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mrspasser · 2 months

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I'll lay my head down here

Sterek fanfiction Stiles needs a place to sleep. He chooses Derek.

Also available on A03.

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“I’m not sleeping on the floor again, you assholes!” Stiles throws a balled up burger wrapper at the infuriating werewolves who took over his intended sleeping space.

Isaac bats the greasy paper ball away with a quick flick of his hand, hardly having to look at it. “You snooze, you lose, Stilinski,” he says meanly, as he snuggles deeper inside the couch pillows to drive his point home. “Besides, I gave up my bed, I shouldn’t be the one to sleep on the floor.”

Stiles perks up when an idea crosses his mind. Upstairs, in Isaac’s room, are Lydia and Cora. Maybe he could -

“Don’t even think about it, Stilinski!” Jackson cuts his unspoken thought off with one sharp remark. He glares at him from his spot on the couch he’s sharing with Isaac: one asshole werewolf on each side. The guy is extra touchy because Lydia picked Cora as a sleeping partner over him - which is more than fair, if you ask Stiles, both Lydia picking Cora over Jackson and Jackson being sour over getting the cold shoulder from his girlfriend.

“I’m sorry, Stiles, I don’t think you’ll fit,” Allison offers apologetically from his right. She’s squeezed in the large armchair with Scott, who’s already fast asleep and snoring softly.

He waves her offer away. If he’d try to squish himself in the chair with them, neither one of them would sleep a wink all night. Same goes for the couple in the other available chair, although Stiles is more sure to survive the night with Scott and Allison than with Boyd and Erica. That only leaves -

“You could try Derek?” Allison blinks innocently at him.

Stiles huffs a laugh, letting the sarcasm bleed through in generous helpings. “Yeah, right.” He leaves it at that, too tired to hope to put up the proper facade of pretending to dislike the Alpha werewolf. Hey, we all deal with our crushes in our own way! Stiles has to do what he can when literally living with a pack of wolves, who can smell pheromones and who knows what else.

Eventually, he settles for stretching out on the rug that Lydia made Derek buy a while back. It’s not overly cushiony, but it’ll do the job. It’ll have to. Besides, he hasn’t had a proper night of sleep in four or maybe even five days, staying up researching and worrying most of the night. The Big Bad is dead, the worrying is over and his research paid off: he should be able to sleep now, right?!

At first, Stiles uses his hoodie for a pillow, yet after about twenty minutes he gives up and pulls it back on because he won’t be able to sleep if he’s cold. Derek patched up most of the holes in his loft and it’s actually resembling a nice apartment these days, but it’s still the middle of the night in February and Stiles is lying on the floor without a blanket or a pillow. He misses his own bed. His comforter. His pillow. His other pillow, the one that’s older than him and oddly lumpy, but it was the one that was in his mother’s bed until the day she died. It hasn’t smelled like her in a long, long time. Stiles has also washed it a couple of times during the years, he’s not that much of a pig, despite popular opinion. But it’s familiar and comforting and he still takes it with him for sleepovers with Scott.

He considers whether or not he would’ve brought his pillow if this impromptu sleepover had been planned in any way. He’s known Scott since kindergarten, he’s his best friend. He wouldn’t say or even think anything bad about Stiles still needing a special pillow to sleep even when he’s almost twenty one years old. And while he knows most of the people in this room for five years or even longer and trusts them with his life, that doesn’t mean that they’re not a bunch of dickheads who will tease him every chance they get.

It’s a pointless thought exercise, because nothing about this sleepover was planned. They were supposed to kill that wyvern during the day, when it slept in his creepy little cave. That's what all Stiles’ research was for! He even found a way to kill the beast without having to hack it to pieces, which was nice because in the end he was against animal cruelty, you know? But then there were witches, two of them. They weren’t planned, neither was the ensuing fight in the woods. The unexpectedness of it all had left everybody antsy, especially the werewolves. And even though they recouped with a movie night and a nice pack pile, nobody wanted to be very far away from the others. Hence the impromptu sleepover that had Stiles sleeping on a rug, between the coffee table and the couch. Which wasn’t fair, because he totally knocked a witch out with his bat! He did his fair share and pulled his weight and what not. The least he deserves is a nice night of sleep.

Another hour later, Stiles is sore all over and chilled to the bone. There’s no way he can sleep like this. “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he whispers to the leg of the coffee table that he knows has Isaac’s claw marks on it.

As quietly as he can he makes his way upstairs on the rounding stairs. On the landing there’s three doors to choose from: the one on his left leads to Isaac’s bedroom, where Lydia and Cora are sleeping. The one in the middle is the bathroom - with a bath, for heaven’s sake, Derek has a tub! - and that leaves the master bedroom on his right. The Alpha’s den. Stiles has never been inside it. He even doubts if Isaac has set foot in the room very often, besides for cleaning purposes.

Stiles never really intended to go into Derek’s room, because despite what the others seem to think, he actually values his life. And his dignity. He thought it better to take a chance with the girls, take on the risk of Jackson wanting to kill him the next morning when he discovered Stiles had slept in the same bed as his girlfriend.

But…

The door to Derek’s bedroom is cracked.

Stiles can see inside.

He can’t see that much, with it being the middle of the night and the only light coming from a gap between the curtains in front of Derek’s window. But the moonlight is just right, illuminating the sleeping form of the Alpha in the bed. A bed that is more than large enough for two people and Derek is neatly sleeping on one side of the bed. If Stiles is quiet enough he might even be able to slip into the bed without waking Derek. The werewolf got hurt pretty badly today and healing always takes a lot out of him. There’s a pretty good chance the guy is sleeping like a log.

Stiles takes a deep breath. He’s gonna risk it.

***

He didn’t think he’d actually do it, but after a few minutes of indecisiveness on the landing, Stiles quietly tiptoes into Derek’s bedroom. He rounds the bed to the unoccupied side of the mattress and gingerly lifts the tip of the blanket.

“You’re not getting in with your jeans on,” Derek says, without opening his eyes.

Stiles yelps and he’s already stammering halfway through an apology when he suddenly shuts his mouth. His back teeth actually click together. There’s a few seconds of silence and then: “You’d let me into your bed?”

“Not with your jeans on,” Derek repeats. Usually he wouldn’t do this, but he’s been listening to Stiles toss and turn downstairs for a while now and with all of his pack members sleeping peacefully, he’d like the last one to get some rest too. Besides, Stiles would continue to keep him up with his restless behaviour otherwise; Derek just can’t seem to tune him out. It’s been that way for years already, maybe even from the beginning.

“O-kay.” He can feel Stiles staring at him in the dark and he patiently waits for the decision he knows the boy is gonna make. No, not a boy. Stiles will be 21 this Spring. Derek has seen him grow up, literally and figuratively, along with the rest of his ragtag pack of teenagers. Stiles still wears jeans and plaid most of the time, but the garments don’t hang as loose on him as they did when he was 16. He’s grown into a handsome young man, with a good head on his broad shoulders. Derek counts himself lucky to have Stiles as part of his pack, to have him close. Not as close as he sometimes might wish, yet Derek is always conscious of not playing favourites. So he usually keeps Stiles at an arm length and takes care to treat him just like everyone else. It helps that the two of them elevated snark and banter to an effective communication style. Despite all the sarcasm and barbs, Derek is pretty sure there is no-one in his pack who sees through him like Stiles does. It was scary at first and it made him lash out, but Stiles stood firm. Derek is immensely grateful that he did.

There’s the rustling of clothing hitting the floor, jeans and a shirt, then the blanket lifts and Stiles scoots underneath. Derek feels him settle in behind his back, a foot or so away. “Thanks,” Stiles whispers in the dark.

“Go to sleep,” Derek grunts, eager to go to sleep and not think about the young man who is sharing his bed.

***

Derek’s bed is pretty comfortable, Stiles thinks to himself as he digs himself in. Oh, who is he kidding?! Derek’s bed is amazing. The mattress is just the right combination of firm and soft, the pillow hugs his head and shoulders just right and the comforter is warm but still light to the touch. It’s a million times better than his bed at home, even when he’s not counting the fact that he’s sharing the bed with a hot werewolf.

Yet Stiles can’t sleep.

Yes, the pillow is heavenly. Yes, the mattress allows his tired body to finally relax. Yes, the comforter hugs him nicely. But there’s something missing and Stiles knows exactly what it is. His pillow.

He needs to hold something. He needs to be able to curl around something. Or someone, his traitorous brain suggests as he feels Derek move across from him.

“Why aren’t you asleep, Stiles?” Derek asks in that long-suffering tone he uses when Stiles is doing something to annoy him. Which is pretty often, although Stiles knows the annoyance is mostly for show these days. He has turned onto his back, his eyes glinting in the moonlight where they are looking over at Stiles.

“Can’t,” Stiles laments, trying to catch the comforter between his arms in lieu of his dearly missed pillow. It doesn’t really work, because the comforter also has to cover Derek’s bulk and there’s little left to use. Little to none, especially when Derek snatches the comforter back from where it was probably leaving a cold gap on Derek’s other side. The sudden move has Stiles sort of falling over from where he was laying on his side. He’s more on his front now, filling up the space that was between them at first. He can feel the warmth of Derek’s body from just a few inches away. It’s actually kind of comforting.

“Try harder,” Derek commands and he closes his eyes again.

Stiles thinks of answering ‘Yes, Alpha’, but thinks better of it. It might make Derek move again, to push Stiles out of bed instead of pulling him in to have a cuddle. So he stays quiet and closes his eyes, focussing his mind on the almost tangible presence of Derek’s bare shoulder mere inches away. Derek is warm and smells nice and if Stiles was a werewolf, he’s sure he’d feel even better about having his Alpha so close. Yet even though he’s not a werewolf, he still enjoys it. A lot.

He falls asleep.

He knows that, because he wakes up at some point, at an unknown hour of the night. He’s warm, so warm. And comfortable, even though his pillow is a lot firmer than he remembers it being. It also moves a little, because his pillow is Derek and the Alpha werewolf gently moves his arm in what Stiles suspects is a more comfortable position. He would panic about sleeping half on top of Derek if he were not so damn comfortable. It’s hard to keep his eyes open. Surely if Derek wouldn’t want him sleeping on him, he’d push Stiles off. Instead, Stiles feels Derek’s arm wrap around his back, accompanied by a soft sigh from the Alpha.

Stiles sleeps.

***

Derek is not the first to wake up, although he is certainly not the last. He becomes aware of the world with Stiles wrapped around his torso, his head pillowed on Derek’s chest. He’s only a little surprised by how good it feels to wake up like this and it takes a while before he brings himself to carefully move out of Stiles’ embrace. The boy mumbles a little, but doesn’t wake up. Derek watches him for a moment, standing beside his bed. He’s not sure how to feel about this, except for some embarrassment about wanting to crawl back into bed and slot himself back into Stiles’ arms.

Downstairs, most of the pack is still asleep. Isaac has his arms wrapped around Jackson’s lower legs, as if he’s cuddling a particularly bony teddy bear. Jackson is still asleep, even snoring softly. Scott snores too, curled around his girlfriend in the large armchair. In the other armchair, Boyd is watching him carefully, his arms wrapped around his sleeping girlfriend.

“Morning,” the dark man rumbles quietly, not to wake Erica.

“Morning,” Derek answers, keeping his voice down as well. “Coffee?”

Boyd inclines his head in thanks and Derek ambles on to the kitchen, where he finds Lydia, immersed in a science journal. She has a cappuccino sitting in front of her, the cup half empty. “Good morning, Derek,” she says, briefly glancing up from her reading material.

“Morning,” he repeats, busying himself with the coffee maker. He brings a cup to Boyd when he’s done and returns to join Lydia at the table. He sits back in his chair, his coffee in front of him, to catch the rays of pale sunlight that slant through the high windows. It’s quiet in the loft, with most of the people still sleeping and the ones that are awake quietly starting up their day.

He sips from his coffee, listening to the sounds of Cora waking up and going into the bathroom. She comes downstairs not long after, dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt - same as her brother, her bare feet hardly making a sound. He points to the mostly full pot of coffee on the counter when she enters the kitchen and he gets a hair ruffle as thanks from his little sister. She pours herself a cup and leans against the counter, enjoying the sunlight on her face just like he is.

It’s Stiles who comes down next, although Derek can hear from the way he drags his feet that he’s barely awake. Why he’s not sleeping in like he should be, is anyone’s guess. He expects Stiles to stop in the living room, to wake up Scott or maybe even Jackson if he’s feeling particularly cheeky, but he doesn’t. The footsteps pretty much make a beeline from the stairs towards the kitchen. Derek opens one eye from where he closed them against the sunrays to see Stiles shuffling towards him in his boxers and T-shirt, rubbing a hand over his face and yawning soundlessly. His hair is standing up on one side. He’s wearing socks, navy blue ones with a red line near the toes.

The werewolf opens his mouth to point his packmate towards the coffee maker, but before he can say anything, Stiles has reached his chair and slings a hairy leg over his lap. He plonks down unceremoniously and lays his head on Derek’s shoulder, arms wrapping loosely around his waist.

“You were gone,” Stiles mumbles disapprovingly, his mouth moving against Derek’s collarbone. And just like that his heartbeat evens out and he’s fast asleep again.

Derek sits frozen in his chair, his heart beating loudly inside his ribcage. If Stiles were awake he could probably feel it pound against his own chest. His hands hover uselessly on either side, not knowing whether to wrap around Stiles or pick him up and toss him to the floor.

Stiles is oblivious, his sleeping body moulding easily against Derek’s. He’s warm and pliant, just like he was when they were sleeping together in Derek’s bed.

When he chances a look at Lydia across the table, she’s already watching him steadily with a sly smile playing around the corners of her lips. “Glad to see you two finally got your heads out of your asses,” she comments eventually, before primly taking a sip from her cappuccino and going back to her reading.

Behind him, Cora snorts quietly in amusement. She comes up at his back and puts a hand in his hair again, running her fingers through the short strands. It’s grounding and Derek only notices how much he needs that when she lightly scratches her nails across his scalp.

“He’s cute like this,” his sister remarks and even though he can hear the humour in her voice, he can also hear the truth in her heartbeat. “Best not wake him up, big bro.” She runs her hand through his hair one last time and then she wanders off, leaving him to carefully wrap one arm around Stiles’ lower back.

Slowly, Derek feels himself relax. The loft is quiet and peaceful and Derek is in his own little bubble, with the sunlight on his face and Stiles in his lap. Almost automatically, he starts to rub his hand slowly up and down Stiles’ back. Aside from some sleepy snuffling, there’s no real response. Derek picks his coffee back up and slowly drinks it, tilting his face towards the sun. It’s a nice morning.

#sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #teen wolf #teen wolf fic #sterek fanfiction #sterek fanfic #written by ilse #derek hale x stiles stilinski #stiles x derek #pre relationship #ilse writes fanfiction

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littlegodzilla · 4 months

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Well I heard someone might be a little down in the dumps today. It's been a while since I've posted anything here, but I wanted to do a little something to make you feel better.

I hope you like it

************

I can try.

Daryl Dixon x Fem Reader.

One shot.

@celtic-crossbow birthday present.

Warnings: M. Friends to lovers. Smut.

Words: 10k.

Summary: You and Daryl are good friends, but sometimes is good to try new things.

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

"No. Stop... wait..." You gasp with a frown. "Stop, stop."

"What's wrong?"

"That I can't... I can't."

"What?"

"It's not going to work...I'm going home." You push his hands away from you, getting up from the bed, reaching for your clothes.

"But what's wrong with you? I thought you..."

"Yes, I wanted to, but you've been looking for my spot for fifteen minutes... it's not going to go well, I'd better go." You shake your head getting dressed.

"But don't leave me like this! At least let me finish."

"Use your hands, like I'm going to do when I get home." You tell him and quickly leave the room.

"You're such a bitch!"

You hurry out of the house, adjusting your jacket to your body, the weather is still nice, but the nights are starting to get cold. Your feet move fast towards home, you want to get home as soon as possible and get into bed, you'd even like to disappear if possible.

Things have changed. A lot if you stop to think about it. Alexandria has changed for a few years now, after the Wolves, the hordes of Walkers, The Whisperers and some Communities that tried to take over yours, but finally Alexandria is safe and you all live in tranquility, or at least what this new world allows you. Since then, since you have settled there, you have allowed yourself to free yourself a little, of course there will always be guards to keep, to go out for supplies, to fight, but when all is quiet, you allow yourself to be who you were before. You spend days on the porch or in the garden, reading, watching the clouds move, you help in the fields, with the animals, you teach the children, who are more and more in the community. You have boyfriends. You have sex, arguments, breakups. It almost feels like your old life, but something is not right now.

You have been dating Nathan for a few months now, thanks to Deanna you have a new calendar and the days don't go on forever. You've been going out with him for a while now, he's nice, you get along well, you have fun... but in bed you don't quite click. It's frustrating and a bit embarrassing, you've been running away like a rat, but you'd rather cut the relationship before things get even more strained.

You get home. You're going to spend a few days at Rick and Michonne's house, the last storm that hit Alexandria washed away part of the roof of your house, now you entertain yourself in the morning to fix it with the help of other colleagues, but you still have for a few days. You close the door with some violence, your anger coming out.

"Dun be so noisy. There’re children sleepin’." You hear a voice in the darkness.

"Fuck, Daryl!" you jump, holding a hand to your chest. "What the fuck are you doing in the dark?"

"I've just come up now." He says turning on a small light in the dining room. "Rick and I are gonna out fer few days."

"Well turn on the light, you could kill someone with a heart attack." You growl, looking sideways at him, he shakes his head.

"Sorry." He apologizes, you can feel his gaze running up and down you, making you nervous. "Bad night?"

"Frustrating." You reply in a curt tone, making it clear you don't want to talk about it. "Where are you going?" You'd rather change the subject. You know Rick doesn't get out of the community much since RJ was born helping Michonne with whatever she needs.

"Dunno. Not too far. Maybe a couple of days, no more than a week." he answers your question, shaking out his backpack a bit, rearranging the things inside. "Back Rick wants to go to Hiltop, need anythin’ from there?" he wants to know, you stand for a moment thoughtfully and gesture to him.

"Wait." You nod and trying not to make any noise, you go up to your room, coming down shortly after. "Here, give it to Maggie, please." You hand him a small letter. He looks at it, but nods, tucking it into his vest pocket. "Thank you. Have a safe trip and be safe." You ask.

"A'right. Night."

"Good night." You whisper looking at him again and go up to your room.

You've been traveling with Rick's group since they showed up by the Greene farm where you too had taken refuge after your parents were bitten and Hershel locked them in the barn. Your first impression with Rick Grimes' group was rough and wild, but you will never regret following him after that, thanks to him you had a real home in the prison, thanks to him you were still alive, thanks to him you now have this community, you are safe and happy. They are your family now and you know you can trust them, Maggie, Tara, Michonne, Rosita, they are your friends you can vent to, Carol sometimes acts more like a mother and that's not much older than you, but it's her instinct above all else. Carl and Sophia are little siblings to all of you, as are Judith and RJ.

You lie in bed, curling up, feeling your body pulse, the heat coursing under your skin, but you ignore it, your head dull, the anger still lingering. You close your eyes and try to sleep.

"Good morning." Michonne greets you that morning, carrying little RJ in her arms.

"Good morning." You greet her by putting the coffee pot on the stove for breakfast the two of you. "Hey, shorty." You touch his nose and smile looking at Michonne out of the corner of your eye. "Quiet night?"

"Until Rick left...I think he feels it, he's been restless after that." She tells you, tucking the child into her arms.

"Daryl told me it wouldn't be many days, they'll stop by Hiltop when they get back." You tell her, she nods and sighs.

"Sometimes I miss getting out and exploring the world."

"Me too, you can leave the little one with Rosita or Carol, for a few hours I don't think they'll mind."

