels on the same length of rude in english so im genuinely confused at that entire addition

i guess we use the expression "fille de joie" (= girl of pleasure/joy) for sex workers, but even then... nothing to do with articles? i just don't know what the person adding this ever meant. so im not gonna say it's entirely wrong, it might just need further explanations..?

and finally, this part

now this one might be a thing from french teachers as they teach "proper" french (ive seen someone else mention something similar in the replies so it's not an isolated case of a weird teacher) but that's also not correct AT ALL, it all relies heavily on context and literally no one will look at you weird if you say "je suis excité" in a non-sexual setting. so yes, you can translate "im excited" with "je suis excité", im even encouraging you to do so instead of looking for a complicated way to say it.

technically, yes, "je suis excité" can mean "im horny", but no one uses it like that (except maybe in porn but if you take porn dialogue seriously i don't know what to tell you). it'll most likely be "tu m'excites" (= youre turning me on/you turn me on) or some sort of slang. another possibility is using a modifier: je suis SUPER excité, for example, but even then it's not sexual at all unless the context is. french dirty talk generally makes me cringe tho so i don't exactly know the specifics

in 99% of contexts "je suis excité" will be used the same way as "im excited" is in english. i personally use "surexcité" (= overexcited) most of the time but that's because im just very dramatic at all times

THERE YOU HAVE IT. bullshit post for the most part, but un baiser vs baiser is true (with baiser having two meanings: to kiss (slightly old/posh) or to fuck (slang). same with verge meaning penis

TLDR; the crucial thing that this post overlooks in my opinion is the notion of context rather than grammar and misplaced syllables/letters.

the exact same word can be used in vastly different ways depending on the context; for example, "boulot" means job but if you see it under a post of an attractive individual, then it's slang for "id fuck them".

fun fact btw to follow the trend of the original post: while verge means penis, verger means orchard

#— answered #— nonnie

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sprinklethetangerine · 3 months

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Do you. Wanna talk about Dragons: Race to the Edge? Mayhaps? Our fandom is so small...

One of my Eternal WIPS is for this series and basically is me dragging Viggo's smug face through some mud via belligerent OC.

DO I!

PLEASE, I HAVE WATCHED THAT SHOW A THOUSAND TIMES AT THIS POINT, IVE HONESTLY LOST COUNT! I KNOW MY FAVORITE EPISODES ALMOST WORD FOR WORD!

#dragons: race to the edge #httyd race to the edge #i am so busy studying rn but i can talk for hours if given the chance #who are you mysterious anon let us converse of the racing to this edge

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jewdog · 7 months

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big rambly think piece under the cut . lots of thoughts to be had.

unpopular onion mayhaps but i dont think its Inherently a bad thing for white people to try to connect w the culture of their ancestors AS LONG AS its done out of genuine, good faith, respectful curiosity and/or SELF-fulfillment, not as a means of justifying violence -- specifically and especially not to ease our own white guilt.

i call myself scottish. one of my grandfathers was a first generation scottish american. i never met the man before he died. ive never been to scotland. i dont speak scots. i still call myself scottish. that doesnt make me less american. it doesnt change the fact that im white, or that i benefit from violence against bipoc, or that i have an innate responsibility to correct any and all racism i encounter in my day to day life. im still white. but the goal of "whiteness" as a power invented by england and the catholic church was to strip people of culture, community, and history. i hold on to what little i have from my scottish family's history (clan, tartan, recipes, poetry, holidays, etc) as a means of bringing my family closer together and inviting my community to do the same. i recognize that having any trace of anything from this family i never met is an incredible privilege. its still important to have.

the problem white people usually have is feeling the need to use whatever 0.25% ancestry they have to justify violence -- either the infamous "taking an ancestry test to justify saying the n word" bullshit, or the more common "american whos had family here for 20 generations claiming to be a pure-blood norse aryan to justify being a nazi" -- rather than taking accountability. these same freaks use the genocide and slavery of VERY specific groups of people they more than likely have no connection at all with -- irish, scottish, roman, etc -- as a blanket statement example of "white genocide" to completely dismiss bipoc, jewish & romani ppl, etc. this is not culture, community, or history. its power-hungry fascists grasping at straws to take every excuse they can think of to justify violence. connecting with ancestry should be a powerful tool for rebuilding community that was lost. not a nazi dogwhistle.

#uhh bluh how do i tag this #arthur barks #racism #nazi ment tw #ask to tag #im finally starting to get over my sickness but spending 3 weeks in bed means i have a lot of time to THINK #and i THINK im tired of nazis controlling everything #i go to bed . goodnight

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hyuckmov · 1 year

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HI IM NIKI ANON im indonesian like she is too and i listen to her partly for pride n representation! but also bcs she is j so brilliant honestly!!!!!. MILK TEETH FOR HAECH URE CRAZY (in a good way) i will mayhaps d word if u write that ........ i will kiss n frame it n read it everyday even if it will rip my heart out smth smth i wait for your arms but you give me your jacket instead smth smth AAAH

i listened to the wiltern live album right before i went out today and i swear i was trying to hold my tears in bc i didnt wnna ruin my makeup AUGH shes so good.....

i knew her from before jaem played la la lost you and DUDE it is so crazy suddenly this parasocial relationship no longer feels so one sided. ure telling me there is a chance jaem plays niki's saddest songs on some nights? bops to indigo and move! when hes getting ready too? YEAH

jaehyun's my lowkey lover... screams bcs nicole & jay & i are all aquariuses . all of niki's songs are so air sign coded (which is why it's so fitting for haech fics . he is a gemini stellium and shouldn't couldn't wouldn't literally has the "figures, you gemini" line LIKE CMON)

AHHHH HI NIKI ANON i hope u come back a lot bc i. am currenly getting re-obsessed w her and i love to talk about it!!! alos about pride and representation. im east asian who immigrated to a southeast asian country and now im about to go to england for uni ive been thinking of ways to materialise my asian identity and really keep it a part of me <3 NOT... that i have to try very hard (i am very east asian..) but like now when i listen to niki i think about what she means for diaspora and like the asian community GLOBALLY and it always makes me feel so touched

MILK TEETH FOR HAECHIE just because you said that... i'm going to write it. I PROMISE. i also think anaheim for haechan (i can't live with myself 'cause i know you'd die for me...him being loving and physical-touch-y and very confused when u push him away...) i just want to write the saddest stories for him and idk why😭😭😭 but he's so perfect for her songs tooo </3 high school haech for her album

"this parasocial relationship no longer feels so one sided" YOURE SO RIGHT????? i also knew her before the video hehe and when the intro to la la lost you played i remember feeling CHILLS. i'm also a huge ariana fan so when he played positions & 34+35... also the idea of him listening to niki on the car...in his room at night... i could actually cry jaemin is THEREFORE very la la lost you coded to me. when he posted his instagram psot about grocery shopping in LA i was a wreck!!!!

omg jaehyun with lowkey? YOUR MIND!!! I CAN SEE ITTTT (especially the you ain't even gotta lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love me line...heartbreaking in the best way) ALSO YOURE SO RIGHT (i am a gemini w a libra moon) she is so air-sign coded.

not u mentionoing jaemin haechan and jaehyun my fav 3!!!! i will definitely write more niki inspired pieces in the future both self indulgently and for u out there <3

#unfortunately i also associate niki w this guy in my life #so i shall RECLAIM it by thinking about the neos w/ niki instead #asks #THANK YOU FOR COMING BACK HEHEHE #niki anon

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luminnea · 4 years

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Now that I think about it, it might be due to your artwork involving Stahl. I used to play Awakening like crazy as a kid and often saw fanart of him. IDK about the 3D thing you're talking about, but that sounds very familiar. He is a great character BTW.

ALSKS SORRY FOR LATE RESPONSE i get no notifications for asks anymore, it’s very frustrating 😔😔 i don’t get many nowadays since tumblr has lowkey died but i’ll check more frequently!!

That makes sense then!! I drew a lot of Stahl so i’m not surprised tbh LOL i did always want to be known as the girl who draws Stahl...I can’t believe that time has finally come...😭😭 BUT ANYWAY ALSJ IM GLAD YOU REMEMBER ME!! I always feel so happy whenever someone remembers me or tells me i impacted them somehow with my art, since that’s my whole reason for doing what i do!! Inspiring and bringing joy to those who look for such things in art is my dream come true alskdj

he is a great character. i could talk about him for hours tbh. i’ll spare everyone the fangirl fest and just say i love him veryvery much LOL

#anonymous #zinnia talks #i drew some stahls recently!! but they arent really anything i think is worth the trouble of posting and writing a well-thought-out caption #ive been doing more oc stuff lately instead!!#and i love them muchly lol #but i miss stahl and his fluffy hair and hearty appetite....#you have inspired me with your kind words and nostalgic reminiscing anon #mayhaps i will draw him soon!! to make up for my complete lack of stahls as of late #gotta keep up my girl who draws all the stahls title #which has been lost imo #by now i know of other artists who draw many more stahls than i do and they keep me fed and i love and appreciate them

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actualbird · 3 years

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Upping the angst a little bit, the 1 time Marius lets luke hold his hand is like while he's injured in a hospital bed, mayhaps 👀 - Book

HI, BOOK!!!! and oh god i guess today really is "feed zak's marluke brainworms" huh? i am NOT complaining i am DELIGHTED and u made it my FAVORITE FLAVOR OF ANGST, YESSSS!!!

okay before i get to that scene specifically my brain actually shot me back into the timeline of reaching that scene

so like, marius has almost gotten stabbed THREE WHOLE TIMES thus far. first in main story 4, bobby pulls a switchblade on him. second in his character story episode 2, alex slashes at him. and in lost gold marius route 02-06, bryce tries to stab him. and uh, hey, mhy, DOES MARIUS VON HAGEN HAVE A FUCKING SIGN TAPED ONTO HIS BACK THAT SAYS "STAB ME!" it makes me so STRESSED.

yknow who else is stressed when he learns this? LUKE. maybe mc makes an offhand comment about wanting to get marius a slashproof jacket and luke is like "huh, why?" and mc is like "he seems to be a magnet for blade related dangers," and luke's I Am So Protective Over Everybody I Care About vibes would be SO MUCH that makes the scene end right there and then.

section break, next scene. luke is talking to marius

luke: let me give you self defense lessons

marius: ??????? WHY??

luke: SAFETY, DUH!!! ive taught mc basic hand to hand as well!!

marius: ive already taken self defense classes when i was younger

luke: THAT WAS WHEN YOU WERE YOUNGER THAT DOESNT COUNT.....okay fine, i get it, you probably dont wanna be embarrassed or whatever

marius: //squints. what.

luke: you probably wouldnt be able to handle me anywa----

marius: //AFFRONTED, INSULTED. oh i can SO FUCKING HANDLE YOU, shut the HELL UP

so luke starts giving marius self defense lessons. expect all the self indulgence this premise implies: marius trying to stop himself from flushing when luke corrects his stance, luke trying to stop himself from stuttering when marius exceeds his expectations and gets a hang of the actions quite quickly, the BOTH OF THEM having that tense moment when luke manages to pin marius to the ground and yeah it starts out with luke smugly saying "you'll have to do better than that." but marius is not saying a WORD just kind of STARING and his gaze flits jus a bit lower than luke's eyes and----

