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#he's brought ao much to my life

cambion-companion · 1 year

Note

can you do a pregnant!wife with aemond talking to her belly in valyrian (she doesn’t understand it, only some thing he has taught her) maybe to calm the baby ‘cause they’ve been kicking all day or something? you write so good btw!!! love to see you writting for aemond so soft ☺️🤍

Oh my gosh thank you guys so much!

I live for sweet father-to-be Aemond moments, especially after that last artwork I posted of him with his baby I'll never get over that.

And yes I paraphrased that line from Alys

Aemond x pregnant!reader | fluff | High Valyrian | peek into domestic life with dad Aemond

You smoothed your hands over your skirts, feeling the growing bump of your belly beneath your fingers. It was time to tell your husband.

"Aemond, are you in here?" Your feet had found their way by habit to the library, where Aemond often decompressed after a sword-training session.

"Is something the matter?" Aemond had already risen from his seat at one of the dusty tables, several scrolls of parchment spilling to the ground as he moved to take your hands in his own. "Why have you sought me out at such a late hour?"

You took a moment to bask selfishly in the light of his concerned violet eye, his prominent brow furrowing, those plush lips of his pressing downward as he scanned your features.

"I have something I wish to tell you." Hiding the way your lips twitched with a duck of your head, you sidestepped your husband and sat on a rickety wooden stool.

Aemond followed your movements with a turn of his head, the rest of his body remaining still. "What has happened? Your face looks pale. Is there someone who has wronged you, my wife? I will exact swift vengeance if need be."

You laughed softly, raising your hands out to him. "Nothing so drastic, my dragon." You hesitated a moment, waiting for Aemond to uproot himself from where he stood and take your hands again. "I am with child."

"Where?"

You tilted your head, a bemused huff escaping your parted lips. "Excuse me?"

"Where is the child?" Aemond looked searchingly around the darkened room.

You brought the palm of his hand to rest against your abdomen. "For a man of such intelligence you can be downright daft at times. It grows inside me, Aemond. I can feel its fires licking my womb."

Aemond's eye swiveled to your face where he held your gaze a long, breathless moment.

"You..." He seemed to be grasping for words that would not come as he sank slowly to his knees before you.

You nodded, tears pricking your vision, parting your knees, allowing Aemond to lean into you, pressing his ear against your swollen belly.

"Rūs zaldrīzes...īlvon." He murmured as you ran your fingers through his silken hair.

"Yes." You agreed, looking down at where he lay against your body. "Ours."

Aemond turned his head, kissing the fabric of your dress that draped over where your baby grew. "Ao issi nykeā zaldrīzes." He spoke reverently, his hands coming to cup your pregnancy bump. "Bōsa emagon īlon jeldan ao."

You listened to him speak in his mother tongue, enjoying yet not quite understanding. When Aemond looked up at you, his hands still placed reverently on your body, the look on his handsome face took your breath away.

"You will be a wonderful father, Aemond."

An unreadable expression flickered across his face. He rose to kiss your lips, pressing his chest flush against yours, feeling the curves of your body through his clothes.

The embrace quickly became heated, fingers tangled in hair as tongues and teeth nipped at delicate skin. You were glad the hour was late, and the library had long since been emptied of all other persons. Aemond had never been a patient man, and he would hear nothing of waiting to return to your bedchambers.

(Aemond Valyrian lines translated: "A hatchling. Ours." "You are a dragon. Long have we wanted you.")

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starrclown · 5 days

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I've see ALOT of LMK angst and I have nothing better to do (cause it's late at night) and I'm not working on my LMK apocalypse au right now sooo-

LMK ANGST HEADCANNONS

Triggerwarning for Violence, Blood, Suicidal thoughts, and other general upsetting topics.

(Feel free to leave yours below. Let's make these characters sad together!)

Pigsy gets upset when people joke about Wukong being Mk's dad. It's insulting to him, the one that raises Mk since he was so little.

Wukong is someone that craves physically touch but also can't stand it. It stems from all the violence he's been apart of + the crown messed him up alot. He was SUPER uncomfortable with Mk touching him in the beginning. It has to be on his terms if you wanna touch him.

Macaque doesn't have a heart beat anymore.

Because of Macaque never coming back when Wukong needed him, Wukong had no trust that Macaque will come back if they have a argument. He assumes that Macaque is just gone and gets upset about it. Eventually Macaque comes back and realizes Wukong's upset but he doesn't bring it up cause he doesn't know how.

Redson doesn't really understand why his father doesn't seem to like him. He assumed that his dad would be overjoyed to see him again, not how he's acting now.

Mei had many breakdowns because of her grades and the pressure to be a spectacular student.

Pigsy got bullied alot in school for being a pig demon. It wasn't everyone, most people liked him, just a specific group of kids.

To add on to #7, Tang used to beat himself up over not being able to help Pigsy. He HATED seeing Pigsy getting bullied but he knew that if he tried to start a fight he would either get beat because he can't fight or get himself kicked out of school.

Mk gets nightmares of Wukong getting forced into the scroll. Sometimes he wonders what would of happened if Wukong never got out. He usually ends up crying.

The closest thing Sandy ever got to being violent is when one of his cats scared him and he accidently dropped Mo. He cried. Alot. (Mo was fine but he just hates his cats being hurt.)

Sandy still doesn't know Hunstman is dead. He just thinks that Huntsman was scared of him so he never came back. (Guess Hunstmans my favorite and he's dead and i hate it here god dammit.)

No one can say anything about Azure or Azure's death around Wukong because he will get upset. Macaque made a joke one time and Wukong lost his shit. He's still kinda shooken up about it.

Some of the baby monkies recognize Macaque as the one disguised as Wukong that ate the monkey and passed it around. Those monkies REFUSE to be around him. They get violent if they have to be around him.

Nezha wants to see Wukong, Redson, and the others more but his job is so demanding he barely gets to leave.

Wukong physically couldn't be around Tang for long periods of time when they first met. He got more comfortable with him over time but Tang reminded him to much of Tripitaka and he couldn't handle it.

Mei doesn't yell out of anger, like serious anger alot. When she finally yelled at Wukong because of the fire, all Wukong saw was Ao Lie screaming at him. (Stole that headcannon from a friend of mine. Thanks Ainnur you ruined my life.)

Mk brought up the fact that Wukong was willing to put the fire into himself and sacrifice himself, almost certainly killing himself in the process one time. Wukong kinda laughed and just said "Yeah, had to save the world bud. It's a shame Macaque messed up my plan, the world woulda been a little bit more peaceful if me AND Lady Bone Demon died." He wasn't even trying to admit suicidal feelings, he was just being honest. This scared the SHIT out of Mk because Wukong just admitted that he can and will kill himself if he feel he needs too.

Sandy often feels left out of the group and not as important but he doesn't wanna ruin everyone's fun so he stays quiet.

Bai he was ready to die when she was found by the Monkie Gang. She wasn't scared of death anymore.

Bai he was scared of Wukong when they first met face to face. Wukong apologized and explained himself. Over time she got a little more comfortable with him. She understands why he's apologizing but at that point she was so ready to die she didn't care who did it.

Redson wants to be around Sun Wukong again but he doesn't know how to start the relationship again. Same on Wukongs part but he's a bit more forward.

Macaque gets physical in fights fast. Partly cause his fights with Peng, Partly cause of his life before Wukong, Partly cause of Lady Bone Demon. If Macaque thinks a situation will get rough, he'll try to fight but if he thinks he'll lose he'll dip.

Princess Iron Fan unintentionally critiques Redsons's looks all the time. It messes with him alot so he's quite insecure.

Mei feels the need to always be upbeat and cheerful so Mk doesn't sink to far into depression. She can tell when he does this for her but she doesn't bring it up.

Pigsy's worst fear is that Mk won't come back home. The nightmares he's had of this is brutal.

I could make more but I'm sleeeeepppy. I'll make a part two one day though. Leave your own headcannons cause seeing other people break down these characters is so fun.

(How some people think Mk will be in season 5)

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

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quitealotofsodapop · 4 months

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[You did send a less detailed version of this ask a few days ago, I just hadn't gone through my inbox enough XD] + [I love the detailed responses though! It's nice to see so much interest in my silly aus!]

okay! I thought I sent one but I couldn't quite remember if I did XD Sometimes I feel like I ramble too much so I'm glad you like these! if it's not to much trouble do you mind answer the og post, you don't have to actually make any comments on it contents but I'm keeping notes on Slow boiled au for the fanfic I'm writing and their might be some details in there I forgot about, thank you.

[Peaches. Some days his brain/body just decides "Eww no. bleh. Spit it out right now" and the nausea hits him hard. Wukong is dismayed whenever it happens.]

at some point in s3 MK walks in on Monkey King crying over a peach with a single bite taken out of it, Wukong having gotten emotional when he his body couldn't handle the peach + stress (I headcanon that part of his obsession with peaches are because peaches are a comfort food for him, so not being able to eat one when stressed hit him pretty hard).

[Think of it like the formation of a geode - it can do it either over a natural couple of centuries, or in a few months with intervention.]

the geode comparison is really cool! especially considering it's a stone egg.

[it's possible MK *remembers* being held by someone soft with a round belly + gold eyes. He assumes throughout his life that this person was his birth mother before he was given up/orphaned.]

imagine monkey king asking MK about his family, wantingto know how his brother's reincarnations are doing, and MK talks about them then mentions he was actually adopted and MK offhandedly mentioning the one memory he has of his "birth mother" to Monkey king and monkey king just being like "oh. oh no."

[So that Stone Egg been slow boiling from anywhere between 1394 to 1116 years. 0_o] + [Either way SWK has beaten Lao Tzu/Zi's mom (pregnant for 62-80 years), and def brags about that fact to whatever immortal will hear.]

honestly, after that long, he's earned bragging rights.

[DBK overhears LBD making threatening references to Wukong's conditon and immediately interrupts her villainy bs to yell at his sworn brother.]

LBD just giving up and leaving as the two bicker is hilarious. it also has the affect of eleveating some of Wukong's stress about LBD returning, and making him feel better about the rift between him and his brother once DBK accepts his proposal to be the egg's godparent. evn if offering such a title to someone other then Ao Lie leaves a bittersweet taste in his mouth. he knows Ao Lie would't mind him giving the title to someone he trusted, but he'd always been so sure that someone would be Ao Lie.

[After the initial shock wears off, PIF immediately summons a catalog to look for baby shower supplies. This is a monumentous occassion!]

all negitive feelings are forgotten when the excitement of a new baby within the sworn family is brought into everything + learning that Wukong very possibly could have lost his own child by helping with the Samadhi fire ritual, something he did becuase he was one of the few who could help them from losing their own child. from mother to mother(?), she understands how hard of a call that must have been to make.