"I know, but now I have the constant fear of... not coming back." She whispers and you look at her pityingly.

"Hey that's not going to happen, you're our samurai, no one can take you." You joke and she laughs low, chuckling. "Sit down, I've made breakfast."

"Thanks. If you keep this up I don't know if I'll let you go home." She jokes too. "Speaking of which, you came early last night, usually when you meet Nathan..."

"Yeah, well... we broke up..."

"Broke up? Why, what happened?" she sets RJ down in his highchair accepting the coffee you hand him.

"It wasn't working... we didn't quite click..." You explain on top of it, but start to explain more when she prods you a little.

"You know Nathan is going to get hysterical, they're going to say a lot of bullshit..."

"I don't care, at the end of the day I took off leaving him halfway through." You shrug your shoulders as you braid your hair into a braid.

"If you see him get too nervous, we can get him to shut up."

"Don't worry, Michonne, I'll manage."

After breakfast, you leave the Rick family's house, to go to work in the fields and with the animals, that afternoon you have guard duty too, it's going to be a long day, but at least it will help you to keep your head busy.

The whispers, gossip and looks soon spread through the community. Nathan, completely pissed off with you, goes out of his way to make it clear to every man in Alexandria that you are a slut. You try not to make a big deal out of it, but two weeks have passed and your neediness continues to grow and no one pays any attention to you, which makes the situation more frustrating

Daryl and Rick have been back from patrol for a week now, they've brought some people with them, they've made new deals with other communities that are starting to expand, they've even brought more supplies. They are at the bar that opened a year ago having a home brew, it's not great, but it's drinkable. Abraham, Eugene and Glenn are with them.

"We're expanding the southern part of the community." Rick explains to Glenn since he hasn't been around for a while. "We're opening up the walls bit by bit, keeping an eye on the hordes of Walkers and slowly moving the houses out of the compound."

"That's a good idea, we're expanding the farming area too, there are more and more of us and the houses are getting too small."

"If ya guys need help with construction we can form a posse." Daryl says as Abraham nods.

"Thanks, I'll talk to Maggie and Jesus." He nods grateful for the support of those who have always been his family.

"I tell you guys don't let that bitch fool you." They hear talking from another table. "She dried up and took off." He growls again. Daryl frowns.

"Who are they talking about?" Glenn asks curiously and Eugene snorts saying your name. Daryl's blue gaze bores into him.

"Apparently they had a relationship. But the thing didn't work out. They broke it off and he's running around talking all kinds of shit." He keeps talking, this time Abraham. "I've threatened to smash his face in, but he won't fucking listen to me." Daryl sees the anger under the ginger mustache.

"I'll have to go talk to him myself." Rick snaps tongue in annoyance.

"Hey, Nathan." Daryl raises his voice and almost the entire bar falls silent. "Why dun ya keep yer voice down?"

"What do you say, Dixon?" he replies, rising from his stool. Rick and the others tense up, but Daryl remains calm.

"That yer talkin’ shit ‘bout someone who ain't here and can't defend herself." He turns his head to look at him. "Besides, it's bullshit."

"And what the fuck do you know?" he roars, but Daryl doesn't flinch.

"I know ‘cause I've been with her too." His companions' eyes widen so wide they look like they're going to pop out of their sockets. "Ya should stop sayin’ she's a slut, maybe ya weren't able to touch her like she deserved." He spits at Nathan with a growl at the end of the sentence.

"And you do, redneck? Since when do you know what a pussy is?"

"Better than ya, like I see." He replies and when the man wants to pounce on him, the bar owner grabs him and pulls him out of there by force.

"Have you slept with her?" Abraham asks unable to contain himself any longer.

"Nah." He shakes his head, drinking from his beer.

"And why the fuck did you tell her that?"

"To get him to stop sayin’ that shit about her."

"But now they'll think she's your girlfriend." Rick tries to understand. "That's not going to get any guy to want to be with her again." Daryl gives them all a sidelong glance, and goes back to drinking from his beer.

"She's gonna be pissed." Eugene says what they're all thinking. "It's not like she's flirting with the men in this community all day, but she has her needs. Just like everyone else." Eugene says again. Daryl gives them a sidelong glance, but shrugs it off as unimportant.

It's frustrating. And you're pissed off. You don't know what's wrong with the men in the community, but they all avoid you like you're cursed, have a fatal disease, or worse. You don't need a steady partner either, but maybe you do need someone to give you some fucking affection.

"Is it that you guys are avoiding me or what's going on?" you growl when another fellow member waves at you from afar, but he looks scared.

"No, it's just... we don't want any trouble."

"Trouble about what? Hey if it's about Nathan, I understand being pissed, but that's only ever happened to me with him..."

"No, it's not about that, Daryl already said he had a big mouth."

"Daryl? I-I don't understand..."

"You're his girl, he said so. I'll pass on Dixon having me in his crosshairs."

You're speechless, you can't even defend yourself from what he just said before he walks away. What Daryl talked to them? That you're his girl? What's that all about? You don't understand anything. Yet as the pieces start to fall into place, your brow furrows, your cheeks flush as anger bubbles under your skin. You emerge from the bar almost like a basilisk ready to talk to the archer. You discover the motorcycle parked next to Rick's house, so you don't hesitate, you walk determinedly towards the basement door and slam it with all your might.

"Dixon, I know you're in there!" you bang on the door again. "Your bike is outside!"

You're tempted to turn around the house, go in the front door and kick down the basement door inside, but it's too late, surely the kids are already asleep. Then the door opens, Daryl looks at you confused from the other side, his hair is disheveled and his eyes are narrowed, it looks like you've woken him up. At another time you'd feel sorry for him, but you're still angry, so you walk in uninvited, crossing your arms.

"What are you doing?" You bark.

"What?" he grunts, rubbing his eyes. You realize then that he's only wearing his jeans, bare-chested and barefoot.

"What have you been going around saying?" you insist shaking your leg nervously.

"What ‘bout? The beer from the bar still has my head choking." He rubs his hair and cross his arms, hands under his armpits.

"What have you told Nathan? Or all the guys in the community? That we're boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"No. I didn't say 'girlfriend'." He shakes his head, understanding what you're saying at last. "I just shut his mouth. He was goin’ around callin’ ya slut and frigid. I just made him think the problem was his ‘cause he didn't know how to touch ya."

"That was my problem! You had no business butting in." You snort in frustration.

"I didn't want him to keep talkin’ bout ya like that." He's not upset, that much is obvious and it stresses you out more.

"Now all the guys are ignoring me! It's like they're afraid of me. No, they're afraid of you."

"M? Ain't gonna do anything to them."

"No, but they think I'm your girl." You remind him, waving your arms nervously. "You can go to the bar and talk to them, clear it up. Tell them we broke it off or it was a shag. But we're not together anymore."

"’kay." He shrugs. "Sorry."

"Well..." You tell him going to the door again. "Anyway... thanks." You look sideways at him. "I know you just wanted to help me and I appreciate it, but I deserve it too."

"Dun think so."

"I left him half-heartedly, I got frustrated, I couldn't... no matter how much he..." You have to admit you're embarrassed to talk about this with Daryl. "So he had a right to say all those things about me." You shrug turning back towards the door.

"I can try." Daryl speaks and you stop.

"What?" you turn to look at him.

"It's frustratin’, the need, wantin’ to finish but not getting there..." He advances towards you, slowly, calculating his steps. Your eyes follow his every advance feeling goosebumps rise on your skin. "Even when yer alone in yer room, it's as if ya've suddenly forgotten how yer own body works.”

"Y-yes..." You gasp, his thumb brushing your lower lips, his blue eyes sinking into you.

"I can try..." He says again. "Maybe it was just Nathan, that he really didn't know what he was doin’."

It's possible, but you're so enraptured in his gaze that you're unable to respond. Daryl holds you by the back of the neck, his nose brushing against yours.

"I only have one condition, close yer eyes." He whispers very close to your mouth.

You hesitate for a few seconds, not quite sure if you want to figure out how this is going to go on, but your eyes close. Seconds later, Daryl's lips are on yours, very lightly, slowly, they feel warm, but not nervous. The sensation makes you snap your eyes open, seeing Daryl staring at you. He breaks the kiss, but his hand is still holding the back of your neck.

"Close yer eyes."

"Y-Yes." You nod closing them again.

This time his mouth encompasses yours completely, his fingers closing tighter against your skin and hair, you don't hesitate to reciprocate, his lips moving against yours, his tongue entering your mouth and you moan low resting your hands on his bare chest. Daryl kisses the line of your jaw, down your neck, you throw your head back, leaning against the door. Daryl's mouth continues to run down your neck, you feel him bite against your racing pulse and you moan at the pleasure coursing through you. You close your eyes tighter, tempted to open them again to see what he's doing.

A squeak escapes your mouth as Daryl pulls you away from the door to make you walk towards his room. He pulls your shirt off, his large hands caressing your wide hips, moving down to your ass as his mouth kisses and bites your shoulder, moving down to your chest. Daryl's hands grip your ass tighter lifting you a few seconds off the floor then sitting you on his bed. Daryl kneels in front of you, his fingers brush your cheeks and lips, you can't see him because your eyes are still closed, but he smiles at you for being so obedient.

He unclasps your bra, his mouth once again running over the skin of your shoulders as he pulls down the straps of your bra before tossing it to the floor.

"Daryl..." A gasp escapes you.

His fingers grasp one of your breasts, he bites and kisses its shape before catching your nipple in his mouth, which he plays with inside his mouth, sucking, licking and nibbling at his pleasure, not neglecting your other nipple which he fiddles with between his fingers getting your head to start spinning, pleasure forming in your stomach, your body jerking. Daryl releases your nipple with a wet sucking sound, licks your skin with the gate of his tongue, from your sternum, down to your navel as he guides your body to lie on the bed. He bites your navel, licks your soft, bulging skin. His deft fingers unbuckle the belt of your pants as well as your boots quickly leaving you in your panties on his mattress. Daryl stops, giving you a little time to catch your breath, he sees you agitated, he doesn't want to make you nervous. He gets up from the floor, you are tempted to open your eyes again when you hear the sound of his belt slapping against the bedroom floor. You lick and bite your lip, waiting for what else Daryl is going to do with you. You feel his body lay down next to you, his mouth runs down your cheek and neck again, one of his arms wraps around your shoulders under your body, his other hand again caresses your belly, your hips, his fingers tighten on your thick thighs to spread your legs apart. You jerk, his hand under your neck covers your eyes as the fingers of his other hand caress your clothed pussy. You hold your breath for a few seconds, your heart racing, your skin too sensitive to his touch.

"Yer scared?"

"No..." You assure him and swallow hard.

"Anxious." He understands then, caresses your mons, slowly moving down, finding the opening of your folds, feeling the dampness of your underwear. "Needy." He kisses your cheek, your mouth, your tongues tangle in a passionate battle.

You arch your back, Daryl's fingers begin to move in circles over your clit, you spread your legs wider to give him better access, still kissing. You dare to touch him at last, one of your hands grips the back of his neck, pulling his hair slightly, your other hand holds his wrist, not stopping him, perhaps daring to guide him a little, before reaching for your breast and stimulating your own nipple. The hunter's pupils dilate, at the sight of you, his fingers on your clitoris move faster.

"Ya like this, ain't ya?" he whispers against your ear, catching that same nipple you're touching, in his mouth, you withdraw your hand, moaning louder.

"Daryl!”

You're so close, you can feel it, how the pleasure starts coursing through your whole body to pool in your lower belly, you're so close already, your eyes roll under Daryl's palm.

"No, not yet." He denies you and his fingers stop the moment.

"What?" you sound desperate, but you don't care, you were touching the best orgasm in a long time and he's denied you.

"Hold on a little." He asks you, releasing you.

Again the urge to open your eyes and say what he's thinking comes over you, but you hold tightly to the sheets as Daryl grabs your panties by the edges of the waistband. You lift your hips to help him get rid of them, the garment getting tangled around one of your ankles. Your heart races faster as you are aware of what Daryl wants to do to you and you bite your lip again.

"Nathan didn't know how to touch ya." You hear him speak. "I barely touched y’ and look how yer already." He scoffs, his fingers running along your folds.

"Don't... Don't talk about him now." You protest with a thread of a voice hearing him chuckle.

Daryl settles between your legs, spreading them a little further apart, his thumbs parting your folds watching your entrance press against nothing. When his tongue brushes your skin, hot, wet, you jump, your hips thrust against his mouth and Daryl devours you like a starving man. His tongue runs up and down your cunt, between your folds, prodding at your entrance, working its way in, he grunts and purrs at your taste, his lips close and press against your clit, sucking, pressing to heighten your pleasure. Which soon begins to swirl in your lower belly again. You close your eyes tightly, clutch the sheets between your fingers, until your knuckles turn white. Your legs jerk, in your mind you beg for it not to stop again. The air gets stuck in your lungs as one of his fingers finds its way into your core moving in and out, adding a second finger, increasing the pleasure, you spread your legs further apart, moving your hips against his hand. You feel him getting closer and closer, stronger and stronger. Daryl has no intention of stopping, but the point he's taking you to is too much.

"Daryl, wait, wait..." You moan, but you can't stop him in time.

You cum, with a long moan, in surprise and pleasure, you let yourself go, feeling yourself squirt and splash on Daryl's face. It's not the first time you've cum like this, it had happened to you before with other boyfriends who had known how to touch your exact spots, but from experience not everyone liked the experience and you didn't want this to ruin the moment.

"Fuck... Daryl, I'm sorry..." You say apologetically, covering your face with both hands.

"Did ya squirt?" He lifts his head, licking his lips. "I've never seen a woman do that..."

"I-I'm sorry..."

"Can ya do it again?"

"Can we pretend it didn't happen and..." You uncover your eyes and look at him, you can't help yourself. "What?"

"Could ya do it again?"

"I- I don't know..." You stammer, completely confused, it's the first positive reaction you've had to this.

“Find out?"

He kisses you again, intense, needy, his teeth biting your lips, his tongue fucking your mouth, his hand covers your eyes again and you close them just the same, lying back, letting his fingers cover your core again, overstimulating your clit, fucking you with his fingers, bringing you to another orgasm, this time faster than before. Your fingers tangle in his hair, you can't help it, and you bite him on the cheek as you cum again, soaking his fingers. Daryl protests at the bite, but his fingers don't stop until you close your legs and hold his wrist.

"Turn around." He tells you in a husky voice.

He releases you and turns away from you.

You do as he asks, turn around, hug the pillow, using it to cover your face, spread your legs apart, dig your knees into the mattress and raise your hips. Behind your back you hear Daryl rummaging for something and the tearing of plastic. You're about to say that at your age you're not worried about getting pregnant, but you're grateful that he's worried about the possibility or you getting something. You gasp as he returns to your side, pushes you slightly further forward, holds you by the waist and guides his cock to your entrance, pushing himself inside, bit by bit. You open your eyes wide, holding your breath, feeling him stretch you, working his way up until he's wedged inside you. You hear him huff and puff, gripping your hips with both hands, he slowly pulls out again, tearing a gasp from you, and you groan as he thrusts in a single thrust, taking on an almost cruel rhythm. Fucking you fast and hard, his fingers digging into the skin of your wide hips. Your moans echo in the room, muffled by the creak and squeak of the bed with each thrust Daryl delivers.

"Oh my God..." You moan holding onto the pillow, bucking your hips against his cock, moving to the opposite direction of his thrusts.

"Fuck..." You hear him say and his movements become more desperate.

The pace is fast, clumsy, sloppy, he's reaching his limit, you can sense it by how tightly he grips your body. But that's not what surprises you the most, it's the fact that he's going to get you to cum again. Three times, since before the apocalypse that hasn't happened to you.

"Daryl, Daryl!" you moan, your toes curling as you tense and clench around his cock.

You hear him curse through his teeth and your orgasm takes over as he spanks your ass hard as he too cums staying still inside you as he unloads and fills the condom.

You both need to catch your breath, you can feel him rocking forward, but he doesn't quite land on your body, his fists are resting on the mattress. You gasp hard against the pillow, trying to process everything that just happened, to stop your knees from shaking.

Daryl steps carefully away from you, you hear his footsteps getting lost down the hallway, all the way to the bathroom, you guess, until you hear the flush of water running. Maybe it's your cue. Maybe it's time for you to grab your clothes and leave. You don't wait for him to tell you. Still feeling weak in the knees, you grab your clothes from the floor, get dressed quickly, leaving the room with your shoes still in your hand. You pass him at the bathroom door. You don't quite know what to say, but he doesn't seem to expect you to either.

“Night." He says.

"G-good night..." You reply, lowering your gaze, walking out of the basement.

You're not sure you'll be able to sleep that night with how fast your heart is beating.

You watch the sunrise. Lying in your bed, looking up at the ceiling, you slowly watch the moon leave its place for the sun, the first rays are annoying, but then you get out of bed. Ready to go on with your daily routine. That makes you think, what's going to happen now between you and Daryl? How should you talk to him? Look at him? What exactly did it mean?

You've known Daryl for years, you've seen him change, that transformation that earned the trust of his entire group, you've seen him fail, make mistakes, but also be loyal, faithful, a friend and protector, you've even seen him joke and laugh when he thought no one was watching. You know his true loyalty is with Rick and Carol, they are the most important people to him, even though he loves the whole group, they are the ones he would give his life for the most. Still, being wandered back and forth and in prison, he took time and patience to teach you how to defend yourselves, how to hunt and how to be invisible. You can say you are friends, almost certainly, you know that if you asked him for help or a favor, he would do it. But this is different. You're not blind, Daryl has his own charm. Many women have noticed that appeal too. Quiet and grumpy, but at the same time he has a big heart. It's also true that you've never seen him with a woman or a man either, but it's clear he knows what he's doing and how he's doing it... maybe before the world went to hell he was in a relationship, or in his travels from community to community he's met other women he's had fun with... no, Daryl's not like that, you don't see him that way.

You let out air loudly through your mouth, trying to stop thinking about it, you adjust your clothes and leave the house to head to the farm area, Olivia gave you a list of things that needed to be replenished in the store room; Beans, tomato, squash if there were still any left, you were starting to plant cabbages as well and although they are not your cup of tea, you are excited to see how the first ones are starting to emerge, slowly forming. It's ironic, how little you loved getting up early on your parents' farm to help them with the work in the fields and how much you treasure it now. You still hate mosquitoes, though.

"Good morning." You raise your head when you see Carol right in front of you, with such a characteristic smile. You smile too.

"Good morning, Carol." You greet her, carefully plucking some tomatoes, dropping them in the box you bring with you. "Do you need anything?"

"I've come to get some carrots and squash to make a couple of pies." She tells you walking into the field with you. "I talked to Olivia and she gave me permission." She jokes, making you smile again. "How are you, I see you in a better mood than you've been these days." She comments absentmindedly and you open your eyes wide.

You know you can't hesitate with her, Carol is quiet but she knows how to observe and as the mother of the group, she will worry if she sees you take too long to answer or try to make up a lie.

"Y-yes, it's just that I went to talk to Daryl yesterday." Your voice trembles for a second and you clears your throat.

"Oh, so that was you, Michonne said someone almost woke RJ up because they were banging on the garage door."

"Shit..."

"Don't worry, I think Rick already calmed her down."

"Argh, I don't want to know about that..."

"So were you able to talk to Daryl?" She asks you again, helping her pluck the carrots. "You know he sometimes acts without thinking, but he doesn't mean it."

"It's like you're talking about a puppy or a child..."

"What's the difference?" she jokes, making you laugh, but yes, if you told her what Daryl had done to you she wouldn't think of him as a child.

"We were able to talk and he told me he'd clear it up, so I was more at ease."

Carol shoots you a curious look, you frown slightly, waiting for her to say something, but the woman remains in a state of mystery. When you finish filling your boxes, you walk together toward Olivia's storage room.

