#multi-chapter !
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Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 1
House of the Dragon Season 1
Aemond x TargaryenOC
Chapter Word Count: 7390
She was his everything...
For her...he would do anything.
From the moment of her birth, Aemond Targaryen swore himself to the protection of his niece Aelinor Velaryon. As the two grew up inseparable, they find themselves entangled in the Dance of Dragons, battling to stay together even as their families try to pull them apart.
A/N: Canon compliant but things change around. Currently cross-posting on A03. Will be approximately 12 chapters aligning with season 1.
Let me know what you think!
Masterlist A03
115 AC
On the second day of August, in the year 115 AC, the worst storm in a hundred years swept through King’s Landing. Ships smashed against each other in the harbor, livelihoods and people being whisked away by the tossing waves. The maesters — or the bolder ones anyway — whispered that the gods were unhappy with the Westeros, or specifically, with the ruling family. But those whispers were silenced almost immediately, for this was King’s Landing after all, the very seat of Targaryen power.
Rhaenyra Targaryen watched the storm from her window, one hand braced against each wall, her face being bathed by the pounding rain. Her maids had begged to close the shutters to conserve some of the warmth in her room, but she would not have. Her labors had been ongoing for nearly a full day, and only the sound of the wind and the cool spray of the rain could calm her as she breathed through the pain. From her spot high above the city, she could see clay tiles being ripped from their roofs, and in some places entire buildings were collapsing. It shouldn’t have been calming, but it was a welcome distraction and a stark reminder of her place in this world.
“Please, Princess,” her midwife pleased with her. “You must keep warm.”
“I am plenty warm!” Rhaenyra snapped, “and I will stay where I damn please.” As if summoned by her anger, another painful contraction rippled through her abdomen.
She could hear the midwife turn to one of her maids, beseeching the woman to find her husband. Rhaenyra let out a scoff. Since they had returned from their yearlong sojourn to Dragonstone, during which time she had entertained her uncle Daemon and his wife, Laenor had taken to spending time with one of the knights of the house. He was no uncaring nor unfeeling, but she doubted he felt any guilt about sheltering elsewhere in the city while his wife labored.
A door opened behind her. “The Queen wishes for news of the Princess.”
Rhaenyra groaned loudly, feeling the child move lower. She could hear her maid speaking in hushed tones to the intruder, assuring her of the steady progress of the birth. It didn’t feel steady. In fact, it felt rather like being torn in two.
A heavy gust of wind pelted her face, and she found she could breathe easier under the onslaught. It was a necessary distraction from the conversation happening behind her, which was in itself an echo of the same conversation that had been happening every hour on the hour for the past day. She should have expected it. Alicent had been even more of a presence when Rhaenyra had labored with Jace, insisting that her own maids be present to ‘assist the Princess’. It had been for that very reason that, following the birth of her son, Rhaenyra had withdrawn her family to Dragonstone. But there would be no escaping Alicent this time.
Something smashed against the stone walls, and Rhaenyra screamed as another contraction hit her. She was not made for this. What did it say about her, that she was bringing her child into the world on such a day?
Queen Alicent Hightower paced in her chambers, bundled in a fur as the fire roared to keep the chill of the wind out of her room. The windows in her rooms had been boarded up immediately after the King’s, and she had ordered her children be brought to her. They played on the floor now, Aegon with a small collection of wooden knights, and Aemond and Helaena looking over a book of insects.
The Hand of the King, Lord Otto Hightower, sat at her desk, putting pen to a stack of letters that had amassed in the past week. They both turned when the doors opened and Alicent’s maid, Talya, stepped inside.
“The Princess’ labors are nearly finished,” Talya announced. “The midwife expects the babe within the hour.”
Alicent picked at her fingernail. “Have it brought to me and the King as soon as possible,” she ordered, “so that we might offer our congratulations.”
Talya curtsied and left the room.
Congratulations were far from Alicent’s mind, thought she knew her husband, who was sequestered in his own rooms to work on his model, would be anxious to see his grandchild. Alicent, too, was not without sympathy for the Princess, who had returned from her months away heavily pregnant and now labored alone in her chambers. But the birth of Rhaenyra’s first son had all but confirmed rumors of adultery, and Alicent was anxious to see if the second would lend further proof to the theory.
“I wish she had summoned a maester,” she said, half to herself. “So we might trust she is in good hands.”
“Her first son arrived without issue,” Otto said, seeming bored with his daughter’s worry. “Put it from your mind.”
But how could she? Rhaenyra’s child it might be, and Jacaerys too, but Alicent could not, by the light of the Seven or her own love for her own children, see a bastard seated on the throne. But that did not mean she wished for Rhaenyra to suffer in childbirth.
“Will the dragons be alright in the storm, mother?” It took her a moment to realize who had spoken. Aemond, her third child, looked up from his book, eyes shining in concern for the creatures he loved more than anything. Aemond was…a soft child, though she knew it delighted her husband to see him so enamored with the dragons and his Targaryen heritage. Alicent struggled to imagine a place for Aemond if Rhaenyra’s children were to succeed the throne, soft and sensitive as he was.
“They have survived far more difficult storms than this,” she assured him. “They will be fine.”
Aemond gave her a relieved smile, flipping the page for Helaena.
“What do you care?” Aegon sneered. “You don’t even have one.”
“I have an egg!” Aemond protested.
“It’ll never hatch,” Aegon laughed.
Aemind stood and ran from the room, tears already brimming in his eyes. Alicent sighed, moving to go after him. Some version of this argument was a near weekly occurrence between her two sons, and she struggled to decide if it was childish rivalry or if it represented something deeper.
“Let him be, Daughter,” Otto cautioned. “Boys must work through these things on their own.”
The urge to comfort her son already fading, Alicent resumed her pacing. She needed to be ready when news of the birth came. Through the cracks in her boarded up window, she could see rolling gray clouds in the distance.
Prince Aemond had managed to stop crying by the time he emerged from the tunnels and into the Princess’ Tower. He knew there were many passageways in the castle, but he was only aware of the ones that led from his room, as they afforded him the opportunity to seek out his freedom, and to hide his tears. He was embarrassed to admit, event at the tender age of five, how often he wept behind these cold stone walls.
It wasn’t fair how Aegon treated him, and it wasn’t fair that he had a dragon. Aegon might love Sunfyre, but he didn’t love dragons the way that Aemond did. He didn’t pour over stories of Old Valyria, trying to learn things that seemed impossible for a boy of his age. He deserved a dragon. He was ready for it.
Even Helaena, who did not have a dragon, had her love of science and bugs and all crawling things. It wasn’t proper, or terribly interesting to Aemond, but at least she had something. The only thing he had ever really loved or wanted, continued to be out of his reach.
He hadn’t meant to come to the Princess’ Tower, but it seemed to be the one place in the Red Keep with any type of activity. His mother usually forbade the children from playing here, wanting to keep them far away from his elder half-sister for some reason he didn’t quite understand. And if he wasn’t going to be allowed to go outside and see the dragons, which his mother had strictly forbidden, then he must find entertainment elsewhere.
Two maids scurried past his hiding place. “The babe is here, but the Princess has asked us to delay so that she might compose herself.”
This interested Aemond. He knew that his mother had ordered the babe to be brought to her immediately, though he didn’t understand why. Surely a babe was still a babe an hour after its birth as much as a few minutes? But the babe was here, and he was here, which meant he might get a chance to see his new niece or nephew before his mother and Aegon did.
His mind made up, he ducked out from behind the tapestry and marched up the stairs to his half-sister’s chambers, knocking sharply on the door. The chatter inside fell to silence, and he listened as a pair of footsteps moved toward the door.
A maid answered. “Prince Aemond?” She curtsied through her confusion. “Whatever are you doing here?”
“I wish to see the babe,” he declared, trying not to look like a little boy who had been crying not too long ago.
“My Prince, this is a birthing chamber, and it is not—”
“He may enter,” his half-sister’s voice carried, and it was all the invitation he needed to push around the maid (rather rudely, as his septa would tell him) and into the room.
Rhaenyra’s chambers were confusing to him. The window was wide open, and the sounds of the storm and a wicket chill swept into the room. Someone had stacked blankets at the base of the window to soak up all the rain coming through. Despite this, the fire was roaring in its hearth, nearly suffocating in its heat. Two women he had never seen before were rolling blankets stained with crimson into a bundle, while another was dumping red-tinged water from a metal tub out of the window. He blinked in confusion. That was more blood than he had ever seen in his life, even more than when Aegon had broken his nose with a practice sword.
His half-sister was reclined on her bed, propped up by pillows, a bundle of blankets in her arms.
“Are you injured, sister?” He asked, creeping forward and trying not to think of the blood. He might not be overly close with his half-sister, as she was much older and not liked by his mother, but he did not like to see anyone hurt.
“No more than is expected, Aemond,” she said, not exactly warmly, but with a fresh dose of kindness that made his press a bit closer. He thought she looked exhausted, and her hair hung in sweaty mats about his face. Perhaps it was very difficult to have a baby, if it made such a mess. “Would you like to meet your niece?”
“A niece?” he moved forward, drawn by his curiosity. “It’s not a boy then.” A shame, for he would rather have liked a new playmate.
“No,” Rhaenyra laughed. “But rather a beautiful little girl. And you may be the first to meet her.”
Aemond wrinkled his nose. “Is she like Helaena? I like her well enough, but she talks often of bugs.”
She laughed again, a bit more brightly. “She is too little to have interests yet, Aemond. She does not even have a name.”
A person with no name? Somehow, that was utterly fascinating to Aemond, and he boldly leaned over the bed, trying to peek at the bundle in Rhaenyra’s arms. He could not imagine a world in which he was not Aemond, and this little baby did not even have a name of her own.
“Here she is,” Rhaenyra smiled down at the bundle, before lifting it to where Aemond could see.
His mouth dropped open as he beheld the tiny babe. He had expected an ugly, messy thing, and while she might be a bit wrinkly, and slightly blue, she was absolutely perfect. Small enough that he could have easily lifted her, with slick silver hair plastered to her head, and a tiny white hand curled into a little fist. He was reminded of depictions of the Mother in the Sept, who was often shown cradling a small, impossibly beautiful baby.
“She’s pretty,” he said finally, though even he knew the word did not nearly suffice. “She doesn’t look like Jace.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Rhaenyra sounded a bit sad. “But I love her nonetheless.”
The baby cooed, and her tiny eyes blinked open, revealing a stunning shade of lavender more beautiful than anything Aemond had ever seen. She shuddered and stretched, her tiny, bird-like limbs shaking with the effort. Instantly, Aemond was flooded with worry for this little creature. How frightening it must be, to come into the world and meet so many strangers, all while a dreadful storm wailed outside. He wanted to keep her far from the world, to demand that his half-sister bar the windows and keep her locked away, warm and safe.
But that wouldn’t be fair to the babe. Aemond knew all too well what it felt like to be suffocated within stone walls, and this little one deserved to see everything. When she was bigger, he could take her to the dragon pit, where she might watch the dragons train with him. Perhaps she would enjoy hearing stories of Old Valyria, and he worried that he may not know them well enough to do them justice. But those thoughts were overcrowded by fear. They were plans for tomorrow, when this little bird did not, to him, look strong enough to last the day.
“She’s too little,” he protested. “Will she be alright?”
“She’ll be alright,” Rhaenyra promised. “But she might need to be protected and helped while she is still small. Could you…help me do that, Aemond?”
Aemond studied the babe for a long moment. “Mother said it is a bad omen for her to be born during a storm.”