[She ofc assumes it's Macaque's fault (she's not wrong XD) and that this might be her future sworn niece/nephew! She simply must organise everything for her idiot sworn brother and his mate!]

when Yuebei is born and has dark fur and glowing ears she feels it is confirmed that her assumption Macaque was the other parent was correct, no one corrects her about the bio parent situation.

[Red blinks in confusion before confronting the Monkie Kid gang about it later. Mei demands PIF's contact details right that second so that they can swap party ideas.]

red son is just going "WTH WTH WTH" the whole time as they explain, Mei would absolutely insert herself into baby shower planing the moment the idea is brought up.

[Macaque spends most of S3 trying to bat away any thoughts/predictive sounds of a happy domestic life him and Wukong cna have together.]

its dangerous to be thinking of such things with the lady bone demon breathing down his neck, but he can't help it. it gets overwhelming sometimes, the sounds of domestic moments from the past mixing with possible futures leave him questioning what it is exactly he wants anymore. but those are thoughts to process when LBD is defeated and the world isn't on the cusp of being destroyed. now of Wukong didn't put himself and the egg in one of the most compramising positions ever by being possessed in the meantime, that would be great. he makes up his mind the moment a just freed monkey king collapses into his arms crying like this is the only hug he's ever had in his life.

[Yuebei's first immortal kill is in fact LBD, preformed before she was even born. Once the switch "flipped" on the possesed SWK, the Egg recognised LBD as both a threat to her parent and a tasty source of Dao, hence; nom-nom-nom.] + [All thats left behind of the ancient bone demon is a picked-clean skull.]

not even out of the womb and already earning her "god killer" title. Wukong always guessed any kid that was solely his would be a menace, but now he's starting to get a little concerned.

I was doing some doodles for this au and I had the idea of Yuebei getting a staff of her own from her parents and I wanted it to have something to do with LBD's skull, but I couldn't make the design work. so I actually had the idea of her having her staff and wearing the front of LBD's skull like a mask. she legit wearing the skeletal face of her first kill, creepy, stylish, and effective at scaring off her enemies.

[Ah, a fellow party crasher, just like her baba.]

Wukong appreciates the hustle, but could she be a menace to everyone except him and is poor body please? he just got put through hell and now he's gotta get this egg outta him and that's probably gonna be less fun then getting possessed.

[Wukong and Macaque can barely enjoy the bowl of noodles they've stolen (in good humor) from MK when Wukong's face just drops from a shift in his body.]

Macaque feels Wukong's body suddenly go rigid and is confused, then he sees the look on Wukong's face and just knows. as soon as Wukong starts ordering Ne Zha to go get Guanyin he's instantly fussing and getting things ready for the undoubtedly long few hours ahead. surprisingly, the two monkeys are basically the only ones not panicking at this point, them and Guanyin once they're on the scene.

[Tang: "Oh gracious Buddha! The bodhisattva Guanyi herse-- oh gosh this is a lot grosser than I was expecting..." *gets woozy and hides face in Pigsy's chest*]

no matter the incarnation, every reincarnation of the golden cicada is squeamish.

[Imagine how much crying would be involved if little Yuebei just so happened to be born six-eared as well?] + [Hard to refute their claims when the little Monkey Princess has such lovely midnight-dark fur and glowing ears.]

I like to think that she wouldn't have his six sensitive ears because she didn't actually have the genetics for it, but her appearance could still be pushed so her ears do still glow a little.

even if their aren't six ears, the instant Macaque sees her ears glowing he would not be able to stop himself from squealing with joy and practically side tackling Wukong as he is incoherently babbling about how much he loves her.

[He def recorded a tape + wrote letters to Yuebei before she was born ala "For Steven" in Steven Universe... just in case his immortality didn't work in the end.]

he def let Guanyin know before hand so that if things did go wrong they'd know the tapes/letters were there to give to his infant.

[Little Yuebei spent so much time in the "final run" hearing show tunes, action movies, and the voices of Wukong's new found family/troop that she thinks theses are all "good noises"!]

this is super cute!

but to make a good thing angsty, what if she also has "bad noises" that she associates with certain things. what if when they first met Azure she was super aggressive towards him at first because she "remembers" hearing him being really mean and/or straight up hurting Wukong at some point in the journey. and what if she also isn't that trusting of macaque at first because she also only ever "heard" him when he was in the process of trying to hurt her baba and his friends, both in his first life and now in his second. this def upsets Macaque but also he did do that so he's the one who's gotta make up for it, luckily yuebei seems to warm up to him quickly when she sees him and Wukong being cuddly and reconciling.

[Yuebei decided that "Kitty" wasn't playing with her, wasn't holding her right, and wasn't even singing to her! And she wanted to make her frustrations known.]

c'mon Azure, if you're gonna hold a super strong baby that already doesn't like you the least you can do is try and keep her happy and preoccupied. he's got no one but himself to blame

sequel to this post!

Im uber excited to read more your fic btw!

[I headcanon that part of his obsession with peaches are because peaches are a comfort food for him, so not being able to eat one when stressed hit him pretty hard]

Wukong associates peaches with 1: Food security, 2: His Immortality, and most importantly, 3: His friendship/romance with Macaque. So his body deciding to reject peaches is a huge stresser for him, which leads to more stress and more nausea and less peaches, in an endless cycle. Peach chips at least dont seem to trigger the worst of his food adversion though, the crunchy chip texture seems to cancel it out.

[...MK talks about them then mentions he was actually adopted and MK offhandedly mentioning the one memory he has of his "birth mother" to Monkey king and monkey king just being like "oh. oh no."]

Oh MK sweetie no... :(

And the Monkey King is just silent cus he knows who MK is talking about [him], and even if SWK didn't create MK in the au, he was still the one to decide to send him to live among mortals for his own good. So the idea that MK potientially remembers Wukong from this time is a huge shock to him.

Wukong: "...your mother, what did they look like?"

MK, clueless: "Umm... their hair was a warm orange-y color. Like the sun. And I think their eyes was this really shiny yellow, or maybe amber colour? Oh! And they had this round stomach - I remember hugging it..." *gets kinda wistful* "I don't know why I'm not with them anymore, but hope they're doing ok if they're still out there."

Wukong, hand ghosting over his stomach: "You and me both bud."

[DBK accepts his proposal to be the egg's godparent. evn if offering such a title to someone other then Ao Lie leaves a bittersweet taste in his mouth. he knows Ao Lie would't mind him giving the title to someone he trusted, but he'd always been so sure that someone would be Ao Lie.]

Wukong def was hit hard by Ao Lie's passing. It pains him to give the godparent title to anyone else, but he knows when push comes to shove; his older sworn brother will be there to protect his infant. Ao Lie would just be glad that Wukong meant his offer all those centuries ago.

[all negitive feelings are forgotten when the excitement of a new baby within the sworn family is brought into everything + learning that Wukong very possibly could have lost his own child by helping with the Samadhi fire ritual, something he did becuase he was one of the few who could help them from losing their own child. from mother to mother(?), she understands how hard of a call that must have been to make.]

PIF has to give Wukong mega-respect; putting himself and his baby on the line for the health of her own. Even if she considers it so stupid to agree to such a dangerous ritual when Wukong knew he was carrying, PIF just looks over at Red Son, alive and healthy, and just hugs Wukong the next time she sees him. Although she hasn't been the most welcoming sworn sister-in-law, she vows to make it up to him for saving her child from the Samadhi Fire.

A decent proper baby shower is first on her list of repayments.

[when Yuebei is born and has dark fur and glowing ears she feels it is confirmed that her assumption Macaque was the other parent was correct, no one corrects her about the bio parent situation.]

PIF just side-eyeing Macaque whenever she sees him, convinced from the talk of the two's bad breakup + Macaque not initially knowing about the pregnancy; that her lil sworn bro is the baby-daddy. And when Yuebei is born having "imprinted" on Wukong's yearning/love for Macaque...

PIF: *seeing the baby's dark fur and glowing ears* PIF (whispering so not to wake the baby): "I fcking knew it." Macaque: *is too tired/proud to argue with her* "Yeaaah..." :')

[red son is just going "WTH WTH WTH" the whole time as they explain, Mei would absolutely insert herself into baby shower planing the moment the idea is brought up.]

Red has no idea what to do in response to all this baby talk, so he just; tries to apologise to SWK for setting him on fire a bunch as a toddler??

Wukong appriciates the effort.

Mei, PIF and Jiuweihuli get talking and soon Wukong is looking at a baby shower akin to a red carpet event.

[...but those are thoughts to process when LBD is defeated and the world isn't on the cusp of being destroyed. now of Wukong didn't put himself and the egg in one of the most compramising positions ever by being possessed in the meantime, that would be great. he makes up his mind the moment a just freed monkey king collapses into his arms crying like this is the only hug he's ever had in his life.]

Macaque spends episodes asking himself he truly wants to rebuild his and Wukong's relationship, and when the king holds him tight like he's about to disappear - Macaque decides to stay for good.

[not even out of the womb and already earning her "god killer" title.]

Imagine you're a random Celestial or demon and you hear the dreaded "God Killer" is gonna be at an event, and it's a tiny baby monkey in a papoose strapped to the Monkey King, or his many terrifying sworn family members.

You'd honestly be more afraid of that baby.

[I was doing some doodles for this au and I had the idea of Yuebei getting a staff of her own from her parents and I wanted it to have something to do with LBD's skull, but I couldn't make the design work. so I actually had the idea of her having her staff and wearing the front of LBD's skull like a mask. she legit wearing the skeletal face of her first kill, creepy, stylish, and effective at scaring off her enemies.]

Oh that sounds so cool!!! Her divine skull weapon being a mask made from the skull of her first kill that she uses to channel her deadly power - like turning the Medusa's head into a shield. Her staff being a gift from her parents that has no inate magic ability beyond the fact that she puts her trust in it as her first "real" weapon.

I can imagine she uses a glamour/quick magic to put the skull/mask on (like Dr Facillier in "Friends on the Other Side") as a way of saying "You're f*cked" to her opponents.

I'm excited to see how your drawings go!

[-the two monkeys are basically the only ones not panicking at this point, them and Guanyin once they're on the scene.]

Wukong and Macaque are def panicking, though its more an excited kind of panicking. Nezha and MK are def screaming. Guanyin is the only one with a cool head the entire time.

Pigsy is good at pretending he isn't worried, but he ends up tearing apart the campsight's kitchen in a hurry to make enough food for everyone. Especially when DBK and PIF realise what's happening, and are posted incase Wukong's baby causes as much trouble for him as Red did to them.

[I like to think that she wouldn't have his six sensitive ears because she didn't actually have the genetics for it, but her appearance could still be pushed so her ears do still glow a little.