"What, are you going to tell me what's on your mind or not?" You say because you can't stop seeing her smile.

"It's nothing, it's just that your 'courtship' gave a lot of buzz."

"Oh yeah?" You look at her curiously.

"Sure, believe it or not, Daryl has a lot of popularity among women." She nods, your eyebrows raise higher making her laugh.

"But... I've never seen Daryl with a girl... Do you know if he's ever had a girlfriend?"

"Well, we know he's tricky when it comes to making friends, but yeah, I know he had a thing with a girl he met in the woods... you know, after what happened with Negan, that time he took to himself." You nod. "And Connie..."

"I knew it!" You blurt out, perhaps shouting louder than you should have. "I knew it...I thought it was so cute that he wanted to learn sign language." You laugh softly, Carol nods. "But Connie."

"She's in the Commonwealth, you know she comes to see us from time to time, but last time, she told us she'd met someone there."

"Poor Daryl..."

"He was the first one to be happy for her, he's always been so good at heart."

"Yes... And what about the other girl?"

"I didn't know her." She shrugs. "But he told me she didn't want to come to Alexandria, he made her choose and when Daryl went looking for her, she was gone."

"...Do you think he misses her?"

"I don't know, this happened even before Connie, maybe he has her as a good memory, but I don't think so... Why?"

"No, curiosity, like I'm telling you, I've never seen him with a woman and... now you've blown me away."

"Daryl is so much more than you think."

Those words ring in your ears for the rest of the day. Yes, it's true, you found out that very night, when you showed up over there and he did with you whatever he wanted, whatever you let him, but it's not just that. You've discovered that Daryl has his little secrets, he's had his romances, his little love stories. None of them have ended, maybe, well and maybe that's why he's still elusive but it makes you want to know more, it makes you think about you, what has what happened meant to him? Should you talk about it?

"Hey..." His voice pierces your ears, making you raise your head. You're helping Olivia with the warehouse inventory and he's peeking through the garage door.

"Hi..." You whisper, you feel nervous and your hands move awkwardly, you don't know where to put them and you fold your arms. "Are you here to get something?"

"Carol." He answers with a nod. "I was told she had gone to the orchard, have ya seen her?"

"She came all the way out here with me, she was bringing some stuff to make some pies, I guess she's home."

"Nah... she ain't there, I've already looked for her."

"Uhm... maybe she's at the mill, or she's gone to help Rosita with Coco..." You give him several options seeing how he shrugs. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I'm gonna go to Hiltop." He tells you. "Maggie and Glenn need help there, I'm taking a group for a few days. I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Oh... You've already got the posse closed?"

"Yeah, wanna come?" He shifts his body weight from one foot to the other, squeezing the crossbow band with his hand.

"Uhm no, if you've already got it all organized."

"No, ya can come, if ya wanna, the more hands we have the better." He shakes his body, raising his hands.

"Okay." You nod, you really feel like going to Hiltop, see Maggie, maybe talk to her about what happened with Daryl. "I'll pack the backpack and..."

"Okay, let Rick know, we'll wait for you at the gate."

"Okay."

It looks like things haven't changed between you and Daryl. You're relieved about that. Thinking about how you should act from now on was weighing you down a bit, but the hunter doesn't show any sign of discomfort, or approach either, it's a bit disappointing, but you prefer it that way, you don't want the friendship you have with him to be ruined. Once you have your pack ready, you grab your Halberd and run off in search of the group, Daryl is waiting for you along with a couple of wagons with the horses, your companions and the gear you're going to need.

"Hop on." The archer says to you, looking at the bike. You nod, climbing on without hesitation. It's not the first time you've ridden together on his bike.

On the ride nothing is out of the ordinary, except for how fast your heart feels. You're used to riding the bike with him, but your head is going a mile a minute. Daryl slows down a little as you ride over the bridge you built a few years ago, the vibration of the wheels going over it sends a tingle through your body and you hug a little tighter to Daryl's body. He looks over his shoulder at you, smiles and speeds off again. Arriving at Hilltop fills you with excitement, you almost jump off the bike when the gates open and you finally stop. Maggie, Glenn and Jesus are the first to greet you. You run straight to your friend, hugging her tightly. It's been days since you've seen her, she takes care of the whole community with her husband and Jesus, she had too many obligations on her back.

"I didn't know you were coming."

"I joined the group at the last minute." You smile, hugging Glenn and Jesus too.

"Good, because I hadn't gotten around to responding to your letter yet." He looks at you apologetically and you shake your head. "We've been pretty busy."

"I can see that, I love how you guys are rebuilding it, after what happened with the Whisperers." You sigh. "It's almost like going back to our parents' farm."

"Yeah... come on, we'll show you where you'll be sleeping these days." Glenn gestures for you to leave your things there.

The wagons are put aside, the animals are taken to the stable. Your companions are housed in different wooden cottages and you and Daryl are taken to another, slightly larger, two-bedroom cottage.

"We didn't know you were coming, but I guess you don't mind sharing the house."

"No, no problem." Daryl shakes his head. "It's not the first time."

"No, I remind you that I was the one putting up with his snoring in prison." You joke and hear him snort.

"My snoring? The one moving the walls was you."

"No way!" You look at him offended, watching a small smile form on his mouth.

"I'll leave this here." He changes the subject, dropping his backpack on the couch. "I'm gonna go with the others, to find out what we're doin’ tomorrow."

"Okay, I'm going with Maggie and Jesus."

"Okay." He nods before leaving the house.

With your friend and Jesus you go up to the main house of Hilltop, they have restored it, it is almost as majestic as it once was, no doubt they are trying their best to preserve that place. You feel a little uneasy, you didn't want to make a big deal out of it, seeing that Daryl hasn't changed his attitude towards you, but after what Carol has told you about his courtship, you need to talk to someone about it.

"We've been scouting the northeast area, we've covered more ground since the last checkpoint, across the bridge. We've found some settlements..." Maggie begins to speak as you enter her office.

"I've slept with Daryl." You throw up, unable to contain yourself any longer. Jesus and Maggie raise their heads at the same time.

"What?" is all you can say.

"Are you dating Daryl?" he dares to ask. He doesn't want to get too much into the conversation, but curiosity gets the better of him too.

"No..." You avert your gaze, but you know you've captured Maggie Rhee's undivided attention.

You forcefully release air through your mouth, wanting to shake off the weight you feel on your back. You start talking, you tell her what happened with Nathan, how the relationship started to deteriorate, the little connection you had in bed and how you left his house leaving him in the middle. You then explain to him that Daryl tried to defend himself in his own way, tangling things up a bit more and when you wanted to talk to him, things cleared up, but you were surprised by his proposal.

"Was he the one who told you?" Maggie is getting more and more intrigued.

"Yes...and it was..."

"Okay! I don't want to know so many details!" Jesus refuses. "I'm leaving, when you're done, we'll talk." He tells you and leaves quickly.

"But don't say anything. Daryl keeps treating me as usual, it's not weird or awkward... I don't want things to get complicated."

"But...do you like him?"

"Daryl? Well..." You get quiet all of a sudden.

"Come on, haven't you ever thought about it?"

"I don't know. Have you?"

"No! I have Glenn."

"Let's see...he's changed a lot since we met him at your dad's farm...not just physically, I'm aware of that, but I never thought he...well nor that he could...like me." You shrug.

"Why not?"

"I don't know!" you groan in despair, covering your face with both hands. "I always thought Carol and him, but... well, we're friends..."

"Glenn and I started out that way." He tells you. "Sort of... and now we're married and we have Hershel."

"That last part doesn't bother me, getting pregnant at my age..."

"You can always adopt, like Aaron."

"First we'll figure out what this is, then we'll talk about kids..."

Maggie smiles broadly, you feel your cheeks flush, but you try to concentrate on what's important, the plans your friend was talking about with Jesus, the settlements found, the departures to talk to them, expand the circle of allies or prepare for a new battle. You spend hours planning, talking, rewriting everything they have to show it to Rick and Michonne, planning something also with Ezekiel. When you finish with your meeting you make a dinner for all the people of Hilltop, you use a huge kitchen that they have installed in the main house, there are a few of you who move between the stoves and tables, leaving everything ready. You feel your heart warming up as you look around you, discovering that everyone is enjoying that moment, the peace and calm that surrounds all those people. You look across the table when your eyes connect with Daryl's on the other side, next to Glenn and a few others, he stares at you, you can see him smiling sideways, a smile forms on your mouth as well and you look away, focusing on the food on your plate.

Your heart beats so hard you feel it pounding against your bones.

When dinner is over you feel your body pass you a ton. After all the travel, the community involvement and then the relaxation you've felt from being at dinner, it has taken all your strength. As you enter the house you almost throw yourself on the couch, but Daryl holds you down.

"No, no." He says. "Go to bed." He orders you. "Tomorrow we're gonna start work and ya need to be in top shape."

"Bossy..."

"Get used to it, although I dun think ya care sometimes." He subtly pushes you toward the room you've decided is going to be yours. You know what he means. You've understood his little dig. You turn to look at him, but he just points to your room with his chin. "Night." He says and disappears into his own room.

"Good night..." You whisper at his door.

Things are definitely business as usual. You know what Daryl is doing, he's feeling out the situation, trying to figure out the same thing you are, that everything is fine, that there's no conflict, that you can still call each other friends. Still, you can't help but smile, he tries to flirt with you too, carefully, dropping his words, waiting to see their effect. You wonder again what would have happened if that woman had returned with him to Alexandria or Connie hadn't stayed in the Commonwealth.

******************

Jobs are hard at Hilltop, everyone cooperates to raise the houses, expand the walls surrounding the city, protect the fields, outside Hilltop, so that the Walkers don't enter and destroy everything. Also to keep the animals safe.

Maggie has wanted to know on several occasions how things have been going with Daryl, if there have been any problems, you repeat to her several times that no, it's fine, not to insist on it. Anyway, you come home exhausted every day, the only thing you think about is taking a shower and going to sleep.

Your body is much more relaxed when you get out of the shower, the mist on your skin is the perfect sign that you've used up all the hot water. You feel a little bad for Daryl, but you know he'll understand.

"Rough day?" You hear Daryl's voice from his bedroom door.

"Same as yours." You look at him, he's showered too, before you, so he was already home when you've arrived.

"Come..." He whispers in a little roar that ruffles your hair.

"Okay." You whisper as well walking over to where he is.

Your body weighs down on Daryl's, you arch your back feeling the pleasure coursing through you as the archer, grabbing your ass, helps you move over him and he cums letting out a gasp in a grunt. You lay back on his chest, trying to catch your breath, Daryl's hands are still on your ass, you can feel his fingertips close, squeezing your ass, almost making you laugh.

"I don't know if I'll be able to go to my room..." You say with a trickle of voice.

"Ya can stay here. Dun gotta leave."

**************

There they are again, those same young women who have been after him for several weeks now. You frown slightly. Daryl has just returned from another trip of a few days, this time he brings some gasoline and parts that will be used to reinforce the walls of the community and continue its expansion, your people come and go constantly, some of you stay longer inside the high walls to take care of the city, but he is constantly out, which makes seeing him come back always a relief.

As soon as he drops the bike in front of his front door, there's already a group of girls nearby, wanting to help him, all talking at once, hovering around him, touching him without his permission. What do they intend?

"I think if you keep staring so hard you'll get some of them blown up." You listen beside you. Your heart leaps inside your chest, you raise your head, discovering Carol right next to you. You didn't even realize when she got there.

"I don't know..." You try to make something up, but she sits, on the porch, grabbing another shirt to help you. You're mending some clothes, small holes, adding patches of denim or leather to make them sturdier. Out of caution.

"Are these the girls you told me about?" She asks you again, you just nod.

"They've been after him like headless chickens for weeks." You sigh fixing your gaze for a moment on the patch you're sewing, the last thing you need is to stab a finger. "No matter what time, they're always waiting for him in front of his house."

"How do you know that, do you spy on him?"

"What? No! But we're neighbors, I see them walking past my house and..."

"I don't think you need to worry. I'm pretty sure Daryl has no interest in girls that young."

That shuts you up, also stopping in your tasks. You look up directing your gaze back to Daryl, the girls and now Rick is talking to his brother, the two of them seem engrossed in an important conversation. Ignoring the archer's small fan club.

"I-I don't mean age... Daryl can be with whoever he wants, but it bothers me that they think it's so simple, that he's going to notice them dressed... like this..."

You can feel that like this slipping out of your mouth. There is disappointment and frustration in such a small word. They're young and you understand that, despite the world you live in, they like to draw attention to themselves, feeling safe behind those walls, but you don't think those tiny jean shorts and tight t-shirts are the right bait with Daryl.

"You think Daryl isn't a man who notices pretty legs or a pair of boobs?" Carol asks, mockery and irony shaking her question. You grunt, shaking your head.

"No, of course he'll like those things, but I mean..."

"Are you afraid they'll take him away from you?" Attacks Carol again and that leaves you speechless.

After what happened at Hilltop, you've talked to the group. You've ended up telling them all, whatever is going on between you and Daryl. Maybe your main idea was to take a load off your mind, to clear your head, but you were also hoping for some kind of advice, some encouragement from them. But you only found curiosity and gossip, which makes that every time Daryl is around or comes up in a topic of conversation, mocking looks fall on you, wanting to disappear.

"No. I'm not afraid they'll take him away from me. He's nothing of mine." You fight back, feeling yourself start to get angry, nervous. It always happens to you when you're cornered. "But I think if they knew him well, they'd know that Daryl is not one to be swayed by first impressions, and it's obvious that they're just trying to get his attention because of his physique..."

"They want to have fun with him, yes, that's obvious." Carol agrees, calming down her game a bit when she realizes she's pulling on you too much. "But you know Daryl and you shouldn't worry. I doubt he'll fall for their game."

"I'm not worried...but I find it a little depressing that every day they do the same thing, like hoping that in the end, out of desperation, he'll agree."

"As I say, I don't think you should worry, he's clear about his own interests." Says the white-haired woman again.

You raise your head once again directing your gaze towards the hunter. Rick nods his head several times, Daryl speaks and expresses himself with his whole body, with quick and nervous gestures, but both men seem to come to an agreement. Rick taps him on the shoulder affectionately, helping him with the gas canisters he has brought, Carl is also there to lend a hand, Abraham and Olivia, who notes down everything the archer has brought. Leaving the bike and the empty trailer, Daryl is left alone again, well, the group of young people is still by his side, waiting to get his attention, but the man passes by. Between his hands he fiddles with a piece of paper, it looks like a new list of things to do or bring. You tense slightly as you realize he is walking directly toward your house, toward Carol and you. The girls call out to him, but they stay back, they never get too close when he's with any of you, whether it's Denise, or Rosita or whoever, they prefer to talk to him when he's alone. Or at least try to.

"Here comes Romeo."

"Carol!" you groan, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Hey Pookie!" The woman greets him, ignoring your reproachful voice. "How was the ride?"

"Fine, fine. I brought gas from a stand that traded it for Walkers, they have huge barrels, ain't sure where they get it from or how it stays stable, but it'll help us for a few days." He comments with his voice in a growl. Carol nods. "I've also brought some parts Eugene needed for the radio, I'm going with him to the Commonwealth to see Princess and Merce, Rick has some stuff for them." He shrugs. You raise your eyebrows.

"You're leaving again?" you blurt out, perhaps sounding more distressed than you intend.

"Yes, tomorrow, I'll get some sleep today, pack a car with everything I need and leave early." She nods chewing her lip several times.

"But you just got here..." it sounds almost stupid and you watch as he just shrugs, not understanding why it's a problem.

It's not a problem, there's no problem really. You understand that it's his job, that despite how long Alexandria is his home, Daryl is more comfortable outside the walls, it's his spirit animal, it's who he is. But it's a selfish feeling, you'd like to see him at least a few days over there, calmly, simply enjoying the day, with you, perhaps, doing nothing else. A single heartbeat, strong, forceful against your chest makes you aware of what you have just thought. Your pulse quickens as your face must reflect everything you are thinking, for the faces of your companions change, they look worried.

You want him to stay in Alexandria, with you.

Fuck…

"Are you okay?" Carol asks you.

"Y-Yeah, just..."

"Wanna come to the Commonwealth?" Daryl's voice brings you out of your bubble completely.

"What?" you feel a little stupid for your question.

"It's a good idea." Rick's presence catches you by surprise. You hadn't even seen him, he's there, standing in front of you, hands on hips, with a kind and calm gesture, but at the same time he has an amused gleam in his eye. He knows something, surely Michonne has told him something. "Juanita is going to need help organizing the party she has planned, I'm also going to send Rosita, Enid, Eugene and another group to help, to organize it with Max as well."

"Yes, that's a good idea, besides it's been days since you've been out, I'm sure Connie will be glad to see you." You're encouraged by Carol, for a second you want to ask if she'll be happy to see you or Daryl, but you bite your tongue in time.

"Well, okay, that way I can see how Princess is doing too." You agree although still a little nervous. Daryl nods his head.

"Get some clothes ready, a backpack and we'll leave first thing tomorrow morning."

"Okay..." You nod watching as they all slowly leave, leaving you alone again with Carol.

"You really like him." She comments. It's not a question, there's no hesitation. She just mentions something so obvious it makes you shudder.

"I..." You gasp nervously, looking at Daryl.

"It's possible that you always liked him, but that none of them would have noticed."

"Sounds like a cheesy romance novel..." You mutter and she laughs.

"More like an erotic novel, don't you think?" she jokes getting your cheeks to flush bright red.

You decide to set about getting your things ready after your conversation with Carol. You don't want to think about it too much. Have real feelings for Daryl. Not just the sporadic sex you two have. That makes you nervous and anxious at the same time, you'd like to talk to the archer, ask him if he feels the same way too, but at the same time, you're afraid that he doesn't, and it will all end drastically and awkwardly for both of you.

You leave your backpack, your weapons, your things in general ready at the side of the bed. You go over the edge of your halberd, it's been days since you've been outside the walls of Alexandria, you want to have everything ready so that there won't be any problems later. At night you find it hard to fall asleep, you are nervous about the trip, it's nothing new, it has always happened to you. Sitting on your couch, with a book in your hands and a dim light, you try to lure yourself to sleep so you can go to bed when you hear a knock at the door. Frowning slightly, you put the book down on the couch to open the door. Daryl is on the other side. Maybe in another situation you'd be surprised he was there, but not now. A small smile forms on your mouth in greeting, he gives you a sidelong glance before entering the house as you step aside. The door closes slowly, neither of you needing to say anything. You lean against the wall as Daryl leans into you, kissing you slowly. Your arms go around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Falling asleep after that was much easier.

The next morning, the two of you wake up in your room, not for the first time, here or in Daryl's basement, since that night at Hilltop, sleeping together is also an option and in the mornings it doesn't feel strange, neither the situation, nor the conversation. Daryl gives a gentle touch to one of the legs lying on top of his, waking you up completely. You rub your eyes lazily to look up at him out of the corner of your eye. He looks asleep too, but greets you with a small smile.

"Morning." He grunts, you just hum, unable to find your voice yet. "I'm gonna go home to get my things, gotta everythin’ ready?"

"Yes...but, don't you want some breakfast first?" You offer, looking at him already with your eyes fully open and awake. He shakes his head.

"I'll eat something while I get the bike organized." He comments, you nod letting him free, you move your legs aside, Daryl gets up looking for his clothes.

"Okay, so I'll meet you later at the main house by the warehouse to get the wagon and horses."

"Okay." He nods, getting up, putting on the black sweater and vest.

Even today you find it painful to look at his back, there are many new scars due to the new world you live in, you all have them, but nothing compared to what the hunter has tattooed on him from his previous life. You sigh, earning Daryl a raised eyebrow, you shake your head.

"I don't know if I'll be able to get up." You joke, not wanting to worry him with your real thoughts. Daryl laughs through his nose, lowering his head, hiding his red cheeks with his hair.