Rhaenyra frowned. The babe kicked her legs, and Aemond boldly reached forward to tuck the blanket back around her.
“But I don’t think she’s right,” he admitted. “She’s like a little sunbeam on a cloudy day.”
Perhaps the little boy did not mean to be so poetic, but his words filled Rhaenyra’s heart with a little bit of hope. It was true that the babe did not look like Jace, for they did not share a father, but she was the picture of a Targaryen beauty. No one could deny that she was Rhaenyra’s, or that she was perfect. She was a worthy reward for such a difficult labor. Not even Aemond, it seemed.
“You know Aemond,” she began cautiously. “She does not yet have a name. Might you have a suggestion?”
“Me?” He was shocked. “What about Ser Laenor?”
“He isn’t here,” Rhaenyra’s voice was harsh. “Come, we mustn’t let this little one linger without a name of her own for much longer.”
That did seem to be a terrible injustice, in Aemond’s opinion. He struggled to think of a name as perfect as the little creature in front of him. It would have to be a Valyrian name, he decided, for she deserved one, and it would have to be beautiful and unique, only to her. He was struck by the realization that this was the most important thing he had ever done.
“What about Aelinor?” He suggested shyly.
Rhaenyra smiled, looking down on her baby. “I think that is perfect. Will you help my little Aelinor, Aemond? When the world is harsh and cruel, might she have you to lean on?”
Aemond could not imagine the world ever being cruel to little Aelinor — his Aelinor, he decided — but he made the promise anyway.
“I swear,” he said earnestly, vowing not only to himself, not to his half-sister, but to the precious thing in her arms. He lifted his hand and gently stroked one finger along her tiny arm, the skin impossibly soft and delicate beneath his touch. “I’ll become the strongest dragon rider in the world, so that I can protect you. I swear it.”
And for those few minutes, before news reached the Queen, Rhaenyra felt that the world might not have been as harsh as she knew it to be. Her daughter was healthy and beautiful, and already she was winning hearts. Little Aelinor was exactly what Aemond had said, a spot of sun on a dark day, and she was loved.
No one could ever have imagined that in the years and wars to come, it was tiny Aelinor, and her sworn protector, who would shape the future of House Targaryen.
119 AC
At the age of four, Princess Aelinor Velaryon ruled over the Red Keep like a little queen. Though not one for barking orders — she was both too meek and too shy for that — she found the castle filled with those resolved to fulfill her every whim. Never in her short life had she known a moment’s hardship, for such inconveniences were kept fiercely away by those who loved her.
Her mother, the Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, doted on her only daughter, even as she brought a second son into the world. Her daughter was the perfect image of her mother, in looks if not in temperament, and Rhaenyra was determined to keep her under her wing for as long as possible. The motives could not be entirely unselfish, for Aelinor alone of Rhaenyra’s children bore the look of a true Targaryen, and contributed heavily to the preservation of Rhaenyra’s reputation.
The Lord Laenor Velaryen, the girl’s father, found himself rather at odds with what to do with the girl. Though she did not resemble him in the slightest, he found her sweet, and reminded him of a calmer, meeker Laena. The reminder of his sister was enough to generate some fondness in his heart for the child, if it could not be called a true fatherly love. He did not spend much time with the girl (or indeed any of his children), but he made sure to always bring the child a bauble from his travels, and offer her a story should she ask.
King Viserys, her grandfather, doted on the child, whom he found to be the perfect image of his late wife, Aemma, and even Her Majesty the Queen could not find it in herself to hate the child. Not when little Aelinor so often looked up to Queen Alicent and declared her ‘beautiful like a faerie’.
The only true hardship in Princess Aelinor’s life came from her brothers, the Princes Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon. Luc was young, and so it was most often Jace who took to bullying the young girl. It was difficult to say why, and perhaps that was why their mother did so little to stop it. It might simply have been the way of things with siblings, for Rhaenyra had none of her own. But many in the curt whispered that the boys had far darker motivations for taunting and teasing the little girl, even if the children themselves were unaware.
When Jacaerys pushed Aelinor from her chair so that he might sit next to the King, the court whispered ‘it is because she has the look of a Targaryen, and the boy does not’. And when Luc pulled her hair, they suggested that his jealously moved him to hurt the girl.
Aelinor loved her brothers though, and were she a little stronger or a little bigger, she would have teased them right back. She knew her brothers would never hurt her, not truly, and so she did not let herself be too bothered by their harassment.
Aelinor remained a happy child, through and through, in large part due to her best friend, for there was no one in the court, nor in her family, as devoted to her happiness as her beloved Aemond. On any given day, one could expect to see the young prince following behind the little princess like an ever-faithful shadow, quick to pick her up should she fall, to wipe away her tears, and fight her battles for her. For all the rumors of rifts between the factions of House Targaryen, their loyalty to each other seemed to bridge the gap of familial animosity.
“Aemond,” Aelinor said eagerly. “Can you tell me what you see?”
They were hiding in the rafters, in a space normally reserved for servants lighting chandeliers, spying on the feast and dancing taking place in the great hall below. It was Prince Aegon’s eleventh name day, and the dancing was expected to last right into the night. Aemond had been forced to attend for the first few hours, but had managed to sneak away and find Aelinor, who had been too young to be invited. Now they were hidden behind a wall on the upper level, Aemond tall enough to peer over and Aelinor trying to stand on her toes.
Aemond considered his answer. “What would you like to hear about? The dancing or the food?”
“The dancing!” She exclaimed. “Is it like in the stories?”
He knew which stories she was referring to. Aemond spent much of his time regaling Aelinor with the stories of Old Valyria, and while she loved tales of dragons and spells as much as he did (though he did tend to leave out some of the gorier details of blood magic), it was the great romances that really captured her young mind.
“The ladies are all spinning around, and their dresses are very fine,” he said. “And I can see that all of the lords are very much in love with them.”
Truthfully, he could only really see his mother, who danced with her uncle in the middle of the nearly-empty dancefloor. The hired musicians now played over the sound of drunken revelries, most of the guests draped over taples with tankards of ale in their hands. All of the other children had left by now, including Aegon, who had arrogantly boasted that he would stay up all night for his party. He also couldn’t see Princess Rhaenyra But Aelinor didn’t need to know any of that.
“I wish I could be down there,” the girl sighed, spinning around so that the edges of her bedrobe twirled outward. “I could meet a handsome prince.”
Aemond turned from watching the party, smiling down at her as she spun about. “Am I not handsome enough for you, Lina?”
Aelinor stopped then, looking very serious. “You’re the most handsome, even more handsome than your brothers or mine, or any of the princes in the stories.”
Aemond grinned. That was what he loved best about Aelinor. Even at the age of four, he knew without a doubt that she meant everything she said with every fibre of her being. As far as he knew, she had never even told a lie to anyone. She just loved and loved with her entire heart, and he felt grateful that she shared even a small piece of it with him.
“Come then, if you wish it, we shall dance,” he held out a hand, leading her through a clumsy imitation of one of the dances he had seen earlier. Aelinor held her skirt up with one hand and he whirled her around, careful not to let her trip over her dress.
“What’s your favorite part of the stories, Aemond?” She asked him, swaying from side to side.
He answered honestly. “I like the dragons. I like hearing about the bond between dragons and their riders, and how they became heroes and legends.” He was filled with a great sadness then, for her did not have a dragon of his own. Aelinor did, her little egg had hatched shortly after her birth, though she was too young to have done more than pet the hatchling.
“You’ll be the best dragon rider ever,” Aelinor promised. “I just know it.”
He didn’t doubt that she believed it.
“Do you want to know my favorite part, Aemond?” She asked, giggling as he swayed her from side to side.
“Of course, Lina.”
She sighed dramatically. “I like the happy endings, when the heroes bring their princesses a troven.”
“It’s a token, Lina,” he smiled. “And yes, I know you love the happy endings.” He was prone to adding happy endings to all his stories, knowing how much she loved them.
“Come now, it is time to get you to bed.” It was well past her bedtime, and Aelinor did not protest as he took her hand and returned her to her family.
Early the next morning, Alicent walked into her sitting room to find Aemond digging through one of her jewelry boxes.
“Aemond, whatever are you doing?” She glanced briefly at the breakfast table, where Aegon was slathering a fruit spread on a piece of bread, but chose to take nothing for herself.
Aemond didn’t reply, setting a gold chain to the side and continuing to dig. “Just looking for something.”
“Hm,” Alicent hummed. “Did you have fun with Aelinor last night?”
“Yes, we watched some of the dancing.”
His brother laughed, but Aemond chose to ignore it. He now had a selection of jewels set next to him on the table, and was continuing his hunt.
“Why are you laughing, Aegon?” Alicent asked.
Aegon snorted. “I just think it’s funny that Aemond hangs out with babies rather than acting like a man.”
This was rather funny, especially coming from a boy as flippant and juvenile as Aegon, but Alicent couldn’t deny that the thought had occured to her as well. Aemond was nearly nine, and his closest companion was a little girl of four. Aemond was already an odd child, and it didn’t bode well for him to be so distanced from his peers.
“Aelinor isn’t a baby, she’s special,” Aemond declared, spinning to face his mother, holding his palm outstretched. “Mother, may I have this.”
Balanced on his palm was a large sapphire, too large for him to close his fist around. It was roughly cut, and had been given to the Queen for her to choose its cut and setting herself, but she had never gotten around to it, preferring emerald tones over sapphire.
“For what?” She asked.
A red flush stained Aemond’s cheeks, and Alicent did not even need to hear his reply. “Are you sure, Aemond? That is a very large gem, and she’s very little.”
Aemond held it tightly in his fingers. “Please. She loves treasure.”
That was a gross underestimation of Aemond’s motivations. Yes, Aelinor did love treasure as much as any little princess, but the truth was, her sleepy mumblings about heroes and tokens had rattled around his brain all night. She had called him a handsome prince, and he felt he needed to do something to earn it.
“Please?” He repeated.
Alicent considered her next words carefully. On one hand, she did not want the court to hear of her passing a gift of such value to the Princess Rhaenyra’s family. Or rather, she did not want her father to hear of it. But she had no real attachment to the stone, having already forgotten which visiting lord or lady had gifted it to her, and it might serve to address what she saw as the larger concern.
“Very well,” Aemond’s face erupted in glee, “but you must make me a promise.”
“Anything!” He exclaimed.
“From now on, you will join Aegon for his morning lessons. That means with the maesters some days, and in the training yard on others.”
“What?”
“Why?” Aegon demanded.
Alicent held up a hand to silence both of her sons. “You’re not as little as you were, Aemond. This is important.”
“But Aelinor —”
“Aelinor must also study with her Septas,” Alicent said. “Do I have your agreement?”
Aemond looked a bit dejected, but nodded slowly. “I promise.”
“Well, I don’t even want him to train with me!”
The next day Aelinor had to hunt for Aemond throughout the castle. He wasn’t waiting outside her door when she awoke, nor was he in the library, picking out a new story for her. It took her nearly an hour to find him in the most unlikely of places.
He was testing out the different practice swords, trying to see which felt the least foreign in his hand, when Aelinor emerged on the walkway above the training yard. Ser Harwin Strong lifted her easily, carrying her down the steps and setting her down on a flat stone. His efforts were futile, for she immediately leapt off and splashed through the mud to reach Aemond.
“Are you going to learn to fight, Aemond?” She asked, excited. “Can I learn too?
The thought was ridiculous, but Aemond didn’t laugh. “When you are bigger, Lina, I promise.” He couldn’t bear the thought of her being injured, so this was one of the few instances in which he had no choice but to refuse her.