//cellphone call ringtone

//marius and luke just YEETING AWAY FROM EACH OTHER

ANYWAY THIS GOES ON in the background of uh the ENTIRE HAND HOLDING CONUNDRUM i talked about earlier just to add some tension garnish to that concept's tenderness. luke reaching out (and maybe the self defense lessons were a kind of reaching out in itself) and marius reaching for him (meeting him in the middle, never backing down, finding immense comfort at finding luke there waiting)

and now we get to your scene. imma just handwave the whole "how does marius get stabbed" because it's such a common threat anyway to this dude so like, one day, a stabber finally gets lucky---gets so lucky actually that not even marius' new self defense skills can stop what is about to happen---and manages to bury a knife straight into marius' abdomen

so marius, as he's sluggishly calling for an ambulance on his phone, goes through a train of thought beginning with "well this was BOUND to happen eventually" to "ugh i need to up my game with the self defense shit, i made way too many mistakes" to "oh damn, luke is gonna blame himself for this, isnt he" to "oh damn wait nope before luke does that hes going to be PISSED oh fuck" and then marius decides to take a little bit of a blood loss nap zzzzzz

and marius wakes up in the hospital. and luke is asleep at his bedside. Quite Literally At Marius' Bedside, like luke is on a chair, but he's hunched over, an arm pillowing his head on the bed.

marius doesnt want to wake him up just yet but...he can see the stress etched into luke's expression, even as he sleeps. a furrow in the brows, an upset frown. all this time, luke has been giving marius to option to meet him in the middle, and marius wants to help luke in the same way, even from whatever is haunting luke in his sleep.

marius sets his hand down next to luke's, just close enough that their knuckles brush together. luke, even if he's asleep, feels warmth and searches for it, intertwining his fingers with marius'.

marius goes back to sleep once that has happened. all the rest---the worry, the anger, the underlying something thats been charging whatever the hell all this even is---can wait maybe a few more hours.

now, he just lets luke hold his hand.

#tears of themis #YALL ARE ENABLING ME SO MUCCHCHCHCH THANKS HAHA #luke pearce #marius von hagen #hc

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iwavibes · 3 years

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first off i’d like to say i rlly love your writing🥺🥺 and i want to thank you for sharing your work with us!!! ive read ur whole masterlist and it’s all so so good! i’m obsessed w pretty setters 🥰 i was mayhaps .... wondering if you could write something maid cafe related w either suga, kageyama or kenma? 😳 u don’t have to obviously KDNDKNDKS anyways hope you have a good day today!!!

AAAAA IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE PRETTY SETTERS SO FAR!! you're so sweet omg lemme give u a kith this made my whole day 😩💞 it's 11PM rn so this might be a bit of a mess 😭 fingers crossed that my tired brain won't fuck this up 🤞 finished this at around 12AM NSKSJSKM i hope you like this anon 💕💗

hq reacting to y/n working at a maid cafe

---sugawara, kageyama & kenma

sugawara koushi

sugawara is very adventurous like he'd be all out on trying new stuff

may it be food, hobbies, anything.

man is a knitting legend and he only went to one (1) lesson 😩

king shit 👑✊

so when noya suddenly dragged him to a maid cafe, he didn't think much of it

he was already used to his friend's pervy tendencies

why he was hanging out with him on his own was a mystery

he would quickly scan the menu, eyeing the pictures of cute food along with whatever dish sounds appetizing enough

his concentration was cut off, however, when he heard a familiar voice

even tho you purposefully raise your voice up a notch this man would still know that it's you

he'd blush furiously as soon as his eyes meet yours and seeing you in a cute maid outfit really did not help his case

you'd freeze as soon as you processed the identities of the customers in front of you mostly at suga

noya would eye the two of you knowingly, a somewhat proud smirk on his face

"NOYA I TOLD YOU NOT TO TELL ANYBODY"

"really??? must have slipped my mind."

you wanted to kill him

you would try to get back into character very awkwardly if i might add and suga would just stare at you in disbelief

was this why you always rejected him whenever he asked you out?

my boy would be having a whole ass epiphany and now he's seeing you in a whole new light

"and you, senpai?"

still, even with all these new information, he can keep his cool and tell you what he wanted smoothly.

after that, everything would be going smoothly

but then, as time passes you notice that sugawara hasn't left yet and noya is nowhere to be seen.

by the time your shift ends, he'd stand up from his seat and jog towards you with a smile

"since your shift is over, is it okay for me to take you out? or atleast walk you home?"

and tbh how could you say no to that

"you know, you could've told me that you were working during the weekends. now i feel bad for trying to keep you away from your job." he said as he walked you home.

"well... working outside school campus is strictly prohibited and i didn't want to take any chances. only one of my friends know about it and noya only found out by accident." you explained. "i'm sorry if i made you feel like i didn't trust you."

"it's okay! i totally understand why you didn't tell me. at least now i know when you get off work, this way i can walk you home everyday." he beamed.

you feel your heart pound in your chest at his words, heat slowly spreading across your cheeks as you look at him in shock.

"that is, if it's okay with you?" he stopped walking before turning his body to you. politely awaiting your answer. you nodded your head slowly and sugawara can't help but smile wider.

"you're very admirable, y/n."

kageyama tobio

unlike sugawara, kageyama is a very awkward dude

he lost a bet against hinata and now it was time for his punishment

kageyama may be the king of the court and he may look like the coolest man alive whenever he's on the court but thats about it

everything else, this poor boy is really clueless and awkward someone save him

so while they were walking around town, hinata trying to figure out what to make kageyama do, they passed by the maid cafe you work out

believe me when i tell you a light bulb suddenly sprouted from the tangerine's head

all he needed to do was go inside the cafe and buy some milk

simple stuff

but you should remember that this guy is so awkward and unaware that it can be painful just to look at him try to fit in

and soon kageyama finds himself walking to the cafe, money in hand, as he tried psyching himself out as he steps nearer to the entrance

'i can do this'

'i defeated oikawa so this will just be a piece of cake'

'boke hinata boke'

when he does enter the cafe, he opened the door too hard, making all the customers and employees turn to the sound

this boy would be glaring as he walked to the nearest empty seat

i kid you not everyone is terrified of this boy rn

and he's embarrassed enough as is because of how loud he opened the door and now everyone was looking at him 😭

baby just wants some milk 😩

it gets worse once he sees the person that will be serving him

bc wow have you seen yourself???? you're fucking hot bRO

stutters. A LOT.

and you can't help but to smirk at his flustered state.

"uhhh... m-milk please?" this was the guy everyone is scared of? you wanted to ask your co workers. it's just kageyama. the boy in your class who failed that one exam and practically begged you to tutor him. this?? this is who you're scared of?

you raised a brow teasingly at his state. "of course! would that be all, master?"

this guy literally chokes on his own spit while shaking his head frantically. you chuckled before walking away to get his drink.

"here you are, sir." you say as you settled the glass on his table. taking the money from his outstretched hand. no words. he just wants you to take the money and save him from further embarrassment.

"you know, you may be scary on the court but you're actually very adorable, tobio-chan."

ERROR kageyama.exe has stopped working

kozume kenma

if you guys thought kageyama was bad then... you right kenma is just behind him by a scratch

unlike his fellow setter, kenma can still form words when he saw you

why was he in a maid cafe in the first place? simple;; kuroo

it was one of the rare instances where his best friend actually managed to get him out of the house

and now he's salty

has a permanent frown etched on his face the whole walk to the cafe >:(

and kuroo would be talking away, unbothered by his friend's attitude and now here they were

"you know i've always wanted to come here. i heard they serve really tasty milkshakes."

"kuroo."

"yeah?"

"shut up."

he'd start playing on his phone while kuroo scolds him about how unhealthy it was to play games this much

but kenma remains unbothered

however, the moment he sees you, boi is already lost

he'd stare at you for a long time until you hear the small sfx indicating that he died.

he couldn't care less tho as he pocketed his phone inside his hoodie

kuroo quirked a brow at his friend before turning to you

"y/n! i didn't know you worked here."

"im trying to buy the latest installment of [insert random game here] so i need the money."

wow,, can you be any more perfect?

rn kenma's brain is already whirring with thoughts as he pictured this as one of his roleplay games

y/n says: so what will you be having?

choices: [banana] [latte] [ps4]

he picks the latte

"coming right up!"

and for the first time that day, kenma smiles

"oya?" kuroo spoke up the moment he sees his friend's upturned lips. "what's this?"

his face turned into a scowl again as he glared at his friend. "none of your business."

kuroo smirked, already scheming before standing up. "i'm gonna go to the restroom. watch our food while i'm gone."

"it's not like it's going anywhere." kenma huffed but his raven haired friend was already walking away.

"here are your orders, kenma." you announce, setting the food down on the table. "let me know if you need anything else."

you were just about to walk back to the counter when you suddenly felt a hand stop you by your wrist. you turned around towards a sheepish looking kenma. his eyes landing on every where but you.

"i have that game you're saving up. if you want, we can play it together. it's a multiplayer game right? i haven't started on it because kuroo sucks at shooting games." kenma's voice has always been soft and very quiet. some would've found it hard to understand what he just said but to you, you could hear him as clear as day.

"sure, we can play it this friday if you want?"

kenma nodded, finally lifting his head up to look at you.

"see you on friday then."

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rwbyvein · 3 years

Text

Arctic Warfare: Heart's Contemplation: Part I/IV

Pyrrha wanted to approach Jaune, but he seemed to be busy. He was carrying a white flower into the back of the ballroom. She wanted to follow him, but he stopped with a start and so did she. She moved over to see beyond and nearly grew pale. There was the love of her own asking another man out on a date. Pyrrha quickly pulled away.

* * *

Pyrrha walked around in the evening light, unsure of what to do. As much as it pained her to see him in pain, this was good, was it nott? If Weiss went to the dance with Neptune, that would leave Jaune for her, would it not? She clutched her chest as her heart ached. Could she really find it in herself to find benefit from his tragedy. His pain was her pain, and his joy her own.

* * *

Pyrrha: *turns towards the balcony*

Pyrrha: I've been blessed with incredible talents and opportunity; I'm constantly surrounded by love and praise, but when you're placed on a pedestal like that for so long, you become seperated from the people that put you there in the first place.

Pyrrha (internally): I'm so sorry.

Pyrrha: *turns to Jaune*

Pyrrha: Everone assumes I'm too good for them.

Pyrrha (internally): I'm not too good for you; why can't you see that?

Pyrrha: That I'm on a level they simply can't attain.

Pyrrha (internally): See how far you've come?

Pyrrha: It's become impossible to form any sort of meaningful relationship with people.

Pyrrha (internally): Except with you.

Pyrrha: That's what I like about you.

Pyrrha (internally): That's what I love about you.

Pyrrha: When we met, you didn't even know my name.

Pyrrha (internally): Oh, how my heart soars when you say my name.

Pyrrha: You treated me like anyone else. And thanks to you, I've made friendships that will last a lifetime.

Pyrrha (internally): But, your heart soars for another.

Pyrrha: I guess, you're the kind of guy I wish I was here with.

Pyrrha (internally): A heart who has betrayed your, and was betrayed in return.

Pyrrha: Someome who just saw me for me.

Pyrrha: *looks at Jaune and then walks away while Jaune simply stares in astonishment*

Pyrrha (internally): But I know you would hate yourself if you took in joy in this.

Jaune: W-Wai..