"Don't be long, the Commonwealth is far, we need all day to get there, dun want us to get caught in the night." He asks you and you nod your head.

"Yes, sir." You smile, earning an intense stare, but the archer leaves without another word.

Later, already prepared, with your pack and weapons with you, you're finishing off the last few boxes in the wagon, Olivia making a list of everything you're taking with you as you tie the horses to the wagon. Daryl approaches down the same street, Rick meets him at the door of the house, greeting him with a gentle touch on the back to which the hunter responds with the same touch. Eugene and the rest of the group accompanying you are also ready to leave.

"I'll go ahead with the bike." Daryl says. "We'll position ourselves around the wagon to avoid any kind of assault or any Walkers getting too close."

"The group stay well aware, we know what the way there is like, we have communities that are allies, but there are always people who don't respect the rules." Rick speaks as well. "Don't waste ammunition unnecessarily, but don't be intimidated either."

"Don't worry, boss." Abraham says getting into his car. "We'll call in on the radio as soon as we get there."

"Go carefully." He asks you and you all set off.

Before you leave the community you see Carol standing by the front door, waving goodbye to you. A mischievous smile runs across her mouth and you look down, you know what's going through her mind and you don't want her to see your face turn red. A new trip with Daryl, which will keep you out of the community for a few days, surely Princess will offer you the hunter's old apartment, where he lived with the Grimes family. Thinking about it makes your stomach clench, butterflies flutter loudly almost making you dizzy. You shake your head to get those thoughts out of your head. The trip is going to be a long one, you need to stay alert on the road, the last thing you want is for your companions to end up in trouble because of your fantasies.

**********************

Princess and Merce are waiting for you at the huge gates of the Commonwealth when you arrive late at night. The sun is already setting leaving the uncertainty of the night behind you, but it has been an intense journey. You have been caught in an ambush of Walkers, two or three of which you have been able to deal with without much trouble, but further along the same road, they were cutting you off. Among them there was still some Whisperer, guiding them, using them as a shield to continue to survive. The supplies and yourselves are fine, but you arrive tired, covered in blood and mud, which does not prevent your friend from hugging you when you enter the community. Juanita gives Daryl a gentle hug, she has known the hunter for less time than some of you, but has learned that displays of affection with him are brief, with the rest she allows herself to give you a tight hug, smiling broadly and even laughs when she hugs Rosita, excited. Yumiko, Magna and Connie are also waiting for you in the main square, Max runs directly to hug Eugene who wraps his arms around her, happy to see her again. Merce approaches you giving you a handshake, the soldier is still stiff and formal, despite no longer working under anyone's orders.

"It's good to see you again." You hear Daryl mutter, out of the corner of your eye you see him gesturing to Connie. She smiles broadly, giving him a hug that he accepts without hesitation.

You don't like the way you feel at that moment. Connie is a wonderful person and an excellent friend, for your stomach to cringe like that when you see them together, you don't like it. You don't want to feel that way. You and Daryl are nothing and they seem to fit together perfectly. You wonder again what would have happened if the two of them had decided to stay in Alexandria or come to the Commonwealth together. You'd possibly see Daryl a lot less and you'd never have figured out those feelings you have for him.

"Shit..." You mumble under your breath. Magna looks up, they're getting the stuff from the cart where you are.

"Everything okay?" she asks you leaving several boxes in a small trailer being taken away by other soldiers from the community.

"What? Oh, yeah, it's just... it's been a long trip." You lie, though not entirely. Truth be told a shower and a bed wouldn't hurt right about now.

"Okay, let the boys take care of this, come with us." Princess says, taking her partner's hand and you all walk towards the main building. You have a small meeting at the entrance. Max hands out a few things among you, apartment keys, a few bags with some towels and food already prepared.

"We have placed most of you in your old apartments, the rest of you are also relocated to various houses. If you don't know how to get there, we'll drive you, I think some of you are coming to the community for the first time." She says looking at some of the companions who have come with you.

"There is hot water so you can take a shower, the apartments are clean and we have prepared something to eat for you." Max explains as well. "We guess you guys are exhausted, we'll talk about the party tomorrow."

"Daryl." Merce speaks after a while observing the situation. "You guys we've put you in Rick and the kids' old house. Where you were living."

"A'right, thanks... I figure it's time for a well deserved rest." He looks at you, your body trembles, you didn't expect him to invite you, although it's clear, where else would you go? Well maybe in some other apartment, or with Rosita and Coco.

You detect out of the corner of your eye how Connie looks at the two of you, curiously, and then she smiles biting her lip. You open your eyes wide, nervous, feeling your cheeks burn. Something knows, something senses, which is reaffirmed when Daryl gives you a tap to get your attention, you snap out of your self-absorption to look at him.

"Cmon?"

"Y-yeah, see you tomorrow." You smile a little.

"Is there something I should know?" You listen to Merce talk to Princess.

"Later at home I'll explain it to you." She replies kissing your cheek. "Everyone to rest." She gives the others permission to retire.

"You're good at being the boss." Rosita tells her, cradling Coco in her arms.

"Nope. Merce take care of everything, I just pretend I know what I'm talking about." She jokes, making the small group laugh. "People are a lot calmer now that things aren't ruled...well, like they used to be." He shrugs.

A party. The thought keeps running through your mind as you walk the dark but quiet streets of the Commonwealth. True, things are quiet, it almost seems like the world you once knew, but that's... you still remember the first party in that world of the dead. When you arrived in Alexandria, not knowing what was going to happen, who these people were, or if things would work out. Deanna invited you all to a party to welcome you, seeing dresses, party clothes, high heels inside the closet of what would be your new home made you a little dizzy, making you think that that community would not stand for long.

You were glad you were wrong about that.

"It's been a while since I've celebrated Christmas." You comment, not sure if you said it loud enough or just thought it. When you feel Daryl's gaze on you, you know you've caught his attention.

"We've never celebrated." He mutters, not giving it a thought. You look at him in surprise.

"Never?"

"Well, when I was a kid, but I don't remember much...it was just another day my dad came home drunk." He shrugs.

"I'm sorry to hear that..." You whisper pityingly. You know little and less about Daryl's life, only what he's told you, and truth be told, he's never been too cheerful.

"It's not like I care." He shakes his body. "We can do it so the kids can enjoy a different kind of day, gifts, sounds good to me."

"I have to figure out what to get Judith and RJ."

"It's not like you have much of a choice." He tries to joke and you laugh through your nose.

"You're right..." You stand there for a moment thinking. "Do you want to come with me to the mall?" You say it as a joke, but at the same time it's true, you'd like to take a quick trip to the mall near the Commonwealth, “I'm sure it's stripped down, but just to try it out.”

"To the mall next door?" he asks catching you by surprise. "Do you think there will be anything left?"

"I-I don't know, but I'd sure like to take a look."

"Okay, we can make a list, bring stuff for the kids here too..."

"And for us, I mean... I'm sure the others will be excited too."

"I guess."

A small smile tugs at your mouth, biting your lip to try to stifle it a little and not annoy the hunter, but you feel his gaze on you, one eyebrow raised, questioning.

"What?"

"Nothing, I'm just excited by the idea. Just from imagining the kids opening the presents." You laugh softly and he seems to catch it, snorting.

"You like kids." He understands, looking sideways at you, opening the apartment door. "But I've never seen you with one."

"The world went to shit, Daryl, remember? The thought of bringing a baby into this world scares me, I know we're safer now, that things are different than they were in the beginning, but..." You shrug, venturing inside the house, right behind him. "Besides at my age the chances of me getting pregnant are very small..."

"But it's not impossible." You cut off your thoughts. You look at him, twisting your head slightly, smile trying to joke and put your hands on your hips.

"Is it that you want a baby, Dixon?"

He looks at you, there doesn't seem to be any expression on his face, but the intensity in his eyes make your smile falter, forcing you to hold your breath for a few seconds before he shakes his head.

You, maybe.

"Nah, who'd want another Dixon for the world?"

"I know of a group that would love to help you with that." You can't bite your tongue in time. By the time you're aware of what you've said, Daryl is already looking at you with raised eyebrows and a pursed mouth. How stupid.

"What?"

"Nothing."

But you know his question is rhetorical. That he understood perfectly well what you were referring to, he's just trying to set the conversation straight. You're standing there, in the middle of the living room of the apartment, now it feels incredibly small to you, feeling suffocated, you'd like to leave the conversation there, tell him goodnight and tomorrow will be another day. But Daryl turns on his axis and walks towards you a couple of steps.

"You mean the group short shorts?" He says with an amused edge to his voice.

Oh. He's noticed it too. You think, but of course, how can you not? As Carol told you, why wouldn't nice legs and little ones still in place get his attention? They'd get your attention too if you'd like those things. You shake off those thoughts, taking a small step back, looking at him sideways.

"They are always waiting for you when you come back from some mission..." You try to justify yourself.

"They're just looking for attention. Besides I don't think I could handle all four at once. I'm not that good."

Your gaze shoots to him, there's a small smile on his mouth at the same time the tips of his ears look reddened. You hold each other's gaze for a few seconds before you laugh and lower your head, hiding the laugh between your teeth.

"Idiot."

"I have no intention with any of them." You say again. "I don't like them following me around either, but they don't listen to me."

"Bark, you're good at it when you're angry." You prod him and he snorts.

"I think you like it when I bark at you." He smiles moving a little closer to you.

"You don't bark at me...you just growl at me." You smile wanting to tease him, Daryl growls, brushing his nose against yours, a chuckle escapes you.

"You want me to growl at you?" he whispers against your lips, you nod.

"Yes..."

Opening your eyes you feel Daryl's arm around your waist, pressing you against his chest, fully asleep, or so it seems. Slowly, not wanting to wake him, you look up, discovering how calm and relaxed he seems. His other arm under his head, his disheveled hair falling over his eyes, his mouth half open, letting out several sighs that don't become snores. It is a privileged view that you try to burn into your mind. Very slowly you move between his arms, kissing his chin, the line of his jaw, but the movement wakes Daryl, putting him on alert. His huge hand covers your mouth as he turns sharply, standing over you. Your heart races at the sight of his still sleeping eyes. As he begins to become aware of where he is and who you are, he snorts and slowly lowers his hand from your mouth.

"I'm sorry. I was asleep..."

"I know, it's a miracle I didn't know existed." You joke and he rolls his eyes.

"Shut up. What were you doing?"

"Looking at you."

"That's creepy." He jokes and you laugh quietly.

"I like looking at you, you're so cute." You continue to sting watching his ears turn red.

"Why didn't you roll over and go back to sleep?"

"Because we have to go get the kids presents." You smile wider seeing him get a small smile too.

"Okay." He grunts letting you off the hook, sitting down on the bed to get his clothes and get dressed.

It's been days since you've dreamed of that time. Before you and Daryl started this relationship. The Christmas that changed everything for you.

Your relationship with Daryl started to become more evident and continuous from that first night in the Commonwealth. You went next to the mall, talking to Princess, Merce and Max about your gift idea, everyone thought it was a good idea and put together different requests from kids and teens in the community to try to bring everything. While you were looking for the last requests before Christmas day, the party was all organized, the room where it was going to be held was fully decorated, even a Christmas tree had been put up and was being surrounded by lots of presents, but some were left behind and you were doing your best to find them when you and Daryl heard a very soft cry coming from one of the tents.

There you found Oscar, a baby just a few months old, begging for attention, possibly starving. His mother was chained up not far from him and it was evident that she had not long ago been transformed. You didn't even hesitate, Daryl gave his mother rest and then took little Oscar in his arms, he was wrapped in a blanket with that name embroidered on it, so you decided to leave that name for the baby. When you returned to the community there was a small commotion when you saw the baby in your arms, many questions plastered on the faces and eyes of your companions.

"You were supposed to go for gifts for the children, where did you get that one?" Princess asked for the others.

You explained to them what had happened at the mall and no one doubted that you had done the sensible thing. On the other hand, the idea of adopting Oscar didn't cross your mind at first, in fact your idea was to leave him at the Commonwealth, surely someone would take care of him, but Daryl didn't think so.

"We kept it. We found him."

"Daryl, it's a baby, it's not a toy. You can't just… claim him..."

"And what yer gonna do, leave him here for someone to raffle off." He snorted and you opened your mouth but then closed it. If you thought about it...

"I'm just trying to find him a family."

"We could be his family!" He barked and you looked at him with wide eyes.

"We?"

"In Alexandria, I meant... all of us, in the community... you..." mumbled looked visibly nervous. You knew there was something struggling to get out but his mouth refused to spit it out.

"Fine, we'll take him with us to Alexandria, but you can't force me to have a baby, Daryl." You tried to make him understand. "Much less if I have to take care of it by myself."

Again you saw that gesture in him, like chewing his lip as his eyes searched for a spot to look other than you, the ideas building up in his head, but his mouth still didn't want to speak.

"You know Daryl. If you have something to say to me, say it, it's not good to keep things to yourself." You provoked him to speak, but he just turns and walks away. "I thought so..." You growled.

As Rick arrived with the others, even Carol with Ezekiel from The Kingdom, you had to explain again how you had found Oscar, earning you some funny looks from your friends, but you wanted to ignore them, however, in your mind Daryl's words followed, maybe you should take Oscar to Alexandria, he will be safe there too, after all there will be other mothers there who can help you if you had doubts, plus other children he could make friends with. Maybe you should listen to Daryl. During the day you took care of Oscar, taking care of him, bringing out your maternal instinct. It's not that you don't like children, you loved taking care of Judith and RJ, but you never thought you would become a mother. That day with Oscar in your arms, you ended up making the decision that you would be his mother and that he would come back to Alexandria with you.

Daryl got to you before you got to him. At the ball, after getting everything ready, the archer appeared through the party room, walking straight towards you.

"Daryl listen..."

"I wanna have a baby with ya." Your words got stuck in your throat. "Ya asked me if I wanted to have a baby, yes, if it's with ya." You were unable to speak, Daryl was breathing heavily, his nose swelling, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Saying all that was complicated for him, it was clear he'd had an intense argument with himself. "You said you didn't think you could have babies and suddenly Oscar has shown up...it's...I dunno..." He was stunned, he simply couldn't get his thoughts together and it was overwhelming him.

"Is that what you want? It would be a commitment... very long term, Daryl, it's..."

"Yer my girl, ain't ya? A commitment..."

"I'm your girl?" your heart raced violently at those words.

"Ya wanna a ring or somethin’?" he asked leaving you speechless once again.

The sparkle on your finger captures your attention, pulling you back out of the memories. You didn't need a ring for Daryl to make it clear how he felt, his words had already done that, but still the archer showed up with a ring that symbolized a little more of how he felt.

"You're such a romantic, Dixon." You laughed with him accepting the gift.

"We were already friends. The sex is fine. All that was missing was the baby." He told you and you laughed.

"Mom?" You hear in the hallway, putting you both on alert.

"Shall I go?" asks Daryl who is already sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Please, I'll be right there and fix some breakfast."

"Okay." He leans over giving you a kiss. "Coming, champ."

"Daddy!" replies Oscar with an excited shout.

You sit on the bed for a few more seconds, enjoying just that, the feeling that is enveloping you, in the distance, you hear Daryl's voice and Oscar's laughter enjoying his father's attentions. You close your eyes feeling goose bumps, your heart racing. How everything has changed with a few simple words.

"I can try…”

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diejager · 3 months

Note

how would the cod group react to someone who has medical conditions that affect them mildly but constantly throughout the day? Like, it’s very mild, but constantly there and noticeable

(Eds is a pain in the ass)

I don’t know what Ed was, but it gave me erectile dysfunction as a medical condition, or an eating disorder for mental disorder. I’m not sure which is which, so eh, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Parosmia Cw: I have no medical knowledge, this is all from google, mild medical condition, loss/distortion of smell and taste, triggering scents, tell me if I missed any.

You were transparent with your annoying condition, your documentation had it written down in medical conditions along with occasional tinnitus and sudden bouts of depression related to your distortion of scents. You’ve had some odours lose their potency, the fresh smell of cold aloe and cucumber dimming to a ghost of it’s freshness, and you’ve had scents that became too strong and nauseating, the usually delicious taste of steak became a nauseating rot and overpowering.

Laswell had disclosed it to Price the day she showed him your file, letting him know that your nose might comprimiseyour operations if anything triggered it, but that, form experience from working with you, you knew how to deal with the disgust and urge to puke. She left him with out much convincing needed, because he’d seen you work once in a past mission in Siberia, a clandestine OP that had him sweating despite the freezing tempature and you hadn’t batted an eye at the attrocious rotting of dead elks and wolves near the base. He let the others know and reassured them that it wouldn’t compromise the mission if it were triggered. Gaz and Soap were more enthusiastic about having you, a little excited of having another teammate to act out with or to prank, and Ghost was more apprehensive and careful about introducing a new operation, but he’d turn around —eventually.

And he did, Ghost was the most careful around you, making sure that his musk and sweat was too strong to your nose, he watched out for any triggering odours and made sure to memorise all your triggers. He might not know how it felt, but he could only sympathise, trying his best to relieve your annoyance and stop anything from happening if he knew how to. It surprised Price how fast Ghost had opened up to you, to your snark and snide replies and heart-stopping grins.

Fortunately, your parosmia was mild, a constant annoyance, but it was milder than the headaches Price had every night. He might not have as much time as the others to spend with you, but whenever he had the time, he would join your ragtag group for a drink in your room rather than the bar when he learned that the smell of oily and oversaturated fries and burgers had your head pulsing and throat clog up. He never brought up the need to go at a bar, he didn’t mind buying bottles and hide them in his office until the moment came for a night drink with his Task Force.

Suprisingly, Gaz was understanding, quick to drop something to help you if you had a moment. Gaz would help you lean over the toilet seat, his hand running down your back in a soothing pattern, encouraging you to let it out and praising you for being strong. He helped you to your feet, knees weak and still a bit nauseous, and cleaned your face with a wet towel and handed you a cup to rinse your mouth before he lead you to your room, seated on your bed and helping you sleep it off. Gaz was a softer shoulder to lean on, confident in his care and unworried about being caught cuddling with you.

And Soap, oh ignorant Johnny, was confused at first, he made mistakes here and there, but he’s smart and resourceful. He might’ve been confused, but he made up for it, coming up with the weirdest and most amusing way to help you around base. He was as obnoxious about it as he was shamelessly showering you with affection, hanging off your shoulder and babbling your ears off while he wafted a scented near you that he learned was relaxing and comfortably soft for your olfactory nerves.

They were surprisingly welcoming and went out of their way to make you comfortable in all and every form, you were honestly happy about it, even if you happened to annoy Ghost with your back talk as much as you did with Price, only encouraging and being encouraged by the younger men of the group.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts

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kimi240302 · 3 months

Text

Come back to me Part 1

A/N: Before you read this, I want you to know that my native language is different. So I am very sorry for any mistake. Nevertheless, I hope you will like my story and enjoy it.

Summary: The love story between Alec Volturi and Y/N Swan, was an unexpected one. Both didn't know what to make of each other when they found out they were soul mates. But they worked on it and created a beautiful strong love that not even Bella's hatred for the Volturi could destroy. But as in any good love story, tragedy was impossible to avoid in theirs. It came as unexpectedly as their love itself, and made the Cullens and Bella seem to win, while Alec and the Volturi were losing their light in the darkness.

Alec Volturi x Swan!Female!reader

Main Post / Twilight Masterlist/ Come back to me Masterlist

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"I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night me met I dont know what I´m supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you"- Lord Huron/ The Night We Met

Helplessness or powerlessness

Alec didn't know exactly which feeling had been eating away at his insides every day for the past two months, or was it perhaps both? Ever since he'd gotten the call from the Cullen Doctor that the woman he loved more than anything in the world was on the verge of death, Alec had felt like he was in a freefall into darkness. He was not present and yet not absent enough to be able to shut off his emotions from the pain he felt all the time.