“Alright,” she sighed. “Can I stay and watch?”
Aemond was suddenly embarrassed at the thought of her watching him train. He would not be very good, and he couldn’t bear for Aelinor to think any less of him. The sapphire hung heavy in his pocket, and he was thankful for the distraction.
“Not today, Lina. But I have a gift for you.”
“A gift?” She bounced on her toes. The hem of her lilac dress was already stained with mud, but her silver hair was tied back neatly back with a ribbon. Her whole frame shook as she bounced in anticipation. “What is it?”
Aemond pulled the sapphire out of his pocket, unwrapping the silk handkerchief he had used to cover it. “This is for you. Just like from the stories.”
Aelinor’s gasp was almost comical as she took in the stone. “For me?”
“Yes,” Aemond said, letting her take it in her small hands. She had to grip it with both hands to hold it, the gem ridiculously large for her. “But you must be very careful with it, alright?”
Aelinor stared at it for a moment longer. In the morning light the gem reflected a ripple of cerulean blue across her palms, and she felt she could have wasted away the day studying it. Suddenly she leapt forward to wrap Aemond in a hug. “Thank you, thank you!” She cried. “It is the best thing in the world.”
Aemond squeezed her back. “I am glad you like it. “Now go, we both have lessons.”
Aelinor gave him one last squeeze, before turning to stomp back to her waiting Kingsguard. Aemond just smiled, pleased with himself.
That evening, Aelinor sat in front of the hearth in her mother’s chambers, half-listening as her brothers recounted their day, but mostly studying the sapphire in her hands. Her mother had been astonished to see the magnitude of the gift she had received, but she had not taken it away.
“Boys, stay here with Aelinor. I have something to discuss with your father.” Rhaenyra disappeared into the next room.
Jace squatted down next to his sister, pointing at the stone. “What’s that?”
“It’s my token!” Aelinor exclaimed.
“It’s pretty,” Luc was on her other side.
“I know!” Aelinor beamed. “Aemond gave it to me. It’s just like the treasures from the stories and I—”
Jace interrupted her. “Aemond? You let him give you a gift?” Unlike his younger siblings, Jace wasn’t entirely unaware of the whispers that followed him at court. And he was more than aware that while he dealt with sideways glances and whispers, he knew that Aelinor was largely immune to those comments. That spark of jealousy colored his relationship with his sister, sometimes overclouding his love for her with envy.
Aelinor was confused by his question. Why shouldn’t Aemond give her a gift? He was her Aemond after all. But Jace’s question made her worry. Perhaps she needed to give him a gift in return. But what did she have that was as wonderful as this?
“Aemond isn’t our friend, Aelinor,” Jace cautioned. “You can’t trust him.”
“Aemond is my friend,” Aelinor countered, her faith in him steadfast. “He just doesn’t like you.”
All of a sudden, Luc snatched the gem out of her hand, holding it away from her reach. “It’s so blue!”
“Let me see it, Luc,” Jace took it, holding it near the fire to see it better.
“Give it back!” Aelinor sprung to her feet. “It isn’t yours! It’s mine!”
“Why should you get a gift like this, and from Aemond of all people?” Jace, who thought himself much older and wiser, tried to reason with his sister. “You cannot keep it.”
“I can! He gave it to me!” Aelinor jumped to reach it, nearly tripping over her skirts.
“I’m sorry, sister. But this is for the best. “And Jace, with the type of carelessness that only a boy can muster, tossed the sapphire into the fire.
Aelinor wailed. “You stupid, stupid boy! Aemond gave that to me!” She beat at his side with her little fists.
Jace pushed her off, sending her stumbling to the floor. “It’s just a trinket, Aelinor. We can find you another one. A better one.”
But Aelinor already knew in her heart that there would never be a better gift than the one Aemond had given her. She pushed onto her knees and crawled closer to the fire, sniffling as she watched the flames lick at the blue gem. Already black was creeping up the edges, marring its beautiful surface. Aemond had given her that gift because he loved, she knew it. And she wasn’t going to let her brother’s jealousy take it away.
New determination flowing through her veins, Aelinor reached forward into the fire, and grasped the gem firmly in her hand.
Her screams echoed through the hall of the keep.
Aemond was reading by candlelight, just beginning to nod off when a pounding began at his door. A thousand things occurred to him as he scrambled from his bed. It could be his mother, angry that he was still awake, or it could be something more serious, such as a fire or an attack of some kind.
He had scarcely set his feet on the floor when the door burst open, and he was surprised to see not only his mother there, looking very perturbed in her nightgown and robe, but also Ser Harwin Strong, the Kingsguard to the Princess Rhaenyra.
“Aemond,” his mother sighed. “I’m sorry, but there was no helping it.”
“No helping what, mother?” Aemond was concerned. Was that sweat on Ser Harwin’s brow? “Is there a fire?”
“No, child. There has been an…unfortunate accident.”
“What do you—”
Ser Harwin interrupted. “The Princess Aelinor has been grievously injured, and she calls for you. Her mother hoped you might calm her, so that she might let the maesters—”
Aemond was already pushing past them, running down the stairs as fast as his bare feet could carry him. Aelinor, injured? He could not imagine what might have happened, his thoughts already filled with the most horrible images. He should have been there, should have protected her. And where were her parents, her brothers, her guards? What were they doing that allowed her to be hurt?
He could hear Ser Harwin rushing behind him, but he did not stop to look. He just ran down the familiar corridors and began climbing the steps to the chambers the Princess Rhaenyra occupied with her family. No sooner had his foot landed on the bottom step of the tower that the most horrible wailing reached his ears.
“Aelinor!” She shouted, rushing up the steps and bursting into the room. He shoved past a crowd of maesters and Aelinor’s own parents and brothers, ignoring the rudeness of his arrival. Rhaenyra looked close to tears, her sons just as distraught, but Aemond only had eyes for Aelinor.
She sat on a divan, wilted against one side, her hand cradled in her lap. She was still wearing her beautiful, mud-covered dress from that morning, though the dirt had now dried into dust that flaked onto the velvet furniture. She was sobbing: great, heaving sobs that shook her entire body with the effort, letting out alternatively loud wails or soft moans of pain.
“Lina!” he exclaimed, dropping to his knees next to her. “What’s happened?”
She wailed louder, and he saw that she was gripping something in her little hand. The skin that he could see, mainly the sides and back of her hand, was a frightening shade of bright red, as though she’d left it out in the sun for too long.
“She wasn’t supposed to go after it,” Jace said. “She just reached right in!”
“What did she reach for, Jace?” Rhaenyra demanded. “You were supposed to watch her!”
Aemond ignored them, carefully lifting a hand to brush away the flood of tears. A maester knelt on her other side. “Young Prince, we need to let us see her hand. We fear she had been grievously burned.”
Burned? His Aelinor?
He spun his gaze around, zeroing on Jace. Little Luc clung to his brother’s shirt, tears running down his face. The nerve of him to cry, when his sister was suffering so.
“What have you done?” He demanded. “Why did you hurt her?”
“She was the one stupid enough to reach into a fireplace for a dumb jewel!” Jace spat back.
“Jewel? What jewel?” Ser Laenor asked, and his wife began to explain.
Aemond felt a feeling of dread come over him as he realized what Aelinor was holding so tightly in her hand. What she had hurt herself for. He leaned close, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Lina. Does it hurt terribly?”
She gave a pathetic nod, and he resisted the urge to cry. This was his fault, after all. He had given her the sapphire, and she had scarred herself just to save it from the fire.
“Lina,” he whispered. “Please, you must let them help.”
Her lip quivered. “Make it stop hurting, Aemond.”
He hated himself for being unable to grant her wish. It made him want to turn around and punch Jace, and even little Luc, for putting her through this. It was their teasing and tormenting of her that had led to this, he was sure of it.
“Open your hand, Lina,” he coaxed. “And once they’ve taken care of you, I’ll tell you a new story, alright?”
That seemed motivation enough, and he moved to sit beside her, taking her uninjured hand in his as the maesters worked quickly to uncurl her burned fingers. Aelinor whimpered as the sapphire dropped to the floor, and Aemond felt like vomiting when he saw the mess left behind. A melted mass of burned skin and liquid flesh, her fingers curling in as if to protect the wound from the air. As soon as it was exposed, Aelinor began to cry anew, and Aemond drew her face into his shoulders.
“It will be alright, Lina,” he promised, even though he didn’t think it would be. “I’ll take care of you.”
Aelinor didn’t respond. She just clung to Aemond’s side and sobbed as they applied a salve and a bandage to her ruined hand. Both her mother and father came forward to try and comfort her, but any attempt to pry her away from Aemond only led to more tears.
Aelinor whispered something, and Aemond leaned down to hear it.
“Am I going to be ugly now, Aemond?” She said quietly.
“Never,” he swore. “You are as beautiful as ever, and no one could ever do anything to change that.” That, at least, he was sure of.
She seemed to take a little comfort in that, and Aemond worked with the maesters to convince her to drink some milk of the poppy. She fell asleep, slumped against Aemond’s side, her hand an unidentifiable mass of bandages.
“Thank you, Prince Aemond,” Ser Laenor said, gently placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I will take her to bed now.”
Aemond wanted to protest, but while he might be strong enough to carry Aelinor playful around the castle, he could not move her without jostling her. Instead, he carefully passed her to her father, and stood from the sofa as she was carried away. He wanted to insist that someone stay with her through the night, but movement at the side of the room drew his attention away.
Rhaenyra had collapsed into a chair at the table, Jace and Luc sitting beside her. In Luc’s hand was the blackened sapphire they had pried from Aelinor’s grasp.
“You…you bastards!” Aemond shouted, walking up and snatching the jewel from him. “I gave this to Aelinor, not to you!”
“Boys, there is no need for—” Rhaenyra started.
“Who are you to give our sister gifts? You’re just trying to…trying to..” Jace struggled for words. “To turn her against us!”
“I’m not! I—” Aemond caught himself before he said I love her. “It doesn’t matter. You stole from her, and you hurt her, and I won’t ever forgive you for it.”
“Enough!” Rhaenyra stood. “Jace, take Luc and go to your room. I’ll be in to speak with you in a minute.”
Aemond watched as they walked away, scowling all the while. Only once the door had closed behind them did Rhaenyra turn to him.
“Thank you, Aemond,” she said sincerely. “I did not say it earlier, but you were a great comfort to Aelinor, and a great help to us all tonight.”
He did not think that his mother would enjoy hearing that he had been a ‘great help’ to his half-sister, nor was he particularly endeared to her at the moment. It was on her watch that Lina had been injured, after all. “I did it for Lina.” And not for you.
“I know you did, but I am grateful all the same.” Rhaenyra sighed. “She will be very unwell in the coming days. Can I trust that you will be there to help?”
It was a silly question. When, in all the days since Aelinor had been born, had Aemond not been there? Short of prying him from her side and locking him up, there would be nothing anyone could do to keep him away from his little princess.
Aemond looked down at the jewel in his palm, rubbing some of the soot away with his finger. “Can she have her jewel back? I picked it just for her. I didn’t mean for her to be hurt.” It wasn’t quite an admission of guilt, and indeed, no one could accuse him of being at fault save himself, but Rhaenyra could see that it already weighed heavy on the boy.
Rhaenyra held out her hand, and he obediently placed the sapphire in her palm. “Not only may she keep it, but I shall have it placed in a setting, so that she might carry it easier.”
That sounded perfectly agreeable to Aemond, and he nodded. “Very well. Then I shall look after Aelinor.” He did not say because you cannot, but the thought was in his mind. He had trusted Aelinor to the care of her mother and brothers, and now she was hurt. It would never have happened on his watch. He wouldn’t have allowed it.