Neptune walked by Pyrrha, and the moment he had departed she clutched her chest and flattened against the outer wall, so that he could not see her shame or love.

Pyrrha (internally): Betrayer! Betrayer of love, and heart's embrace. How could such a foul man carry his head so high?

Neptune: Hey, uh, Jaune, right?

Jaune: *sighs*

Jaune: Yeah.

Neptune: This party's pretty lame, huh? I mean, ballroom dancing. Pfft.

Pyrrha (internally): Mayhap naught even betrayer at all, perhaps the heart's yearning is beyond his ken.

Jaune: Yeah.

Jaune: *looks back out over the balcony*

Pyrrha (internally): How bitter the words are when they pass your lips, that I can scarely believe you uttered them... but I know with my heart that thine words be hollow fragments of forgotten torment.

Neptune (gesturing back to the dance): Cute girls, though, huh?

Pyrrha (internally): Is that all that thou canst ken? The beauty of the form, but not the beauty of the souls? A foul, contemptuous soul thoust hast.

Jaune: *growls as he turns back to Neptune*

Jaune: Is that all you think about?

Pyrrha (internally): The fire in mine heart and loins.

Neptune: *complete lack of understanding*

Neptune: Huh?

Pyrrha: Thine head so high 'tis lost in clouds.

Jaune: Do you even care about the girls you're hitting on? How they feel about you?

Pyrrha (internally): Thine soul thus then outpour.

Neptune: Whoa!

Neptune (throwing his palms up): Where's this coming from?

Pyrrha (internally): Thine heart as black as the sea, thou cannot ken a maiden's sorrow?

Jaune (opening his arms wide): How could you just turn her down like that?

Neptune: Wait, h-who?

Pyrrha (internally): Thou seems as deep as the darkest fathoms, but thou art as shallow a puddle of spittle upon the floor.

Jaune: Weiss!

Pyrrha (internally): How his heart soars upon saying her name, but the sorrow also upon his lips...

Neptune: I, uh... it, uh... it just didn't work out, you know?

Jaune: What? You think that you're too cool, too many other options? Weiss Schnee asked you to the dance. What in the world could possibly keep you from go-

Pyrrha (internally): Yes, whatever could be thy utterance? What doest thou think could possibly deliver thee?

Neptune: *looks shamefully at the ground*

Neptune: I can't dance!

Jaune (calmly): Beg your pardon?

Pyrrha (internally): I beg your pardon?

Neptune: I can't dance, man!

Pyrrha (internally): Thou hast feet, even should thee fail, it would still endear her.

Jaune: But... you're so cool!

Neptune: Thank you. I try really, really hard.

Pyrrha (internally): Placit, facile, festering, festooned, foul fowl of a lummox.

Jaune: You would rather break a girl's heart and go to a dance alone than just admit to everyone that you can't move in rhythm to music?

Pyrrha (internally): Rhythm has always escaped my grasp. Only once hast one matched the rhythm of my heart, though thinking, perhaps it was thrice.

Neptune: That about sums it up, yeah.

Jaune: *turning back to the balcony*

Jaune (self-depreciating): Well, I certainly feel a lot better about myself.

Pyrrha (internally): Thine humility shines like gold, but faith would make it all the brighter.

Neptune *raises his hands, palms towards Jaune*

Neptune: Please don't tell anybody. Look, if you want Weiss, she's all yours. I don't wanna get in your way.

Pyrrha: *clutches her chest*

Jaune: *Turns back towards Neptune*

Jaune: *places his palms on the banister behind him*

Pyrrha: *tries to even out her heady breathing*

Jaune: Do you like her?

Neptune: Yeah, I mean I don't know her too well yet, but she seems pretty cool.

Jaune: Then just go talk to her.

Pyrrha: *feels like a spear is stabbed into her heart*

Jaune: No pickup lines, no suave moves, just be yourself.

Pyrrha (internally): Just be myself?

Jaune: I've heard that's the way to go.

Jaune: *crosses his arms*

Pyrrha: *crosses her arms across her heart*

Neptune: Yeah, but then-

Jaune: Hey! You don't have to look cool all the time. In all honesty, if you could be a little less cool, I'd really appreciate it.

Pyrrha: *finds herself letting out a silent giggle*

Neptune: *contemplation*

Neptune: Yeah, okay.

Jaune: Go talk to her. I guarantee it'll make her night.

Pyrrha (internally): That's what you really wanted, isn't it? To make her night?

Neptune: Thanks. You're a really cool guy, Jaune.

Neptune: *approaches Jaune, holding his fist out for a bump*

Jaune: *approaches Neptune*

Jaune: Alright, don't lie to my face.

Jaune and Neptune: *fist bump*

Pyrrha: *swiftly, silently walks away*

Jaune: *sighs*

Jaune: All right, only one thing left to do.

* * *

Pyrrha: *lost in thought as she wandered through the ballroom*

Pyrrha (internally): I haven't seen Jaune in some time. Could his heart not simply take the sacrifice he made?

Pyrrha: *hears a chorus of laughter approaching her from behind*

Pyrrha: *turns to see Jaune in a dress, a wellspring of joy appearing within her*

* * *

#rwby #arctic warfare #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #weiss schnee

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agentrouka-blog · 4 years

Note

What do you think the wall will fall out? Do you think it would be horn of joramun?

I don’t know. I don’t really care..? My main concern with the Ice Threat is that the point of it will be extremely different from the show. The solution will not be battle or killing. It will be negotiation. And it doesn’t really matter where it takes place or if/when/why the Wall falls, exactly. The Wall is only a bandaid.

The original Long Night was unrelated to any direct cause we know of. It happened after the Pact on the Gods Eye and before the Andal Invasion that saw the South ravaged for the weirdwoods and Children of the Forest. What caused it?

But we know that the rise of the dragonlords in Old Valyria was definitely tied to slavery and dark magic. Dany uses the wrongest means possible (war, conquest, queenship) to recover something personal she longs for: a home. And she haggles with bloodmagic over Drogo’s death and loses big time, and then turns it around into trading lives for something monstrous: her dragons. That’s her magic sword.

Then she haggles again for the Unsullied, a trick trade. One dragon for an army of human quasi-zombies. She “frees” them, but has only one purpose for them: dracarys dracarys, dracarys.

It’s not an accident that the White Walkers and the wights bear some anviliously parallels to the Unsullied.

The Other said something in a language that Will did not know; his voice was like the cracking of ice on a winter lake, and the words were mocking. (AGOT, Prologue)

It mirrors:

"Tell the Westerosi whore to lower her eyes," the slaver Kraznys mo Nakloz complained to the slave girl who spoke for him. "I deal in meat, not metal. The bronze is not for sale. Tell her to look at the soldiers. Even the dim purple eyes of a sunset savage can see how magnificent my creatures are, surely."

Kraznys's High Valyrian was twisted and thickened by the characteristic growl of Ghis, and flavored here and there with words of slaver argot. Dany understood him well enough, but she smiled and looked blankly at the slave girl, as if wondering what he might have said. (ASOS, Daenerys II)

The Others take Craster’s boys, the slavers take young boys. There are significant sons.

"The boy's brothers," said the old woman on the left. "Craster's sons. The white cold's rising out there, crow. I can feel it in my bones. These poor old bones don't lie. They'll be here soon, the sons." (ASOS, Samwell II)

It mirrors:

Dany knew she would take more than a hundred, if she took any at all. "Remind your Good Master of who I am. Remind him that I am Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt, trueborn queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. My blood is the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and of old Valyria before him."

Yet her words did not move the plump perfumed slaver, even when rendered in his own ugly tongue. "Old Ghis ruled an empire when the Valyrians were still fucking sheep," he growled at the poor little scribe, "and we are the sons of the harpy." (ASOS, Daenerys II)

The Starks only came into prominence after the Long Night, involved in building the Wall and Winterfell, the latter of which is now in ruins like Old Valyria. Clearly, they mirror the dragonlords in some way, just like Jon mirrors Dany in many ways. Maybe they were the good guys, or maybe they did what Dany did: create an imperfect solution, play a trick, some kind of stalemate that made them expect a return of the Others, made the Wall necessary in the first place.

I think the source of the Others might be someone’s personal wrath, like Dany’s. Because there’s Cersei “re-creating” the Faith Militant, there is Stannis aiming the red god at his enemies, and there is Lady Stoneheart aiming the remnants of the Brotherhood without Banners at those who wronged her.

"The harpy is a craven thing," Daario Naharis said when he saw it. "She has a woman's heart and a chicken's legs. Small wonder her sons hide behind their walls." (ASOS, Daenerys V)

A woman’s heart, her sons behind Walls, and they kill you in the dark if you venture past.

The Sons of the Harpy did their butchery by night, and over each kill they left their mark. (ADWD, Daenerys I)

Butchering by night. Like the wights. Like the nightfires. Like Lady Stoneheart’s “trials”. The importance of memory connects them.

To the boy she said, "Treasure that tokar, for it saved your life. You are only a boy, so we will forget what happened here. You should do the same." But as he left the boy looked back over his shoulder, and when she saw his eyes Dany thought, The Harpy has another Son. (ADWD, Daenerys I)

And..

"She don't speak," said the big man in the yellow cloak. "You bloody bastards cut her throat too deep for that. But she remembers."

(ASOS, Epilogue)

And...

The Nightfort had figured in some of Old Nan's scariest stories. It was here that Night's King had reigned, before his name was wiped from the memory of man. (ASOS, Bran IV)

But not the memory of women, judging by Old Nan.

He never was. He was a Stark, the brother of the man who brought him down." She always pinched Bran on the nose then, he would never forget it. "He was a Stark of Winterfell, and who can say? Mayhaps his name was Brandon. Mayhaps he slept in this very bed in this very room."

(ASOS, Bran IV)

Brandon Stark, name of names. Beloved son.

Reluctantly, she let go of them in her heart. But not Bran. Never Bran. "Yes," she said, "but please, Ned, for the love you bear me, let Bran remain here at Winterfell. He is only seven." (AGOT, Catelyn II)

Never letting go of Bran. Now waging vengeful war for Robb.

But the solution is not killing.

She was the blood of the dragon. She could kill the Sons of the Harpy, and the sons of the sons, and the sons of the sons of the sons. But a dragon could not feed a hungry child nor help a dying woman's pain. And who would ever dare to love a dragon? (ADWD, Daenerys II)

Killing the sons of the sons of the sons is not going to do anything. They rise and rise again.

Dany haggled for the Unsullied. She traded for them. A dragon. For all of them. But she never fixed what was wrong, she just turned them around to kill for her and the slaves became the slavers. They are making new Unsullied of the sons of the slavers. Just like the Others have been making new wights, and are marching south again.

Maybe an undead dragon will destroy the Wall like on the show. (metaphor for Jon?) Or maybe they will end up choosing to blow the Horn of Joramun to make the actual solution possible. “If I look back, I am lost” is the wrong path, so they will need to recover the lost Memory of the Long Night, and fix things.

Whatever Brandon Stark will do, it will involve negotiation, haggling and - if the problem is to be truly fixed, an honorable trade. If he trades a dragon, then Jon is that dragon. But if he trades “the only cow he owns”, it might be something else. Maybe his magical ability, his warging, his “wings”. The way Drogon is Dany’s wings. Because Bran is mourning, too. Bran traded his dreams for great powers, too.