Oh gosh, Mac and Wukong just see Yuebei for the first time. She's still kinda gross, having *just* busted out of her thin ambiotic shell. Her fur dark... And her little ears glowing?! Both monkey parents are sobbing, especially when they learn that Yuebei was unconciously trying her best to look like Macaque's baby with the limited genetics available. Wukong has multiple centuries of love to dish out, and Macaque is catching up fast.

[he def let Guanyin know before hand so that if things did go wrong they'd know the tapes/letters were there to give to his infant.]

Guanyin has a secret stash in the Southern Ocean of all the letters and tapes (and even some drawings of what she might have looked like) Wukong ever made for Yuebei, in case he wasn't able to give them to her in person. Yuebei ends up finding them when she's a moody teenager, mad at her baba for something stupid.

Pre-series; In absense of any other godparent... I bet Wukong would have trusted Yuebei with Guanyin if possible. The goddess would have gladly taken the infant had Wukong not survived the birth, though it would pain her for many centuries to come.

[but to make a good thing angsty, what if she also has "bad noises" that she associates with certain things...] + [...and what if she also isn't that trusting of macaque at first because she also only ever "heard" him when he was in the process of trying to hurt her baba and his friends] + [...luckily yuebei seems to warm up to him quickly when she sees him and Wukong being cuddly and reconciling.]

ooohhhh :(

Wukong walks in after letting Mac take care of Yuebei while he was out, only to come back to see both of them crying. Yuebei is doing this sort of furious wailing while Mac just looks defeated.

Macaque: "She hates me!!" Wukong, picks up Yuebei: "No she doesn't plum. She cries at eveything." Yuebei: *calms down at sound of Wukong's voice* Macaque: "No! She started crying when I tried talking to her! And when I tried soothing her it just got worse and worse and-!!" (*Wukong places a soft hand on Mac's cheek, quieting him*) Wukong: "She'll warm up to you. Just be patient." Macaque: *leans into Wukong's hand, still crying." Yuebei: *looks confused before slapping a fat little hand on Mac's face in mimicry of her baba. chirping with delight* Macaque: :')

Once the relationship between Wukong and Mac improves, so does the baby's reaction to Mac's voice (symbolism). She finally starts to associate the "bad" voice with her bama, and soon it's not a "bad voice" anymore. Though there probably is a weird bridge-point where Mac has to put on silly accents/voices when he baby-talks to Yuebei or else she'll get mad at him.

[c'mon Azure, if you're gonna hold a super strong baby that already doesn't like you the least you can do is try and keep her happy and preoccupied. he's got no one but himself to blame]

I can just imagine Azure is too preoccupied with his plans for the Celestial Realm (and plans for Wukong), and fails to notice Yuebei getting more and more fussy as he holds her (poorly). Her face contorts like she's constipated and slowly gets redder and redder with anger.

Yellowtusk immediately notices and warns Azure to let the cub down so she can at least crawl and inspect her new surroundings. Peng laughs at the thought of letting "the hatchling" decide the terms of her imprisonment.

Then Peng feels a tiny, but powerful, hand grab their wing feathers...

Yellowtusk leaves before the carnage reaches him.

#slow boiled stone egg au #stone egg talk #pregnancy tw #sun wukong #lmk aus #shadowpeach #macaque #qi xiaotian #gif warning #lmk yuebei #yuebei xing

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spirk-trek · 3 months

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I would love to hear your thoughts on kirk's backstory and what happened on tarsus iv, I feel like I've read so many conflicting takes on here and none of them actually match up with the episode (conscience of the king)

Hi anon! The way you worded this makes me think you were just looking for information and not a fic request. Forgive me if I was wrong!! 😅

I think the reason there are so many conflicting ideas is because of how vague it is in canon itself (which is cool, leaves a lot of room for interpretation). Because of this, when I recently wrote a thing about Tarsus IV I also struggled with "research" for it. Here's what I came up with:

!!! Disclaimer! I am not declaring any of this the One True Canon™! This is just my interpretation/speculation based on existing lore !!!

To me, it makes most sense for Jim to be sent to Tarsus IV with his mother, and for her to be a civilian scientist/researcher of some kind. I find it very hard to believe the massacre could have taken place if Starfleet were present, which would include George Kirk, Jim's father. George is said to have been absent often due to his work (SNW), so it wouldn’t be strange for him to be separated from his family (this is also just normal in Star Trek in general, i.e. Sulu [AOS] and like… everyone with children in TNG).

A more recent Trek book called Drastic Measures seems to back this exact idea up (depends who you ask which novels are canon, and this book was written for Discovery so take it with a grain of salt).

Sam would, in the TOS timeline, be 10 years older than Jim (~23). That would make it unlikely he'd be tailing after his mother to remote colonies. It's much more likely he was concerned with his own career/family/life.

So, in summary of those points, I think it was just Jim and Winona. Jim is between 12 and 14 years old, and his mother was a civilian researcher (the novel I mentioned earlier made her a xenobiologist, probably for plot reasons).

Something I do see exaggerated sometimes is the method of killing in the massacre. An antimatter chamber appears to be what was used, similar to A Taste of Armageddon, so it would not have been mass carnage or a big dramatic fight in the end. Just... zap.

SPOCK: "He was certainly among the most ruthless, to decide arbitrarily who would survive and who would not [...] and then to implement his decision without mercy. Children watching their parents die. Whole families, destroyed. Over four thousand people. They died quickly, without pain, but they died.”

However, these are also quotes from the episode, so I can see why people might think the massacre itself was more violent:

- JIM: “Four thousand people were needlessly butchered.” - LEIGHTON: “I remember him. That voice. The bloody thing he did.” - JIM: “Are you sure you didn't act this role out in front of a captive audience whom you blasted out of existence without mercy?” - KARIDIAN/KODOS: “Murder, flight, suicide, madness. I never wanted the blood on my hands ever to stain you.”

There was a revolution of some kind, probably brought about by people easily radicalized out of hunger and desperation.

- KARIDIAN/KODOS: [reading] "The revolution is successful…” - SPOCK: “There were over eight thousand colonists and virtually no food. And that was when Governor Kodos seized full power and declared emergency martial law.”

If Kodos already had his ideas about eugenics, which it sounds like he did, he would have seized this as an opportunity. This would make him an even more solid comparison to Hitler, which they were definitely going for to at least some extent (this was written two decades after WWII which many involved in the making of star trek were deeply affected by if not veterans themselves).

Because of the above quotes, I also think there’s merit to the idea of there being multiple formal executions where Kodos gave his infamous “speech” each time rather than just once (this would be another reason Jim would remember it enough to write it down), rather than one massive execution of 4,000 people. However, this quote could be interpreted to mean the opposite:

SPOCK: “Kodos began to separate the colonists. Some would live, be rationed whatever food was left; The remainder would be immediately put to death.”

Arguably, the even more traumatic suffering would be the period of starvation and upheaval leading up to the massacre. To me, a 3-6 month period of slowly worsening starvation as the food supply shrank and shrank to nothing would make the most sense.

One aspect I don't quite get is that Kodos's body was supposed to have been "burned beyond recognition.” Since we know from Conscience of the King his death was staged, then this fake death can’t have been pulled off in the midst of Starfleet intervention upon arrival (they would have taken him into custody to stand trial rather than kill him on sight anyway). Burning yourself to death is a highly unusual form of suicide, so I’m not sure if that’s supposed to allude to him being fake killed in the carnage following the execution when the people didn't react the way he wanted or expected? My only theory is that there was unrest and rioting for the period of time between the massacre and Starfleet arriving with relief, and he used that to fake his death once he knew he would be put on trial.

Anyway, this is super long so I'll cut myself off there. Hope that answered your question, sorry for being crazy! If anyone has anything to add, please do!

#star trek #tw #cw #theory #analysis #captain kirk #tarsus iv #lore #tarsus iv massacre #discussion #reference #fanfic #canon #fanon

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year

Text

The Silver Dragon (43/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 18,112 (OOPS, but not really)

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: Aemond return to King's Landing. Arianwyn tells the Vale the truth.

Warnings: self-harm

Author's Note:

So sorry for the delay! After seeing some new BTS from episode 10, my brain sprang to life with some new things I could incorporate here. And my beta is on vacation, so if you saw any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes, please let me know so I can fix it!

We are now officially leaving show canon behind...

Series Masterlist

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Three Days, Part III

On the 25th day in the ninth month, 136 years after Aegon’s Conquest…

The moon was tauntingly full and bright, and the clouds had long since dispersed. There was nowhere to hide. Anyone who looked toward the sky could clearly see the monster flying above them.

The monster, and the dragon he rode.

“Skoros emagon ao gaomagon?” Aemond whispered, far too quietly for Vhagar to hear over the roaring wind lashing at them as they raced back to King’s Landing with a speed he had never seen. What have you done?

He did not know if he was asking her or himself.

He was not sure if he had actually said anything at all, or so much as moved his lips. His throat was painfully raw from shouting through the storm – he may not have been able to produce a sound even if he wanted to.

But he must have said something, for Vhagar responded with a proud twist of her head and a victorious roar.

Gods save him. There was still blood on her teeth.

The blood of that poor young dragon whose name Aemond did not know. And…

Luke’s blood.

The pain that had been steadily growing within Aemond’s skull suddenly burst forth like a mighty wave crashing through a dam.

Even the sapphire – Aria’s sapphire – felt like it had come alive and was trying to claw its way out of his skin.

The vision in his good eye went blurry, and it was only thanks to the dozens of straps and chains tying him to the saddle that Aemond did not fall off Vhagar’s back and plummet to his death on the peaks of the mountains below.

He wanted to cut the straps away, break the iron chains with his bare hands. Anything to get away from the beast he was shackled to in body and soul, even if it meant his death.

Would it be anything less than he deserved?

But the pain was too great for him to wrap his hand around the hilt of his dagger.

Each beat of his heart brought on a new pulse of pure agony. With each surge, his muscles tensed until he was sure they would snap.

The only thing he could manage was to cradle the burning scar.

His eyepatch was not there, though he did not remember removing it himself, nor it falling off in the wind.

It was just… gone.

When another wave washed over him – the pain more intense than when he was first given the wound – he pressed into his hands, desperately seeking relief.

But it did not come.

The sapphire was as cold as ice – colder than anything he had ever felt. So cold that it burned the skin of his palm.

Aemond shrieked at the pain.

Vhagar echoed the noise, nearly coming to a halt over a mountain peak. But she recovered faster than her rider and began to fly faster still – so fast Aemond could not believe it – towards King’s Landing.

Towards home – to Aria.

Aemond collapsed against the saddle, not caring when the leather and chains bit into his skin as he strained against them.

His next cry came not from pain, but realization.

It wasn’t his scar that was hurting him so deeply.

It was the sapphire.

The jewel – the purest expression of Aria’s love he ever possessed – was fighting against him.

Burning him.

Hurting him.

Rejecting him.

He was unworthy of such a gift. Unworthy of Aria’s love and the protection her Runes offered.