Lost in thought, he looked down at his mate and ran soothing motions over her hand that lay in his. Y/N was still lying in the hospital bed in the hospital room in the city that Alec Volturi had learned to hate even more in the last two months than he had hated it before, Forks.

He had not been told exactly what had happened to her, because no one knew for sure how Y/N had left the road with her car and ended up in the lake. There was no storm that evening, no wet or slippery roads or anything else that could have caused the accident. The rest of the facts were also just speculation. Y/N had managed to get out of her car, but the temperature of the water was too cold for her to have the strength to swim to the surface afterwards. She had lost consciousness and only survived by pure luck. This lucky charm was called Jacob Black. He and the other wolves had heard the crash and had run as fast as they could to the lake.

"I always thought that our twentieth birthday would be the only bad memory that would burn itself into my brain and never want to leave." Alec looked away from his sister and ran both hands over his face. He felt something he hadn't felt in several centuries, tiredness. The vampire would love nothing more than to lie down next to his mate, close his eyes and simply sleep away Y/N's absence. But he had long since lost this ability, something he had never regretted until this moment.

Jane, who was standing at the window, looked at her brother in shock. It was the first time she had heard him speak since Y/N's accident, she had come back to check on him every now and then and had never been able to get more than single words out of him. The second thing that shocked her was that she and her brother had never spoken about what had happened, not since they had both turned. Jane sat down in the chair next to Alec and looked at him searchingly. "I'll be honest with you, brother, I've forgotten exactly what happened. Either it was too long ago or my memories are trying to protect me." Alec turned to his sister in surprise. "Really? My memories want to torture me, in this case, I guess. I remember every little detail."

He fell silent for a few moments, turned his gaze away from Jane and looked through the window at the cloudy sky. He had to grin slightly. He hated this town and yet its weather seemed to know exactly how the vampire felt at that moment.

Alec noticed how his sister's gaze seemed to bore deeper into his side profile with every passing second of his silence. His gaze lingered stubbornly outward as he continued. "I remember how you, me and mother were eating dinner when the villagers kicked down our door. I remember them chasing us through the forest with flaming torches and insults. I remember how we were captured and dragged to the dock on the shore. How we were tied to a stake on a pyre and insulted further. I remember mom trying to get to us and fighting against the people holding her. I remember how she broke free. How they grabbed her just before the stake and pushed her to the ground. I remember how she was kicked by the people she had known since childhood. I remember her choking on her own blood." Alec turned his head back to Jane. "But you know what the worst memory from that day is?" The blond vampire shook his head. "The flames. I remember the pain and the smell of our skin burning off piece by piece."

There was an intense silence between the two siblings for a few moments.

"Since when do you remember every detail?" Jane's voice had changed to a soft tone that she only used with her brother and Y/N. Alec's eyes drifted to his mate, reflecting the pain of the last few weeks. "Since the day I saw her lying here like that. Since then, I can't get it out of my head that fate always manages to sweeten my life, only to ruin it afterwards." The black-haired vampire jumped up and walked over to the window. "Alec, Y/N is alive. Carlisle…" "The Cullen doctor, doesn't know if she's waking up. He doesn't even know if she'll ever be able to breathe on her own again without that machine." Alec ran his fingers through his hair again.

His gaze wandered to the machine that displayed Y/N's vital signs and beeped along with her heartbeat. He looked at the machine, from which a tube led into his mate's throat. Alec knew that if it wasn't for that tube, his lover wouldn't even be breathing. The vampire took a closer look at Y/N. Alec swallowed, because there was hardly anything left of the girl from two months ago. Her skin was white and stretched against her body so tightly that you could see every single bone. Her cheeks were sunken and black spots had formed under her eyes. Her hair looked dull as it had lost its shine.

"I should have kept her in Volterra and bitten her the first time we met. Then she wouldn't have had the idea to come back here." Jane stood up instantly and stood in front of her brother, drawing his gaze from his mate. She put her hands to her brother's cheek and looked deep into his eyes.

"Alec, if you had kept her in Volterra the day she was dragged into our world without any preparation and turned her against her wishes, do you really think Y/N would have fallen in love with you? Do you think she wouldn't have listened to the Cullens and seen you for the monster you are to that clan? She would have hated you for the rest of your immortal lives. You would never have been able to reach her." Sadly, Jane turned her gaze to Y/N and back to her brother. "If she doesn't survive this, which I hope she doesn't, at least you had a time together with her that you would want to remember. Y/N loved you and always will. Hold on to that Alec, I beg you not to lose hope now."

Alec let his head grow heavier in his sister's hands. "What if I bite her now…. Maybe I can end this nightmare." Alec lifted his head stepped away from his sister and began his pacing. "I should never have let her go to Forks. The Cullens and her sister don't care about her safety like me, you, or the rest of the Volturi!" His eyes wandered helplessly back and forth between his sister's face and the lifeless-looking body of his mate. The feeling of powerlessness spread through him again, drilling into his bones like a disease.

Jane shook her head. "Carlisle said that our poison might just kill her faster and you couldn't stop her from coming to Forks. After all, she wanted to say goodbye to her father. You know she wouldn't have been able to see her father after her transformation." "Then I should have gone with her…" "Alec, you can't undo what happened. So stop blaming yourself." "I can't lose her Jane, I can lose anyone but her." Jane nodded knowingly. "I know Alec." She whispered. Alec stopped and accepted his twin's embrace. He tightened his hands in her top and lowered his head into the crook of her neck.

They were both there when their master Marcus lost his mate and how he was broken by it. They also saw how he suffered every day. Jane didn't want her brother to suffer the same fate. That's why she had taken the message that Y/N wanted to be turned very well. That way, the young girl would be out of the danger of being human. But ever since the call had arrived in Volterra saying that Y/N was on the brink of death, the thought that Alec could end up like Marcus was a shadow of every action the siblings had taken. Jane couldn't lose her brother and even if the blonde vampire didn't want to admit it, the same was true for Y/N. For the young girl had burned herself into her cold, non-beating heart. Jane also knew that it wasn't just her, but every single vampire who lived in Volterra.

Y/N had earned the nickname "The Sunshine of the Volturi". Because no matter how many prejudices the Cullens and her sister had tried to put into Y/N to turn her against the Volturi. The young woman had created her own images of each individual vampire, which placed her in a special role for each one. For the three kings and their wives, she became a daughter, someone they all wanted to take under their wing and show everything the world had to offer. To Felix, Demetri, Santiago, Afton, Chelsea and Jane, she became a sister. For the rest of the Volturi guard, she became a friend. For Alec, she became his companion, the love of his life and his best friend. What united the Volturi was one thought when it came to Y/N; they all wanted to protect her, whatever the cost.

Alec detached himself from his sister completely, walked around her and sat back down by his mate's bed.

"I'm so sick of this hospital room." He murmured. Carefully, Alec reached for Y/N's hand and clasped it with both of his. Slowly, he brought it to his mouth so he could leave a kiss on her fingers. Alec cursed his vampire existence at that moment, more than on other days. Because she had taken away his ability to cry. All he could utter was a silent whimper. Alec carefully placed Y/N's hand back on the mattress. He leaned towards the bed so that he could place one of his hands on her cheek while the other stroked tenderly through her hair. His eyes clouded over with pain.

"Did you know that you are so important to the Volturi that even the kings themselves were here to see you? Although Master Aro could see you through Demetris or through someone else, all three wanted to see it with their own eyes." He paused for a few seconds. "I think by now every Volturi has been here once. Your sister and the Cullens throw a fit every time they see another one of us." Jane quietly sat back down in her old seat and watched her brother closely. He removed his hand from her cheek and placed it on Y/N's hand.

"What I want to say to you, my Love, everyone misses you and everyone prays, I don't know to what or to whom, that you will open your eyes and brighten our lives with your light again. Volterra is so cold and dark without you. I miss you, so terribly that I can't even describe it anymore." Alec bit his lips and squinted his eyes. Jane placed her hand over Alec's and Y/N's. "Y/N I beg you come back to me, don't leave me behind in this world."

Jane opened her mouth to say something reassuring, but she was startled and looked down at the hand she had placed on her brother's and Y/N. Alec's eyes snapped open too, his movements in Y/N's hair stopped.

"Tell me you felt that too! Tell me I'm not going crazy Jane!" Jane just looked stunned at their joined hands and then at Y/N's face. "Alec…" Alec took his eyes off the hands and looked at his sister. She pointed at Y/N with her free hand, "Look!"

Y/N's eyelids twitched slightly and all hell broke loose.

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

@rosedpetal @bofadeezs

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 6 months

Note

OMG! I’m so happy for you, 5K is so exciting and you deserve it so much. I (live laugh) loveeeeeee your writing style so so so so much and I’ve just about read every fic you’ve made like 30 times over. I have an idea for a Soap nsfw fic that I’ve been wanting to submit since I found your account and I think this is the perfect time.

Rivals to lovers? Soap and reader were cadets together during their training/pre-selection days of the SAS, they were both top of their “class” and would often try to one up one another? Despite that, they would have one another’s backs. Eventually, after SAS selection, they parted ways and maybe a few years later (just after the events of MW2 2022) they reconnect as they’re both assigned to a mission. Sexual tensions high after years of not seeing each other? and goes sideways and they have to end up staying at a safe house (One bed trope?) and then things escalate from there?

Thank you for opening your requests for this momentous occasion! I’m so so happy for you and I’m so so excited for the next work you put out!

—Still The Same Fools

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [There was always a rivalry between you two - that hasn't changed even if both of you have. Years later, the boiling point is finally met.] ❞

“I told you it was a bad idea,” you tilt your head, tightly wrapping your left thigh; bandages you pull harder, grunting as the flow of blood slows.

The safehouse is cold—and it’s snowing outside worse than a shaken snow globe on a massage chair, flakes as big as your hand slapping the window.

Johnny’s trying to start a fire, shoulders all wound up as you stare at his tension-ridden back.

“MacTavish,” you call, glaring. “I’m talking to you.”

“Aye,” he grunts, flicking his lighter three times before the smallest of flames sparks up—he quickly moves it to the dry logs, letting it take to the kindling. “I have ears.”

You grimace, shaking your head.

The history between the two of you was long—dating back to the days when you’d both signed up. You’d bled together, failed, and won together, even if the tensions were visible in the air as much as the long glances were. SAS selection had been the point where your clashing attitudes had been put on pause; things were getting more serious now—there was no going back. Only a year in you’d both seen the last of each other.

Or, you thought that at least.

A mission—Norway during a blizzard. Full coverage and the means of a Capture-Or-Kill.

“You want to explain to me why you still decided to rush in like that?” You push, voice digging.

The room was weighed down by heat—not from the now sizzling fire itself but from the stiff look that’s passed your way. You blink, Soap’s blue eyes darker than they had been. With a low grunt, the usually sarcastic and blunt man stands, beginning to stalk over with hard steps. Bodies layered with sweat and grime, you release the shreds of the bandages around your bare thigh; pants half down your legs.

Frowning, you ignore the soar in your heart rate and let him move up to the rickety chair you sit in, his hands coming down to lean into the armrests on either side of you.

You hold back a gasp as his face is shoved into yours.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he utters, accent stiff, and both of your eyes battling one another for dominance that neither wants to give up. Two feral wolves at each other’s throats. “Maybe it was to make sure the old Hen of mine didn’t get herself killed.”

You snap back immediately, faces closer and breath puffing over skin. “You don’t trust me?”

“Never said that,” he grunts, stubble shifting into a frown.

You scoff, nose brushing against his as heads tilt. “Prove it. Because right now, I’m hearing a lot of bullshi—”

Lips smash into yours.

The affair that night was a rabid tangle of shed clothes and loose limbs, bare skin bloody and sweat-stained long before any action had even been taken. The wound at your thigh was of little concern as the fast shove of Johnny’s pelvis sent his cock dragging along the walls of your cunt.

“Fuck,” you gasp, head tilting back to connect with the floor as the fire spreads light over the safehouse. “God, right there. Right there, Johnny.”

Your legs tighten around his waist, a thin stream of crimson moving down your flesh as the sound of slapping wet skin echoes over and over again. Like a loyal dog, the man smirks into your neck as he bites, sucking and groaning all the more as you tighten around him with a shiver of electricity working its way down your spine straight to your core.

You whine as he grabs your chin, glaring weakly until your glossy eyes blur the space behind his head.

“Like that, do you?” He teases, hand firm and unyielding. “Tell me you like it, Dearie.”

“Go,” you pant, fingers digging into his mohawk and pulling. Johnny’s blown pupils widen even farther, hips thrusting harder and making you moan in his hold—him doing the same, with a more cut-off version that would make a pornstar blush. You force out, “screw yourself.”

He feels you tighten even farther around him, his jaw clenching as his abdomen bunches, trying to hold off his approaching orgasm.

“I think I’m enjoying this more, see,” he sloppily kisses the side of your mouth, licking at the skin. Everything about this was pent-up lust—messy sex in both the literal and metaphorical sense.

His tip caresses your womb, pulling almost all the way out of you before jerking forward and grinding moments after. His pelvis massages your clit, textured walls like a noose trying to keep him in. Your fluids leak out to coat his thighs a nice shiny clear. Muscles glide over yours, the dip and swell of flesh addictive.

A growl is sent into your face.

“Pull my hair again.” You do so, listening to the animalistic groans as your body moves up and down on the floor, cutting off exhalations of air puffing out from open mouths.

“Harder,” your gasp, “fuck me harder, Sergeant.”

A hand slams into the wood beside your head, the other moving to press into your stomach. You nearly cry when you can feel his cock hammering against the thin flesh of your abdomen.

You tighten around him and arch your back, lips brushing against his as you strangle down a loud plea for release. Your fingers latch and twist Johnny’s head to the side as the cord in your snaps.

“Fuck,” Johnny draws out the curse, eyes rolling back as you bare down on him ruthlessly, thighs tense and stained with blood and cum as your orgasm seeps violently down the swell of them.

He follows with a loud gasp, letting you feel the gush of his spend as it fills you to the brim, leaking out with every failing cant of his hips into yours.

The man loosens and lets his limp head hit your shoulder, body shaking as he stays above you only enough to keep his full weight from crushing you. It’s a long time before either of you find the words to speak.

“Round two?” Johnny asks.

You blink and feel the small sparks of pain in your thigh. It was nothing serious.

“Yeah,” you shrug, voice breathless and cunt spasming. “Why not.”

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promitto-amor · 5 months

Text

When the real baby comes

King Caspian X You

Summary: When King Caspian's wife is missing one morning, Caspian sets out to track her down after hearing some surprising news. (Post the Dawn Treader)

Warnings: None! Quite fluffy!

I couldn't have jumped fictional men more than going from Mark Hoffman to Caspian, but here we are far down the rabbit hole of one of my old childhood crushes. I've never written anything for Caspian so it was time to do him justice. Plus KING Caspian just does something to me. There is soooo much potential for him!

Caspian always missed his Queen’s warmth whenever she chose to wake before him. Rolling onto his back, the left side of the bed was cold, the pillow still at a diagonal from where the Queen had slept. His hand runs over the sheet as his mind wanders to just what could have lulled his wife from Caspian’s arms. Most likely an early morning ride, but you could do that any day. Perhaps you’d gone to make breakfast as you were sometimes inclined to do. Maybe you’ll come striding in with a picnic basket, ready to invite Caspian out to the shores of Cair Paravel.

It is a Sunday after all, the one day you and Caspian always dedicate to each other. It would be nice to spend one of the last days of Autumn on the beach before it gets too cold to enjoy it.

Caspian lets the daydreams linger as he fully comes round for the day. There is still no sign of you, and so Caspian pulls back the duvet, pushes back his hair and attempts to face the day. At lease Sundays mean no holding court and there are no diplomatic guests to host this week. It’s a rare day that is entirely Caspian’s own and he intends to spend it with his wife.

There is a note left on the bedside table, that’s more like his Queen. Caspian reads it with one hand while he pulls out a dark shirt and matching pants to wear for the day.

You’ve gone out with the wolves, again? That makes it seven times in one month, which is generally excessive. What would be so important that you couldn’t wait to tell him in person?

Shrugging on boots and an overcoat, Caspian sticks his head out of the Royal Quarters, “Trufflehunter?” There’s a small cough from an armchair a short way down the corridor, near the stairs. “I know you’re there.” Caspian stands in the doorway, hands resting on his hips.

“My King,” The badger comes shuffling to greet him, dropping his head in a show of respect, “Good Morning.”

“I hope it will be,” Caspian glances behind the badger, but no one else is with him, “The Queen left me a note saying she’s out with the wolves. I know that means you’ve seen her today.”

The badger appears to be acting sheepish, “Well…yes.” He says, “You know how the Queen is, my King. There is no persuading her to wait when her mind is set on something.”

“Did she tell you what is so important that she’s out with the pack again?”

“She said she was getting in some training with the youngest cub.” Trufflehunter is fiddling with his fingers, “After all, no one has a way with the wolves like Her Majesty does.”

Caspian hand comes to rub at his face, “Yes she has mentioned that, but why does she not wish for me to join her? Don’t think I haven’t noticed she likes to go out when I’m preoccupied, or having a rest.”

“I’m certain you do so much for Narnia, that rearing wolf cubs is the last of your priorities.”

Caspian can’t quite fight back his sigh as he sags against the doorframe, “Alright time to come clean, old friend.”

The badger sputters at once, “Your Majesty?”

“What is she hiding?”

“Nothing!” But on a stern look from Caspian the badger crumbles, “If I am entirely honest with you, I don’t quite know.” Trufflehunter’s nose droops in the direction of the carpeted floor, “Her Majesty has been acting suspicious as of late. Last night Trumpkin found her ensuring her tack was prepared, most likely for today’s excursion.”

“She’s taken Tempest?” Caspain’s alarm begins to rise, “Why are they going so far as to need her horse?”

“Wolves run fast?”

Caspian’s had enough, if Trufflehunter will only give him half-answers then Caspian will go to his next source. The badger hurries after him as Caspian takes long strides towards the breakfast room. Seated at the long table, Trumpkin the Dwarf drops his toast on his beard on seeing the King’s expression, “I told her to wait for you!”

“What is she up to?” Caspian doesn’t bother with a greeting, he and Trumpkin go too far back to bother with niceties.

“You know what’s she’s like with those bloody wolves.” Trumpkin resumes buttering his toast, “Obsessed with them. I know how much she did to make the Narnians accept the wolves again after the White Witch, but they got on fine before she started hand rearing them herself. Wild animals, aren’t they, even if they do talk.”

“There’s more to this than either of you are letting on.” Caspian deduces, catching the look Trumpkin sends Trufflehunter between Caspian’s legs. He takes a measured breath, aware of the other Narnians present at the breakfast table, including Lord Bern. “My Apologies,” Caspian offers.

“A runaway Queen, dear Aslan my boy.” Lord Bern shakes his head, “Could it be something you have said or done?” Caspian thinks back, “No…I don’t think so?”

Had he, was his Queen off galavanting with her wolves because of him?

“No,” Trumpkin is quick to interject, “No, no nothing like that! She just said that she wants to practise with the littlest cub, so that she’s ready for when the real baby comes.”

Silence falls as Trumpkin’s eyes widen. His hand slaps over his mouth as Caspian’s adrenaline surges into overdrive. He looks back to Trufflehunter to find the badger too is glowering at the dwarf, “Well done.” The badger rolls his eyes, “A fine way to tell him.”

Lord Bern rises from his seat, “My King…”

Caspian’s body feels like lead, his feet trip over one another as he tears out of the breakfast hall, “Excuse me, Lord Bern!” He shouts, breaking into a run. Caspian knows he must look a stare, running through the halls of his castle, out onto the grounds and practically slamming open the stable doors.

Destrier lifted his head lazily, “What’s got you so upset?” The horse asks, watching as Caspian seizes the nearest saddle.