"A knight is what you want. A warg is what you are. You can't change that, Bran, you can't deny it or push it away. You are the winged wolf, but you will never fly." Jojen got up and walked to the window. "Unless you open your eye." He put two fingers together and poked Bran in the forehead, hard. (ACOK, Bran V)

He wanted to be a knight. He loved to climb.

"You will never walk again, Bran," the pale lips promised, "but you will fly." ADWD, Bran II)

But he will fly. The bird mentor says so. But bird mentors are bad news. Littlefinger. Ygritte (egret). Griff. They all want to force their dreams on you, they all will ask you to sacrifice the innocent.

"You will never walk again," the three-eyed crow had promised, "but you will fly." (ADWD, Bran III)

But may he shouldn’t fly. Maybe he should not warg. The animals fight it. The people fight it more. It’s an invasion, an assault. It is only ever a shared experience with their bonded wolves. Perhaps wargs are rightfully viewed with suspicion?

Maybe when he accepts his loss, like Cat will have to, like Dany should have done… something will be worked out. The magic will whither away, the seasons will return to normal. The Stark will be “like other men”. They will need no Wall. Maybe they will need no “Stark in Winterfell”. A castle rebuilt from Snow. And a king in the South.

#asoiaf #brandon stark #daenerys targaryen #the long night #the Others #the Night's King #Old Nan #haggling for harmony #magic is on the way out #warging is assault #the Wall #the Unsullied #asks #my posts #asoiaf speculation

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aboveallarescuer · 4 years

Text

What we know that Dany knows of her ancestors, dragonlore and history

As I was rereading ASOIAF, I made it my goal to compile all* the book passages demonstrating either certain key attributes of Daenerys Targaryen (e.g. that she's compassionate and empathetic) or aspects of hers that are usually overblown (e.g. that she's violent and ambitious). Doing such a task may seem exaggerated, but I'd argue it's not, for many, many misconceptions about Dany have become widespread in light of the show's final season's events (and even before).

It must be acknowledged that it can be tricky to reference, say, ADWD passages to counter-argument how she was depicted in season eight (which allegedly follows ADOS events). Dany will have had plenty of character development in the span of two books. However, whatever happens to Dany in the next two books, I would argue that there is more than enough material to conclude that her show counterpart was made to fall for flaws that she (for the most part) never had and actions that she (for the most part) would never take.

Another objection to the purpose of these lists is that Game of Thrones is different from A Song of Ice and Fire and should be analyzed on its own, which is a fair point. However, the show is also an adaptation of these books, which begs the questions: why did they change Dany's character? Why did they overfocus on negative traits of hers or depicted them as negative when they weren't supposed to be or gave her negative traits that were never hers to begin with? Another fact that undermines the show=/=books argument is that most people think that the show's ending will be the books', albeit only in broad strokes and in different circumstances. As a result, people's perception of Dany is inevitably influenced by the show, which is a shame.

I hope these lists can be useful for whoever wants to find book passages to defend Dany's character in analysis or even conversations.

*Well, at least all the passages that I could find.

Also, people may interpret certain passages differently and then come up with a different collection of passages, so I'm not arguing that this list is completely objective (nor that there could ever be one).

Also, some passages have been cut short according to whether they were, IMO, relevant to the specific topic of the list they're in, so the context surrounding them may not always be clear (always read the books!). Many of them appear in different lists, sometimes fully cited, sometimes not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm sparing people from inaccurate (or plain wrong) opinions about Daenerys. I made this list simply because I wanted to know all that we find onpage that Daenerys knows when it comes to her ancestors, dragonlore and history.

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys X

The dragonlords of old Valyria had controlled their mounts with binding spells and sorcerous horns.

She wondered how the ants had managed to climb over it and find her. To them these tumbledown stones must loom as huge as the Wall of Westeros. The biggest wall in all the world, her brother Viserys used to say, as proud as if he’d built it himself.

Viserys told her tales of knights so poor that they had to sleep beneath the ancient hedges that grew along the byways of the Seven Kingdoms. Dany would have given much and more for a nice thick hedge. Preferably one without an anthill.

In Westeros the dead of House Targaryen were given to the flames, but who would light her pyre here?

ADWD Daenerys VIII

“Sunspear has never been a sea power, Your Grace.”

“No.” Dany knew enough of Westerosi history to know that. Nymeria had landed ten thousand ships upon Dorne’s sandy shores, but when she wed her Dornish prince she had burned them all and turned her back upon the sea forever.

The bones on the floor of the pit were deeper than the last time she had been down here, and the walls and floors were black and grey, more ash than brick. They would not hold much longer … but behind them was only earth and stone. Can dragons tunnel through rock, like the firewyrms of old Valyria? She hoped not.

“You ... you mean to ride them?”

“One of them. All I know of dragons is what my brother told me when I was a girl, and some I read in books, but it is said that even Aegon the Conqueror never dared mount Vhagar or Meraxes, nor did his sisters ride Balerion the Black Dread. Dragons live longer than men, some for hundreds of years, so Balerion had other riders after Aegon died ... but no rider ever flew two dragons.”

“I ... I have the blood of the dragon in me as well, Your Grace. I can trace my lineage back to the first Daenerys, the Targaryen princess who was sister to King Daeron the Good and wife to the Prince of Dorne. He built the Water Gardens for her.”

“The Water Gardens?” She knew little and less of Dorne or its history, if truth be told.

“My father’s favorite palace. It would please me to show them to you one day. They are all of pink marble, with pools and fountains, overlooking the sea.”

“They sound lovely.”

“Tell me of this other Daenerys. I know less than I should of the history of my father’s kingdom. I never had a maester growing up.” Only a brother.

“It would be my pleasure, Your Grace,” said Quentyn.

ADWD Daenerys VII

When Dany told him how Serwyn of the Mirror Shield was haunted by the ghosts of all the knights he’d killed, Daario only laughed.

“Tell me,” Dany said, as the procession turned toward the Temple of the Graces, “if my father and my mother had been free to follow their own hearts, whom would they have wed?”

“It was long ago. Your Grace would not know them.”

“You know, though. Tell me.”

The old knight inclined his head. “The queen your mother was always mindful of her duty.” He was handsome in his gold-and-silver armor, his white cloak streaming from his shoulders, but he sounded like a man in pain, as if every word were a stone he had to pass. “As a girl, though … she was once smitten with a young knight from the stormlands who wore her favor at a tourney and named her queen of love and beauty. A brief thing.”

“What happened to this knight?”

“He put away his lance the day your lady mother wed your father. Afterward he became most pious, and was heard to say that only the Maiden could replace Queen Rhaella in his heart. His passion was impossible, of course. A landed knight is no fit consort for a princess of royal blood.”

And Daario Naharis is only a sellsword, not fit to buckle on the golden spurs of even a landed knight. “And my father? Was there some woman he loved better than his queen?”

Ser Barristan shifted in the saddle. “Not … not loved. Mayhaps wanted is a better word, but … it was only kitchen gossip, the whispers of washerwomen and stableboys …”

“I want to know. I never knew my father. I want to know everything about him. The good and … the rest.”

“As you command.” The white knight chose his words with care. “Prince Aerys … as a youth, he was taken with a certain lady of Casterly Rock, a cousin of Tywin Lannister. When she and Tywin wed, your father drank too much wine at the wedding feast and was heard to say that it was a great pity that the lord’s right to the first night had been abolished. A drunken jape, no more, but Tywin Lannister was not a man to forget such words, or the … the liberties your father took during the bedding.” His face reddened. “I have said too much, Your Grace. I—”

ADWD Daenerys IV

“You saw my brother Rhaegar wed. Tell me, did he wed for love or duty?”

The old knight hesitated. “Princess Elia was a good woman, Your Grace. She was kind and clever, with a gentle heart and a sweet wit. I know the prince was very fond of her.”

Fond, thought Dany. The word spoke volumes. I could become fond of Hizdahr zo Loraq, in time. Perhaps.

Ser Barristan went on. “I saw your father and your mother wed as well. Forgive me, but there was no fondness there, and the realm paid dearly for that, my queen.”

“Why did they wed if they did not love each other?”

“Your grandsire commanded it. A woods witch had told him that the prince was promised would be born of their line.”

“A woods witch?” Dany was astonished.

“She came to court with Jenny of Oldstones. A stunted thing, grotesque to look upon. A dwarf, most people said, though dear to Lady Jenny, who always claimed that she was one of the children of the forest.”

“What became of her?”

“Summerhall.” The word was fraught with doom.

Dany sighed. “Leave me now. I am very weary.”

ADWD Daenerys III

The cedars that had once grown tall along the coast grew no more, felled by the axes of the Old Empire or consumed by dragonfire when Ghis made war against Valyria. Once the trees had gone, the soil baked beneath the hot sun and blew away in thick red clouds. “It was these calamities that transformed my people into slavers,” Galazza Galare had told her, at the Temple of the Graces. And I am the calamity that will change these slavers back into people, Dany had sworn to herself.

ADWD Daenerys II

“A true knight is worth ten guardsmen. The men at the gate were taken by surprise. I rode one down, wrenched away his spear, and drove it through the throat of my closest pursuer. The other broke off once I was through the gate, so I spurred my horse to a gallop and rode hellbent along the river until the city was lost to sight behind me. That night I traded my horse for a handful of pennies and some rags, and the next morning I joined the stream of smallfolk making their way to King’s Landing. I’d gone out the Mud Gate, so I returned through the Gate of the Gods, with dirt on my face, stubble on my cheeks, and no weapon but a wooden staff. In roughspun clothes and mud-caked boots, I was just one more old man fleeing the war. The gold cloaks took a stag from me and waved me through. King’s Landing was crowded with smallfolk who’d come seeking refuge from the fighting. I lost myself amongst them. I had a little silver, but I needed that to pay my passage across the narrow sea, so I slept in septs and alleys and took my meals in pot shops. I let my beard grow out and cloaked myself in age. The day Lord Stark lost his head, I was there, watching. Afterward I went into the Great Sept and thanked the seven gods that Joffrey had stripped me of my cloak.”

“Stark was a traitor who met a traitor’s end.”

“Your Grace,” said Selmy, “Eddard Stark played a part in your father’s fall, but he bore you no ill will. When the eunuch Varys told us that you were with child, Robert wanted you killed, but Lord Stark spoke against it. Rather than countenance the murder of children, he told Robert to find himself another Hand.”

“Have you forgotten Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon?”

“Never. That was Lannister work, Your Grace.”

“Lannister or Stark, what difference? Viserys used to call them the Usurper’s dogs. If a child is set upon by a pack of hounds, does it matter which one tears out his throat? All the dogs are just as guilty.

“They are larger.” Dany’s voice echoed off the scorched stone walls. A drop of sweat trickled down her brow and fell onto her breast. “Is it true that dragons never stop growing?”

“If they have food enough, and space to grow. Chained up in here, though …”

Viserys had told her all the tales when she was little. He loved to talk of dragons. She knew how Harrenhal had fallen. She knew about the Field of Fire and the Dance of the Dragons. One of her forebears, the third Aegon, had seen his own mother devoured by his uncle’s dragon. And there were songs beyond count of villages and kingdoms that lived in dread of dragons till some brave dragonslayer rescued them. At Astapor the slaver’s eyes had melted. On the road to Yunkai, when Daario tossed the heads of Sallor the Bald and Prendahl na Ghezn at her feet, her children made a feast of them. Dragons had no fear of men. And a dragon large enough to gorge on sheep could take a child just as easily.