She was so good, so pure, so perfect.

He was a monster.

Worse, a kinslayer.

Wearing her gift was an affront to her, the old gods, and indeed all gods and men. He could not be allowed to possess it any longer. His very touch marred its goodness irreparably.

He pulled his hands away from his face just enough to curl his fingers into claws – the same claws Vhagar bore.

Skin broke on the first strike.

Then again.

And again.

Over and over until his hands, and the sapphire that now sat within them, were coated in hot red blood.

Aemond squeezed his eye shut, unable to bring himself to look as he opened his hands and let the sapphire fall.

Then he screamed anew.

And he did not stop.

Sleep, restful sleep, had eluded Arianwyn, leaving her bleary-eyed as she watched Emrys bristle in the garden below. Her poor dragon was quite upset that his first-ever adventure had been ruined by the arrival of Vermax – almost as upset as his rider was by the arrival of Jacaerys.

Had it not been for the arrival of her stepbrother, they would currently be preparing to leave, if they had not left already.

Instead, Arianwyn was tugging half-heartedly on the satin belt of her dressing gown, wishing it was the leather lacings of her cuirass – freshly replaced after Aemond ripped them only days ago.

Emrys –just as averse to early mornings as his beloved rider – was not stretching his wings in anticipation of their long flight, but folding them tightly over his head to block out Vermax’s unceasing chirrups.

As she loosed her robe and sat at the end of her bed, Arianwyn bowed her head in prayer. “May the Crone guide me this day, that I may speak with wisdom and grace. If it is the will of the gods, allow my petition to be successful. And if it is not…”

She opened her eyes and gazed out into the gardens, where Vermax was excitedly sniffing at a large rose bush. If she ignored who the little green creature was bonded to, she could almost let herself be amused by the sight.

But she couldn’t ignore it, nor how Emrys was slinking closer and closer to her window, examining its stone walls as if trying to figure out a way to slip inside. It would never work, of course. He was so large that he couldn’t even fit his whole snout through.

When he finally figured it out himself, he dejectedly rested the tip of his chin against the windowsill and whined softly.

Arianwyn rose from the bed with a sympathetic smile and stroked his nose. “Nyke gīmigon, byka ossȳngnon,” she cooed as he leaned into her touch. “Lo jaelā naejot jiōragon qrīdrughagon hen zirȳla, kostā jikagon sōvegon ondoso aōla. Vermax iksis byka, se daor olvie adere, kessa daor gaomagon bē.” I know, little dread. If you want to get away from him, you can go fly by yourself. Vermax is small, and not very fast, he will not keep up.

Emrys snorted solemnly in reply, sending a small burst of smoke into the bedroom. No, he would not leave her now. Never when she was so upset.

“Kirimvose, dōna mēre,” she said with a kiss to his warm scales. “Avy jorrāelan.” Thank you, sweet one. I love you.

She could almost swear that as Emrys grumbled, there was a voice speaking in the back of her head that sounded eerily like that grumbling. It told her it loved her too.

“Kostagon jān arlī naejot ñuha jorepnon sir?” she asked playfully. Can I go back to my prayer now?

Emrys blinked and, with some difficulty, removed his snout from the window. Vermax immediately noticed the movement and began to approach the older dragon.

Arianwyn laughed as Emrys slumped against the wall, wrapped his wings around his face again, and pretended to fall asleep.

“Sȳz biarves,” she called. Good luck.

She did not return to her prayer immediately, for she did not know what to say next. So instead, she took off her nightgown and began to dress for the day. Jeyne had offered to send a maid, but Arianwyn found she enjoyed managing alone for a few days. Besides, she did not want to have to explain to someone new how to deal with her mass of curls.

When Brynna told her she had packed five dresses for the journey, even though it was supposed to take only three days, she had thought her maid foolish and unreasonably over-prepared.

But now, she was grateful to have options to choose from. It made her feel like a knight selecting which weapon to carry into battle.

She had already worn two of the gowns, leaving her with three options:

First, there was a heavily structured dress of deep blue silk – Arryn blue. The shoulders bore embroidery reminiscent of wings, a nod to the sigil of her godsmother’s house. But to wear something so obvious would feel dishonest. Too much like begging.

Arianwyn was not an Arryn. She was a Royce – and a Targaryen. She would not pretend to be anything else.

She would not rely on her connections to the Vale or the throne to make her argument. If she was to win Jeyne’s allegiance, it would be her logic and the brutal honesty of her story that won it.

So, the black and bronze gown – the one she had worn her first day back to King’s Landing – was also rejected.

There was only one option left.

A surcoat and linen underdress, like the one she had worn during the little game she and Aemond played the day before they left.

But this was far simpler than that one. The coat was made of soft, undyed wool, with voluminous sleeves to protect her from the cold mountain wind.

Its only decoration was the embroidery along the edges – intricate depictions of the beautiful flowers that graced the fields of Runestone. Campion and marsh. Cornflower and primrose. Foxglove and snowdrops. And Arianwyn’s favorite – meadowsweet.

As she looked at herself in the mirror, she felt perfect. Soft, but regal. Stately, yet not too imposing. She was every bit the Princess and Lady she now was, but she was still herself.

All that was missing was a ring on her finger and her husband on her arm.

Suddenly, she knew how to end her prayer.

“I know that I am on the right path, and my cause is just,” she whispered aloud, feeling that the words were too important to keep inside. “But the path you lay out for us is not always so clear. If I am to fail today, I ask only that I be allowed to return safely into my husband’s arms, that we may face whatever is to come together.”

The very earth trembled as Vhagar landed just outside the King’s Gate. She had flown so far and fast that, by the time she started her descent, she was too exhausted to land well.

The talons at the tips of her wings and her claws had caught the stones of the city wall as she tried to slow herself, sending broken shards of brick raining down on the gold cloaks standing guard at the gate. She had landed with such force that her back legs dug deep rivets into the ground below her.

It hadn’t helped that as soon as the city was in sight, Aemond took up the reins for the first time in hours to try and steer her directly toward the Red Keep.

“Skoriot issi ao jāre?” he had rasped when she pulled against his commands. His voice was practically nonexistent after hours of ceaseless screaming. “Gūrogon nyke lenton.” Where are you going? Take me home.

Vhagar ignored his commands. She knew there was nowhere she could land in the city itself that would not result in the injury or death of some innocent. After how he reacted to the righteous death of that little dragon and its rider – the same hateful boy who had maimed her Aemond on the night they claimed each other – who dared to threaten him, she would not put him in place to be hurt again.

In the years she had spent making him fierce, she had never thought him soft. None of her other riders had been so.

Thankfully, he was far too weak from the flight, his self-inflicted wounds, and whatever demons were roiling within his mind to fight against her in any meaningful way. Not that she would obey, even if he could. She would follow no order which might put him in danger.

“Kostilus,” he begged hoarsely as she turned toward the tourney grounds. “Nyke jorrāelagon naejot jikagon lenton. Nyke jorrāelagon naejot jikagon naejot zirȳla. Nyke jorrāelagon zirȳla.” Please. I need to go home. I need to go to her. I need her.

She let out a sympathetic growl but continued to descend on the great stretch of grassy fields outside the city, frightening the smallfolk for how close they came to their roofs.

Aemond was not surprised by her disobedience. He had begged her to stop when she began to pursue Luke on her own after that dragon – barely more than a hatchling – had loosed a weak burst of dragonfire on her. And she had disobeyed.

Of course, she had. Who was he to command the Queen of All Dragons?

Compared to the paragons of his house who had ridden her before him, Aemond was nothing.

He was not an almighty conqueror like Visenya.

He was not a brave and beloved Prince like his grandsire, Baelon.

He was certainly not like Laena, adored and admired by all.

No, he was only a wretched, monstrous, broken excuse for a prince – for a Targaryen.

He had never been worthy of any dragon, much less Vhagar.

Allowing him to claim her had been some cruel, cosmic joke. A way for the gods to amuse themselves by watching him fail so miserably. Or a punishment, perhaps. For the darkness that had always lived inside his damned soul.

Oh gods.

He was damned. As a murderer, a monster, a kinslayer.

All because of the dragon – the abomination created by his Valyrian ancestors with their infernal blood magics – that he had bound himself to.

He had to get away from her.

The moment she came to rest in the middle of the road leading out of the city, Aemond began frantically removing each of the restraints keeping him in the saddle. It took him longer than it should have, as his bloodstained hands still trembled. His chest was heaving painfully with each panicked breath, and without the chill of the wind to numb it, his empty clawed-open eye was starting to burn again.

When he was finally free, he scrambled down the rope ladder on Vhagar’s side quicker than ever before, despite the pain circling his legs. Somehow, on the flight back, he had pulled so hard against the leather straps and chains that they had dug into his skin. He had no doubt there were bruises, and knew it was more than likely that blood had been drawn.

But he didn’t care. He just wanted to get away, to run back to his rooms and into the awaiting arms of his wife.

He didn’t want to acknowledge Vhagar at all. But when he began toward the guards at the King’s Gate, each of whom was staring with wide eyes as the fact of who was limping toward them and covered in his own blood sunk in, she let out a low, pleading whine.

His exhaustion and devastation faded instantly, replaced with an enormous, unquenchable rage.

“Gaomā daor jiōragon naejot sagon zūgagon syt nyke!” Aemond shouted as he whirled on her, causing his left leg to buckle. He only just caught himself before falling into the upturned dirt. “Emā ojūdan bona paktot.” You do not get to be worried for me! You have lost that right.

Vhagar shied away from his anger, her orange eyes wide with bewilderment. How could her dear rider treat her like this after all she had done to protect him?

“Gaomagon ao sesīr gīmigon skoros emā sepār gaomagon?” he asked, ignoring the calls from the guards offering him aid. Do you know what you have just done?

The dragon only whined again – a feeble, wounded noise.

“Ao ossēntan zirȳla! Nyke mērī jeldan naejot sȳngagon zirȳla – hae ziry istin gōntan naejot nyke. Yn ao ossēntan zirȳla!” His voice cracked like a raging fire as he roared, his throat raw and aching. You killed him! I only wanted to frighten him – as he once did to me. But you killed him!

“Īles iā riña! Īles ñuha lentor, se ao ossēntan zirȳla!” he shrieked as pain began to well once more in his empty eye – the result of the salty tears pooling within and stinging the open wounds he had inflicted himself. He was a child! He was my family, and you killed him!

He almost collapsed as each one of his wounds began to throb as one. “Emā vēttan nyke iā letnor sēntys! Se syt bona iksan qrimbrōstan! Ñuha gīs kessa zālagon isse se trūmāje hen Sīkudi Nopāzmi ēva se mōris hen jēda… se kesan gūrogon ziry.” You have made me a kinslayer! And for that I am cursed! My soul will burn in the deepest of the Seven Hells until the end of time... and I will deserve it.