“May I ask one more favor of you, Ameond?”
He gave a slight nod.
Rhaenyra took a deep breath, as if debating whether or not to speak. “Please don’t call my boys bastards. It cuts deeper than you know.”
Aemond did not agree, or disagree, he simply cast one last longing glance at Aelinor’s door,and then left the room, determined to return in the morning with an armful of sweets for his princess.
Years later, Rhaenyra would wonder if that was the first day the lines were drawn between their families. When she inadvertently handed Aemond Targaryen the words with which to wound her own children. But at the time, she knew only that he cared deeply for her daughter, and she hoped and prayed that it would be enough to preserve this tender peace.
#house of the dragon#hotd#houseofthedragon#aemond targaryen#aemond fanfiction#aemond x oc#game of thrones#fanfiction#multi-chapter#fanfic
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Slippery Slope, Ch 1
Given I'm on a roll at the moment, thought it was time to start posting a new story.
Scott shivered, zipping his coat further up as he stepped out of the car. The frigid temperatures slammed into him, but he tried to control his reaction.
"Friggin' hell!" Gordon didn't have the same restraint.
"What do you expect?" John joined them. "You've been in a heated car for an hour."
Gordon grumbled something under his breath, zipping his own coat, hands in his pockets, as he jumped on the spot.
John rolled his eyes, although it was barely visible with his hat tugged down and scarf pulled up. He seemed to take the cold weather in his stride. Scott wished he'd followed suit: he couldn't feel his ears.
"John?"
John looked over, and Scott nodded towards the driver. John headed over, speaking rapid French as he leant in at the window. Hiding a smirk, Scott turned to the trunk. John wanted to practice his languages, but it also meant Scott didn't have to stumble his way through the conversation.
Virgil fell into step with him. Scott offered a grateful smile, glad someone was giving him a hand. Gordon was still cursing and jumping.
He popped the lid, stepping back as Virgil dived in first.
But his brother didn't go for the top bag. Instead, he grabbed the handle of his own – from the bottom of the pile – and proceeded to try to drag it out, huffing and swearing as he did so. Scott was glad only the cab driver was around to hear them, given both Virgil and Gordon's language since arriving.
Virgil finally pulled his bag free, dropping it to the ground and looking at Scott.
"Could've helped," he panted.
Scott laughed. "Or you could've waited five seconds and helped me shift the ones on top."
Virgil stared at him. His hat was almost as low as John's, but Scott still saw the flush spreading across his cheeks.
More ->
#thunderbirds#fanfiction#thunderbirds fanfiction#tracy family#slippery slope chapter 1#new story#loopstagirl#multi-chapter
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Yours to Tame--Ch. 8
Chapter 8: Two Days Later
“You don’t have to stay,” I said for what felt like the thousandth time. I figured that Anna wouldn’t take a step outside of my hospital room after what had happened with Sammy. But I hadn’t figured that Bryan Danielson and Jon Moxley would basically camp out in my room as well. “Seriously. I’m sure you guys have better things to do than sit here.”
Bryan shrugged, a guilty look in his eyes. “It’s partially my fault that you’re in here. It’s the least I can do.” I barely caught the look that passed between him and Moxley. “I saw you stumble up those stairs. I should have at least stopped you to make sure you were okay.”
“It’s nowhere near your fault,” Anna said with a sneer. “You aren’t the one who bounced her head off a wall.”
I grimaced, feeling sick as Anna realized what she’d just done. Her eyes shot to mine as the color drained straight out of her face. The air seemed to be sucked straight out of the room. It was like the whole world stood still—frozen completely in place. I couldn’t bring myself to look toward Bryan or Moxley. The overwhelming shame that poured through me was like gasoline. I couldn’t breathe.
“Morgan…” Anna said so quietly that it was hard to hear her. She covered her face with her hands. “I’m so sorry.”
The quiet was so heavy, so thick that I could feel it pressing down on me. It was stifling. Suffocating. It wrapped its fingers around my throat and threatened to choke the life out of me.
“I’m going to tear his fucking head off.” The voice was tinged with rage, with something that was stronger and more primal even.
I gagged and clawed at the oxygen tube beneath my nose. My fingers shook. The force of my heart beating behind my ribs was painful beyond reckoning. The noise of the monitors beeping beside me was deafening.
“Morgan.” The voice was Moxley’s. It was barely audible over the roaring of my blood in my ears. I tried to focus, but it felt like I was trying to dig my way out of quicksand. “Morgan, look at me.”
His voice filtered from so far away. “Morgan.” My name echoed in my ears as if it traveled down a long tunnel.
Something settled on my wrist, jarring me back to reality as quickly as if I’d been slapped. I couldn’t breathe as memories of Sammy with his hands on me slammed into my thoughts. Vomit churned my stomach and clawed up my throat. The panic rushed through my blood, and I thrashed, trying to get away from that touch.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Moxley said quietly. He took his hand off my wrist, but I could still feel it settled on the blanket next to me. “It’s okay. Take a deep breath, Morgan. Look at me. I’m right here.”
I tried. I tried so hard to follow the sound of his voice. The world around me was so hazy. I could barely make out the shape of him squatting near the edge of the bed. It came into focus slowly. He kept talking.
“Good,” he murmured. “It’s me, Mox. You’re safe, and you’re okay.”
I gasped. “Is he… is he…”
“No. It’s just the three of us. Me, Anna, and Bryan.” I felt my heart settle just a little. The sound of monitors slowed. “We’re not letting him anywhere near you again.”
I tried to take a deep breath as I focused on Moxley’s words. On the sound of his voice and the way that—somehow—I trusted him when he said they weren’t going to let Sammy near me.
“Promise?” The word came out of my mouth quietly and timidly. My voice felt like I’d never used it before.
The very tips of his fingers brushed the side of my arm, close enough that I could feel it but also light enough that I could pull away if I wanted. I took a breath, one after the other and tried to focus all of my attention on the faint, barely there sensation of his fingertips.
“I swear.”
“I’ll rip him into pieces,” Bryan growled.
My heart jumped back into my throat. I clutched at the blankets with my fingers until it felt as if I was going to rip my nails off.
“You’re going to be quiet is what you’re going to do,” Moxley said firmly. He didn’t raise his voice, but it was strong. “You’re scaring her.”
The sound of his voice was enough to bring some of the anxiety out of me. I focused on Moxley’s voice. On the way that there was just a faint hint of an accent underneath. Without real warning, my fingers untangled from the blankets and crept toward his. The feel of warm, calloused fingers anchored me to reality for a moment.
Moxley gave a faint huff of breath before gently curling his fingers around my hand. “Bryan and I are here. I promise we’re going to help keep you safe.”
I finally worked up the courage to look at him. Moxley was still there, squatting next to the bed and watching me carefully with his cornflower blue eyes. Anna was still there. I could feel her just like I always did. But there was also Moxley and Bryan.
“Why?” I whispered around the lump caught in my throat. “Why do you care?”
“Why?” Moxley asked, bewildered. “Why what?”
Anna curled her fingers around mine. It was hard to look him in the eye. Honestly, it was hard to look anyone except Anna in the eye, and I often hated myself for it. “Why do you care? We barely know each other.”
Moxley and Bryan shared a look, their brows wrinkled in confusion. I watched them shoot a curious glance at Anna. Shame settled deep in my gut. I just wanted to curl up and hide. Part of me wished Sammy had killed me a long time ago.
The chair creaked as Bryan leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees. His threatening words against Sammy echoed in my head, reverberating until it was all I could hear. Panic rose up in my chest. Bryan opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut again when Moxley put out a hand.
“We care because you’re a human being, Morgan,” Moxley said at last. “Because everyone deserves to be and feel safe. Because no one deserves what you’ve gone through, whatever it is.”
Anna squeezed my fingers. When I looked at her, there were tears running down her face. I could see the way she tried to find the right words to say. She didn’t have to. There was a clear I told you so behind her eyes.
“I don’t know everything that’s happened. I’m—we’re—not asking you to tell us. You’re right that we don’t really know each other, but I think I speak for Bry here when I say that doesn’t change the fact that you deserve to feel safe. To be safe.” Moxley’s words were genuine and compassionate. More than I’d ever had from any guy in a very long time.
I didn’t know what to do with them.
I couldn’t remember the last time someone had bothered to give a shit about me. Except Anna.
�� “What?” I replied cautiously. “What happens next? Are we friends now?”
Bryan’s laugh came out of nowhere. “I wouldn’t mind being friends with you, Morgan.”
Friends. That’s how it all started with Sammy. The charm. The attention. Then possessiveness. The slow eroding away of my sense of self, my confidence, my independence. My control over my own body.
“What this dipshit means,” Moxley said, his words bringing me back to the present. “Is that we wouldn’t mind being your friends if that’s what you’d like. Tell us to go away and we’ll hit the bricks. Pound sand. Hit the road. Disappear. Vanish. Be no more. Ride off into—”
“She gets it, Mox,” Bryan interrupted. There was a faint smile on his face. He turned toward me. I couldn’t argue that it was easy to be drawn into his ice blue eyes. “So? What d’you think?”
I made myself look away. Look anywhere but at them. My gaze slid over Anna. Over monitors and generic art prints and plain beige paint. Past the wall-mounted TV playing a daytime gameshow on low volume. It finally landed on the mirror above the sink. The one directly across from my bed. The one I’d been avoiding since I’d arrived.
A loud thump drew my attention back before I could dwell on my sunken eyes and limp, greasy hair. The sound echoed in the little room so loudly that I was sure the nurses down the hall heard. Bryan rubbed the center of his chest with one hand while flipping Moxley off with the other.
“Again…” he sighed, shooting Bryan what could only be described as a death glare. “What this asshole is trying to say is we’d like to be friends. But absolutely on your terms.”
For some reason, my brain seemed to short circuit at his words. My terms? I didn’t think anyone—let alone a man—had ever proposed any kind of relationship on my terms. As much as the idea was a foreign concept, I could feel the sincerity radiating off Moxley.
“You don’t have to—”
“I’d like that,” I replied in a rush before I lost my nerve. “I’d like to be friends with you guys.”
Anna squeezed my hand again. As if she was proud of me.
Both men seemed to relax into their chairs. Moxley laughed softly and grinned.
“Well, princess, if we’re gonna be friends, I have to tell you about my buddy Mitch.”
Bryan snorted. “The fucking ficus?”
“Shut it. He was there for me.” I glanced at Anna, who was watching them bicker back and forth playfully. For the first time in a very long time, I started to believe I could be safe.
________________________________
Tag List
@spaghetti-hoop
@mrsmatt
@imagineall-the-fandoms
@rollynchwhore
@unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin
#yours to tame#morgan knox#oc#ofc#jon moxley#bryan danielson#aew#aew fanfiction#polyamory#blackpool combat club#multi-chapter#blackpool combat club fanfiction#jon moxley fanfiction#bryan danielson fanfiction
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SWAN UPON LEDA
Summary: At just sixteen years old, Roger's world comes to a crashing halt.
Rating: E
Relationship: Brian/Roger
Warnings: Implied/Referenced Rape, Mentions of Stillbirth, Mentions of Pregnancy
Other Tags: Found Family, Trauma & Healing, Hurt/Comfort
Read Chapter 1 Here >> On AO3
The biggest thanks to @abootfullofclogs! Without you there would be no fic.
!! PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS LISTED !!