ADWD Daenerys I

Dragons are fire made flesh. She had read that in one of the books Ser Jorah had given her as a wedding gift.

A crown should not sit easy on the head. One of her royal forebears had said that, once. Some Aegon, but which one? Five Aegons had ruled the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. There would have been a sixth, but the Usurper’s dogs had murdered her brother’s son when he was still a babe at the breast. If he had lived, I might have married him. Aegon would have been closer to my age than Viserys. Dany had only been conceived when Aegon and his sister were murdered. Their father, her brother Rhaegar, perished even earlier, slain by the Usurper on the Trident. Her brother Viserys had died screaming in Vaes Dothrak with a crown of molten gold upon his head.

A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

“I am no maester to quote history at you, Your Grace. Swords have been my life, not books. But every child knows that the Targaryens have always danced too close to madness. Your father was not the first. King Jaehaerys once told me that madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, he said, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.”

Jaehaerys. This old man knew my grandfather. The thought gave her pause. Most of what she knew of Westeros had come from her brother, and the rest from Ser Jorah. Ser Barristan would have forgotten more than the two of them had ever known. This man can tell me what I came from.

“Bring me the book I was reading last night.” She wanted to lose herself in the words, in other times and other places. The fat leather-bound volume was full of songs and stories from the Seven Kingdoms. Children’s stories, if truth be told; too simple and fanciful to be true history. All the heroes were tall and handsome, and you could tell the traitors by their shifty eyes. Yet she loved them all the same. Last night she had been reading of the three princesses in the red tower, locked away by the king for the crime of being beautiful.

ASOS Daenerys V

Her captains bowed and left her with her handmaids and her dragons. But as Brown Ben was leaving, Viserion spread his pale white wings and flapped lazily at his head. One of the wings buffeted the sellsword in his face. The white dragon landed awkwardly with one foot on the man’s head and one on his shoulder, shrieked, and flew off again. “He likes you, Ben “ said Dany.

“And well he might.” Brown Ben laughed. “I have me a drop of the dragon blood myself, you know.”

“You?” Dany was startled. Plumm was a creature of the free companies, an amiable mongrel. He had a broad brown face with a broken nose and a head of nappy grey hair, and his Dothraki mother had bequeathed him large, dark, almond-shaped eyes. He claimed to be part Braavosi, part Summer Islander, part Ibbenese, part Qohorik, part Dothraki, part Dornish, and part Westerosi, but this was the first she had heard of Targaryen blood. She gave him a searching look and said, “How could that be?”

“Well,” said Brown Ben, “there was some old Plumm in the Sunset Kingdoms who wed a dragon princess. My grandmama told me the tale. He lived in King Aegon’s day.”

“Which King Aegon?” Dany asked. “Five Aegons have ruled in Westeros.” Her brother’s son would have been the sixth, but the Usurper’s men had dashed his head against a wall.

“Five, were there? Well, that’s a confusion. I could not give you a number, my queen. This old Plumm was a lord, though, must have been a famous fellow in his day, the talk of all the land. The thing was, begging your royal pardon, he had himself a cock six foot long.”

The three bells in Dany’s braid tinkled when she laughed. “You mean inches, I think.”

“Feet,” Brown Ben said firmly. “If it was inches, who’d want to talk about it, now? Your Grace.”

Dany giggled like a little girl. “Did your grandmother claim she’d actually seen this prodigy?”

“That the old crone never did. She was half-Ibbenese and half-Qohorik, never been to Westeros, my grandfather must have told her. Some Dothraki killed him before I was born.”

“And where did your grandfather’s knowledge come from?”

“One of them tales told at the teat, I’d guess.” Brown Ben shrugged. “That’s all I know about Aegon the Unnumbered or old Lord Plumm’s mighty manhood, I fear. I best see to my Sons.”

“Go do that,” Dany told him.

She could see her ships standing out to sea. Balerion floated nearest; the great cog once known as Saduleon, her sails furled. Further out were the galleys Meraxes and Vhagar, formerly Joso’s Prank and Summer Sun. They were Magister Illyrio’s ships, in truth, not hers at all, and yet she had given them new names with hardly a thought. Dragon names, and more; in old Valyria before the Doom, Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar had been gods.

ASOS Daenerys IV

“You must be my children,” she told the dragons, “my three fierce children. Arstan says dragons live longer than men, so you will go on after I am dead.”

When the old man came, she was curled up inside her hrakkar pelt, whose musty smell still reminded her of Drogo. “I cannot sleep when men are dying for me, Whitebeard,” she said. “Tell me more of my brother Rhaegar, if you would. I liked the tale you told me on the ship, of how he decided that he must be a warrior.”

“Your Grace is kind to say so.” 

“Viserys said that our brother won many tourneys.”

Arstan bowed his white head respectfully. “It is not meet for me to deny His Grace’s words ...”

“But?” said Dany sharply. “Tell me. I command it.”

“Prince Rhaegar’s prowess was unquestioned, but he seldom entered the lists. He never loved the song of swords the way that Robert did, or Jaime Lannister. It was something he had to do, a task the world had set him. He did it well, for he did everything well. That was his nature. But he took no joy in it. Men said that he loved his harp much better than his lance.”

“He won some tourneys, surely,” said Dany, disappointed.

“When he was young, His Grace rode brilliantly in a tourney at Storm’s End, defeating Lord Steffon Baratheon, Lord Jason Mallister, the Red Viper of Dorne, and a mystery knight who proved to be the infamous Simon Toyne, chief of the kingswood outlaws. He broke twelve lances against Ser Arthur Dayne that day.”

“Was he the champion, then?”

“No, Your Grace. That honor went to another knight of the Kingsguard, who unhorsed Prince Rhaegar in the final tilt.”

Dany did not want to hear about Rhaegar being unhorsed. “But what tourneys did my brother win?”

“Your Grace.” The old man hesitated. “He won the greatest tourney of them all.”

“Which was that?” Dany demanded.

“The tourney Lord Whent staged at Harrenhal beside the Gods Eye, in the year of the false spring. A notable event. Besides the jousting, there was a mêlée in the old style fought between seven teams of knights, as well as archery and axe-throwing, a horse race, a tournament of singers, a mummer show, and many feasts and frolics. Lord Whent was as open handed as he was rich. The lavish purses he proclaimed drew hundreds of challengers. Even your royal father came to Harrenhal, when he had not left the Red Keep for long years. The greatest lords and mightiest champions of the Seven Kingdoms rode in that tourney, and the Prince of Dragonstone bested them all.”

“But that was the tourney when he crowned Lyanna Stark as queen of love and beauty!” said Dany. “Princess Elia was there, his wife, and yet my brother gave the crown to the Stark girl, and later stole her away from her betrothed. How could he do that? Did the Dornish woman treat him so ill?”

“It is not for such as me to say what might have been in your brother’s heart, Your Grace. The Princess Elia was a good and gracious lady, though her health was ever delicate.”

Dany pulled the lion pelt tighter about her shoulders. “Viserys said once that it was my fault, for being born too late.” She had denied it hotly, she remembered, going so far as to tell Viserys that it was his fault for not being born a girl. He beat her cruelly for that insolence. “If I had been born more timely, he said, Rhaegar would have married me instead of Elia, and it would all have come out different. If Rhaegar had been happy in his wife, he would not have needed the Stark girl.”

“Perhaps so, Your Grace.” Whitebeard paused a moment. “But I am not certain it was in Rhaegar to be happy.”

“You make him sound so sour,” Dany protested.

“Not sour, no, but ... there was a melancholy to Prince Rhaegar, a sense ...” The old man hesitated again.

“Say it,” she urged. “A sense ...?”

“... of doom. He was born in grief, my queen, and that shadow hung over him all his days.”

Viserys had spoken of Rhaegar’s birth only once. Perhaps the tale saddened him too much. “It was the shadow of Summerhall that haunted him, was it not?”

“Yes. And yet Summerhall was the place the prince loved best. He would go there from time to time, with only his harp for company. Even the knights of the Kingsguard did not attend him there. He liked to sleep in the ruined hall, beneath the moon and stars, and whenever he came back he would bring a song. When you heard him play his high harp with the silver strings and sing of twilights and tears and the death of kings, you could not but feel that he was singing of himself and those he loved.”

“What of the Usurper? Did he play sad songs as well?”

Arstan chuckled. “Robert? Robert liked songs that made him laugh, the bawdier the better. He only sang when he was drunk, and then it was like to be ‘A Cask of Ale’ or ‘Fifty-Four Tuns’ or ‘The Bear and the Maiden Fair.’ Robert was much—”

ASOS Daenerys II

The harpy of Ghis, Dany thought. Old Ghis had fallen five thousand years ago, if she remembered true; its legions shattered by the might of young Valyria, its brick walls pulled down, its streets and buildings turned to ash and cinder by dragonflame, its very fields sown with salt, sulfur, and skulls. The gods of Ghis were dead, and so too its people; these Astapori were mongrels, Ser Jorah said. Even the Ghiscari tongue was largely forgotten; the slave cities spoke the High Valyrian of their conquerors, or what they had made of it.

Yet the symbol of the Old Empire still endured here, though this bronze monster had a heavy chain dangling from her talons, an open manacle at either end. The harpy of Ghis had a thunderbolt in her claws. This is the harpy of Astapor.

“When Aegon the Dragon stepped ashore in Westeros, the kings of Vale and Rock and Reach did not rush to hand him their crowns. If you mean to sit his Iron Throne, you must win it as he did, with steel and dragonfire. And that will mean blood on your hands before the thing is done.”

ASOS Daenerys I

“How big will he grow?” Dany asked curiously. “Do you know?”

“In the Seven Kingdoms, there are tales of dragons who grew so huge that they could pluck giant krakens from the seas.”

Dany laughed. “That would be a wondrous sight to see.”

“It is only a tale, Khaleesi,” said her exile knight. “They talk of wise old dragons living a thousand years as well.”

“Well, how long does a dragon live?” She looked up as Viserion swooped low over the ship, his wings beating slowly and stirring the limp sails.

Ser Jorah shrugged. “A dragon’s natural span of days is many times as long as a man’s, or so the songs would have us believe ... but the dragons the Seven Kingdoms knew best were those of House Targaryen. They were bred for war, and in war they died. It is no easy thing to slay a dragon, but it can be done.”

The squire Whitebeard, standing by the figurehead with one lean hand curled about his tall hardwood staff, turned toward them and said, “Balerion the Black Dread was two hundred years old when he died during the reign of Jaehaerys the Conciliator. He was so large he could swallow an aurochs whole. A dragon never stops growing, Your Grace, so long as he has food and freedom.” His name was Arstan, but Strong Belwas had named him Whitebeard for his pale whiskers, and most everyone called him that now. He was taller than Ser Jorah, though not so muscular; his eyes were a pale blue, his long beard as white as snow and as fine as silk.

“Freedom?” asked Dany, curious. “What do you mean?”

“In King’s Landing, your ancestors raised an immense domed castle for their dragons. The Dragonpit, it is called. It still stands atop the Hill of Rhaenys, though all in ruins now. That was where the royal dragons dwelt in days of yore, and a cavernous dwelling it was, with iron doors so wide that thirty knights could ride through them abreast. Yet even so, it was noted that none of the pit dragons ever reached the size of their ancestors. The maesters say it was because of the walls around them, and the great dome above their heads.”