Vhagar dropped her chin to the ground and moaned, her best attempt at appearing innocent and coy. But Aemond could still smell the sharp tang of blood on her breath and see the faint traces of rusty brown embedded between the scales of her snout.

Another pang had Aemond stumbling into the dirt, the impact sending licks of fire up his injured legs. Several guards at the gate began to run for him, but reeled back when Vhagar, too, surged toward her rider.

“Daor!” Aemond ordered with the last of his remaining strength as he fought to try and stand. “Umbagon qrīdrughagon!” No! Stay away!

The massive dragon winced at the sheer fury contained in the command and began to slink away like a scolded pup. As she retreated, the guards once again began to cautiously approach the Prince.

“Eminna daorun tolī naejot gaomagon lēda ao,” Aemond spat with a fading voice between shaky breaths. “Jaelan ao naejot henujagon. Skoriot jā daoriot jemagon. Hēzīr, iksā daorun naejot nyke. I will have nothing more to do with you. I want you to leave. Where you go does not matter. From now on, you are nothing to me.

He did not look at Vhagar as he finally stood, turning to the three gold cloaks now surrounding him. They looked at him like they had happened upon an injured shadowcat – something at once pitiful and deadly.

“My Prince…” the eldest among them said sheepishly. “Are you alright?”

Aemond did not so much as glance at the man as he began stumbling toward the gate. He could feel his mind, which he had only just regained as he came back to solid ground, begin to slip away again. If he looked at the man’s simpering face, no doubt full of pity, he might very well lose it again.

“I need a horse,” he growled.

“Of course,” the guard said, running ahead of him to the guardpost. The other two fell into an awkward formation behind the Prince.

It took a humiliatingly long time for Aemond to actually arrive at the gate, by which time a horse was saddled and waiting. Mounting the damned thing when every muscle he had screamed in protest was one of the most challenging things he had ever done.

As he gripped the horse’s reins, Vhagar made another woeful noise – a last attempt to try and ply him.

With the sound, he felt the last remaining dregs of his consciousness begin to melt away. He had to return to the Keep quickly, before losing himself entirely. Indeed, it was already becoming hard to focus his vision on anything beyond his horse’s ears.

But he still held to his anger at his damned dragon.

“Lo nyke mirre ilagon laesi va ao aril…” he hissed, his lone violet eye bloodshot and filled with disdain. “Nyke dōrī jaelagon naejot ūndegon ao arlī. Mirre.” If I ever lay eyes on you again... I never want to see you again. Ever.

He did not wait for her reply before driving his heels into the horse and setting it galloping through the King’s Gate and into the bustling streets of King’s Landing.

Vhagar’s doleful wails were heard by all within the city’s walls, save for her rider. His mind had already begun to pull him away from reality. All he could hear was the pouring of rain, the cracking of thunder, and the horrible crunch of bones between Vhagar’s teeth.

If Arianwyn had thought hours of listening to the old men of the Vale debate over dams and crops and visitation schedules was miserable, having to stay still and silent and keep her face neutral as she listened to Jace speak on behalf of Rhaenyra was surely a punishment from the gods themselves.

It certainly didn’t help that he looked at her with that stupid smug smile whenever he thought he made a good point.

Perhaps she should have prayed more for the strength to endure her stepbrother rather than just for the success of her own petition.

Jace had begun with a rather monotonous history lesson detailing the Targaryen family line from Aenar to himself. But, of course, he had incorrectly listed the late Ser Laenor Velaryon as his father.

Arianwyn had let her impassive façade slip for a moment when a few disbelieving chuckles and jeers echoed through the hall at the assertion. But the ever-watchful Gerold had spotted her slight smile and quickly corrected her with a gentle pinch on her elbow.

To his credit, Jace had not let it deter him. Instead, he smoothly transitioned into detailing how and why Viserys had named Rhaenyra his heir. Then to a fumbling and faulty explanation of the Widow’s Law and how he thought it supported his mother’s claim.

Arianwyn listened closely, making a note of each inconsistency, vaguery, or inaccuracy – whether it be intentional or not. While the bulk of her argument would rely on the revelation of Daemon’s character and past crimes, she had to first counter whatever Jace said.

There was ever the possibility that some, perhaps many, would not believe what she had to say about her father. If they did, she would still need to say whatever she could to convince them.

“There is little more to say, my Lords,” Jace proclaimed. The self-righteous lilt in his voice grated on Arianwyn endlessly. “It is clear that by both law and my grandsire’s wishes, my mother Rhaenyra was always the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, whatever the would-be usurper may say.

“I never had the good fortune to meet my mother’s mother, Queen Aemma, but I have been raised on stories of her goodness. I am proud to bear her blood, her Arryn blood. Though I have been here not yet a day, I can feel the land here call to me, as I am sure it does to my mother as well.”

Arianwyn considered her restraint in not rolling her eyes at that to be nothing short of miraculous. She would have to commission a bard to write a song commemorating the feat.

Jace turned to Jeyne and gave a short, almost solemn nod. “Rhaenyra is not only your cousin and your Queen, my Lady, but your peer. Those who would try to usurp her throne do so for no reason other than that she is a woman, and for that, they consider her unworthy of her birthright.

“I ask only that you honor the oath you took some twenty years ago by acknowledging my mother as your Queen and pledging your support to her cause. With good fortune, this farce will not come to bloodshed. However, I cannot deny that having you declare your support for the Queen, with the might of your armies behind you, would do much to dissuade my usurper uncle from pursuing this any further.

“But I am willing to wait to receive your answer,” he said, turning once more to look at Arianwyn with a smile almost too genuine. “For my sweet sister has come to speak on my uncle’s behalf. I find myself quite curious as to why she has done so, seeing as she is, herself, a ruling Lady. Nevertheless, my affection for her is nearly as great as my respect for her intellect, so I will humbly stand aside and allow her to speak.”

Another subtle pinch from Gerold signaled Arianwyn to bow her head in thanks to her stepbrother and give him a grateful smile. Though she would never admit it, she was surprisingly touched by his praise, underhanded though it was.

“I commend you for your eloquent speech, Prince Jacaerys,” Jeyne said from the throne as the light smattering of applause, led by Lords Sunderland and Corbray, finally quieted. “It is true that I have found myself in a similar predicament to your mother. Thrice have mine own kin sought to replace me, and thrice they have failed. My cousin Ser Arnold is wont to say that women are too soft to rule. I have him in one of my sky cells, if you would like to ask him yourself, or simply meet another long-estranged cousin.”

The gathered crowd laughed with her at that – including Arianwyn, despite her nerves.

Jeyne’s held up a hand to quiet the room once more. “As Jacaerys says, there is another here to speak to us on this matter. While she is not my blood as Rhaenyra is, she is my family in both the eyes of the gods and in the affections of my own heart. For this, and for her place as the Lady of Runestone, I now invite her now to make her petition on behalf of her good brother, Aegon.”

The silence in the room was so heavy that as Arianwyn walked to the center of the hall to stand before the Weirwood thrones, she felt as though she was moving through sand. But she swallowed her fear and willed her racing heart to calm.

Otto Hightower would not have sent her here if he did not believe her capable of succeeding – nor would any member of the Small Council, even Aegon. She reassured herself that she had not only their support, distant as it was, but that of the law, the gods, and her husband. With all that behind her, how could she fail?

“Lords and Ladies of the Vale, it is an honor to speak to you today,” she began, pleasantly surprised at the strength of her voice. “I ask that you please be forgiving should I not be particularly eloquent. I have never addressed a court before nor had any real oratory experience, and I find myself quite nervous to do so now.”

She laughed slightly, expecting others to laugh with her, at least out of pity, but none did. So, she took a deep breath and continued. “I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting most of you personally, so I will begin by introducing myself. I am Lady Arianwyn Targaryen.”

“Princess, my dear,” Gerold reminded her with a grimace from where he stood by the base of the throne.

Arianwyn winced. This was precisely why she had prayed this morning. She did not possess a silver tongue. Indeed, at the moment, hers felt much more like lead.

“Yes, forgive me,” she stuttered. “I am still not used to that title yet. It was granted to me only seven days past – or eight, maybe? I actually do not know what day we were wed. It was around midnight. But I am not quite sure whether it was before or after.”

“Aria?” Gerold’s call was unsubtly covered with an obviously false cough. When she looked at him, he widened his eyes to let her know she had already begun to ramble.

She swallowed, taking a moment to straighten her skirts and gather her thoughts. “My apologies, again. I, um… I became a Princess only days ago when I was wed to Prince Aemond Targaryen. Naturally, as it comes from my husband, the title is quite dear to me. However, dearer to me is that which I inherited from my mother, who was well known and, I hope, well-loved by all of you: Rhea Royce, Lady of Runestone.

“That title was given to me on the day of my birth, as it was also the day my mother died,” she fell silent then as all those gathered in the Throne Room bowed their heads in remembrance. Much to her surprise, Jace joined them.

“I am here to speak on behalf of my good brother, King Aegon, Second of His Name,” she looked to Jace then, copying the smug smile he had already given her several times that day. Perhaps it was cruel of her, after he had just offered respects to her mother, but she could not help herself.

“Five days ago, Aegon was crowned by Lord Commander Criston Cole of the Kingsguard in accordance with the laws of the realm and his father’s dying wish. Of course, there are those who would point to the Queen being the only audience to the proclamation as proof that it is untrue. But I have heard the tale from the Queen herself, and I believe with absolutely no hesitation.” She could sense, more than see, the sour expression on Jace’s face at her words.

“It is no secret that King Viserys was long ill,” she continued. “As such, he was often confined to his bed and unable to govern the realm himself. In his absences, it was Queen Alicent who most often sat the Iron Throne in his place, where she proved herself to be wise, kind, and above all else, honorable.

“It would have been well within her right to dispute Rhaenyra’s position as heir from the moment Aegon was born, but she did not.” At least, not publicly, Arianwyn thought. She had overheard more than one conversation suggesting Alicent had brought it up to the King privately. “For years, she steadfastly supported the King’s attestation that Rhaenyra was his heir, despite its dubious legality. I can offer no better proof to the veracity of the King’s change of heart than that.”

A slight nod and a half-smile from Gerold indicated that she had made her point well.

“However, it must be understood that despite the King’s insistence in Rhaenyra’s place as heir for many years, despite whatever oaths he had the Lords of the Realm make, she did lose that position when Aegon was born.”

This was the part she was most nervous about.

“The ruling of the Great Council was clear: a male heir is preferable to a female. Even before the Council was called, this was well understood by law and men. It is why Princess Rhaenys was passed over in favor of my grandsire, Prince Baelon, following her father’s death. And it is why the Great Council voted so overwhelmingly in favor of Viserys’ claim.