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took you for a working boy by pukner
Word count: 43,823 (complete) / 6/6
Rating: M
Trigger and content warnings: none
Summary:
"Do you--Harrington, do you know other gay people?"
"One," Steve says, and then, after a moment, "and a half."
"And a half?" Eddie boggles at him, "What does that mean?"
"He's figuring it out!" says Steve, defensively, "Taking his time, y'know? Whatever, the point is. It's cool you're gay, man."
Eddie comes out to Steve, and Steve's heartbroken about it for some reason. Eddie thinks Steve's dating Robin. Everyone else thinks Steve and Eddie have been dating this whole time. Robin doesn't get paid enough for this shit.
Also, Hawkins has been cracked open like a badly-baked cake, and everyone's settled into the most mundane apocalypse possible. Eddie Munson starts a radio programme about it.
Meanwhile, Steve gets his nails painted, and outsources a crisis he isn't having.
#steddie#complete#multi-chapter#25K to 50K#steve#eddie#robin#max#eleven#dustin#will#wayne#mutual pining#canon divergent#getting together#pukner#took you for a working boy
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Coming Soon ...
music to get in the mood
#multi-chapter#azris#azriel x eris#mood board#decode this case#acotar#acotar fanfic#my writing#azriel#eris
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New Kid (Larry Johnson x GN! reader)
Larry Johnson x reader, multi-chapter, not proof-read, TW// smoking
Note: I never fully checked if this story is gender neutral (if it is not please tell me and i'll fix it!). Other than that, it is mentioned that the reader has an older brother! this is only mentioned for a quick second so you can change it to anyone!
Masterlist
chapter one
You were sitting in the back of your mom's car looking out the window at the passing scenery. You were moving from your hometown, (h/t), to the middle of nowhere. You heard your mom mention the place you were moving to once. The place was called Addison Apartments. You never really lived in an apartment building before so warming up to the place was gonna be something you didn't know if you were going to be ready for or not.
You zoned out at the thought of how much your life was going to change from this very moment, not even realizing you pulled up to the barely mentioned apartments. Your thoughts were stopped when you feel eyes staring at you. You look over and make eye contact with your mom who gave you a tight-lipped smile and nudged her head in the direction of the building's front door.
You slink out of the backseat and onto the dirt. It felt weird getting out of the beat-up car your mom owned. You groaned at the feeling of your joints popping as you stretched your arms above you. Your outfit consisted of a Sanity Falls t-shirt with a baggy black hoodie, a baseball cap under the hood, cargo shorts with poorly sewn-on patches, and some worn down shoes you found in your closet as you cleaned it out.
You didn't know what to expect but it was definitely not this. A red brick building covered in a slight layer of dirt and moss laid in front of you. You raised an eyebrow at the building, you didn't want to judge your mom for the apartment building she picked but it was just unexpected. Not even a step in and you had a feeling in your gut.
You watched your mom walk in after grabbing her purse and decided to grab your bags from the back, one in each hand and your guitar slung over your shoulder. You walked into the building and found your mom talking to a door. You walked over confused but realized that someone was talking back through the mail slot.
“Hey, honey! I was just talking to the owner of the building, meet Mr. Addison.” You smiled and waved at the eyes peeking out from behind the metal flap that was lifted. “Hello! you must be (y/n).” said a British cheery voice.
“Hello, Mr. Addison,” you said with a small smile feeling more weirded out by the second. You turned to your mom and gave a small nod signaling that you were going to head up to your apartment and start unpacking your things. She gave a small nod back with a small smile.
You give a quick goodbye to Mr. Addison and start your walk to the elevator. As you enter you can't help but get a feeling of unease as the anxiety of the floor caving underneath filled you but you continue. As you look at all the number keys you see a slot at the bottom, looks like a card was needed to enter that floor. You ignore it and press the floor 4 button and wait for the small box to carry you upwards.
As you look down at your feet you hear the ding of the elevator and the screech of the door opening. You look up and are met with the slightly off-looking yellow walls of the apartment hallways. You walk out, looking both ways trying to figure out how the apartments are ordered.
You walk down the small hallway and finally find the apartment with the number “403” written on a plaque in gold lettering that was screwed on. As you reached for the door you realized you never grabbed the key from your mom. You first had the thought to groan and bang your head against the door, but soon the thought of picking the lock popped up in your head.
You learned how to pick a lock from your older brother. He had to move away to college but you had a lot of memories with him. You grabbed the little pick lock kit you had in your bag and started to work on the lock of the door. After you heard the final click of the lock opening
you opened the door and walked in and set down your bags after kicking the door shut behind you. You made your way around the small apartment and looked for a room, there being only two you gave your mom the bigger one. After setting down your things you decided to familiarize yourself with the building.
You were on the fourth floor and heard that the top floor was being redone so going down was the only option. You walk back into the tiny elevator and hit the 2nd-floor button. You walked out and looked to your left and saw a lady in blue coveralls with a mop working on the dirty floor. She looked up and met your eyes; she smiled.
You gave her a small smile back. “Oh hello there!” she said, she had a slightly deeper yet still warm voice. “Hi, I just moved in so I'm just looking around the building,” you said shoving your hands in your pockets and fiddling with the loose strands. “Ohhh, you must be part of the (l/n) family,” she said, recalling Addison telling her about the new incomers. You smiled but slightly furrowed your brows “It's just me and my mom.” you said, she smiled at the response “It's the same with me and my son. ”
“Oh, that's nice” you smiled at the thought. It was nice meeting families that understood what it was like. “I think you two would get along perfectly.” she thought aloud with a small smile and relaxed yet emotion-filled eyes. “It's hard for him to find friends that are like him, are you okay with meeting him? I know you just moved but I feel like it would be nice for the both of you.” she had hopeful eyes as she handed you a keycard.
“Uh, yeah that's fine. I can at least try,” you said as you slightly stuttered to take the card from the older woman. “Thank you, I hope it turns out well,” she said as she turned to continue mopping the floor that was stained a weird color. As you walked to the elevator, you had so many feelings and thoughts running through your head with every step you took.
‘Is he a creep?’ ‘I just met her and she is asking me to meet her son?’ ‘Why is a key card involved?’ You cautiously entered the elevator and soon realized that you don't even know which floor he lives on. As you look at the old, slightly worn down, buttons you see a slit at the bottom. ‘Key card… key card slit… ohhhhhhh’ ‘Where does this lead?’ So many questions that were left unanswered.
You slid the key card into the little opening and waited for the elevator to start moving. You felt it go down and then just started panicking, why did you agree to do this? This elevator came to a shaky stop and when the door opened you saw … a basement? What the fuck?
You agree to meet this random lady's son and she lives in the basement? Honestly kind of weird but can't judge, there has to be a reason behind it. You take small slow steps towards the door and grab the handle, ‘Should I just walk in? Should I knock? Fuck it, I’m going in. I mean she invited me. I have a right to.’
You grasp the door handle and turn it. As you walked in you noticed that there was nothing wrong with the apartment, it looked the same as every other apartment just in the basement. You walk over to the doors that were lined up against the hallway and look for which one could belong to the son of this woman.
You see one that has a black sign that had the words “KEEP OUT” written in bold red lettering. Must be his, can't guess who else would have a door like this. You knock on the door, not wanting to barge in, and wait for a reply “yeah? What is it?” comes a slightly deep raspy voice, a slight lisp coming out. “Um, my name is (Y/N). Your mom sent me to see ya,” you said not knowing what else to say.
“Oh, come in!” he said, slight embarrassment showing through in his voice. You walk into the room and noticed a tall man with long shaggy brown hair sitting on a beanbag at the side of the room. Blue skinny jeans hug his legs and a Sanity Falls t-shirt hangs on his body in a size that's one size too big.
“Uh- sorry about my mom, she gets worried about me so when she meets someone new she kinda wants them to try and befriend me” he smiles awkwardly at you, his slight tooth gap showing in the smile. You laugh it off “Nah man you're fine, I thought you were gonna be a creep at first but I'm feeling otherwise right now,” you said, shoving your hands in your pockets as you realized that they sat weirdly at your sides. “Well thanks” he chuckled, leaning forward on the bean bag. “You wanna sit down?” he nods his head in the direction of a beanbag sitting across the room while leaning back in the position he was in before.
You smiled at him and walked over to the beanbag and plopped down getting comfortable. He smiled over at you and chuckled at your squirming, going back to nursing the blunt in his hand that he hid from you when you walked in. “Wait you smoke?” you said now just noticing the partially smoked blunt. He smiled at you and put his hand out with a raised eyebrow, motioning to the little blunt asking if you wanted a hit without even saying a word.
“Uh, yeah sure” you were shocked to be honest, not because you said yes but the fact that this man you just met offered you a blunt for free. You slowly grabbed it from his muscular hands, his nails covered in black nail polish. You brought it to your lips and inhaled, you sigh as you feel the smoke traveling into your mouth and into your lungs.
You slowly exhale and look up, your eyes meeting Larry's brown ones. You give a small smile to him and he returns it, again that small little tooth gap showing through. You leaned back and let the feeling take over, a certain calmness running over you. You take a couple more hits and feel as if you were floating in space. As you are leaning back and letting your mind drift off you fail to notice that Larry got up from his seat and started to walk towards you.
When you look back down from the ceiling you see Larry kneeling in front of you. Your eyes widen in shock but they quickly drop back down. He slowly starts to take the mostly smoked blunt from your relaxed hand and takes a hit while making eye contact with you. He leans forward and slowly parts his lips, blowing the smoke right onto your parted lips.
He falls back with a cackle erupting from his throat. You sit there for a second before cracking up yourself. “Dude… come on” you say putting your head into your hands continuing to laugh making your shoulders bounce and your face hurt from smiling. You look back up at Larry and see his smile wider than ever. His little tooth gap showing through making you feel at peace. You lean back and let your head fall back as you relax your shoulders. You couldn’t tell why but you felt at home in an almost complete strangers house.
After a short minute you realized your mother may be asking where you are so you stood up from the beanbag and looked over to Larry. “Well I gotta go, thanks for the weed.” you chuckled at the thought of getting high on the first day you were here. “Aww leaving so soon?” he asked looking up at you with a small fake pout. “Dude, I just moved in. I have to go help my mother.” you said chuckling while walking to the door, “Anyways, thanks again.” you softly say while looking back at Larry. You softly close the door behind you and make your way back to the elevator and up to the level where your apartment is located.
“There you are!” you hear the voice of your worried mother exclaim. You turn and see her making her way towards you with her eyebrows furrowed and a deep frown placed on her face. “Mom, mom, calm down I was just talking to the neighbors” you said giving her a small hug. “(y/n)... why do you smell like weed.”
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Revival of the Familiarity AU
My announcement
I don't know if you guys remember this AU. But this is my little announcement.
I am reviving this after years. And this isn't just me BS-ing, I have the chapter done (for a month) and it is scheduled to be posted on [ Nov. 13, 2023 ] which is why I am making this post. Now, I will be honest the chapter after that is an idk-if-it-will-happen. So read on your own accord folks.
For those who need to refresh or haven't read this, here are the existing chapters.
~.~.~.~.~.~.
Familiarity AU ( A03 Link )
Note: Justice League Dark: Apokalips War AU
1 : Damirae Week 2020 : BOUND TOGETHER
2 : Damirae Week 2020 : SOULMATES
3 : Damirae Week 2020 : MARRIAGE
4 : I remember You
~.~.~.~.~.~.
Anyone excited?
Also did you know I had planned a whole wedding for this AU. I don't remember much of it. And that would have been way down the timeline which might not see the light of day.