“If walls could keep us small, peasants would all be tiny and kings as large as giants,” said Ser Jorah. “I’ve seen huge men born in hovels, and dwarfs who dwelt in castles.”

“Men are men,” Whitebeard replied. “Dragons are dragons.”

Ser Jorah snorted his disdain. “How profound.” The exile knight had no love for the old man, he’d made that plain from the first. “What do you know of dragons, anyway?”

“Little enough, that’s true. Yet I served for a time in King’s Landing in the days when King Aerys sat the Iron Throne, and walked beneath the dragonskulls that looked down from the walls of his throne room.”

“Viserys talked of those skulls,” said Dany. “The Usurper took them down and hid them away. He could not bear them looking down on him upon his stolen throne.” She beckoned Whitebeard closer. “Did you ever meet my royal father?” King Aerys II had died before his daughter was born.

“I had that great honor, Your Grace.” “Did you find him good and gentle?”

Whitebeard did his best to hide his feelings, but they were there, plain on his face. “His Grace was ... often pleasant.”

“Often?” Dany smiled. “But not always?” 

“He could be very harsh to those he thought his enemies.” 

“A wise man never makes an enemy of a king,” said Dany. “Did you know my brother Rhaegar as well?” 

“It was said that no man ever knew Prince Rhaegar, truly. I had the privilege of seeing him in tourney, though, and often heard him play his harp with its silver strings.”

Ser Jorah snorted. “Along with a thousand others at some harvest feast. Next you’ll claim you squired for him.”

“I make no such claim, ser. Myles Mooton was Prince Rhaegar’s squire, and Richard Lonmouth after him. When they won their spurs, he knighted them himself, and they remained his close companions. Young Lord Connington was dear to the prince as well, but his oldest friend was Arthur Dayne.”

“The Sword of the Morning!” said Dany, delighted. “Viserys used to talk about his wondrous white blade. He said Ser Arthur was the only knight in the realm who was our brother’s peer.”

Whitebeard bowed his head. “It is not my place to question the words of Prince Viserys.”

“King,” Dany corrected. “He was a king, though he never reigned. Viserys, the Third of His Name. But what do you mean?” His answer had not been one that she’d expected. “Ser Jorah named Rhaegar the last dragon once. He had to have been a peerless warrior to be called that, surely?”

“Your Grace,” said Whitebeard, “the Prince of Dragonstone was a most puissant warrior, but ...”

“Go on,” she urged. “You may speak freely to me.”

“As you command.” The old man leaned upon his hardwood staff, his brow furrowed. “A warrior without peer ... those are fine words, Your Grace, but words win no battles.”

“Swords win battles,” Ser Jorah said bluntly. “And Prince Rhaegar knew how to use one.” 

“He did, ser, but ... I have seen a hundred tournaments and more wars than I would wish, and however strong or fast or skilled a knight may be, there are others who can match him. A man will win one tourney, and fall quickly in the next. A slick spot in the grass may mean defeat, or what you ate for supper the night before. A change in the wind may bring the gift of victory.” He glanced at Ser Jorah. “Or a lady’s favor knotted round an arm.”

Mormont’s face darkened. “Be careful what you say, old man.”

Arstan had seen Ser Jorah fight at Lannisport, Dany knew, in the tourney Mormont had won with a lady’s favor knotted round his arm. He had won the lady too; Lynesse of House Hightower, his second wife, highborn and beautiful ... but she had ruined him, and abandoned him, and the memory of her was bitter to him now. “Be gentle, my knight.” She put a hand on Jorah’s arm. “Arstan had no wish to give offense, I’m certain.”

“As you say, Khaleesi.” Ser Jorah’s voice was grudging.

Dany turned back to the squire. “I know little of Rhaegar. Only the tales Viserys told, and he was a little boy when our brother died. What was he truly like?”

The old man considered a moment. “Able. That above all. Determined, deliberate, dutiful, single-minded. There is a tale told of him ... but doubtless Ser Jorah knows it as well.”

“I would hear it from you.”

“As you wish,” said Whitebeard. “As a young boy, the Prince of Dragonstone was bookish to a fault. He was reading so early that men said Queen Rhaella must have swallowed some books and a candle whilst he was in her womb. Rhaegar took no interest in the play of other children. The maesters were awed by his wits, but his father’s knights would jest sourly that Baelor the Blessed had been born again. Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in his scrolls that changed him. No one knows what it might have been, only that the boy suddenly appeared early one morning in the yard as the knights were donning their steel. He walked up to Ser Willem Darry, the master-at-arms, and said, ‘I will require sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior.’”

“And he was!” said Dany, delighted.

“He was indeed.” Whitebeard bowed. “My pardons, Your Grace. We speak of warriors, and I see that Strong Belwas has arisen. I must attend him.”

In time, the dragons would be her most formidable guardians, just as they had been for Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters three hundred years ago.

“Illyrio Mopatis wants you back in Pentos, under his roof. Very well, go to him ... but in your own time, and not alone. Let us see how loyal and obedient these new subjects of yours truly are. Command Groleo to change course for Slaver’s Bay.”

Dany was not certain she liked the sound of that at all. Everything she’d ever heard of the flesh marts in the great slave cities of Yunkai, Meereen, and Astapor was dire and frightening. “What is there for me in Slaver’s Bay?”

“An army,” said Ser Jorah. “If Strong Belwas is so much to your liking you can buy hundreds more like him out of the fighting pits of Meereen ... but it is Astapor I’d set my sails for. In Astapor you can buy Unsullied.”

“The slaves in the spiked bronze hats?” Dany had seen Unsullied guards in the Free Cities, posted at the gates of magisters, archons, and dynasts. “Why should I want Unsullied? They don’t even ride horses, and most of them are fat.”

“The Unsullied you may have seen in Pentos and Myr were household guards. That’s soft service, and eunuchs tend to plumpness in any case. Food is the only vice allowed them. To judge all Unsullied by a few old household slaves is like judging all squires by Arstan Whitebeard, Your Grace. Do you know the tale of the Three Thousand of Qohor?”

“No.” The coverlet slipped off Dany’s shoulder, and she tugged it back into place.

“It was four hundred years ago or more, when the Dothraki first rode out of the east, sacking and burning every town and city in their path. The khal who led them was named Temmo. His khalasar was not so big as Drogo’s, but it was big enough. Fifty thousand, at the least. Half of them braided warriors with bells ringing in their hair.

“The Qohorik knew he was coming. They strengthened their walls, doubled the size of their own guard, and hired two free companies besides, the Bright Banners and the Second Sons. And almost as an afterthought, they sent a man to Astapor to buy three thousand Unsullied. It was a long march back to Qohor, however, and as they approached they saw the smoke and dust and heard the distant din of battle.

“By the time the Unsullied reached the city the sun had set. Crows and wolves were feasting beneath the walls on what remained of the Qohorik heavy horse. The Bright Banners and Second Sons had fled, as sellswords are wont to do in the face of hopeless odds. With dark falling, the Dothraki had retired to their own camps to drink and dance and feast, but none doubted that they would return on the morrow to smash the city gates, storm the walls, and rape, loot, and slave as they pleased.

“But when dawn broke and Temmo and his bloodriders led their khalasar out of camp, they found three thousand Unsullied drawn up before the gates with the Black Goat standard flying over their heads. So small a force could easily have been flanked, but you know Dothraki. These were men on foot, and men on foot are fit only to be ridden down.

“The Dothraki charged. The Unsullied locked their shields, lowered their spears, and stood firm. Against twenty thousand screamers with bells in their hair, they stood firm.

“Eighteen times the Dothraki charged, and broke themselves on those shields and spears like waves on a rocky shore. Thrice Temmo sent his archers wheeling past and arrows fell like rain upon the Three Thousand, but the Unsullied merely lifted their shields above their heads until the squall had passed. In the end only six hundred of them remained ... but more than twelve thousand Dothraki lay dead upon that field, including Khal Temmo, his bloodriders, his kos, and all his sons. On the morning of the fourth day, the new khal led the survivors past the city gates in a stately procession. One by one, each man cut off his braid and threw it down before the feet of the Three Thousand.

“Since that day, the city guard of Qohor has been made up solely of Unsullied, every one of whom carries a tall spear from which hangs a braid of human hair.

“That is what you will find in Astapor, Your Grace. Put ashore there, and continue on to Pentos overland. It will take longer, yes ... but when you break bread with Magister Illyrio, you will have a thousand swords behind you, not just four.”

A Clash of Kings

ACOK Daenerys V

“The dragon has three heads,” she sighed. “Do you know what that means, Jorah?”

“Your Grace? The sigil of House Targaryen is a three-headed dragon, red on black.”

“I know that. But there are no three-headed dragons.”

“The three heads were Aegon and his sisters.”

“Visenya and Rhaenys,” she recalled. “I am descended from Aegon and Rhaenys through their son Aenys and their grandson Jaehaerys.”

“His is the song of ice and fire, my brother said. I’m certain it was my brother. Not Viserys, Rhaegar. He had a harp with silver strings.”

Ser Jorah’s frown deepened until his eyebrows came together. “Prince Rhaegar played such a harp,” he conceded. “You saw him?”

She nodded. “There was a woman in a bed with a babe at her breast. My brother said the babe was the prince that was promised and told her to name him Aegon.”

“Prince Aegon was Rhaegar’s heir by Elia of Dorne,” Ser Jorah said. “But if he was this prince that was promised, the promise was broken along with his skull when the Lannisters dashed his head against a wall.”

“I remember,” Dany said sadly. “They murdered Rhaegar’s daughter as well, the little princess. Rhaenys, she was named, like Aegon’s sister. There was no Visenya, but he said the dragon has three heads. What is the song of ice and fire?”

“It’s no song I’ve ever heard.”

ACOK Daenerys I

Such little things, she thought as she fed them by hand, or rather, tried to feed them, for the dragons would not eat. They would hiss and spit at each bloody morsel of horsemeat, steam rising from their nostrils, yet they would not take the food ... until Dany recalled something Viserys had told her when they were children.

Only dragons and men eat cooked meat, he had said.

“Aegon’s dragons were named for the gods of Old Valyria,” she told her bloodriders one morning after a long night’s journey. “Visenya’s dragon was Vhagar, Rhaenys had Meraxes, and Aegon rode Balerion, the Black Dread. It was said that Vhagar’s breath was so hot that it could melt a knight’s armor and cook the man inside, that Meraxes swallowed horses whole, and Balerion ... his fire was as black as his scales, his wings so vast that whole towns were swallowed up in their shadow when he passed overhead.”

The Dothraki looked at her hatchlings uneasily. The largest of her three was shiny black, his scales slashed with streaks of vivid scarlet to match his wings and horns. “Khaleesi,” Aggo murmured, “there sits Balerion, come again.”

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

“Tell me the name of your ghost, Jorah. You know all of mine.”

His face grew very still. “Her name was Lynesse.” “Your wife?” “My second wife.”

It pains him to speak of her, Dany saw, but she wanted to know the truth. “Is that all you would say of her?” The lion pelt slid off one shoulder and she tugged it back into place. “Was she beautiful?”