“According to the very precedent that gave Viserys his throne, Rhaenyra stopped being the heir from the instant Aegon took his first breath,” she declared.

A murmur made its way through the crowd, and Arianwyn was gratified that most of them seemed to agree with her. However, seeing the dejected expressions on several Ladies’ faces pained her, knowing she had likely just affirmed their deepest insecurities and fears.

She avoided meeting their eyes and instead looked to Jace. “My stepbrother has brought up an interesting point in his interpretation of the Widow’s Law. He is correct that it prevents a man from disinheriting his children from a first wife in favor of the children born to a second wife, but I am afraid it is not actually applicable to the current dispute.

“The purpose of the Widow’s Law is to prevent rightful heirs from being cast aside in favor of their younger half-siblings. But a man’s eldest son, regardless of whether his mother was a first, second, or any other later wife, is the lawful heir before any daughters. Nothing can pass to the daughter so long as there is a son. Therefore, a younger son from a second wife inheriting instead of an elder daughter from a first wife is not a dispossession.”

Arianwyn paused to see Jace’s reaction. He stayed silent and watched her carefully and with more than a little contempt.

According to the plan she had made with Jeyne the day before, she should now tell the court of the dangerous precedent that would be set should Rhaenyra insist that Jace – a bastard – was her heir.

She shouldn’t feel bad about it. It was true, and everyone knew it – even him.

So, why was she now hesitating?

Perhaps it was because many of the Lords in the room were already nodding along as she spoke. If they already agreed with her, she would not have to bring it up. She would not have to hurt him, Luke, or sweet little Joffrey to win the day.

For a heartbeat, she thought she might not even have to speak of Daemon.

But as she examined the crowd to assess how many were already with her, she found there were still more than a few who looked doubtful. It was to win them over that she swallowed her fear and continued.

No, she had to this for more than just winning the Vale. She had to do this because it was, and always was, the right thing to do.

“Of course,” she said with a sweet, placid smile, “you are all wise and intelligent men, with far more political experience than my stepbrother or me. Everything I have said thus far is only a repetition of what I am confident you already know.”

Arianwyn bowed her head and took a deep, steadying breath. “There is one thing more I must tell you before I end my appeal. Something that you do not know. Something that, until now, you could not know. Something concerning my mother and my father.”

Anyone whose interest in the proceedings had waned was suddenly brought back to attention.

“I imagine you all know the story of my mother’s injuries that led to her unfortunate death,” Arianwyn said as she looked around, but none met her eyes. Of course, they did not want to be reminded of something so terrible. “Perhaps some of you even saw them. I must admit, I do not envy you if you did. The descriptions I have been given are enough to curdle my blood, so I will not repeat them here. But I will tell you the story of how she was wounded. For the truth of it is far different from what you have been told, I am afraid.

“That day, my mother set out by herself to hunt, as was her habit. Ser Gerold tells me that she savored the time she spent alone. How she was never happier than when she was in the hills and moorlands of Runestone. Words cannot describe how much it pains me that what happened to her – no, what was done to her – was done in the place she loved so well.”

Arianwyn took another pause to calm herself as a flurry of whisperers flew through the crowd at what she was suggesting with that one little word.

“You were told that her horse startled and fell upon her, leaving her paralyzed and injured. And that it was a miracle that my father happened to be flying nearby when he spotted her, rescued her, and brought her home. That she was so charmed by his heroism that she finally consummated the marriage and fell pregnant with me. I do admit, it is a good story. Like something that I would read in my books.” She laughed slightly – a light, blithe chuckle entirely out of place amongst her solemn words – though she did not know why.

“But that was a lie. My father did not save my mother. He killed her.”

Arianwyn tried to continue but stopped when the clamor rising amongst the crowd grew so loud that she could hardly hear her own voice. She looked frantically to Lady Arryn and Gerold for help, but neither seemed as concerned as she did – they did not seem concerned at all. Rather, they seemed more than happy to let the Lords and Ladies have their moment of panic.

It wasn’t until Arianwyn again looked to Jace that she understood why.

His face was twisted with shock and rage, all directed at Arianwyn. She had just accused the man he so admired of the vilest of crimes – kinslaying. The gravity of such an accusation was not lost on him.

Nor was it lost on the Lords and Ladies of the Vale. Those standing near Jace were now shuffling away, as if the crimes of his stepfather had tainted him as well.

Arianwyn did not pity him.

Why should she? For years, he had ignored Arianwyn’s fear of Daemon, even when it was abundantly obvious.

It was clear in how she blanched whenever her father would look at her. How she would avert her gaze and stand to the side when she encountered him within the castle. How she flinched every time he raised his voice or slammed a hand on the table at dinners.

What did Jace think happened when Daemon dismissed them all from dinner only days ago to speak to his daughter alone? Was he truly so blind he did not see her fear the next day? Had Daemon so thoroughly deluded him that he actually thought her bruises were the work of Aemond’s hands?

Even Jace could not be so stupid.

“Silence!” Jeyne called from her throne. But even she could not wholly calm the chaos that had erupted. “You will all be silent and let the Princess speak!”

Eventually, the room was silent again, as all assembled decided their desire to hear more outweighed their instinct to rage at the accusations.

“I confess I do not know his motivation,” Arianwyn said when she finally began again, “but my father came to the Vale that day to kill my mother. In his cruelty, he apparently decided he would rather her die slowly and in agony than kill her quickly. Raping her was just another insult. He never intended for his seed to find purchase or for me to be born. Indeed, he has made it quite clear to me that his only regret is that I did not die alongside my mother in the birthing bed.”

She went on until she had told them everything.

How Daemon never acknowledged her until Lady Laena’s funeral. The cruel words he had said to her then. How he had taken her to Dragonstone not out of fatherly duty but to punish her for fighting with his other daughters. The neglect she endured on the island and the threats he made against her there.

The details of how Jace and Baela had treated her, she left out. It would serve no purpose to share them. And besides, he knew as little of this story as the rest of them – that much was clear from the abject horror growing on his face with every passing moment.

But she did speak of Rhaenyra. How she ignored Arianwyn for years, even after she became her stepmother. What she had said in the garden at Dragonstone, revealing that she knew what Daemon had done while belittling it and calling it merely “regrettable.”

How the would-be Queen had only stood there when Daemon wrapped his hands around Arianwyn’s throat. How she said nothing when he called her a ‘whore’ and a ‘virgin cunt’ to be sold for his own advantage. How she had stared blankly when Daemon threatened to kill Arianwyn.

Just as she had in the Throne Room while Daemon spun his horrible little story about Aemond, trying to pass the blame for his own attempt on Arianwyn’s life to her new husband.

Rhaenyra had only stepped in when it became clear Daemon was coming dangerously close to exposing himself – and her.

Arianwyn fell silent then. She could have continued, released all her anger in one fiery burst, and shouted so loud the gods could hear that Rhaenyra was unfit to be Queen and that Daemon was an even worse choice for King.

But she did not.

Revealing the story to the world, at last, had exhausted her body and soul. Besides, there was nothing she could say that could possibly make her case more convincingly than the simple truth.

After what seemed like an eternity, Jeyne broke the silence. And with it, the spell of horrified shock that had enveloped the High Hall – perhaps the entire Eyrie.

“I will offer only one correction,” Jeyne said, her voice as raw as though she had been crying. Perhaps she had, and Arianwyn just had not noticed. “There was a miracle, dear Arianwyn. It was a miracle that Rhea survived long enough to deliver you.”

“Where’s Aria?” Aemond grunted as he slid off his borrowed horse once he was in the courtyard of the Red Keep.

Faintly, he could hear servants working, people chattering, and even the low bleats of sheep. But his ears were still echoing with the sounds of the storm.

He stumbled as he stepped away from the horse, cursing his mind for abandoning his body like this. Thankfully, someone was there to catch him.

“Aria?” he sighed in relief. That was Rune-etched bronze armor before his eyes, perhaps the most comforting sight in the world.

But the voice that came from his rescuer was deep and gruff.

Not Aria, then.

Aemond couldn’t make out what the voice was saying. It sounded as though it was coming from behind a thick wall of stone.

“Take me to Aria,” he commanded, pushing away from whichever of his wife’s guards had caught him.

He stumbled again as he climbed the steps into the Keep but caught himself before he fell. It would not do to let the servants and courtiers see him in such a state, to see him weak.

He was Prince Aemond Targaryen, son of King Viserys and brother to King Aegon II. He was a warrior. A scholar. The rider of the largest dragon –

Dammit.

The thought of Vhagar brought another bout of pain and nausea coursing through him. He dove into the first alcove he saw and doubled over, emptying what little was left in his stomach onto the stone floor.

An armor-clad hand came to rest hesitantly on his shoulder. “My Prince?”

Aemond shook it off, growling. This time, he caught a glimpse of brownish hair – the guard had removed his helmet. Still, he couldn’t tell who it was. His vision was too blurry.

“Do not touch me,” he moaned half-heartedly. Then, summoning all his strength, he stood once more.

Every step towards his apartments took the whole of his concentration – every remaining drop of his strength to hold whatever was left of his mind in place.

He likely would have failed had each beat of his heart not whispered to him: “Aria. Aria. Aria.”

All he needed was to reach her, collapse into her arms, and all would be well. She would make everything alright again. She could wake him from this nightmare and banish the darkness from his heart.

He just needed to get to her.

After what seemed like hours, he finally reached the dark wood door to their chambers.

The Runes he and Aria had carved into them years and years ago seemed to be lit from within, as worn as they had become over the years. Aemond ran a hand over them, and with each line, his resolve seemed to strengthen.

He was so close. She was right behind the door.

The metal of the door handle was cool, just like her touch – the touch that would soon soothe him.

But as the door creaked open, his heart sank, and his stomach roiled.

The hearth was empty. The fire unlit. The curtains drawn. The room dark.

Aria was not there.

“Where is she?” Aemond hissed as his weak, traitorous, broken body began to tremble and shake. “Where is my wife?”

He turned slightly to the guard that had followed him here – or guards? There appeared to be three of them now. Or perhaps his vision was multiplying.

“The Princess has not yet returned, my Prince.”

Aemond’s body went unnaturally still at those words, as his mind returned to him for only as long as it took for his world to shatter.

A small but not insignificant number of Lords had immediately made an impassioned plea – or, more accurately, demand – for Jeyne to declare war upon Rhaenyra and Daemon, not for their false claim to the Iron Throne, but for the rape and murder of Rhea Royce, and for the mistreatment of her daughter.

They had flocked to the base of the Weirwood throne shouting their demand the moment Jeyne finished speaking, forcing Arianwyn to retreat back to her place by Gerold’s side.

“Is this… good?” she whispered, staring wide-eyed at the display before her.

Gerold wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. “I think this is perhaps the best outcome we could have hoped for, my dear.”

“So, you aren’t upset with me for telling them?”