“We need to find the Queen.” Caspian’s voice is the one he uses when leading into battle. It’s a tone Destrier picks up on straight away, as the horse doesn’t complain when Caspian fixes his bridle in place and swiftly mounts him.

“Which way?” Destrier asks and Caspian pauses, stricken for a moment. Would you go North to Owlwood, or South near the Rush River?

If you were training a wolf cub, Caspian is certain you would want to end up near the Dancing Lawn, or perhaps pay your respects at the Stone Table? He sets off heading South and vows to ride until he finds you.

Once they are out of Cair Paravel and the surrounding villages, Destrier wrinkles his nose, “I smell wolves.” He calls, “We’re on the right track.”

“Good,” Caspian calls, pushing Destrier into a full gallop. “I hope you’re ready for quite the ride, my friend. My wife doesn’t exactly keep near the castle.”

“She’s as bad as you!” Destrier returns.

Over an hour into their ride, Caspian hasn’t seen any sight of you. Destrier continues to follows the wolves air scent, which is good enough for now. Caspian’s kept busy by the whirlwind of thoughts rattling through him. Finally, when they are almost at the Dancing Lawn, Destrier whinnies. A wolf is padding along through the grass, unable to camouflage itself amongst the crunchy Autumnal leaves. As Caspian’s eyes peer through the trees, more wolves come into sight till finally Caspian spies Tempest, your blindingly white horse walking dutifully by your side.

You’ve heard Caspian’s noisy arrival, as he slows Destrier to a stop beside you, “Caspian?” His name leaves your lips as he swings a leg off Destrier and drops onto the ground, “What on Earth are you doing following me?”

“Is it true?” He’s panting so hard he can barely get the words out. You come to a stop, one hand wrapped around a golden lead. On the other end is a snow white wolf cub, barely twelve weeks old.

“Is what true?” You ask, bewildered at the sudden appearance of your winded, sweaty husband.

Caspian glances at the wolves, who have started to inch closer to their friend. Caspian knows they would never hurt him, not since becoming friends of Narnia, but it’s still disconcerting to have your entire pack’s eyes on him. He takes you gently by the arm, “Are you pregnant?”

Caspian’s question sends a ripple through the animals. The wolf closest to the cub, one Caspian knows as Dara comes to stand by her cub on instinct, while your horse, Tempest inhales loudly beside you. Caspian cares for no one’s reaction but your own. Your mouth falls open softly, “Who told you that?”

“Trumpkin said you were out here practising.” Caspian takes your hands in his own, the cub’s lead dropping amongst the leaves. “You must know you don’t have to run from me, or feel like you can’t tell me.”

“Caspian,” You begin, but Caspian has to get it out.

“I know we haven’t spoken about it much, but I would be more joyful than-”

“Caspian.” You say laying a hand on your husbands chest. Your firm tone combined with your touch is enough to settle Caspian just to hear your answer.

Your eyes soften further, sympathy shining through as your hand runs up his chest to cup his cheek. He doesn’t expect the plummet his heart takes as Caspian can read the answer on your face, “I’m not pregnant.” You murmur, thumb stroking his stubbled cheek.

He maintains the eye contact and you don’t break it, “You’re certain?”

“We would smell if the Queen was with child.” Dara says, nosing at her own cub. “She would smell stronger.”

Your other hand takes Caspian’s own and lead him away from the pack, behind a large Hickory tree, “You came riding all this way, because you thought I was pregnant?”

“You have been out with the wolves often, I have noticed.” Caspian insists, clutching to his reasoning which seems wild now he thinks on it. “Trumpkin said you were practising for when the real baby comes.”

“Ah,” You bite the inside of your cheek, “I can see where he became confused.” You say, your tone still annoying gentle. “I am out working with the wolves, but not because I’m expecting. If I was with child Caspian, I promise you that you would be the first to know. I wouldn’t leave you clueless.”

Caspian swallows, working through the information, “Trufflehunter also seems to believe you are.”

“Those two spend most of their mornings gossiping together.” You roll your eyes, pushing some of Caspian’s unruly hair out of his eyes, “You should hear what they say about the Dryads.”

Caspian allows you to gently fuss over him. Your touch never fails to calm him as his arms wrap around your waist and his nose buries into your neck. You hold him tight and Caspian tries to push down the swell of loss he feels. You pick up on it anyway, placing a kiss to his lips, “You are the best husband I could ever ask for.” You assure him, “You rode like a madman to come track me down.”

“I had to know.” Caspian says, “I was ready to tell you off for riding.”

“Oh don’t start.” You push him away lightly, “You’d better not become a helicopter father or I’ll start getting truly sneaky.”

He catches your hand in his and pulls you back into his arms, “I’m sorry for startling you.” Caspian murmurs, “You must have thought something had happened.”

“For one horrible moment.” You nod, letting your fingers play with his hair. Caspian’s eyes slip shut, taking in your body and your warmth once again. Around him nature calls with life, the wolves padding impatiently on the ground, the rustle of leaves in the wind and the playful whispers of the trees.

“Hang on,” Caspian pulls back enough to see your face, “So if it wasn’t us, what’s the ‘real thing’ you’re practising for?”

You glance from your husband to Dara. The wolf mother nods, her cub’s lead now between her teeth. You walk over and take the offered lead back into your hand, the white wolf cub bounding along beside you as you begin to walk again. “You know I have a bit of a habit for rearing what some would call dangerous animals.”

Caspian falls into step with you, “A bit?” He jokes, “Between wolves, marsh-wiggles and sprites. If it hadn’t been trying to kill us, I’m sure you’d have jumped off the Dawn Treader and tried to befriend that Sea Serpent.”

You wrinkle your nose and with a gesture of your hand, the wolves reform their hunting formations, spreading out across the woods, “Well I might have found something that may just beat out a sea serpent.”

You lead the way for another fifteen minutes or so in the direction of Aslan’s How. A route Caspian has become less familiar with than years ago, nostalgia fills him as you tread across the open field towards the great tomb. The land still bears the odd mark of battle, craters where Caspian’s grand ambush plan had succeeded litter the once flat field and tree roots wind across some of the gaps, forming bridges one with good balance could walk across. Caspian expects you to stop near the entrance, “What are we doing here?” Caspian didn’t even know you knew of the How, never mind what this place had meant for Caspian. Sanctuary, security, victory. You hadn’t been present in Narnia when Caspian made his stand against his Uncle Miraz. Back then you had been nothing more than a legend, imprinted on the walls of the how.

The How is continually lit by torchlight, a feat no one quite knows how or why. Caspian assumes old magic, the presence of the Great Lion himself still within the walls of such a sacred place. You venture into the narrow corridors, but you don’t head towards the Stone Table, instead you veer right. “I wanted to keep it somewhere warm, but protected.” You turn to Caspian, “You can feel the magic in the air here. Aslan still watches over.”

“Not as much as you.” For Caspian never felt as in tune with the Great Lion as his wife did. His fingers run past a mural of the Kings and Queens of Old, past a more recent mural Caspian never remembers seeing before. A White Knight faces down the White Witch’s wand. Caspian’s stomach flips as he catches the familiar hair which streams from the figure’s helmet. “It’s you,” He murmurs. “The first time you were in Narnia.”

“And the second,” You point to another mural, there you are again dressed in your signature white battle armour. This time on a parapet of the old Cair Paravel, a horn raised in one hand against the army of Trechebuchets Caspian’s ancestors had used to destroy the castle during their invasion. You don’t pay it much heed, instead you keep pressing deeper into the tomb. “I do wonder when another will show. There’s much the walls could document from our adventures at sea.”

As you come to a stop, Caspian realises the wolves haven’t followed you both inside the tomb. It’s just the King and his Queen.

He peers over your shoulder as you kneel down before a nest of hay. He watches your hands disappear and remove an egg from the hidden hay pile. “What is that?” He breathes.

“I’m not entirely sure,” You admit, “But based on the scales and size, I have a good guess.”

Caspian stares at the egg you hold out for him. It’s the largest he has ever seen, not that Caspian has seen many eggs larger than a chickens in his lifetime. His eyes flick to yours and that sickening feeling is back, “It can’t be.”

Your eyes are dancing with excitement, “I think so.”

“No,” Caspian takes a step back, “They…The mother would never leave it.”

“I saw her.” You say, “You know there’s been more and more poachers as of late. Calormens stepping onto our lands, wanting to harvest the creatures magical properties. I saw her fly off, if she wasn’t being persecuted then she would never have left her egg.”

Caspian’s mouth drops open, “Is that what you’ve been doing?” He asks, “You’ve been out looking for a dragon?”

“That’s why I took the wolves.” You say it so simply, so easily. “They’ve been helping me track her. We think she’s near Underland.”

Caspian takes your face between his hands, “What do you plan to do when it hatches?”

You answer is evident, “Only until we can reunite the baby with it’s mother.”

“The dragon books in the library.” Caspian pinches the bridge of his nose, “I thought you were just interested in the legends. That’s all I thought they were, legends.”

“You saw Eustace as a dragon, did you not?” Sarcams fills you voice, “You know as well as I do that dragons are very much real and exist in Narnia.”

“Then why haven’t we seen them?”

You don’t have much of an answer, “Look what’s happened to the first one we have.” You say, “Hunted for her scales and goodness know what else.”

It’s your turn again to assuage your spouse. You place the egg carefully back amongst the hay pile and cover it up again, “Do you trust me?”

“You know I do.”

“Then you have to know that I won’t let this go.”

Caspian rolls his head back in a slow circle, “No, you won’t.” He meets your eyes and barely holds back his own smile at your excitement. “But we are finding the mother and you are giving that egg to her as soon as possible.”

You nod, happy now you’ve got your way. “I’ll gladly welcome the help dispatching the poacher groups along the way too.”

“You will be the death of me.” Caspian grumbles, as you wind your arms around his waist and place a kiss to his cheek. “If I didn’t admire your heart so much, I’d leave you here in the woods where you belong.”

“You made me your Queen,” You almost sing, “You can’t get rid of me now.” You wind your arms back around Caspian’s neck, “And who’s to say that once we’ve reunited baby and mother dragon, we can’t get to work on our own baby?”

#king caspian #caspian x #the chronicles of narnia #narnia #prince caspian #king caspian x you #king caspian x reader #prince caspian x reader #trufflehunter #trumpkin #you are a queen of narnia #caspian's wife

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rise-my-angel · 11 months

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

2 - Mouth of the Lion's Den

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 11.2k

Warnings: Slow Burn, strained parent-child issues, mentions of minor character death, injured/sick child mention, slight canon divergence

Notes: We're in the thick of the plot now. Based on the show but will include direct book elements. Previous Chapter Here.

You used to not travel very well as a child. The first time you left Dragonstone was right at the crux of the seasons change. Summer had ended, and it was a quick Autumn which felt far more like winter the more North you sailed. The sea was always cool, and the north was cooler. When you returned to Dragonstone some months later, Maester Cressen had said that the mix of seasons being the first time you left home is what caused you to get so ill.

What a meeting it was. Lord Stark had told you that it was halfway through your first meal with them when you collapsed. Barley touched anything on your plate which they first thought you just weren’t used to the food. That was until you collapsed onto the floor just as you stood from your seat as you burned up.

Whatever it was, it went through you fast and terrifying to the point where Maester Luwin had told Lord Stark to prepare to send a raven in case the worst happened. It didn’t though, you slept through the fever and by the time you awoke, you remembered none of it. You assumed you fell sick before arriving at Winterfell that’s how little you were really aware of anything.

It wasn’t like that anymore, but as you had sat in your room at the Inn days ago it did make you wonder what could have possibly hit Lord Arryn faster and harsher then that. Despite his age, he was more healthy as an older man then you were at the age of eight. Yet you had survived and his sickness burned through him in one single night.

Perhaps you had too much time that night to think on it, no one really was in any mood to converse after what happened. Once Lord Stark had put Lady down, he had you go find Jory. “Tell him to choose four men and have them take the body back North. Bury her at Winterfell.” He had taken the girls to their rooms, and even in the muffled quiet you could hear Sansa crying through the walls. Arya’s cries would be too quiet to hear, but you were no fool to think her chasing off Nymeria just to save her life wouldn’t leave the child in tears of her own.

So the Inn was silent, save for the low tones coming from Lord Stark’s own room. One where he laid the truth out, what Lysa has sent her sister, what it said about the Lannisters. He asked you what did you notice from before he died, and you were honest. Very little.

Your lord father had kept you away on purpose. He and Lord Arryn distant and secretive, and you had suspected you were sitting on small council meetings not just in his place but as if it would keep you preoccupied from their doings. Which it worked, but it also was not enough to dull you. Lord Stark agreed that it all worked out too seamlessly, Lord Arryn dies suddenly from an unknown illness, Stannis Baratheon urgently marries his firstborn daughter off to a far northern house as he himself flees to Dragonstone.

They both knew something, and what that was, sent your father away on his own accord. Shutting himself back on the grim island and leaving you to the wolves and the lions.

“You’re our family now. You are as good as one of my own daughters, and we protect our own. You stick by me once me get to Kings Landing. Work by my side, you’ll stay in our quarters with the girls until we learn what it is Jon Arryn died for.” Once again, that lingering feeling sat in your gut that walking out of the capital wasn’t going to be as easy as walking in this time around.

Now, sitting atop your horse once more you felt even less happy about being back then you had leaving the north. Your face flat and cold like stone as you rose through the crowds welcoming the King and his company once more. The cart behind you carrying the girls, Sansa no doubt bright eyed and taking in the awe of a place she dreamed would be for her. Arya you knew no doubt, was already wondering just how much she would explore when left to her own curious devices.

Just ahead of you, a page awaited everyone’s arrival. Calling to Lord Stark for a small council meeting at Grand Maester Pycelle’s request. You dared not move an inch thinking about how typical it was that such a meeting wasn’t called by the King himself, despite no doubt arriving before you all had. Oh the many matters of your King Uncle to attend too. So much wine to drink, and so many whores to fuck.

Lord Stark calling back, “Jory, get the girls settled in. I’ll be back in time for supper.” Calling your name, you climbed off your horse as he beckoned you. “You’re with me.”

The Page glancing over his attire and yours as you approached, “If you’d like to change into something more appropriate…” The combination of yours and Lord Stark’s unmoving stare causing him to stammer and backtrack. Any other time you may have considered it, but now you were here in place of your fathers position and spending time dolling yourself up once more looked more and more like a waste of time.

Renly had once told you every time you return to Kings Landing, you seem to be more and more of a splitting image of your bore of a father. He might be onto something in truth.

The Red Keep had not changed, and nothing passed your mind to care to think about it until the doors to the Throne room opened and right at the top looking up at the Iron Throne was just another face you wished not to see so early in the morning. Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, and twin brother to the Queen, he certainly held all the superior smugness of such titles in his very posture had seemed to arrive far earlier then yourself.

A little nod did not suffice as you wished it did, as he saw fit to open his mouth as soon as you came even slightly close. “Lady Baratheon- or, I suppose it’s Stark now isn’t it? Already quite adjusted to the northern boys afterall, aren’t you?” Barley managing to muster up the weakest of half smiles he only grinned more, leaning in to give a fake too-loud whisper in your ear. “I do hope you weren’t too broken in for your new husband, would hate to break the boys heart before he even had a chance.”

Biting your tongue, you were sure had he not found victim in Lord Stark behind you, the pressure would’ve drawn blood. You didn’t wait, making your way into the small council chamber with little care of greeting those already present, for the most part.

“Ah, the newly named Lady Stark. I must congratulate you on your marriage, always nice to see the young love flourishing. Shame to be torn apart so early on.” Nodding, you managed more of a smile this time. You didn’t particularly trust Lord Varys but considering he was the man who likely knew so much he could tell you what you had for breakfast three days ago, playing nice was better then not playing at all.

“Thank you, Lord Varys. But, he has Winterfell to run and I have my work here. I’m sure Robb understands.”

Passing to the table, you nodded to Grand Maester Pycelle, and saw fit to ignore the other party in the room without any shame in doing so. Not that you would be aware of, but to the others it really was as if Lord Stannis had walked in like normal. The man having no patience for Petyr Baelish as well. If anyone lit your gaze up slightly, it was the smirk of the younger man already waiting by the opposite end.

Renly had no qualms about approaching you with a casualness, and no need to pretend as if either of you cared to be formally civil. “I can’t tell if the north suits you my dear niece, or if it’s just being around this lot making you so much more droll.”

Arms crossed in front of you, an eyebrow quirked up as he held a smirk. You’d hit him later. “Shame you were so busy Uncle, would have been nice to have at least one other family member there to share the festivities with.”

Hardly a secret anymore, most in the court knew of Renly’s private preferences but you might be the only one who knew it without any doubt. The only one it seemed, that he trusted to know as well. Not that his brothers would despise him for it, but certainly the King a bit too crass to not be offensive and well, least to say your father was not exactly a comforting kind of man. He wouldn’t care and he certainly would make you feel as such for it.

“What can I say, so much work, so many laws to look into.”

Your eyes glint, passing right by with a tone only audible enough for him, “Swordplay isn’t a law, last time I checked.” You’d be a fool to think Renly didn’t take advantage of so much of the royal court being away, not to lock himself up in his chambers with a certain flower for as long as he could get away with.

Not that you were in such a position to dare judge.

Your father used to get annoyed constantly by the lack of work Renly was properly given, but it might be he expected too much. Renly had a tendency to be handed easy tasks and get more credit then the nights your own father spent buried in papers in his office would accomplish. Leaning your hands on the top of what was now your seat, you watched the others greet the now approaching Lord Stark.

“We are all praying for Prince Joffery’s full recovery.”

Oh the rewards the gods should bestow upon you for how little you changed your expression. He gets one bite from a barley grown Direwolf and he has the realm on it’s knees pretending to sob at the tragic wounds. You had more scars on you from being hit with sticks and practice swords over your childhood before the spoiled Prince ever reached that age.

Even in Winterfell, you watched him get angry and frustrated at how often Robb would hit him in the courtyard simply beacuse he had no idea what he was doing. The Hound having to remind him even that he demanded they spar just to show off, and he can’t stand there and whine blaming Robb for doing exactly what he asked.

Besides, not that anyone had asked, you’d have to admit that not all bites from a wolf were entirely bad. At least it took as long as it did to get back to Kings Landing, those marks having healed over by the time it became too hot to cover them up then in the northern cold.

Renly’s voice from beside you, “You look tired from the road, I told them this meeting could wait another day but..”

“But we have a kingdom to look after.” Looking over you saw a strange smile on Lord Baelish’s face and so did everyone else if the uncomfortable air in the room was honest. “I’ve hope to meet you for some time, Lord Stark. No doubt Lady Catelyn has mentioned me.”

“She has, Lord Baelish. I understand you knew my brother Brandon as well.”

If Lord Baelish could have purposely made things more uncomfortable you think the room might have melted away just to escape it. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard whispers of his affection for her, but it was brazen of him to be so open about it in front of her husband of over twenty years.

Settling in, you sat beside Lord Stark as Renly pulled out a paper, explaining to the council that the King wasn’t exactly a common presence at the small council and most of these matters were left without his input. “My brother has instructed us to stage a tournament in honour of Lord Stark’s appointment as Hand of the King.”

Didn’t take being Master of Coin to know the money wouldn’t be coming from the surplus of the Crown. Grand Maester Pycelle’s frail voice piping up, “Can the treasury bear such expenses?”

As if ordering food from a servant, Lord Baelish waved the concern. “I’ll have to borrow it. The Lannisters will accomodate, I expect. We already owe Lord Tywin three million gold, what’s another eighty thousand.”

You felt for Lord Stark beside you, “Are you telling me the Crown is three million in debt?”