“Very beautiful.” Ser Jorah lifted his eyes from her shoulder to her face. “The first time I beheld her, I thought she was a goddess come to earth, the Maid herself made flesh. Her birth was far above my own. She was the youngest daughter of Lord Leyton Hightower of Oldtown. The White Bull who commanded your father’s Kingsguard was her great-uncle. The Hightowers are an ancient family, very rich and very proud.”

“And loyal,” Dany said. “I remember, Viserys said the Hightowers were among those who stayed true to my father.”

“That’s so,” he admitted.

“Did your fathers make the match?”

“No,” he said. “Our marriage ... that makes a long tale and a dull one, Your Grace. I would not trouble you with it.”

“I have nowhere to go,” she said. “Please.”

“As my queen commands.” Ser Jorah frowned. “My home ... you must understand that to understand the rest. Bear Island is beautiful, but remote. Imagine old gnarled oaks and tall pines, flowering thornbushes, grey stones bearded with moss, little creeks running icy down steep hillsides. The hall of the Mormonts is built of huge logs and surrounded by an earthen palisade. Aside from a few crofters, my people live along the coasts and fish the seas. The island lies far to the north, and our winters are more terrible than you can imagine, Khaleesi.”

“Still, the island suited me well enough, and I never lacked for women. I had my share of fishwives and crofter’s daughters, before and after I was wed. I married young, to a bride of my father’s choosing, a Glover of Deepwood Motte. Ten years we were wed, or near enough as makes no matter. She was a plain-faced woman, but not unkind. I suppose I came to love her after a fashion, though our relations were dutiful rather than passionate. Three times she miscarried while trying to give me an heir. The last time she never recovered. She died not long after.”

Dany put her hand on his and gave his fingers a squeeze. “I am sorry for you, truly.”

Ser Jorah nodded. “By then my father had taken the black, so I was Lord of Bear Island in my own right. I had no lack of marriage offers, but before I could reach a decision Lord Balon Greyjoy rose in rebellion against the Usurper, and Ned Stark called his banners to help his friend Robert. The final battle was on Pyke. When Robert’s stonethrowers opened a breach in King Balon’s wall, a priest from Myr was the first man through, but I was not far behind. For that I won my knighthood.”

“To celebrate his victory, Robert ordained that a tourney should be held outside Lannisport. It was there I saw Lynesse, a maid half my age. She had come up from Oldtown with her father to see her brothers joust. I could not take my eyes off her. In a fit of madness, I begged her favor to wear in the tourney, never dreaming she would grant my request, yet she did.”

“I fight as well as any man, Khaleesi, but I have never been a tourney knight. Yet with Lynesse’s favor knotted round my arm, I was a different man. I won joust after joust. Lord Jason Mallister fell before me, and Bronze Yohn Royce. Ser Ryman Frey, his brother Ser Hosteen, Lord Whent, Strongboar, even Ser Boros Blount of the Kingsguard, I unhorsed them all. In the last match, I broke nine lances against Jaime Lannister to no result, and King Robert gave me the champion’s laurel. I crowned Lynesse queen of love and beauty, and that very night went to her father and asked for her hand. I was drunk, as much on glory as on wine. By rights I should have gotten a contemptuous refusal, but Lord Leyton accepted my offer. We were married there in Lannisport, and for a fortnight I was the happiest man in the wide world.”

“Only a fortnight?” asked Dany. Even I was given more happiness than that, with Drogo who was my sun-and-stars.

“A fortnight was how long it took us to sail from Lannisport back to Bear Island. My home was a great disappointment to Lynesse. It was too cold, too damp, too far away, my castle no more than a wooden longhall. We had no masques, no mummer shows, no balls or fairs. Seasons might pass without a singer ever coming to play for us, and there’s not a goldsmith on the island. Even meals became a trial. My cook knew little beyond his roasts and stews, and Lynesse soon lost her taste for fish and venison.”

“I lived for her smiles, so I sent all the way to Oldtown for a new cook, and brought a harper from Lannisport. Goldsmiths, jewelers, dressmakers, whatever she wanted I found for her, but it was never enough. Bear Island is rich in bears and trees, and poor in aught else. I built a fine ship for her and we sailed to Lannisport and Oldtown for festivals and fairs, and once even to Braavos, where I borrowed heavily from the moneylenders. It was as a tourney champion that I had won her hand and heart, so I entered other tourneys for her sake, but the magic was gone. I never distinguished myself again, and each defeat meant the loss of another charger and another suit of jousting armor, which must needs be ransomed or replaced. The cost could not be borne. Finally I insisted we return home, but there matters soon grew even worse than before. I could no longer pay the cook and the harper, and Lynesse grew wild when I spoke of pawning her jewels.”

“The rest ... I did things it shames me to speak of. For gold. So Lynesse might keep her jewels, her harper, and her cook. In the end it cost me all. When I heard that Eddard Stark was coming to Bear Island, I was so lost to honor that rather than stay and face his judgment, I took her with me into exile. Nothing mattered but our love, I told myself. We fled to Lys, where I sold my ship for gold to keep us.”

His voice was thick with grief, and Dany was reluctant to press him any further, yet she had to know how it ended. “Did she die there?” she asked him gently.

“Only to me,” he said. “In half a year my gold was gone, and I was obliged to take service as a sellsword. While I was fighting Braavosi on the Rhoyne, Lynesse moved into the manse of a merchant prince named Tregar Ormollen. They say she is his chief concubine now, and even his wife goes in fear of her.”

A Game of Thrones

AGOT Daenerys VIII

The child kicked inside her, as if he had heard. Dany remembered the story Viserys had told her, of what the Usurper’s dogs had done to Rhaegar’s children. His son had been a babe as well, yet they had ripped him from his mother’s breast and dashed his head against a wall. That was the way of men. “They must not hurt my son!” she cried.

She told herself she would die for him, if she must. She was the blood of the dragon, she would not be afraid. Her brother Rhaegar had died for the woman he loved.

AGOT Daenerys III

“Have you ever seen a dragon?” she asked as Irri scrubbed her back and Jhiqui sluiced sand from her hair. She had heard that the first dragons had come from the east, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai and the islands of the Jade Sea. Perhaps some were still living there, in realms strange and wild.

“Dragons are gone, Khaleesi,” Irri said.

“Dead,” agreed Jhiqui. “Long and long ago.”

Viserys had told her that the last Targaryen dragons had died no more than a century and a half ago, during the reign of Aegon III, who was called the Dragonbane. That did not seem so long ago to Dany. “Everywhere?” she said, disappointed. “Even in the east?” Magic had died in the west when the Doom fell on Valyria and the Lands of the Long Summer, and neither spell-forged steel nor stormsingers nor dragons could hold it back, but Dany had always heard that the east was different. It was said that manticores prowled the islands of the Jade Sea, that basilisks infested the jungles of Yi Ti, that spellsingers, warlocks, and aeromancers practiced their arts openly in Asshai, while shadowbinders and bloodmages worked terrible sorceries in the black of night. Why shouldn’t there be dragons too?

“No dragon,” Irri said. “Brave men kill them, for dragon terrible evil beasts. It is known.” “It is known,” agreed Jhiqui.

“A trader from Qarth once told me that dragons came from the moon,” blond Doreah said as she warmed a towel over the fire. Jhiqui and Irri were of an age with Dany, Dothraki girls taken as slaves when Drogo destroyed their father’s khalasar. Doreah was older, almost twenty. Magister Illyrio had found her in a pleasure house in Lys.

Silvery-wet hair tumbled across her eyes as Dany turned her head, curious. “The moon?”

“He told me the moon was an egg, Khaleesi,” the Lysene girl said. “Once there were two moons in the sky, but one wandered too close to the sun and cracked from the heat. A thousand thousand dragons poured forth, and drank the fire of the sun. That is why dragons breathe flame. One day the other moon will kiss the sun too, and then it will crack and the dragons will return.”

The two Dothraki girls giggled and laughed. “You are foolish strawhead slave,” Irri said. “Moon is no egg. Moon is god, woman wife of sun. It is known.”

“It is known,” Jhiqui agreed.

AGOT Daenerys I

Somewhere beyond the sunset, across the narrow sea, lay a land of green hills and flowered plains and great rushing rivers, where towers of dark stone rose amidst magnificent blue-grey mountains, and armored knights rode to battle beneath the banners of their lords. The Dothraki called that land Rhaesh Andahli, the land of the Andals. In the Free Cities, they talked of Westeros and the Sunset Kingdoms. Her brother had a simpler name. “Our land,” he called it. The words were like a prayer with him. If he said them enough, the gods were sure to hear. “Ours by blood right, taken from us by treachery, but ours still, ours forever. You do not steal from the dragon, oh, no. The dragon remembers.”

And perhaps the dragon did remember, but Dany could not. She had never seen this land her brother said was theirs, this realm beyond the narrow sea. These places he talked of, Casterly Rock and the Eyrie, Highgarden and the Vale of Arryn, Dorne and the Isle of Faces, they were just words to her. Viserys had been a boy of eight when they fled King’s Landing to escape the advancing armies of the Usurper, but Daenerys had been only a quickening in their mother’s womb.

Yet sometimes Dany would picture the way it had been, so often had her brother told her the stories. The midnight flight to Dragonstone, moonlight shimmering on the ship’s black sails. Her brother Rhaegar battling the Usurper in the bloody waters of the Trident and dying for the woman he loved. The sack of King’s Landing by the ones Viserys called the Usurper’s dogs, the lords Lannister and Stark. Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar’s heir was ripped from her breast and murdered before her eyes. The polished skulls of the last dragons staring down sightlessly from the walls of the throne room while the Kingslayer opened Father’s throat with a golden sword.

She had been born on Dragonstone nine moons after their flight, while a raging summer storm threatened to rip the island fastness apart. They said that storm was terrible. The Targaryen fleet was smashed while it lay at anchor, and huge stone blocks were ripped from the parapets and sent hurtling into the wild waters of the narrow sea. Her mother had died birthing her, and for that her brother Viserys had never forgiven her.

She did not remember Dragonstone either. They had run again, just before the Usurper’s brother set sail with his new-built fleet. By then only Dragonstone itself, the ancient seat of their House, had remained of the Seven Kingdoms that had once been theirs. It would not remain for long. The garrison had been prepared to sell them to the Usurper, but one night Ser Willem Darry and four loyal men had broken into the nursery and stolen them both, along with her wet nurse, and set sail under cover of darkness for the safety of the Braavosian coast.

She remembered Ser Willem dimly, a great grey bear of a man, half-blind, roaring and bellowing orders from his sickbed. The servants had lived in terror of him, but he had always been kind to Dany. He called her “Little Princess” and sometimes “My Lady,” and his hands were soft as old leather. He never left his bed, though, and the smell of sickness clung to him day and night, a hot, moist, sickly sweet odor. That was when they lived in Braavos, in the big house with the red door. Dany had her own room there, with a lemon tree outside her window. After Ser Willem had died, the servants had stolen what little money they had left, and soon after they had been put out of the big house. Dany had cried when the red door closed behind them forever.

They had wandered since then, from Braavos to Myr, from Myr to Tyrosh, and on to Qohor and Volantis and Lys, never staying long in any one place. Her brother would not allow it. The Usurper’s hired knives were close behind them, he insisted, though Dany had never seen one.