He laughed as they watched one of the Lords surrounding Jeyne, a man who looked as old as time itself, start brandishing his cane like it was either a sword, a magic staff, or both.

“No, Aria,” he assured her. “I was quite nervous about what it would prompt Daemon to do, but I cannot deny its effectiveness. And if he does seek reprisals against you, I think all we must do is send Lord Upcliff to defend you. Gods, I thought he could hardly walk any more – just look at him!”

Indeed, the once doddering old man looked as though he was ready to lead the Knights of the Vale into battle himself.

As amused as Arianwyn and Gerold were, Jeyne’s smile at the reaction from her men had long since faded.

“My Lords!” she shouted again as her guards tried to pull the men away from the throne. “There will be no war today! So please – calm down!”

While the guards continued dispersing the irate Lords of the Vale, Arianwyn let her eyes drift across the High Hall to Jace.

He had said nothing since she revealed the truth. He had not even moved. His eyes were wide with shock and horror, his mouth hanging slightly open, and his brow furrowed. When he met her gaze, his expression hardened into one of anger.

Not at Arianwyn, as it had always been, but for her.

She could not bear the weight of that look, yet she could not turn away from it.

“Prince Jacaerys,” Jeyne called, breaking him away from his ceaseless staring. “You are the only representative present from Dragonstone. In the interest of justice, I here offer you the opportunity to defend your stepfather against the accusations levied against him. Have you anything to say to the court?”

Jace’s mouth opened and closed, words forming and then dying on his lips. Finally, after a moment of fruitless scrambling for something to say, he glanced back to Arianwyn, and his face crumpled.

“Nothing, my Lady,” he whispered as he looked down to his feet, weakly shaking his head.

“Then I think we can forgo any further debate or discussion,” Jeyne declared. “As well as the lengthy process of a formal vote on this matter. I feel that we have heard more than sufficient evidence to know what we must now do without a doubt.”

Jeyne pursed her lips before looking back to the Lords suspiciously. “But, of course, I have the utmost respect for our laws and traditions. So, I will tell you what I propose we do. And should any of you wish to disagree with me, I will allow you to explain why before I ignore you and do what I believe is right anyway.”

Arianwyn almost laughed aloud while Jessamyn sighed and rolled her eyes. But no one else acknowledged the humor, so they both remained silent.

“It is my intention to declare my support for Aegon Targaryen as King,” Jeyne proclaimed, her voice once more that of the Lady of the Vale. “While I have always believed that in this world of men, women must band together, I cannot reconcile myself with Princess Rhaenyra’s abysmally poor choice of consort.

“Even if the law were on her side, and the Iron Throne was hers by right, it is my belief that her willful association with Daemon Targaryen renders her unfit to rule. It is most unseemly for a woman to stand by a man who has mistreated women – women I love – as severely as Daemon Targaryen has. I cannot forgive her complicity in his crimes. That is in the hands of the gods, though I have my doubts that even the Father himself would pardon such sins.”

With a deep, steadying breath, Jeyne braced her hands on the arms of her throne and looked imperiously over the men she ruled. “Is there any who would oppose this decision?”

Lord Sunderland began to speak but swiftly changed his mind. Then, though it obviously pained him, he bowed his head in acquiescence.

“Then it is decided,” Jeyne proclaimed with a wide grin. “The Vale and all its people hereby recognize Aegon, Second of His Name, as the rightful heir to his father, King Viserys, and as the one true Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.”

She paused to allow applause – louder than it had been for Jace’s petition – to again sweep through the room as her steward led chants of ‘Aegon the King.’

But she did not move to dismiss the court. Instead, she turned to her godsdaughter. “Princess Arianwyn?” she called, only continuing when the girl was again standing before her. “You have presented yourself well today. You should be proud.”

Indeed, Arianwyn was filled with such pride and relief that she felt her chest would burst for it. But she tried to remain humble as she bowed her head. “Thank you, godsmother.”

“You are very welcome, my dear,” Jeyne cooed fondly before slipping back into her more regal demeanor. “But your mission is only half-accomplished, is it not?”

“Yes, my Lady,” Arianwyn said quickly. “The King has asked that I negotiate for the support of your troops, should they be needed to defend his crown.”

“I do not think ‘negotiation’ is necessary,” Jeyne laughed. “I have only two requests of our new King, and I do not imagine he will object much to either. Will you hear them?”

“Of course, my Lady.”

“First, I ask that he use every tool at the Crown’s disposal to bring Daemon Targaryen to justice and ensure that he is punished in accordance with the severity of his crimes.”

Arianwyn nodded eagerly, too overwhelmed by the ferocity with which Jeyne spoke – a ferocity which suggested she would tear Daemon apart herself if given the chance – to say anything.

“My second request may be somewhat more difficult, I am afraid. Should war break out, it will be fought with dragons. Now, I have no fear of armies. Many and more have broken themselves against my Bloody Gate, and the Eyrie is known to be impregnable. But you,” she nodded to Jacaerys as well, “the both of you, have descended on us from the sky, as Queen Visenya once did during the Conquest, and I was powerless to halt you.

“The decisions I have made today, and truths that were revealed in my keep, will no doubt reach Daemon’s ears. Should he come seeking retribution, I must not be powerless to defend myself and my people. Send me dragonriders.” There was a flicker of genuine fear in Jeyne’s dark eyes as she spoke. Fear that her people would suffer the consequences of her actions – however righteous they were.

Arianwyn understood that fear. It was the same that had kept her and Emrys from escaping Dragonstone for all those years.

“I will do what I can, my Lady,” she said, hoping it would be enough. “I have little involvement in matters of war, but should it be necessary, Emrys and I shall come and defend the Eyrie ourselves.”

“Nothing would make me feel safer,” Jeyne agreed. Then, with a dramatic sweeping of her skirts as she stood, she descended her throne to take Arianwyn’s arm and begin leading her from the High Hall. “Speaking of your delightful dragon, I believe you are past due to fly home to your equally delightful husband...”

“Where is she?” Aemond demanded. His body had begun to shake again, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Only one thing mattered.

Arianwyn.

He felt the uncomfortable sensation of hot, salty tears pooling in his empty eye.

Oh gods. The sapphire was gone, as was the patch.

How many people had seen his true, monstrous self?

Aemond’s feet began carrying him to the bedchamber before he heard the guards reply – if they had replied at all. He pushed open the door so hard the wood cracked, but he did not stop.

Not until he reached the mirror.

The one he had set into the eastern wall. So that he could see his sapphire every morning and think of Aria. So he could see himself as she would – as she did – as the man, not the monster.

There was nothing left of the man in his reflection now.

His skin and hair were stained with his own blood, only interrupted by the clean tracks left by his tears.

His one eye was wide, wet, and bloodshot – the eye of a cornered, feral beast, not a civilized man or Prince.

His lips were so dry they had begun to crack and bleed, and the remnants of his sick were still at the corners of his mouth.

The wounds he had inflicted on himself were savage and deep. They would likely scar, but he did not care.

Aemond recognized the monster reflected back at him.

It was him, as he truly was, behind all his masks and lies.

“Where is she?” he asked, though he did not know whether the guards had followed him. “Why isn’t she here? I need her.”

He needed her so badly.

He would die if he did not find her.

He would die and go to the deepest hell, where he belonged.

He would never see her again.

She was good. Her soul was pure – she would not be sent to the hells.

While he suffered for eternity, she would live in bliss alongside the gods.

She would forget him, the broken man she had felt enough pity for to shackle herself to him in life.

Aemond hoped she would forget him quickly. He did not want her to suffer on his behalf.

He did not want to shadow her beautiful soul with the darkness that lived in him.

He screamed, the harrowing sound coming from the very depths of his broken soul, as he threw his fist into the mirror with all his might.

It shattered into a million tiny shards of pure silver, exploding throughout the room.

Each new cut on his face and each sliver of glass embedded into his hand at once anchored Aemond to reality and pulled him further into his distant, dark soul.

Suddenly, a hand brushed his shoulder.

He was so entirely consumed by the monster staring back at him that, even through the mirror, he had not noticed anyone approaching.

His training kicked in, and he moved on instinct.

He shoved the hand on his shoulder away as he turned, reaching for his assailant. Finding another arm, thin and fragile, he seized it with all his strength and twisted, twisted, twisted. Until he heard them scream in pain.

But he knew that scream.

Kirin.

At once, Aemond’s mind came racing back, and he was what was before him – what he was doing.

His hand was wrapped around Kirin’s arm – his bad arm – bending and pulling it past its natural limits. His manservant’s face was distorted in pain as he screamed, but his blue eyes were filled only with concern for his master.

Aemond pulled away the moment the guards burst into the room. Ser Conin and Ser Christor grabbed Kirin as he fell, immediately rushing him out of the apartments. To the Maesters, no doubt.

Ser Warren remained behind, his dark gaze fixed on the Prince, assessing him as a threat. But then, the old man saw the wounds on his face, the tear tracks through the blood, and the fear in his eye.

“My Prince,” Warren said, his voice soft and careful, as though he were trying to soothe a rabid dog. “Princess Arianwyn has not returned. She is expected tonight. Is there someone else I can summon to… help you?”

Aemond took a step back into the broken shards of the mirror, wishing that one of them would break through the leather of the boot and cut him. He needed more pain, worse pain, anything to anchor him to reality until Arianwyn was back.

“Get out,” Aemond whispered, his voice too broken to shout again, as he wanted to. “Get out. Leave me alone. If anyone other than Aria comes in here … I will kill them.”

Not a threat, exactly, but the expression of genuine fear. If he could hurt Kirin – his trusted servant and friend – he was capable of hurting anyone.

Except Arianwyn. Never her.

Ser Warren nodded and left quickly, muttering something about stationing guards at the door.

Aemond staggered through the rooms to the door, falling against it and ensuring the lock was turned. Only Arianwyn held the key to unlock it – only she could free him from this cage.

Or perhaps she would leave him in here. It would be safer to keep the monster contained, where it could hurt no one.

But she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t even see him as a monster.

For once, the thought brought him more pain than comfort.

He didn’t want to be anchored to reality, he wanted to escape it.

He stumbled across the room once more. Not to the bedchamber, but to the cabinet he knew had been recently stocked with Arianwyn’s favorite wines. Flavored with fruit and flowers, their taste was as delicate as the woman who loved them.

His body was so out of his control that he ripped the door off the cabinet rather than opening it. It didn’t matter. He had what he needed.

He had always hated that loss of self and control. It was why he had always avoided wine for so long. And it was precisely why he needed it now – to hasten his mind’s retreat and keep him far away from reality until Arianwyn was here again.

Aemond grabbed the first bottle he could reach, ripped out the cork, and began to drink.

Jeyne, Gerold, and Jessamyn were the only ones to accompany Arianwyn to the gardens to say goodbye. Emrys, who had fallen asleep too quickly the night of their arrival to greet anyone, was thrilled to see Gerold again, and even more so to meet his rider’s godmother and her companion.