#damirae#damian wayne#raven#teen titans#damian x raven#demonbirds#dcamu#fanfiction#romance#damian al ghul#robrae#robin x raven#jldaw#jld: apokolips war#post justice league dark apokalips war#multi-chapter#eleanore delphinium#marriage#soulmates#prompts#damirae week 2020#damirae week#alternate universe#new member#reunion#longing#unreciprocated love
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What result it is when a guy with too much energy on small-time screen characters of an obscure show and free time gets his writing side on the loose?
Butterfly effect, a Phantom Investigators fanfic
Synopsis: In a lot of situations, questions we can ask ourselves is:
-What if an element who could've gone otherwise would have changed the consequences?
-Can we really know a person's deepest feelings based on only what we got told in the heat of the moment?
As a tense situation reminds Professor Navarro of his past, his students will discover during the telling of a lost case that their group and Navarro's group share more connexions than they first believed!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Huge thanks to @beatleswings for letting me use her OCs of Navarro's parents for this story (and helped me write their dialogue). Sometimes a collaboration helps more than simply just doing your own interpretations for the sake of difference. :)
Warning: While it's not necessary to have seen the whole series, be aware that I've never been this close to the source material's lore than this story, so some lore spoilers from episodes has to be expected, specially one in particular (other than secrets exposed) .....but I'm keeping the surprise. ;) .
#phantom investigators#fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic coverfan#fanart#handdrawing#multi-chapter#Felix Navarro#Willard Plowright#Harold Prune#Mary Prune#Mary Beyer
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Reblog for larger sample size!
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Chapters: 2/6
Fandom: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Hannah Foster & Webby (Hatchetfield), Hannah Foster & Lex Foster
Characters: Webby (Black Friday), Hannah Foster (Hatchetfield), Lex Foster, Wiggly | Wiggog Y'rath, Pokey | Pokotho, Tinky | T'noy Karaxis, Blinky | Bliklotep, Nibbly | Nibblenephim
Additional Tags: Backstory, Light Angst, Fluff and Angst, Childhood Memories
Summary:
Hannah has questions about her eldritch spider friend Webby. After an argument with her sister Lex, the girl finally gets a chance to sit down with Webby and ask some of her questions. The only catch is - she’s only allowed five. But hey, asking just five questions won’t unearth that much trauma, right?…
#team starkid#starkid#hatchetfield#hatchetverse#lords in black#webby hatchetfield#hannah foster#fanfiction#light angst#fluff and angst#multi-chapter
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Chapter 18:
Rating: T Pairing: Nalu FF.Net || AO3
[Ch: 1] ||| [Prev] | [Next] - Next Update: April 20th
Beta: @phoenix-before-the-flame
Do Me a favor and every one go wish Phoenix good luck on getting their Visa today. Do it. :3
---
Something was wrong with Natsu.
Lucy couldn’t put her finger on it, but the change was obvious. Her enjoyment with Mirajane’s siblings had left her feeling giddy even hours after when the Draconis took her home that night. His footsteps stayed diligent beside her, a steady familiar pace that kept in time with her as they walked, the taps of her cane filling the silent air between them. His dark eyes would sweep over her, checking on her knee with each step she took down the beaten path. These actions were normal and Lucy half expected him to sweep her into his arms to carry her the rest of the way when she lightly stumbled on a stray stone in the path.
But he never did.
Instead, once her balance was secured, he released her shoulders as if he’d been scalded by intense heat and the space between them filled the air with a chill far colder than the surrounding night. It left an emptiness stirring in her gut. One that refused to fill from idle chatter. A strange discomfort that set alarm bells into her mind. A warning Lucy couldn’t quite name.
Natsu left Lucy at her doorstep after a quick exchange of goodbyes and a promise to see her in the morning. It was familiar, the same piece in the comfortable pattern that had formed over her months living here. And yet, Lucy thought with a furrowed brow, his smile hadn't met his eyes when he left. She watched the outline of his slumped shoulders until he rounded a corner, no longer to be seen.
Only her thoughts kept her company as she slipped inside, Lucy convinced herself it was a fluke. It had to be. She was imagining things.
Natsu was the same as ever, obviously. She wanted to be independent, after all. No, she needed to be independent, and how could she if she expected him to carry her every time she stumbled on a stray pebble? Yes, that’s all it was. Nothing more. Her mind was getting ahead of her again. Everything was fine. With that decided, Lucy swept the strange feelings aside, buried in the back of her mind to be forgotten and nestled herself beneath her many furs to prepare for sleep.
It wasn’t her imagination.
He was back in the morning as usual, dropping off items for breakfast before darting off to start his rounds for the day. The space between them was wider than before and Lucy didn’t miss the way he froze and withdrew his hands before she touched them. Natsu’s smile was natural, his laugh the same and even his jokes landed as usual, but the distance… He hadn’t given her so much since she’d given him the chance to be her friend. Perhaps, she told herself while nibbling on a hard-baked biscuit, trying to fill the emptiness in her stomach that had returned, he was in a hurry? Yes. She must have misunderstood again. There was no other explanation.
Throughout the day she witnessed his arm slung over the others: Lisanna, Romeo, Wendy - and he never shied from a slap to his shoulder from Gray or Elfman. Even Freed had earned a slap to the back when something was said to leave Natsu roaring in laughter. (And the look on Freed’s face, while hard to truly decipher in Lucy’s position, had pulled a giggle from her as well.) On and on she noticed the little touches, the space closed between himself and the rest of the clan. Never once did he shy away from being close -or even too close some would say- with everyone. His care and indifference towards personal space was everywhere.
And then he’d sit beside her, chair sliding a couple feet away in a not-so-subtle attempt to create space, carving a distance between them that only she could see. He gave her the same smile, the same questions: Asked her about her day, what her plans were, perhaps he’d join her for a bit before darting off again for some odd errand or two.
“Erza and Freed are going to be re-checking his rune barrier later.” He explained once, narrowed eyes glancing back towards the old ruin their makeshift dungeon resided in, “I was asked to watch the exit while they’re busy.” Not for the first time, Lucy felt knots form in her stomach at the mention of Kage. The churning caused a wave of nausea to rise in her throat, but was quickly dispelled.
He was alive and well, as far as she knew, but his existence was the one dark mark on an otherwise enjoyable time. Natsu sensed her unease and motioned to nudge her shoulder with his, an action he’d performed many times before to pull her from sinking too deep in her thoughts. But the expected heavy warmth never came. The sudden disappointment washed over her when he made no contact, withdrawing a second later, left Lucy confused. She was drowning in it. Whether Natsu noticed or not, he gave no hints, turning to fiddle with the straps of his sandals as if nothing had occurred.
Lucy desperately tried to ignore the hurt that flashed through her chest. Was it hard to breathe suddenly or just her?
“Anyways, once that’s done,” Natsu continued, finally facing her again with something unnamed glittering in his eyes, it made Lucy’s heart tighten, “I can come see ya’ again. It’s gettin’ warmer so you’re going to be busy getting thinner clothes right?”
“Yes.” Lucy monotoned. She had the strange sensation of going through the motions, forcing a smile across her face all while her mind jumped wildly from panicked thought to thought. Had she done something? In a second of insanity, she almost tilted her head to subtly smell herself. Did she need a bath, perhaps?
No, that couldn’t be it. None of this made sense, but finding the words to ask Natsu why he wouldn’t touch her was harder than one might think. The mere thought of how she could word herself made her cheeks warm with an intense heat. It sounded so - … she pushed the thoughts further aside. Definitely not. She didn’t need to make things more awkward than they already were, right?
When he left with a quick wave of his hand and a light grin, not even a familiar pat to her shoulder, Lucy knew she wasn’t crazy. Something was off, but what?
Days slipped by and Natsu’s odd behavior continued. Lucy spent them being fitted for new outfits with Mirajane and lending her ear as the woman flitted about her, learning from whatever topic that graced Mirajane's mind as she took Lucy's measurements or tested fabric colors to suit her. She assisted with the daily chores wherever possible, and oftentimes found herself enjoying time with Levy and her books when she made the trek out to the archive. Lisanna became a mischievous presence in her schedule, whisking her away for more dance practice always with a new step for Lucy to learn. Her days filled up until she felt as if there was hardly a moment for herself and before she knew it, another month had passed. Her leg, still sore, could carry her much farther than before. On a good day, the cane could be left behind unless she spent too long standing.
By the time Spring’s first blooms sprouted, Lucy felt as if she’d fallen into a schedule that reminded her of home. But Natsu’s unwillingness to lay even a finger on her was a festering issue that boiled beneath the surface and sleep was becoming difficult.
The dreams that plagued her night and day persisted and some nights, Lucy thought she woke to Natsu gently bringing her back to the waking world, only to glance about her room and find it empty and dark circles surrounded his eyes for many mornings after. It made Lucy wonder if he also suffered from more nightmares.
“Nightmares? Nah, I’m good, Lucy, don’t worry about me!”
Somehow, Lucy wasn’t sure she believed him. When his words were diffused by an open-mouthed yawn revealing all his teeth, her disbelief was sealed. He was hiding something.
When she asked, it was met with his usual fanged grin, waving her off as he took down more targets with practiced ease during his training.
“If you say so.” She waved him off, a hint of a frown pulled at the edges of her lips, “But.. you know… if you are having them, you can tell me, right?”
As if sensing the serious tone she carefully hid in her voice, he paused to look at her. Really staring as if attempting to read her mind. “Yeah, of course.” Lucy almost missed when he mumbled a quick, ‘you too’ before he resumed practice.
Another week passed with no changes.
And soon, a week became many until the first blooms of spring were sprouting on the trees and all sight of snow and frost had long dispersed, sinking into the soft earth to feed the grass poking through. Lucy had almost convinced herself that whatever was going on with Natsu, he’d come to her with it in time, but she couldn’t avoid the thought that perhaps she had done something. If he wasn’t willing to say, she would respect the decision. All the while ignoring the way it ate her from the inside out.
The Celebration was closing in and Lucy could see evidence of that fact all around the village. Banners and streamers were slowly being made and placed upon every lamp post, hanging over the walkways. The docks were busy with overfishing to prepare for a future feast and new clothes were being made or tested by the many denizens of the town, stepping out to face the day with colors and patterns that rivaled the returning nature. Lucy was not outside of this. The day Mirajane finished one (Lucy balked at the knowledge there was more) of Lucy’s new dresses, she’d been made to try it on immediately. Its flowing skirt and bodice fit snugly along her frame. Lucy had to admit, she loved the change and the knowledge that unlike her previous outfits: this was made for her.
Unfortunately the skirts were long and it made walking the trek to Porylusica’s difficult as its path was covered in gravel that shifted despite every careful step. Natsu did not join her that day, placed on an extra shift for hunting and surveying the surrounding woods. Wendy, though she tutted about Lucy the best she could, was not strong enough to balance her when she stumbled, opting to dash ahead and knock away every loose rock she could find instead. It was amusing to watch, the steely look of determination on her young face and skirt bunched her fists as she swiftly kicked away any stony obstacles from her path, but Lucy worried her lip in mild frustration at the need of it.
She cursed her slow healing for the umpteenth time. The cane had become an extra limb for her, but Lucy still wished for the times she didn’t need it, to walk as freely as she used to. Perhaps someday soon, she could put it to the side for uses only on bad days.
“I hope, for your sake, you took a break on the way here.” The acerbic healer made no attempt at pleasantries when Lucy finally stepped into her isolated home. The walk was more strenuous than visiting Levy’s archive and the sting of Lucy’s calves shot through her nerves to tingle at the edges of her eyes.