Looking firmly at the table with an irritated grimace, you corrected him for the worse. “Actually, he’s telling you the Crown is six million in debt.” Lord Stark, was in shock at the state, demanding to know how this could happen and once again, Lord Baelish acted like such debt was easily forgiven.

“The Master of Coin finds the money, the King and the Hand spend it.”

Lord Stark beside you sounded as annoyed as you felt on the inside but he was still tinged in disbelief as he looked at the man. “I will not believe Jon Arryn allowed Robert to bankrupt the realm.”

The Grand Maester for all his slowness, had the grace to speak the truth instead of washing it away like the other Lord in front of him. “Lord Arryn gave wise and prudent advice, but I fear His Grace doesn’t always listen.”

Sitting up straight, you nor Renly were quite sure if it was his voice that came out of your mouth, or the unimpressed voice of your father who held the same opinions. “The King loves tournaments and feasts, but not the conversation of money that follows. ‘Counting Coppers’ he calls it.”

You admired his determination to reason with the King. Even with both his blood brothers at his side, neither man could settle his indulgences the way Lord Stark may have the ability too. Even now you could hear the ramblings and angry ravings of your father in his office, going about how he was born the wrong family if he were to ever make his brother listen. Many had thought that Lord Stannis would take over as Hand of the King, and you would take his place as Master of Ships in the immediate aftermath of Lord Arryns death.

Your father had been sat on the small council for almost ten years at that point, and had been home less and less as those years passed. The only letters he exchanged anymore were with some of his closest men, and of course, Shireen. You envied her in that sense. Not that she was loved in the way she was, but that she had such a happy innocence about her.

Once Maester Cressen had said she was the saddest girl he had ever met, that he considered that part of his failure to cure her. But she had been cured, just not by him and clearly he took it hard, but she wasn’t sad, not in the way some assumed. She loved learning, and your father had been determined to give her the same education as he had you. Everyday she would run to him once he was in his own quarters, jump onto his lap and go on about what book she was learning to read, and were he not there, she’d scramble to write a letter to tell him.

Few people adored Lord Stannis, but she was always his biggest supporter.

As you entered the very bottom of the tower of the hand, you wondered how much she knew. Did she know Lord Arryn was dead, did she know you were acting in your fathers place, did she even know you were married? She’d be upset to learn she wasn’t there for your wedding. One day when she was just barley older then a toddler, you had been sitting on the edge of a cliff on Dragonstone with Shireen sat in your lap.

Going on about what a highborn lady would do, who she’d marry and what the wedding would be. You planned hers and yours, just two little girls by the waters edge and it saddened you to think that she wasn’t there to see yours. Childishly, you wondered if she’d like Robb.

Walking through the door, you passed some of the Starks household guard, regarding you with a familiarity as you passed. As if you really were family, not just a guest. Maybe it was for the best that she had father with her again, at least he still felt like one to her.

The chambers were quiet, and as you saw what was left of easy food on the table you hadn’t the stomach for it. Sitting down regardless, you lifted some of the plates out of your place, pouring yourself water as you stared at the little flame the light on the table wickered with. Pulling out a small slip of paper from a small pocket, you slipped the seal off, a small direwolf. Looking over the words as you sipped at the water.

Sending a raven was risky for what he was trying to say, but Robb was smart enough to not say anything of anything. Telling you of Bran, and your heart broke at how devastated the boy feels of not being able to walk again. More he tells you of how he has no idea what to even say to make it better, that Bran just needs time to get used to things but watching his little brother be so miserable and not being able to fix it just makes him angry. You knew exactly how that felt, watching your little sibling suffer and being completely useless to them for it.

A slam shook you out of your focus, pulling the letter back suddenly and tucking it away before you looked up to see a somewhat grumpy Arya now at the table with you. “I know my face usually looks like that, but what’s got yours in such a put off state?”

Sighing, she draped her arms over the top of the surface to gently lay her head in them, turned enough to still see you. “I don’t know how you stand it, being here all the time.”

Leaning forward, you mimicked her posture, looking back at her now from a tilted but even eye level. “I’m here because I have to be, not because I want to be. I have a duty, and that needs to be upheld regardless if it makes me miss home or not.”

Pushing up suddenly, Arya’s eyes were bright and bordering on an intense curiosity. “You’d rather be home? At Dragonstone?”

Moving back yourself you paused as you opened your mouth. Closed it for a second, before sighing out as you crossed your arms over your chest. Leaning back against the chair behind you looking at the nothing of importance on the table. “Honestly? I’m not sure where that is anymore.” Her brows narrowed in confusion, “Where I feel at home I mean.”

Were there not such a heavy weight in your heart you may have smiled at how quickly she reacted, and the finality of her tone. “You’re one of us now, Winterfell is your home.” Just as something crossed your mind, it clearly did hers too. Shoulders deflating as she lost the shine in her eyes. “Or, it’s supposed to be.”

Heart reaching out to hers, you knew comforting wouldn’t make it better, or change what hurt in the first place. “You won’t be in Kings Landing forever.” Her eyes flickered to you and then back did they focus into her mind. “Eventually you’ll go back to Winterfell, get restless there too and you’ll either insist someone take you there or you’ll be old enough to just head out to visit on your own. He’ll always want to see you.”

Arya grumbled out, quiet and filled with a twinge of guilt as if she couldn’t decide should you be able to hear her or not. “Not just me he’ll want to see.”

Leaning forward, your back sat straight for the most part as you leaned your forearms against the table again. “There’s five of you, Arya. You have to share your brother with all of them at least sometimes.”

Quieter so much this time, you weren’t sure if you even actually heard her speak but there was a faint sound like, “Not just us,” that you choose to ignore. As Arya herself pushed passed it as well. “Sansa won’t care. She barley ever even calls him her brother.” There was a bite to her tone, and you knew all too well that it wasn’t just about this.

She didn’t find out until the next day about the butcher’s son, and she still hadn’t taken it very well.

You tried softly calling her name, but Arya got louder. Her arms swinging a bit as she gestured in her expressiveness. “She always calls him our bastard brother, not even half brother or anything like he’s not been her brother since she was born. She doesn’t respect him, she doesn’t respect anybody who isn’t herself or the stupid prince.”

Anywhere but the safety of her own walls, you’d scold her for so freely vocalizing her insolence. But she was in her new home, and Joffery certainly was a stupid, vile little creature who got Arya’s new friend killed. People could claim it was the Queen, but you unfortunately knew her well enough that she was far more clever of a monster then that. No, that was Joffery’s angry, immature rage which sent the Hound out against a boy not even in his teens.

Glancing at the door you knew to be both Lord Stark’s room, and if his work ethic was consistent, scribbling away on the too many tasks the King left to his Lord Hand, too busy to come out and hear you. “Do you want my honest opinion? About that night?” Her head nodding fervently, brows narrowed in a manner that looked so strikingly serious like Jons. “It doesn’t matter what Sansa would have said, as soon as Joffery showed up to the Inn bleeding, the Queen already made her mind up. Sansa could’ve told the complete truth and they still would’ve blamed you and Nymeria.”

A flash of sorrow in her eyes made your heart tighten painfully before covering it up with an easier to swallow emotion, “The she shouldn’t have lied! If it didn’t matter she could’ve told the truth about Micah and-”

“And the Queen would’ve done everything the same. And she still would’ve blamed you.” Leaning forward, your voice lowered to something much more serious. “People like you, like us? We don’t do well in places like this. You’re too honest and headstrong, and you haven’t been here long enough to learn how to hold back. And people like the Queen? Joffery? We are exactly who they want to take advantage of.”

You could hear the condescension even now, “She’s as wild as that animal of hers,” And it made you mad all over again. After some time when father brought you here, he ended up being the one to help you with your sword lessons alone in his own quarters, not wanting people like the Queen, or his brothers to have any more reason to look down on you. He wasn’t a popular man, he knew it, but he wouldn’t have these people mistreat his daughter, especially as a young teenager.

“I’m not saying you have to change, or pretend to be something you’re not. But I am telling you, this place has eyes and ears everywhere. Me, your father, Jory, people like that you can trust. You can be angry, and honest and upset around.” Glancing once again to Lord Starks door, you felt ashamed for what came from you next but mincing words was not a trait of the Stannis Baratheon variety of stags.

“Sansa wants to be here, and she wants to be apart of this because she’s naive. As long as the Lannisters give her pretty smiles, and soothing words she will bend to them because she thinks they could be her family some day. That doesn’t make it right the way she threw you and your friend to the wolves,” Arya quirked an eyebrow with a smirk, and you shook your head with one of your own. “Lions- shut up.”

Sighing, she leaned back into her seat. “I don’t hate her, not really. I just..”

“Don’t trust her.”

Glancing up with a bit of a stun, she seemed shocked you didn’t tell her to do anything otherwise. In a sense, you knew what she was feeling.

You loved Renly, he was closer to your age and the two of you always felt more like brother and sister with how easily he could bring out your more playful side in this pit of a captiol. But you didn’t trust him one bit. Not with your secrets, not with your work, and not with the particular companions he had been keeping as of late.

Renly and you were as close of friends as you had in this city, but at the end of the day. It was Stannis who was your father. It was the brother which both others looked down on, the daughter which had far too much of Stannis in her blood and personality to be seen as one of them. Robert didn’t care much for his brothers, but best be said he is lying to himself if he thinks he doesn’t show preference to Renly.

Stannis had always felt he was cheated of Storms End. The ancestral seat of House Baratheon, his by rights. Many times even in your tenure here at his side, he had gone to King Robert singing the same song. Anytime it was mentioned, your father would clench his jaw so tightly, you thought his teeth would shatter. You once had brought it up to one of his men, back on Dragonstone that he seemed to take it as a slight.

Ser Davos Seaworth had just looked at you with a somber look, one that was as sympathetic to his lord as he was offended on his behalf. “I think, my little lady, King Robert had meant it as a slight.”

It was the same here. Arya suffered, was threatened and attacked, her own direwolf having to be sent away just for protecting her master, and her new friend murdered for just agreeing to play duel by the river. Sansa had lost Lady in the Queens injustice, but she still got to walk the capitol and be treated like the princess she dreamed of being. While Arya was looked at as wild, untruly, and thought less of without being given a chance.

Falling back into the present, you sighed deeply. “Why do you think my Uncle Renly fits in here, when I stand out as much as your father does?”

Arya too, glanced at the closed door. “Because he plays along?”

“And I do my duty.” Sipping at the water once more before continuing. “Sansa is your family, and you shouldn’t forget that. You need each other, but I’m not asking you to trust her. Not the way you do your father, or Jon-”

“Or you.”

In those two words, your heart missed Shireen. She and Arya were alike in a lot of ways, Shireen a little more reserved but the same eager and honest spirit. You smiled, unsure if it was warmth of how Arya saw you, or yearning for the little sister you barley had seen grown up so far.

Silence between you was comfortable for a moment, until of course, Arya found something to blurt out. “Father caught me with Needle.” Raising your eyebrows, she slunk down a bit. “Needle’s my…it’s my sword. Well sort of a sword, it’s small and thin, but it’s supposed to be for my size. Anyways, he knocked on my door and I didn’t really notice that I didn’t bother hiding it. Or maybe I didn’t care if he saw me with it. He let me keep it, but he says I shouldn’t play with swords.”

Shrugging one shoulder, your voice was strangely casual. “They aren’t toys.”

“I know that!” You laughed at how defensive she got. You had a feeling you weren’t the first or even second person to tell her that. “You can use a sword, why shouldn’t I?”

Smiling to yourself, you refrained from specifying that the only reason you started to be trained on how to use one, is beacuse a certain dark haired, grey eyed boy had snuck up behind you and hit you with a practice one when no one was around to scold you two for it.

“Will you teach me?”

The letter in your pocket begin to weight you down, you needed to ask Lord Stark about it before morning. You had another small council meeting early on and you didn’t fancy being kept out of the dark again. Standing up, you ran your hand playfully over her hair as you passed. “That’s up to your father. It’s late, go get some sleep.”

Turning to approach Lord Stark’s room, you missed the feeling glance from the small Stark watching you leave. Something in her eyes that knew things which you couldn’t have guessed she was privy too, but just added to her growing admiration all the same.

As you guessed, the man was sitting at his desk writing away when he called for you to enter. Shutting it gently behind you with a polite, “Lord Stark.”

Chuckling, his hand paused before shaking his head slightly and continuing. “You’re allowed to call me my name, you know. I think marrying my son gives you the right to at drop the titles in private.”

Nodding once as you approached, “I’ll try to remember that.” He knew you wouldn’t.

When you hesitated, he looked up at you with a questioning look. “What is it?”

You stood unsure for another moment before quickly moving to take a seat on the opposite side of his desk, pulling out the letter. “I heard from Robb.” Lord Stark- Ned, leaned forward curiously. “Nothing new, just updating me about Bran, how he’s fairing as Lord of Winterfell.”

“I’m assuming you’re not just here to make small talk.”

Well it certainly wasn’t your skill that was true. Inhaling a slow breathe, you looked straight at him to just ask what you needed to confirm. “Lady Catelyn was here, wasn’t she?” His brows narrowed deeply as he reached a hand out, taking the letter from you.

Skimming over, he smiled amusingly as he reached the end. “You two talk in code often?”

You failed to prevent the smirk on your lips before you had noticed it was even forming. “Only when we’re talking about things we’re not supposed to.”

“And how often is that, exactly?”

You only shrugged. You, Robb, Jon, and later Theon, would get into trouble a lot when you were younger. But when you would leave, you and Robb figured out a way to talk about things that would certainly get you punished if your father ever found out. So you started writing in almost childish imagery. Hence the end of his letter, saying to ask his father about “some stray kitten I saw running around the halls the other day.”

Folding the letter, he handed it back to you. “Clever. But he’s right. I shouldn’t keep this from you, and Robb clearly doesn’t want me too.” Leaning back he pulled something from his desk, what looked like a blade with a rich ornate handle to it. Placing it on the desk you leaned forward to look closer as he explained. “A man came into Brans room some night after we had all left Winterfell. Told Cat no one was supposed to be there, that it was a kindness.”

The bite in his tone was angry and spiteful even if his face remained steadfast. Like he was lost in thought, he seemed to trail off in his head before coming back. Telling you of the man trying to kill him, how he had almost killed Lady Catelyn in the process, and the direwolf which ripped the assassins throat out. “Bran’s wolf had saved his life..”

Leaning forward you felt a horror bubble up inside of you, Bran was a boy of ten who would do such a thing? Voice weaker, cracking a bit at the look of almost shame or guilt in his eyes forming. “Lord Stark?”

Head shooting up to look at you, like those words, that specific title speaking of the wolves clicked something in his head that he didn’t know how to feel. “The direwolves, when we found them in the woods…Jon had said something. That my children were meant to have them..”

Jon hadn’t included himself. There were five pups, two girls and three boys and Jon had purposely not counted himself as one of Lord Stark’s children in order to prove they were meant to go to them. He had found Ghost off to the side all on his own, so quiet Jon wasn’t even sure how he had heard Ghost’s tiny cry when not a soul other had.

Lord Stark still lost in his thought, “If the Gods sent those wolves…I killed Sansa’s..” Just as fast as he lost himself in a spiral, he took back the reigns and pulled right back out of it. “Everything adds up but I don’t know to why. Lysa telling her that the Lannisters murdered Jon Arryn, Jaime Lannister being the only man who didn’t join the hunt the day Bran fell and strands of blonde hair in the tower when I could tell you for a fact no one had been in there for a very long time.”

He tapped his fingers at the blade and you felt a weight in your throat trying to fight against the words. “The blade?”

Lord Stark laughed meaninglessly. “The blade belongs to Tyrion Lannister.”

For all that you knew him, and for as different as he seemed, you couldn’t find it in your heart to see such traits past the blood of who he was and who his family was. “How do you know?”

The answer, you liked even less. Lost in a bet to the Lannister during a tourney, the previous owner knew who it now belonged to without any doubt, beacuse it’s previous owner was Petyr Baelish.

You were finding it increasingly hard to figure out who you didn’t like more in this city. Luckily for Tyrion Lannister he in fact, wasn’t in the city so he found your newfound anger towards him unobtrusive. Not as lucky for you, sitting at the small council you found too many men in the room you didn’t trust as far as you could throw.

Lord Varys avoided much interaction with you has he did your father, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fully aware of every step you had taken in this city and no doubt others. You dared not think about how much he really knew, not that it mattered much now, but you didn’t appreciate the concept of lording information over another head to make them dance.

Lord Baelish was as trustworthy as he was kind, meaning none. A self serving worm who had no care for anything or one that didn’t give him either money or power. Though, you did consider him to be the less offensive to look at only if in comparison to the bloated faced man standing before the council.

Lord Janos Slynt, Commander of the City Watch was nothing short of an insult to the eyes. Patchy facial hair that didn’t quite sit well over the slight pudginess of his face that wouldn’t be a problem if it weren’t also always plastered with a high and mighty look as if he knows better. Standing before you, speaking of his struggle to keep the peace in the streets.

His voice covered itself in slime. “It’s the Hand’s tournament that’s causing all the trouble, my lords.”

An exhaustion sat in Lord Starks shoulders, his tone annoyed as his posture to the idea. “The King’s tournament. I assure you the Hand wants no part in it.”

Your father didn’t care for Lord Stark personally, but at least they would agree at such a waste of expenses. Being Master, or in your case, acting Master of Ships didn’t mean you were not painfully aware of how much spending your assets should be restricted of just to amuse the growing relentlessness of the King.

Slynt continued. “Call it what you will Lord Stark, the city is packed with people and more flooding in everyday. Last night we had a tavern riot, a brothel fire, three stabbings, and a drunken horse race down the Streets of Sisters.”

Your eyes narrowed, voice loud and yet even with little emotion behind it. It unnerved many how similar you were to the unwelcoming and bluntness of your lord Father. “Discipline should lie with the capabilities of a commander. If you cannot keep the King’s peace during something as innocuous as a tourney, perhaps the City Watch should be commanded by someone whose ability we can rely on.”

Oh the fire in his eyes as he glared at you, spit coming from his mouth as it did his worse. His chest and cheeks puffing like a frog. “I need more men.”

Lord Stark had the final decision however, and you would never dare go against or even speak up against it. Such a thing was not your place, nor would you let it be. “You’ll get fifty, Lord Baelish will see it paid for.” Your own harsh gaze, bordering on a glare peeling over to the Master of Coin seemingly surprised by the notion. Lord Stark’s order firmer then ever. “You found money for a champions purse, you can find money to keep the peace.” Turning to Slynt, “I’ll also give you twenty if my household guard until the crowds have left.”

Giving more men to the one who didn’t know how to command them with fairness was not quite how you felt about such actions, regardless of how the rest of the council didn’t agree. Was it too harsh of a stance, or was it a firm position influenced by what you already knew was incompetence. Janos Slynt was not someone trustworthy, but as long as he got paid he would do the bare minimum.

You and Lord Stark sharing a glance as he relaxed somewhat. “The sooner this is over the better.”

Lord Varys leaning forward, tone as even and light with hope as he could paint it. “The realm prospers from such events, my Lord. They give the great a chance at glory, and the lowly a respite from their woes.”

Legs crossing over the other you sat back in your seat. “It’s not glory those men need more of, Lord Varys I can assure you. They have quite enough of that to go around.”

Lord Baelish leaning far too close to make eye contact with a sly grin. “And yet it puts coins in many a pocket, my Lady. Glory has filled every Inn throughout the city, and the whores are walking bow legged with every step.”

Grin growing more detestable as you looked from him with an uncomfortable glare. Your dear Uncle did not help the matter as he spoke up, a laugh in his lungs doing so. “We’re fortunate my brother Stannis is not with us. Remember when he proposed to outlaw brothels? Robert had asked if he’d like to outlaw eating, drinking, and shitting while he was at it.”