At first the magisters and archons and merchant princes were pleased to welcome the last Targaryens to their homes and tables, but as the years passed and the Usurper continued to sit upon the Iron Throne, doors closed and their lives grew meaner. Years past they had been forced to sell their last few treasures, and now even the coin they had gotten from Mother’s crown had gone. In the alleys and wine sinks of Pentos, they called her brother “the beggar king.” Dany did not want to know what they called her.

“We will have it all back someday, sweet sister,” he would promise her. Sometimes his hands shook when he talked about it. “The jewels and the silks, Dragonstone and King’s Landing, the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms, all they have taken from us, we will have it back.” Viserys lived for that day. All that Daenerys wanted back was the big house with the red door, the lemon tree outside her window, the childhood she had never known.

“Drogo is so rich that even his slaves wear golden collars. A hundred thousand men ride in his khalasar, and his palace in Vaes Dothrak has two hundred rooms and doors of solid silver.” There was more like that, so much more, what a handsome man the khal was, so tall and fierce, fearless in battle, the best rider ever to mount a horse, a demon archer. Daenerys said nothing. She had always assumed that she would wed Viserys when she came of age. For centuries the Targaryens had married brother to sister, since Aegon the Conqueror had taken his sisters to bride. The line must be kept pure, Viserys had told her a thousand times; theirs was the kingsblood, the golden blood of old Valyria, the blood of the dragon. Dragons did not mate with the beasts of the field, and Targaryens did not mingle their blood with that of lesser men. Yet now Viserys schemed to sell her to a stranger, a barbarian.

#daenerys targaryen #dany passages #a dance with dragons #a clash of kings #a storm of swords #a game of thrones

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wuvdisc · 4 years

Text

hmm. unsure how to put into words the way my time on The Kinnie Side Of Tumblr (im not gone dw just ,, pondering) affected me

some good,,, some really bad, others super neutral

this silly site is where i was able to be my most authentic self, mostly, and ive lost sight of that a lil bit recently, heck i’m a lot older than I was and i still think i knew more about myself then. i dont know if a lot of my mutuals are still on here but i think about u guys a lot and i have a lot of lvoe for u. if you ever feel like talking i’m SO down

sooo yeah i’m back! mayhaps this is yelling into the void but it’s always been a cathartic place to do so! pls say hi if you feel so inclined uwu

#speech #new text tag wowie

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morinokunikara · 4 years

Note

Altschmerz w/ mishima mayhaps owo

Altschmerz: Weariness with the same old issues that you’ve always had – the same boring flaws and anxieties that you’ve been gnawing on for years.

IM SORRY THIS TOOK A WHOLEASS MONTH TO RESPOND TO LIFE HAS BEEN HELL AND IVE ONLY RECENTLY GOTTEN THE MOTIVATION TO WRITE DAILY

Anyways I wrote this in my idol school au so enjoy!!!

“One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.”

The cheerful music and Yuuki’s muttered counts echoed through the large, otherwise empty practice room, each step landing softly as he followed the routine he had practiced again and again.

“One, two, three, four. One, two, three four.”

Right, left, spin, hop. Step, step, skip, hop. Cross, right, lef- Shit!

His rhythm was cut off as he tripped over his own legs, and his body met the wood flooring with a thud. “Ugh...damnit.” He crawled to the large speaker next to him and shut it off. The room went silent and he rested against the mirrored wall. Why can’t I get this right? Everyone else has already moved forward... He brought his knees to his chest with a sigh, and mentally went over the routine again.

Step, step, skip, hop. Cross, right, left, step.

It was that left step that got him. Every time, he’d stumble or fall over completely. The rest of his group had it. He was holding them back. If he didn’t figure it out, they wouldn’t pass this audition at all. He’d disappoint everyone. He had to keep trying, for their sake. He pulled himself back up and restarted the music track.

“One, two, three, four.”

Cross, right, left, st-

Thud.

“Damnit!” The fall was particularly painful compared to others. His left ankle twisted as he went to the ground, and he whined as he rubbed the hurt leg.

“That was quite the fall,” A gentle voice came from the other end of the room. The tall, slender figure walked over to Yuuki, kneeling next to him. “Oh...hey, Kitagawa...” Yuuki stopped tending to his leg and looked away. To be caught like this in front of a classmate, especially in front of someone as elegant and handsome as Yusuke Kitagawa. He was one of the best students in his class, and already fairly well known in the idol world. His beauty, his artistic eye, even his frequently eccentric behavior gained him a large fan following. And he just saw Yuuki crash and burn like some kind of newbie.

“Sorry to interrupt, I just believe I forgot my water bottle here.” Kitagawa walked to Yuuki’s side. “You aren’t too hurt, are you? Can you move your leg?” He asked. “Is it alright if I touch it? I just want to make sure it isn’t swollen or anything of the sort.”

Yuuki nodded slowly. He could only hope it wasn't so bad that he wouldn't be able to dance... He watched as his classmate pushed up his left pant leg and looked carefully at the injury. Kitagawa moved it a bit, and Yuuki winced slightly. "Did that hurt?"

"A little..." Yuuki's anxieties grew. Would he be able to dance in time for the next audition?

Kitagawa hummed thoughtfully. "Can you get up and walk around for a little bit?" Yuuki nodded and pulled himself up. He winced at the first few steps, but soon was able to walk through the pain with nothing more than a slight limp.

"I don't believe it's broken," Kitagawa said as he watched. "However, we may need to take you the the infirmary just in ca-"

"No!" Yuuki snapped. He shrunk back when he noticed Kitagawa's startled expression. "Sorry I just- I can't risk having to stop practicing even for a day. I have to get this routine perfect in time for auditions.”

Kitagawa stayed silent for a moment, biting his lip. “Well, if you won’t go to the infirmary, would you at the very least accompany me on a walk? You may be able to just walk this injury off, and return to practice without an issue.

Yuuki hesitated. Could he really afford to take such a break? But then again, walking with Kitagawa, going on a walk with an idol ranked so high above him... It might just prove to be beneficial for him. “A walk sounds fine. As long as it isn’t too long, I want to practice more before lights out.”

The two walked out into the courtyard together. The sun had just barely set, and the first stars of the night were starting to shine through the darkening sky. The cool autumn breeze whipped colorful leaves along their legs, a few of the leaves crunching under their steps as they walked down the concrete path under the canopy of increasingly vacant trees. Yuuki looked down at the leaves under them, unsure of what to say or do. His mind was flooded with thoughts on the situation. He could take this chance to learn what it meant to be a high ranked idol! But what if Kitagawa thought he was using him to get ahead? Or what if he saw other idols as competition and refused, or worse, gave fake, sabotaging advice? Lost in his thoughts, he ended up nearly tripping directly into the fountain in the center of the courtyard.

“Careful. We wouldn’t want you to fall again,” Kitagawa warned.

“Sorry,” Yuuki muttered, looking off to the side. “I must’ve got lost in my thoughts.” He laughed and rubbed the back of his head.

“Here, have a seat.” Kitagawa sat on one of the benches that faced the fountain and patted the spot next to him. “We can walk again when you’re more focused.”

Yuuki took a seat on the bench as well. Still unsure of what to say, he stayed silent as he watched the water sprouting from the fountain and down into the pool below.

“It’s relaxing, isn’t it?” Kitagawa broke the silence between them. “I frequently come here when I need some time away, or when I need inspiration.”

Yuuki didn’t reply. What was there to say? He didn’t need time away. In fact, he needed the opposite. He should probably get back to practicing already. He was starting to get antsy.

“You know,” Kitagawa apparently still had more to say. Wonderful. “Dancing and singing are art forms, just like painting. Idols themselves really are artists. I always admired them for that reason, and found myself wanting to expand my horizons outside of just a singular art form. However-” The ''however” caught Yuuki’s attention, and he looked to Kitagawa. “-Just like with painting, there is such a thing as practicing too much. How long were you in that practice room for?”

“Since dance lessons ended so...” Yuuki counted up the hours in his head. “About 3 and a half hours I think.”

“And did you take a break once in that time?”

“No.”

“Ah, see? You have to give yourself a chance to rest.”

“I don’t have time to rest. I have to work as much as I can. I have to catch up to everyone else. Almost everyone in the school is ranked higher than me, including-” Yuuki stopped himself. No, it would be selfish to mention her. It wasn’t his fault she was so much better than him.

“Including your sister, correct?” Kitagawa asked, looking to Yuuki.

Yuuki sighed. “Yeah. Including her. She’s always been better than me. She was our parents’ clear favorite. The ace student, the soccer MVP, the Theatre star... I always paled in comparison to her. So I have to keep working harder, so I can be on her level.”

It was something Yuuki had dealt with since his sister was born. In everything she did, she shined brighter than him. Everything became about her. She was the center of their lives, and Yuuki was almost completely forgotten. He always tried to work himself harder, push himself more, fight on despite exhaustion, but nothing ever worked for them. He was never good enough. He thought that maybe, just maybe, attending the Atlas Idol Academy would change that but of course it didn’t. His sister climbed far above him almost instantly, and ended up near the top of the rankings, while he stayed near the bottom.

“So you want to climb up to the top of this school’s ranking? And you think you can do that by dancing on an injured ankle?”

The question cut hard on Yuuki. Well, yeah, when he puts it like that of course it sounds bad. “No but...”

“You know, I was the same with my own paintings, at a time. I watched even younger artists soar above me. Naturally, my first reaction was that I wasn’t working hard enough. So I pushed myself more. First I gave up sleeping, then eating, then so much as putting the brush down for a few seconds. Despite my greatest effort, everything I painted turned out... soulless. They lacked emotion, meaning, everything. It wasn’t until I injured my wrist, and passed out from exhaustion, that I realized how much damage I was doing not only to myself, but to my art.” Kitagawa sighed and looked back to the fountain. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Yuuki stared at the fountain as he processed his classmate’s words. He understood but... that was different right? Wasn’t it? If he worked harder, if he pushed himself, he’d be the best. “It’s just not the same situation.”

“Not the exact same, but there are striking similarities. What will you do if your ankle gets worse, or if you pass out. You’re determined about this audition, are you not? If you end up hurt, you’ll only cause yourself to not be able to participate at all.”

Yuuki knew he was right but... but... No. No buts this time. “...I know...” He muttered. It kind of sucked to admit, but Kitagawa may have had a point. He couldn’t audition if he ended up hospitalized.

“Good.” Kitagawa smiled and got up. “So, what are your plans now?”

Yuuki rose as well, stretching his arms as he did so. “I think I’ll go back to my room for now. My ankle feels better, but I’ll keep an eye on it and go to the infirmary if things get worse. And uh...thanks for looking out for me. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course. Contact me anytime you’re in need of a reminder. Would you like me to escort you to your dorm?”

“I wouldn’t mind that at all.” Without really thinking, Yuuki offered his arm to Kitagawa, who...actually took it? He realized a second too late what he had done, and averted his gaze to hide the dusting of pink on his face. Not that anyone could see it with how dark it was.

The two walked arm in arm together until they reached Yuuki’s dorm room. They said their good nights before parting ways, and Yuuki went straight to bed so he could rest up for the next day. In the time following, Yuuki followed his own pace, and found himself able to master the routine in time for the audition, leading to his group acing the audition with flying colors. He still fell into his old mindset from time to time, but when he did, his new friend was there, always supportive, always willing to remind him to work at his own pace to be the best he could be.

#persona 5 #persona #p5 #yuuki mishima #yusuke kitagawa #Anonymous #mailbox

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