Wendy wasted no time in pushing a chair from the corner towards Lucy, silently offering her a place to rest. “We did.” She chirped, glancing back and forth between the two with a nervous apprehension. “But we couldn’t take too many or it would have taken too long.”
Porlyusica fixed them with an intolerant stare, arms crossed as she blew an errant strand of gray hair off her stony face. “If that is what was needed, then that is what should be done. If it's lunch and dinner you’re worried about, I have plenty of food to set you right while we work.”
“But- “ Wendy began, eyes sliding to the window where the sun was starting to make its descent, “You don’t like when visitors stay too long.”
“I’ll put up with whatever is necessary.” The doctor snapped. At Wendy and Lucy’s flinch, she rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed. “No matter. You seem in good enough shape to me, regardless. Don’t move and I’ll get started.”
Lucy nodded vigorously, far too nervous to speak out against the woman’s tenacity. Wendy’s shoulders relaxed once the attention was drawn from her and tutted about the small space, gathering cups and a kettle, judiciously starting up a pot of tea in an attempt to stay busy. The older woman knelt with ease, hands grasping Lucy’s leg with a surprisingly gentle touch as she inspected the from back to front, gnarled knuckles brushing along the sensitive skin. A scar had formed over the months that resembled a small star: a grim reminder of the arrow tip that once pierced her.
“It is a good sign you could make it here.” Porylusica mumbled beneath her breath, before Lucy could respond, she raised a hand to silence her, shaking her head. “Let an old woman mutter to herself in peace.”
She clamped her mouth shut, staying silent.
No sounds were uttered aside from Wendy’s shuffling about as the gentle scents of tea wafted through the small room and Porlyusica rambling beneath her. She struck below the kneecap to test the reflexes, nodding when Lucy’s entire leg jumped in response and after bending the leg in and out, she checked for any change of expression on Lucy’s face, expression grim and focused.
“Good. She’s not needing it as much. A good sign. Now.” A cup of tea was pressed before Lucy’s nose and she furrowed her brow as Wendy muttered a quiet apology. Taking a sip of the heated brew, she fought the urge to chew her own lip. Couldn’t the grouchy woman ask her directly? Why does she only acknowledge Wendy?
“She’s been taking numbing tea?” She asked.
A sudden, tight grip on her leg brought Lucy’s attention back to the older woman, eyes stinging from the shock of pain while the tea scalded her throat. “I asked you a question, girl. Did you not hear me?”
The room seemed to rumble with a sudden wind as Lucy flushed, Wendy’s eyes suddenly growing sharp. “Aunt Porly, be gentle! You know a non-draconis isn’t as sturdy as us!"
Wait a minute - Lucy’s mind reeled at the new information she gleaned, but before she could compute it, the grip had eased against her as Porlyusica tsked, patting the attacked portion of flesh in an attempt to apologize.
Wendy’s answer was immediate, “I haven’t had to replenish it this week.”
Shaking her head, she rumbled a non verbal reply to Wendy and fixed Lucy with a curious expression. “A doctor I might be, but social cues still escape me. Well then, girl, do tell me. Have you attempted to learn about the block on your abilities? You’ve made tremendous steps in your healing, but the knee is still taking far longer than it should to catch up with you.”
The memory of her first, lucid moment in the village struck Lucy as she began to worry at her lip, fingers clenching her mug tightly, ignoring the vicious heat that steamed off of it. “I’ve tried, but I still haven’t learned anything.”
“As you value your life,” The older woman clicked her tongue and stared into Lucy’s eyes with an intense worry that caused her heart to clench, “Try harder. Whatever power has done this: only with you, can it be undone.”
But then there was this new information that took hold of her. Wendy had called Porlyusica her Aunt, and they spoke of the Draconis tribe as if they both were among it. Did that mean… Natsu and Wendy weren’t the only ones? She eyed the wizened woman through her lashes, keeping her cup held to her face in contemplation. Yes, with a closer look, she could see it now: a slight point to the older woman's ears that matched Wendy and Natsu’s, and the hint of fangs glinting behind her lips. She had considered it nigh impossible for two Draconis’ to be part of this tribe, but now was the revelation to three.
The severity of her words settled in the pit of Lucy’s stomach, robbing her of her voice. Nodding wordlessly, she resumed drinking the tea, only partially listening as the older woman rounded on Wendy to talk to her. As far as Lucy could tell, she’d been trying hard and often. After each odd dream, she’d often take a moment to meditate, hoping some answers could come to her. In the quiet evenings when alone, she’d focus on her knee and desperately try to sense the magic that blocked her own. To no avail.
Even the voices from long ago, who had apologized profusely for damaging her and had given her the power to save Natsu, had grown silent. What could she be doing wrong?
She couldn’t deny that it was a fruitful afternoon. Wendy was skilled, but Porlyusica’s experience was obvious. Her tests were quick, swiftly getting through one after another with practiced ease, and her judgments positive. It left Lucy feeling a surge of relief, knowing that, in time, she’d be able to walk properly again. (So she hoped.) The warning to her magic block was important, and she was aware her knee would never be exactly as it was before, but the confirmation to her healing cleared away a doubt Lucy had forgotten. It eased her mind and allowed the tea to go down nice and smooth. All other concerns could be dealt with in time, just like her leg.
At least, that’s what she told herself, seeking more relief on her mind than was given.
When Lucy and Wendy left the older woman’s hut, she felt energized. The long rest had recharged what stamina she had and the trek down the verdant hills was much easier than the trek upward. Wendy stayed by her side, eyes still glancing this way and that, looking for any errant rocks she’d missed before, but there was no further stumbling. Lucy’s objective was set and she walked with a relaxed gait.
How many were out there, away from their supposed, ancestral home, against the grain of all rumors Lucy's heard? Curiosity gnawed away at her, but Lucy knew better than to ask. Especially not to Porlyusica. Her temper was legendary among the tribe and Lucy dared not test it any further. She continued to sip her tea as the two healers discussed her condition, offering details when asked of her. This check-up had been a long time coming and while it did not last for too long, Lucy did begin to feel stir-crazy the longer she sat, listening to the two speak of her as if she weren’t there.
“I’m sorry,” Wendy said after a few moments of silence, eyes glancing out further along the road. “I know she can be hard to deal with. I hope… erm, I hope we didn’t make you too uncomfortable!”
Lucy’s smile reached her eyes, “Don’t worry about it.” In truth, Wendy was correct to assume the awkward nature of the visit would be daunting, but Lucy felt no ire towards it. “You both are doing what you can to help me, that’s more than I could ask for.”
Wendy nodded, a meek expression shading her eyes as she hummed in thought. “It’s not like we wouldn’t help you. That would be horrible, but,” She paused, eyes glancing in the direction of the small library in the distance, “I do wish Levy had come with us. She could have kept you company while we talked.”
At the mention of the would-be archivist, Lucy gave a noncommittal shrug. It’s true they had invited Levy to join them that morning, but she had been occupied. If the stacks of books blocking the door of the building had been any sign. Lucy had made the attempted visit with hopes of extra company -if only to distract her from her concerns over a particular draconis of flame- and while Levy sounded aggrieved to deny them, her rush through the building sounded anything but. She was looking for something, and refused to be taken from it.
“We can’t always be available,” Lucy said after a bit, mentally reaching for a subject change. Wendy voiced her agreement, but was startled when the Romni’s next question tumbled from her lips, “So… you and Porlyusica are related?”
“Uh… yes?”
“And both Draconis?”
Wendy scrunched her nose, mumbling a confused confirmation. “Uhm, why do you-”
“It’s nothing really, I just… '' Lucy struggled to think of the right words, “all my life I’ve heard rumors of the Draconis tribe. As far as I knew they mostly stuck together, not nomadic. Their ancestral home is a secret to everyone. It’s just… interesting to me that three of you are here. Did you come together?”
At that moment, Lucy felt as if she’d stuck her foot in her mouth. She'd asked something wrong. Wendy’s face darkened, eyes shining with hidden emotions while her fingers fiddled together, nervous and uncertain. “No.. I.. Aunt Porly was here first. I think. Natsu was found next when he was little and I was…” She shifted awkwardly, eyes darting from tree to ground then towards the sun, “My Mom left me with her.”
Lucy had to fight the urge to ask further, noticing the way Wendy’s voice grew hurried and tense, voice cracking near the end of it. There was a story to tell here, but she felt now wasn’t the time to speak or hear of it. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have asked-”
“I-it’s okay!” Wendy interrupted, waving her hands wildly, “I just- Well, I don’t know all the details and,” She paused, struggling to explain, “It’s hard to remember. So I’d rather … not.”
“Then you don’t have to.” Lucy urged, hoping to ease whatever pain she had inadvertently caused by her line of questions. Wendy was still young, the fact she held such a pain struck a chord in Lucy’s heart that made her own eyes sting. There was a loss in that expression. She knew it well. Poking at a painful memory was the last thing she wanted to do.
It’s the same courtesy she would have liked for herself after all.
“Thank you.” Wendy whispered after a time, hiding a sniffle. Lucy could have bitten her tongue for causing such a sound. “Let’s get you home in time for dinner, okay?”
Perhaps that wasn’t the best topic to change to. Lucy grimaced and quickly hid her face within the fringe of her hair. “No. At least. I don’t think so.”
“Sure, but wasn’t Natsu supposed to meet with us after this?” Lucy asked, hoping Wendy would take the subject change.
She latched to the bait like a lifeline, shaking her head, “Oh! That was the plan, but he asked me this morning if I could do it. Said he would be busier than he thought. Which is strange. Usually he works fast so he can make time to check up on you. Did something happen?”
“I’m sure he’ll be all smiles by then.” Wendy assured, but her fingers continued their nervous twitching.
Lucy heaved a deep sigh, eyes casting out to the village as they reached the base of the hills. “I hope so. The Spring Dances will be soon right? It would be a shame if he was upset during it.”
“Oh.” Wendy paused. “Well, I’m sure whatever it is, Natsu will get over it soon. He always bounces back.” Her tone was certain.
The whole of the village still buzzed its excitement. Not a single thing was overlooked. Decorations continued to be placed on every bare nook that could be found, plans and spaces were made along the beach, and patrols had increased. It was their hope to ensure the protection of the town before the celebration.
As for the aforementioned prisoner: he listened to the hustle and bustle. Was aware of the excitement. Pieced together each sideward glance and hurried whisper between each guard who stood watch over his little room. He’d counted the stones in his little room a thousand times over, and relaxed against his cot if he hadn’t been locked away for all of winter.
He knew what would be coming, and when his current guard turned their back to address Erza from the stairwell, he took a finger out to trace along the edges of the enchanted barrier placed around him. A sizzle and spark danced along his fingers as he felt a stirring of magic that cracked beneath the surface.
Kage grinned. It was almost time.
No stone went unturned. Even the prison, hidden beneath the ruins, was checked over. Freed’s barrier had been reinforced. Levy had painstakingly added her own flourish to the sigils that kept Kage locked within his cell.
-tag list-
@cobblepottantrum @pbfanart @lovelyluce @yuldragneel @mamabearcat @millennial-star-gazer @caandleworks @kaycha1989 @just-another-dream-girl @dlshieldss @ctay21 @gingerthesnap @acidrain1698 @clockworkassassino @caranikki-blog @doginshoe @unwei @moeruhoshi @mykingdomforachocolatecookie @melissa827 @littlejinxed @moonlitstargazerforever @squeep123 @bitch-stole-my-nutella-again @shadyhydrathesnekqueen
#fairy tail fanfiction#Nalu Fanfiction#Nalu#NatsuxLucy#FT Fanfiction#Natsu Dragneel#Lucy Heartfilia#Fairy Tail#Multi-Chapter#Flame's Desire
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by auberus
Summary:
31 October 1981. Instead of going to Azkaban, Sirius Black goes on the run, determined to catch the traitorous Peter Pettigrew even as post-war violence tears through the wizarding world. Meanwhile, Remus Lupin and a handful of others work desperately to clear Sirius' name, and to find him.