The force to not roll your eyes tested your every power of will. Every sense of faith in a man like your father that they assumed he had suggested or done so on Dragonstone for the superficial. Many Lords in the capital were keen on keeping your father at an arms length and you couldn’t help but speculate how much was truly just his personality, and what was fear deep down.

Afterall, he had two living children, and four which had passed before they could become your brothers. Clearly it wasn’t sex itself that was what he disliked about the premises.

Lord Stark looked to you instead of bothering to even entertain this discussion, calling your name. “You haven’t heard from Lord Stannis have you? He has not formally passed is place on the council to you, I’d have to guess he intends to return from his visit at some point?”

Neither of you said it to the current company, but Lord Stark didn’t quite appreciate the treatment of his new daughter by marriage. Sending you off to be wed out of nowhere, not accompanying or letting your mother or sister come to see you married, and then dragging you away from his son after one night to act on the council in his unexplained absence.

It was unfair to you and Robb, and it also sat rather suspiciously that you had been kept so terribly in the dark with this, and whatever your father had been investigating with Lord Arryn.

Lord Baelish’s tone was as mocking as ever, looking right at you. “No doubt he’ll return as soon as we’ve scourged all those whores into the sea.” You could hear Renly laugh somewhere to your left.

Standing abruptly, you smoothed down your skirt and nodded stiffly. “Until tomorrow, my lords.” As you stepped away you muttered uncaring if you were heard or ignored. “I’ve heard quite enough about my father and whores for one day.”

Renly’s laughter bothered you the whole way out of the small council chamber. You and Lord Stark had business to inquire of Grand Maester Pycelles but you found yourself perfectly content with waiting out of ear from mocking of your lord father for one day.

Words from the night before long since burned in the light of one of your rooms candles, in your pocket now sat one of you own writing and a new one sent to you. A raven from Dragonstone had surprised you only as long as it took to see the neatness of the letters.

Shireen was outraged that she missed your wedding. Had asked a million questions, what did you wear, who attended, did Winterfell have a nicer sept then they? That one you were going to have to explain another time that in your new life, you found more peace in the way the Starks followed that of the old gods. More questions of what is the capitol like with the new hand, was Robb as handsome as she was picturing. A question which even in the privacy of your own room, made you fluster a bit.

Only your dear sister could have you ready to spill about a man your married too, in ways like you were still a girl her age with a petty crush. Her letters always long, and always excited to hear what her well travelled big sister was doing regardless of how little you ever wanted to tell the truth of it anymore.

She was just a child, a rather innocent one at that. You wondered what father told her of the reason behind his sudden return home. Thinking to the two girls you returned to the city with, they too, were too young to have to be around this den of masks and liars. At least Arya’s needle was a bit more of protection then that of Sansa’s naivety.

Grand Maester Pycelle’s office was unbearably stuffy. The scents, the thick air and the mixture of whatever liquids sat both around the surfaces and tucked away into cupboards did not make the heat of summer any easier.

His frail voice seeming having gone on for far too long, “The smallfolk say the last year of summer if always the hottest. It is not often so, but it can feel that way does it not? On days like this, I envy you northerners and your southern snows.”

Both you and Lord Stark standing by his desk, it felt as if he was ready to dismiss before why an audience was requested in the first place. “I’ve been hoping to talk to you about Jon Arryn.”

To his credit, the Grand Maester had the patience to look surprised by the subject but not suspiciously so. “Lord Arryn? His death was a great sadness to us all. I took personal charge of his care, but I could not save him.”

Eyes narrowing slightly with a tilt of your head, you considered back to your own insights. “Did he seem sickly to you before the fever hit him? He hasn’t seemed like himself for some time but it never struck me like a physical ailment.”

Considering the idea, the Grand Maester himself looked a tad shamed. You doubted there wasn’t much he could do, and yet you could see similar feelings of confused failure in like your own once Maester Cressen. “His sickness truck him very hard, and very fast. I saw him in my chambers just the night before he passed. Lord Arryn often came to me for counsel.”

Lord Stark bluntly asking, “Why?”

Your insides rolled over at how indigent and offended the man instantly became at Lord Stark’s mere question. Nothing but worry over pride and image for such people. “I have been Grand Maester for many years. Kings and Hands have come to me for advice since-”

Voice raising enough to speak over him, you cut his tongue back down with the sharpness of your own tone. “Why did Lord Arryn seek you out, the night before he died? What did he want?”

The answer, only brought more questions.

Bringing you and Lord Stark closer in his office to a shelf, many large tomes sat across them as he shakily dragged one onto his desk. Landing it down in front of Lord Stark with a thud. “The lineages and histories of the great houses of the Seven Kingdoms. With descriptions of many high lords, noble ladies, and their children.”

Watching Lord Stark pull off the metal clasp and tossing it down, the book was loose and not well made but the pages inside were vast on thick paper filled to the brim with words in many styles of writing in many degrees of faded letters. Flipping through multiple pages until he landed on one at random, Lord Stark begun reading out one of the passages.

“…blue of eye, brown of hair, and fair complected. Died in his fourteenth year of a wound sustained in a bear hunt.”

Head tilting as he sat back down, “As I said my Lord, a ponderous read.”

“Did Jon Arryn tell you what he wanted with it?”

A slight shake no, of his head. “He did not, my Lord. And I did not presume to ask.”

Skimming the pages, you barley glanced at them before looking up to meet the Grand Maesters eyes but did not find him hiding much behind them. Nothing pertaining to the conversation at least as Lord Stark continued his inquiry. “Jon’s death, did he say anything to you during his final hours.”

Instinctively he denied, “Nothing of import, my Lord.” before pausing his hand raised as if to collect his thoughts within them from his older mind. “There was one phrase he kept repeating. The Seed is Strong, I think it was.”

Your eyes narrowed, “The seed is strong? What does that mean?”

No curiosity in his eyes, “The dying mind is a demented mind, Lady Stark.”

Whatever he said right after, was missed in the brief second of childish notions, much like what Shireen always tried to dish from you. Some familiar just called you by your name, others stuck to the simple My Lady, others such as Ser Jaime Lannister only switched between names in mocking as if there was something usual about a highborn lady taking on the House of their husband.

But hearing Lady Stark so casually, shouldn’t have clicked such a second of girlish glee as it had. You pulled yourself together though, hoping neither noticed your stammer of formality. Lord Stark beside you continuing, “And you’re quite certain he died of a natural illness?”

Grand Maester Pycelle seemed taken back, alleviating guilt at how quick his confusion at such a suggestion was at least ticked a name off your list. “What else could it be?”

Lord Stark seemed like he however, knew what his answer was. “Poison.”

Unwilling to think of such a crime, he shook his head in denial. “A disturbing thought…I don’t think it likely. The Hand was loved by all, what sort of man would dare-”

Your eyes and Lord Stark’s flickered to the other for just a moment, your voice without accusing if only in pure read of your words. “I’ve heard it said poison is a woman’s weapon.”

“Yes. Women, cravens…and eunuchs. Did you know Lord Varys is a eunuch?”

The spinning of mistrust once more, not the game neither you nor Lord Stark cared to get involved with now or ever. Enough was on your plate as it was. There was no conceivable thought of what Lord Varys would gain from murdering Lord Arryn in your mind. Then again, Lysa had named the Lannisters and yet you too had no idea what would be gained by that either.

Nor what trying twice to murder an innocent ten year old boy wold gain. But the signs all pointed to the golden lions.

Finding Arya near the top of the steps balancing on one foot, you smiled. Taking the tome from Lord Stark to his office for him so he could inquire what her dancing teacher had her practising now. Earlier he had commented to you that it felt like everyday Arya came back with new bruises or scratches with a worried furrow in his brow.

You simply had held back a smirk, “If I recall that’s exactly how everyone found out I was learning to sword fight when I was her age.”

Lord Stark had laughed much easier, running a hand over his stubble. “It took us that long to find out because you and Jon would sneak out at night so neither of you would get in trouble.” The first few lessons did have a lot of Jon hitting you harder each time until you got fed up and learned to block properly. “You should be thankful it was me who caught you and not Cat.”

You were twelve at the time, Jon fourteen and even all those years ago still far stronger then you. You couldn’t have imagined how much trouble he would’ve gotten in were it now your own father who caught you two one night.

Sitting now at Lord Stark’s desk, you had been mindlessly flipping through the book. Pausing at random pages before coming across the current accounts of Baratheons. The King first, and his children, then your lord father and his. Including all four which never made it, and a sickening description of Shireen as “disfigured” from her greyscale.

Renly when he thought neither or your father in ear had often referred to Shireen as “that ugly daughter of his” and you hated it. She would’ve been far worse had your father listened to the other Lords. Send her off to old Valyria to be of the stonemen before she infected the whole of Dragonstone.

Dancing over her name with your tapping finger, you told yourself not to. Biting your tongue before your weakness overtook and flipped to the pages of the current Starks. Glancing down to Lord Eddard Stark, then that of Robb did you pause. Shireen asking if he was handsome and certainly the drollness of a Maesters documents did nothing to answer that.

But your eyes skipped down. Looking to the description of Eyes of Grey, black of hair and the beginnings of the letter ‘S’ coming into sight did you slam the book shut with an angry huff. Your best friend for so long, and now his memory tainted with feelings which you both were forced to tear away from.

You’d love to just think of Jon the way you could Theon. Fond memories that weren’t anything more, and none which made the flutter in your stomach getting used to your new husband feel shameful. Hearing Lord Stark’s footsteps you stood up from his seat, leaning against the wall to the side with your arms crossed your chest.

Closing the door behind him, “Do you know a Ser Hugh of the Vale?” Head jolting back you found nothing with such a title and name until Lord Stark elaborated. “He was Jon Arryns squire.” Your lips parting in recognition you turned to look back at him confused. “He was knighted after his murder.”

“Knighted for what?”

Tilting his head he almost smiled. “That’s what you’re going to find out.”

Ser Hugh as it turned out, was exactly the kind of glory seeker you knew didn’t need more cheers and gold bolstering his ego. Down in the open field where they set up the tourney, you recognized him at least while he was in much more average attire. Still nicer then what you recalled he wore as a squire.

“Ser Hugh?”

Your footsteps towards him quick and long, your voice not shouting and yet projecting enough to startle those around as the man turned annoyed towards you. “As you can see, I’m busy.”

Busy taking steps, yes a task needing great concentration to a man of his calibre. Your eyes narrowed in the bright sun making you look far less tolerant of such an attitude. Renly once had said that between the flowing dresses, the light fabric of an equally as long cardigan with hair that looked far nicer unrestricted by whatever styles these girls in the capital pretended were fashionable, you might actually attract a suitor once in a while were it not for you being a perfect copy of your father’s morose and drab glare.

“I’m here on behalf of Lord Eddard Stark, Hand of the King-”

Not giving you a second chance, he waved you off. “Well run along and tell your master if the Hand wishes to speak to me, he should come himself. Knights don’t have time for a servant girls questions.”

Turning and stepping along the path you resisted the urge to see his head smash into the wooden railing he walked beside. There was no point in arguing, he seemed unlikely to be honest if he did answer any questions, and you and Lord Stark had a much more promising visit far down in the streets of the city.

“He said he’d only be willing to talk to the hand himself. A knight such as him.”

You and Lord Stark glancing at the other with a vapid smirk, of course how could you have been such a fool to dare ask anything of a well seasoned warrior such as Ser Hugh of the Vale. Intrepid Knight of Half a Day.

“Ah, a knight. They strut around like roosters down here. Even the one who’ve never seen an arrow coming their way.” The armoury Lord Baelish had directed you towards approached quickly. Sounds of yelling and barters all around and children play fighting in every direction.

Many eyes looked towards the pair riding down the path. Either such a sight was unusual to them, or perhaps all too similar. The Lord Hand and Master of Ships travelling down the poor city streets looking in the same places for the same people, only months after the last pair did the same to no known success.

“We should be careful out here alone, my Lord. There’s no telling which eyes belong to who.” Glancing at him, he seemed unaffected by the idea. Climbing off your horse as he did too, you both steeled in a natural air of cold confidence. Working beside Lord Stark for you was easy, you couldn’t however imagine such an easy pairing in Lord Arryn and your own father.

“Let them look.”

Tobho Mott greeted you both with upmost respect, seemed to be much more relaxed with your presence then he did mention of your lord father. Lord Stark beside you prompting the conversation moreso. “What did Lord Arryn and Lord Stannis want?”

“They came to see the boy.”

Lord Stark saying he’d like to see him as well, Tobho nodded and turned into the forge where the consistent smashing of metals stopped banging. “Gendry,”

Easy to see from his demeanour, it was clear he was likely either incredibly lowborn, or even a slave must to your dismay. He didn’t look at either you or Lord Stark in the eye, standing straight and respectable, but did not think he had the right to make eye contact.

You stood still, trying to see what it is that would be on any interest to the lords before. Not just that, what was seen which scared your father back to Dragonstone, and Lord Arryn into the grave? The three men went back and forth for a while over the ornate bulls helmet which he had made himself, easing the pair into the inquiry.

His voice didn’t give much away, but a tint of attitude which wasn’t unfamiliar. Taller then, you, his hair was dark to the point of a deep brown and by your guess would be a a little younger then you. Lord Stark changed subject, “When Lord Arryn came to visit you what did you talk about?”

Not looking still, your eyes narrowed as something pricked at your skin. “Just as me questions is all, milord.” Next asked if your father had ever questioned him, was a rare moment that made you break a smirk and eyes lit up with an amusement not often seen of you in Kings Landing. “No, he never said a word. Just glared at me like I was some raper who done for his daughter.”

Mott turning and raising his voice. “Watch your tongue boy. This is Lord Stannis’s own daughter you’re speaking too.” Turning to you with sincere apology in his eyes you couldn’t seem to look away from Gendry. He apologized, but you only found yourself looking at him with a more scrupulous gaze.

You tried, but whatever pricked at your skin settled over every corner of it until you wanted to twitch with unease. Lord Stark spoke for you, sensing that you were seeing something close to what he was slowly putting together. “What kind of questions did Lord Arryn ask?”

“About my work at first. If I was being treated well, if I liked it here. But then he started asking me questions about my mother.”

You spoke up before you could stop yourself. “Your mother?” Gendry specifying he meant just who she was and what she looked like, you continued to speak first unable to keep the intensity away out of your gaze on him. “What did you tell him?”

“She died when I was little. She had yellow hair, she’d sing to me sometimes.”

You couldn’t say why it clicked, but it did. Stepping forward you were sharper with him then you may have intended, “Look at me.”

Meeting your eyes, you felt that sensation shiver through your body like you had just been tossed in a river. There was no denying what it was you were seeing. Had you not known better, you could’ve mistaken Gendry for your own brother. The green eyes wide and bright, hair so dark and thick, the strength in resemblance of his facial structure and all linking back to why the snark of attitude pinged at you.

Almost in shock you leaned back, glancing to Lord Stark who briefly flickered to meet your eyes with an unsettled understanding of what you were seeing. You didn’t like what you were feeling in any way. Lord Stark handed him back the bull helmet, “Get back to work, lad.”

Diligently, he left further into the forge and the hammering started once again as Lord Stark spoke quietly to Mott. “If a day ever comes that boy would rather wield a sword then forge one, you send him to me.”

Coming up to Renly’s quarters, your head was in a spin and something told you to go anywhere that wasn’t where all your questions had laid. Knocking on his door, you almost jumped back in surprise by the one who actually answered.

Taller then you with a darkish dirty blonde hair rung up into curls that most girls you know envied with passion, Ser Loras also stood before you shirtless in a manner you amusingly knew a certain young redheaded Stark would’ve had her cheeks turn just as red at the sight off. Luckily for you, the shock on his face and the smirk on yours already knew the story better.

Walking in as you brushed past him, you raised your eyebrows at your Uncle now rushing to cover his own chest as if you were stupid enough not to know. “My Lady, apologies we were just-”

Turning to Loras beside you, you smirked wider with a playful squint in your eye. “Ser Loras, a word of advice. If you wish your private affairs to remain private, maybe don’t answer my Uncle’s door when you’re both still shirtless and this one’s still in bed.” You nodded over to the annoyed Renly.

Loras couldn’t decide if he was annoyed or horrified, but left as soon as he could be considered half way presentable. Door closing behind him, you walked in further, leaning against Renly’s desk. “I know discretion isn’t your strong suit Renly, but maybe if he’s trying to keep it a secret at least pretend you two aren’t locked up in bed half the time.”

Rolling his eyes, he reached passed out to pour himself wine. “Aren’t you missing your tournament?”

Shaking your head at his offer of a glass to you, “Oh am I Hand of the King, now?”

Glaring, he rested beside you against the desk as he sipped. “Spending enough time with him, it’s easy to mistaken I suppose. Much like my dear brother seemed.” Glancing beside you, you said nothing as he continued with mocking joy. “Jon and Stannis spend an increasing amount of time together only to stop when one of them dies and the other runs away out of reach. Only difference is the Hand this time is a wolf, but the Stag stays the same. Or are you a wolf now too?”

Pushing off smug with himself, you crossed your arms. “I married into a house of wolves, my name is theirs now, I suppose yes dear Uncle I am a wolf now if such a distinction matters.” Titling your head you were far less amused now and much more openly accusatory. “Does that make you a rose, or just a stag stupid enough to let roses tie themselves around him?”

He glared at you, “My relationship-”

“I’m not talking about Loras. Not for that. I’m talking about the less time you spend doing your duty the more I seem to find you spending time whispering with the Tyrells.” The guilt on his face grew tenfold as you slammed more to the open air. “You didn’t hide very well what your plan for his sister was, Margaery was it?”

Oh you hit a wound. Renly face twisting into a snarl unbecoming of someone like him. “Plan?”

Crossing your arms you didn’t move an inch but your eyes trained on his with scrutiny. “What was it my father said you planned, trying to make dear Margaery, Robert’s whore?” He paled but you didn’t let him blabber. “Everyone in the seven kingdoms knows he’s got enough of those, so I have to ask why exactly try to send the pretty girl from Highgarden into the bed of our well rode, drunken King, and then you yourself having the same ride by her own brother?”

He shrugged, but did not do well at hiding his anxiety. “You and Stannis are missing out, Tyrells are quite interesting in bed.”

You raised your eyebrows. “So are wolves, I’ve found.”

“Did you come here for this or what?”

Pushing up you walked more to the middle of the room. “No, actually I came here to ask if you’re going to the tournament tomorrow.”

Renly’s eyes flickered side to side, “Most likely. Why?”

You shrugged, losing all pretense of suspicion for now. “Just wondering if I’ll have someone to talk to who doesn’t make me want to tear into my palms.” Renly laughed, telling you this was the wrong place for that.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, for a brief moment he looked actually concerned. “I know I joke about it, but the capital doesn’t suit you does it?” He smiled when you shook your head no. “You know every time you came back from Winterfell you looked miserable. You hated coming back here and each time you come back a little more fed up then the time before.”

You said nothing as you looked blankly at him. There was nothing to deny, coming back here was always the worst and it never stopped being the worst until you were back with the Starks.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to your wedding.”

You shrugged. Not the answer or even emotion he expected, but you were just looking at him.

The wide bright eyes, the shape of his cheeks, jaw, the colours in those eyes and the darkness of the thick hair he was so bad at letting grow out just like your father. All you could think of was what in those looks scared your father out of the city.

What did he find in those looks that was so bad it got Lord Arryn killed. You and Lord Stark had many clues but no hints except for one glaring one. You had returned to the horses, nearby where Jory had been waiting.

When he asked if you two had found anything, you hadn’t been quite the same since realizing what Lord Stark had. All you could see when looking at Renly now, was what Lord Stark told Jory then.

Something that had no right being a clue to such a dark mystery and yet here you were, standing before water as murky then ever only this time it was your own kin that was being told as the dangers to look out for.

Gendry wasn’t just a tiny clue of no meaning, somewhere in Lord Arryn’s death was a page about finding King Robert’s bastard son.

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