After all, they are not the only ones hunting Sirius Black. The Ministry of Magic has set the Dementors on his trail, and they have been given permission to administer the Kiss the instant he is caught. The remnants of the Death Eaters are pursuing him as well, in hopes that he will lead them to Pettigrew, whom they blame for Voldemort's defeat.
Comments:
Unfortunately, this fic is abandoned, but it's still worth reading. It starts right after the confrontation between Sirius and Peter and from there we follow one of the most brilliant and exquisitely executed AUs I've ever read.
A few things to note:
It was posted on LJ and it has formatting errors -- although nothing that can't be fixed/ignored with the help of your browser's reader view.
It has Remus/Sirius as it's main pairing but it takes a while to get there because there's an actual plot.
It has multiple POVs. We follow many characters that play an important part in the way things evolve, like Sirius and Remus but also Phineas Nigellus Black on canvas, Alastor Moody and even Lucius Malfoy.
It's written in present tense, which is absolutely perfect for this story. It adds a sense of inmediacy and urgency that's just *chef's kiss*
In case it's not clear yet, the writing is stellar but so are the characterizations and the world-building.
It's fascinating to see the wizarding world through the lens of people who (unlike Harry) are very familiar with it.
I could go on forever but the main thing is that this is a very interesting AU. You can tell that the author put a lot of heart and effort into it.
Illustrative quote:
For long moments, he cannot move. The sound of sirens rises in the distance, a screaming electronic counterpoint to the sobs and shrieks of the injured and bereaved. Sirius can barely hear it over the voices ringing in his memory: James, saying goodbye just before going under Fidelius; Peter, swearing so earnestly to keep the faith, and his own disbelieving shout of denial when the words Godric's Hollow dropped cold and leaden into his skull as James died and the Fidelius charm was broken.
He wants to scream; he wants to cry, but something bright and jagged catches in his chest and he realizes that he's laughing instead, laughing like his heart will break, and he doesn't think he will be able to stop.
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Nowhere to Run--Ch. 59
A/N: If you've never heard it, the song mentioned in this chapter is I Remember You by Skid Row.
Chapter 59
Jericho sat in the armchair beside Kat watching her sleeping. He was grateful that she had finally been able to get some rest after the undeniable trauma of giving birth in the back hallway of a sports arena with two dozen people looking on. She’d passed out in the ambulance on the way to the hospital when the pain and the afterbirth had finally taken the last of her strength with it. He’d watched in a torn sort of terror, not sure who needed him more. He hadn’t been able to take a breath until the doctors had assured him that both Kat and their daughter were fine and healthy.
Our daughter, he thought as he looked down at the warm and surprisingly heavy bundle in his arms. Dressed in a onesie, she snuggled against his chest within the blankets. She suckled gently on a pacifier as she slept, her little fist tucked up against her cheek. Her eyes were the same faded blue as his own though her wispy hair was closer to Kat’s. He couldn’t get past the soft curve of her cheeks and the rings around her wrists and ankles. The little bitty nose that scrunched when she wailed her displeasure.
He’d never imagined that he would be here, a newborn in his arms and the woman he loved asleep close by. It was almost more than he could fathom. She rustled, a faint whine as she settled back against his chest. Jericho sighed and cuddled her closer.
Several hours had passed since Kat had suddenly given birth in the back hallway of Daily’s Place, half the roster watching, Tony Khan holding her up and Jack Perry catching the baby. The ambulance had shown up just after their daughter made her first appearance, whisking the three of them to the emergency room. Jericho was given charge of the baby while the paramedics took care of Kat, ensuring everything was as it should be.
An examination, a few stitches, and some pain medication later, Kat was settled in a room in an exhausted sleep with their daughter in a hospital bassinet at the bedside. Jericho could finally breathe, even though the reality of being a father had begun settling in his chest.
***
It felt like it took forever to wake up. There was an ache between my legs that spiked whenever I moved my hips. Someone had put what felt like a diaper on me. Cramps coursed across my lower stomach. I was so exhausted.
Eyes closed, I just let myself settle against the pillow beneath my head. I took a few breaths, trying my best to ease the pain. I must have been given some kind of painkiller as there was a dull edge to it. For that, I was definitely grateful.
“Woke up to the sound of pouring rain.” Chris’ voice came over me slowly. It was soft and low, a melodic timbre to it. A few seconds passed before I realized he was singing. Heavy metal power ballad turned into lullaby.
The wind would whisper and I’d think of you
And all the tears you cried, that called my name
And when you needed me I came through
I paint a picture of days gone by,
When love went blind and you would make me see…
My throat tightened. Tears stung my eyes as I squeezed them shut tightly. I just wanted to stay in this moment. It didn’t matter that I was in pain or uncomfortable or in a diaper. There was something so fundamental about listening to the man I loved singing softly to our newborn child. It made my heart ache in the most beautiful way.
“I know you’re awake,” Chris said with a happy indulgence. His voice sounded different somehow. It sent waves of warmth through me as I opened my eyes. There he was, sitting in the armchair beside my bed with our daughter swaddled in a blanket while she held his finger in her fist. “How do you feel?”
I shifted, letting out a faint grunt of discomfort and pain as I pushed myself into a sitting position. It was more than just my hips and between my legs now. My chest had begun aching, my breasts feeling heavy and sore. “Tired. Aching.” I held out my arms. “Give her here.”
He frowned and cuddled her a little tighter. “You rest. I’ve got her.”
I reached upward to unbutton the shoulder of my hospital gown. “Please. It hurts.”
The realization spread over his face as he stood up to cross the space between us. I tucked my gown out of the way and took her from his arms, settling her against my chest. I took the pacifier from her mouth and handed it to Chris. Her bright blue eyes opened as she started to wail.
“Shh, shh,” I hummed softly as I held her against my breast. She nuzzled against my flesh before finding and latching on to my nipple. I let out a sigh of relief as she began suckling, feeling as if the pressure began to ease.
***
Jericho watched in a sort of awe as Kat cradled their daughter against her breast. Of course, he’d been hyper aware of the way her breasts had changed throughout her pregnancy, growing fuller, heavier, more sensitive. He couldn’t count how many nights he’d been in bed beside her gently caressing and tasting her flesh. There weren’t words enough to explain how his desire for her had changed over the last nine months. But this was different. This was something breathtaking and beautiful in the most ancient and astounding way.
He drew the chair closer to the side of the bed. His fingers settled against her face, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered with reverence. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her, momentarily unable to see anything else but Kat Prince.
She leaned into his touch, her eyes momentarily falling shut. Their daughter snuggled against her breast and suckled heartily. Jericho felt his heart swell and burst in his chest. His pulse spiked, adrenaline and pride and an absolute ferocity of protectiveness ran through him.
His fingers trembled slightly as he brushed the soft curve of the baby’s cheek. “She needs a name,” he said softly, gesturing to the end of the bassinet where a sticker reading Baby Girl Jericho was taped to the end.
“I have a few ideas,” Kat whispered with a faint grin. Suddenly, she gave a faint laugh. “Were you singing Skid Row as a lullaby?”
***
There were too many people in the waiting room. Jack felt his head spinning. He’d lost track of time since the ambulance raced away from Daily’s Place with Kat. Someone told him he’d wrestled a match and won, but he didn’t remember a second of it. He couldn’t get the moment when he’d caught that baby in his arms out of his mind. It was almost too much for him to fathom. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing. It felt like he was going to pass out.
For a moment, his memory flashed back to the last days in the hospital before his father died. He remembered standing outside his father’s room, back against the wall and tears pouring down his face, as Kat said her goodbyes inside.
He was trying so hard to be strong for his mother and his sister. For his father. If it hadn’t been for Kat, he would have broken long before then. She had been his strength throughout the whole ordeal.
He sucked in a breath and turned toward the sound of the door opening to his left. Kat slipped out into the hallway wiping tears from her cheeks. He reached for her, hooking his arm behind her neck and drawing her quickly against his chest. Her fingers wrapped into fists in his shirt as she sobbed against his shoulder. Whatever his father had said to her had hit hard. He could only imagine that he’d called her Katarina and made her smile.
“He wants you,” she murmured as she turned to press her cheek against his chest. “It won’t be long, Jack.”
“I know,” he replied as a heavy weight settled in his gut. “Go wait with mom and So. They need you right now, too.”
She’d hugged him tight before rising up on her toes to press a soft kiss against his lips. She held onto him tightly for a moment, as if she wanted to give him every ounce of her strength. “I love you, Jack Jack.”
He watched her walk away before running his hand through his hair, shoving it back off his face and drawing in a deep breath. When he pushed the door open, his heart dropped into his toes. The many lying in the hospital bed wasn’t the father he’d known. The Luke Perry he’d known had been full of fire and life and laughter. There was barely any of that left in his eyes then.
“Hey, Dad,” he said as he crossed to his father’s bedside. He perched on the edge of the mattress and took his hand. “Kat said you wanted to see me.”
Luke swallowed hard, dragging in ragged breaths. His face was earnest. Like there was something important that he wanted to say. “Jack.” Luke’s voice was broken and low. “Take care… o-o-of Mom and Sophie. Ka-Kata-ri-rina. Please.”
“Of course,” he replied, nauseous at the sight of his father struggling to speak. “I always will. You know that. I… I’m going to ask Kat to marry me, Dad.”
Something sad settled in Luke’s eyes. He squeezed his son’s hand with as much strength as he had. “Help… h-elp her be ha-happy.” The way he said it made the words sound less like a blessing and more like a resignation.
“Perry!”
The sound of his name snapped him out of his memory. For a minute, he didn’t know where he was. Once he recognized that he was in a hospital, tears rushed down his face. Past and present slammed into one another as he tried to convince himself that he wasn’t waiting for news that his father was gone. He was waiting for news that Kat and her baby were okay.
He looked up and saw Chris Jericho standing a few feet away. The older man looked tired even while his eyes were lit up with something like euphoria. Jericho hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans and shrugged.
“Kat wants to see you.”
___________________
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#nowhere to run#chris jericho#chris jericho fanfiction#aew#aew fanfiction#inner circle fanfiction#inner circle#jack perry#multi-chapter#ofc#oc#kat prince#chris x kat#may/december romance
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SHADES OF LOVE
Summary: Roger can't quite seem to remember to give Brian his phone number.
Rating: E
Relationship: Brian May/Roger Taylor
Tags: Alternate Universe - Camp Counselors, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Blow Job
Prompts: Getting Older Together / Camping
Read Here >> On AO3
Part of Collection: Maylor Week 2023
Accompanying Moodboard: To Be Posted!
@maylor-week
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the shame is on the other side by scoops_ahoy (marauder)
Word count: 18,534 (complete) / 2/2
Rating: M
Trigger and content warnings: canon typical violence, period typical homophobia
Summary: Steve wants to go to a place where monsters aren't real and people don't care about him, and he wants to drink and dance and stop thinking for once. Just once.
He lands in a gay bar. And then he keeps landing there.
#steddie#complete#multi-chapter#10K to 25K#steve#eddie#robin#nancy#steve is hurt#the shame is on the other side#scoops_ahoy (marauder)
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