While Gerold was already acquainted with the dragon and knew how to approach him, Jeyne and Jessamyn wore twin expressions of equal delight and terror as they strode toward the great beast. Thankfully, Emrys was one of the friendlier dragons in Westeros, especially when the new people he met approached hand-in-hand with his rider.

Still, Jessamyn’s knees buckled when she first touched his smooth black scales, requiring Jeyne to catch her before she fell. Emrys immediately swiveled his head to check on her, prompting an outpouring of laughter from everyone.

Laughter that ended the moment Arianwyn spotted Jacaerys enter the gardens, lock eyes with her, and begin to walk her way.

“I’m leaving,” she hissed to Gerold as she started to climb into the saddle. “Right now.”

“Arianwyn,” Gerold scolded, grabbing the back of her armor to halt her. Even when he had not been training for many months, he was still much stronger than her, allowing him to hold her still despite her protestations and wriggling. “If he wants to say goodbye, you should let him. He is your cousin and stepbrother. And you all but humiliated him today. You owe him this.”

Looking to Jeyne and Jessamyn for support was useless, as they both muttered their agreement with Gerold.

“Please?” she begged pathetically as Gerold hoisted her from the stirrups and set her gently but firmly back on the ground, making her feel like she was no more than a ragdoll.

Again, it was to no avail. Jeyne stepped forward to tuck away a few strands of hair that had already come loose from Arianwyn’s braid as she whispered, “You have proved yourself a skilled diplomat today. Consider this but one final test, yes?”

“Will you stay with me?” Arianwyn asked, leaning into her godsmother’s touch.

Jeyne sighed and kissed her godsdaughter’s forehead. “No, my dear. I think you need to do this alone. There is more between the two of you than what happened today. If war is coming, you should make peace while you can.”

Arianwyn could not quite see the logic of making peace in preparation for war, but reluctantly agreed. Not wanting to show weakness, she held back her tears while she said goodbye to her cousin, godsmother, and whatever one calls their godsmother’s secret lover.

Then they left, passing Jace on their way back into the Eyrie. Jeyne and Jessamyn only politely dipped their heads to the Prince as they walked by, while Gerold stopped and grabbed his arm to whisper something to him before moving on.

Emrys growled as he approached, angling his head and wings to hide Arianwyn as best he could. At least he supported her.

“I want to talk to you,” Jace pled after several minutes of trying and failing to outmaneuver the dragon.

“And why should you ever want that?” she hissed, her voice muffled through the membrane of Emrys’ wing.

“I think after what you just said in there,” he huffed, “I deserve some answers.”

“Mmm,” Arianwyn hummed, fastening her bag to Emrys’ saddle a little too tightly. The dragon grunted, though he directed his frustration not at his rider but at the bastard Prince that was upsetting her. “I didn’t think I left any room for questions.”

Jace groaned in frustration. “Aria…”

“Do not call me that!” she shouted, abandoning her preparations for departure and bursting from beneath Emrys’ wing to round on her stepbrother. When she reached him, she shoved him as hard as he could. “You do not get to call me that!”

He stumbled back but did not move to retaliate. Instead, he held out his arms to try and dissuade her from attacking again. And to placate Emrys, who was viciously baring his teeth.

Arianwyn was disappointed. For a moment, she thought she might get to use the dagger Aemond gave her, now strapped to the belt of her riding leathers. She did have a better record with live targets, after all. But whatever her desires, she would not attack unprovoked.

She rolled her eyes as she stepped back to Emrys. “You may speak until I am ready to depart. I would be quick about it if I were you – I am anxious to return home.”

Jace scoffed as he took a cautious step forward, “To your one-eyed beast of a husband?”

That was provocation enough for Arianwyn.

She drew her dagger and whirled around. Rather than try and bring the blade to his throat, she grabbed his collar and pulled him to the blade. It worked much better than the lunging attacks Aemond had forced her to practice. She did not press hard enough to cut, only to apply enough pressure for him to think twice before talking again.

“My ‘one-eyed beast of a husband’ taught me how to use this,” she spat. Only partly true – he had taught her how to hold it. They had not had much success past that. But she understood the concept of the dagger well enough. She did not need much training to know which end would cut. “Would you like me to show you, bastard?”

At the pain that went through his dark eyes at the word, she almost regretted the insult. She had never used it before – she always thought she was in no place to judge someone on their parentage.

But she would not endure insults to Aemond. Especially not from Jace.

He and his brother were the cause of so much of Aemond’s pain. What was a single cruel and undeniably true word against what they had done to him? To what he had said to her on Driftmark over the past six years?

She could not decipher the expression on his face as he pulled as far away from her blade as he could. His eyes were sorrowful, but his mouth was curled in a sneer. “Do you really hate me that much?”

Arianwyn was taken aback, so much so that she released his collar and let him stumble away from her dagger. “What?”

He looked to be almost on the verge of tears as he looked at her beseechingly. “Do you hate me, Arianwyn?”

She expected him to accuse her of lying about her father and his mother. To demand she recant all that she had said. Or even to try and stop her from leaving.

But, true to form, he had asked her another stupid question.

“You spent our entire childhood making Aemond miserable,” she said, her voice thick with anger and confusion. He moved to refute or argue with her, but she raised her blade again to stop him. “He never did anything to you, yet you took every opportunity to torment him – whether Aegon was there or not. It was you who brought the knife to that fight!”

Jace looked away from her, lips thin with anger. But he said nothing as she continued her tirade.

“You had to know it was him.” she dropped the hand holding the dagger to her side as tears welled in her eyes. “When you came to the tunnel. Rhaena was with you, so who else could it have been?”

She began to laugh as her tears fell, and she waved her hand, in which the dagger was now only loosely gripped, as she spoke. “You saw Vhagar and knew it was Aemond. And you were not as desperate or ill-educated as Rhaena. You knew that he had not ‘stolen’ her,” she spat, the word that had long caused her animosity with her youngest half-sister disgusting her still. “You knew it was his birthright to claim a dragon.”

Arianwyn had never intended to say so much to him, having responded to his taunts with as few words as possible for so long. But he had somehow unearthed a rage buried deep within her, feelings toward him that she had not known were there.

“It had been his birthright to have an egg to warm his cradle – as you and I both did – but he was denied that, as he was denied so much by his father,” she laughed again. “But what would you know about that? Viserys always loved you and your brothers so well. And you have been blessed with an excess of fathers: Laenor Velaryon, Harwin Strong, and now Daemon.”

Her laughter faded, and her bitter smile fell. “It’s disgusting, you know. How you follow Daemon around like a dog, begging for his attention and praise. What is it you expect from him? You don’t really think he’ll let you inherit anything, do you? He has two trueborn sons with Rhaenyra. Not even you can be so foolish as to think he’d let a bastard take the throne before them.”

She took a heaving breath, fully intending to continue her tirade, but then Jace moved. He snatched the dagger out of her hand, sending it clattering across the flagstones and into the bushes. When her silver gaze finally left him to stare at it in disbelief, he grabbed her but the shoulders.

“Arianwyn,” he gritted through clenched teeth, “I just want to know – ”

“Why did you bring that knife?” she screamed with all the breath in her lungs, then fell silent.

She had not known it, but that question had burned in her mind for more than six years. It had fueled every frustration she ever held for him. It was the reason his every word grated on her – why she had always bristled under his gaze.

Luke’s hand had stolen Aemond’s eye, but Jace’s knife made the cut.

Jace did not answer, though he did let go of her. As she glared at him, he could not meet her eye.

“What did you plan to do to him?” She asked, as still as the stone of the mountains surrounding them. “If I hadn’t been there, what would you have done?”

“Nothing,” he sighed, his lip curled in a scowl. “I just… I wanted to scare him.”

“Why?”

“Because I did not like him.”

“He had never done anything to you, or anyone,” Arianwyn said, still not understanding. “He is your uncle – he wanted to be your friend. At Laena’s funeral, he tried to tell you he was sorry about Ser Harwin’s death. Why did you dislike him so?”

Jace released his grip and turned his back on her, so all she could see was his dark hair blowing in the breeze as he looked at the statue of Alyssa Arryn, only steps away.

“He had you.”

Arianwyn had never felt so lost. Her mouth hung open as she stared at him, desperate for him to say just one thing that made sense. “He ‘had’ me? What does that even mean?”

“You were always with him!” he shouted as he whirled around to her again, though he never met her eyes. “At meals and parties, in your lessons, in the library. Seven hells, you even came to watch him train even though you hate fighting!”

“He was – and is – my best friend. I was always with him because I liked being with him,” she countered, brow furrowing tighter. “Just like you were always with Luke and Aegon.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Jace said, laughing darkly and shaking his head.

Arianwyn scoffed, “I don’t even know what the ‘thing’ is!”

“It – ” the muscles in his jaw were so tight they seemed about to snap. “It was… frustrating to me. That I could never talk to you without him being there.”

“Still, it never seemed to stop you,” she said, crossing her arms. “Or Aegon.”

He had the courtesy to look mildly regretful. “That wasn’t talking.”

“No, it was ridicule.”

“And it wasn’t you that we were – ”

“It might as well have been.”

“Can you please just – ”

“What do you want from me, Jace?”

“I’m trying to tell you that I love you, dammit!” he roared.

Arianwyn felt as though she had woken suddenly from a nightmare. She stumbled back until she hit Emrys’ scales, then slid down until she was slumped against him with her head in her hands. “Tell me this is just another of your stupid jokes, or I am going to vomit.”

Jace grimaced and kicked the tip of his boot against the side of a loose flagstone. “I’m sorry.”

While she didn’t vomit, Arianwyn let out a miserable, guttural groan that sounded quite close to vomiting. “How can you love me if you don’t even like me?”

“I do like you,” he answered, still not daring to approach her or her angry dragon. “I’ve always liked you.”

Arianwyn finally raised her head, leaning against Emrys’ hot scales as she looked up at her stepbrother. “You don’t treat people you like the way you’ve treated me. You’re cruel to me.”

“No,” he sighed, stepping toward her just enough to earn a warning growl from Emrys. “It’s not cruelty, I promise. It’s jokes, teasing – that’s what friends do, isn’t it?”

“But we aren’t friends, Jace,” she countered, hating herself for feeling badly when he looked hurt by her words. “We never have been.”

“Why not?”

“Because you aren’t nice to me!”

“You wouldn’t talk to me if I was nice to you!”

“How do you know? Did you ever try?”

Jace opened his mouth, but what came out was more of a quiet squawk than an actual word. Arianwyn could do nothing but look at him in bewilderment as he recalled their every interaction. His face scrunched like he was trying to solve some great mystery.

“You didn’t,” she answered for him, lacking the patience to let him figure it out for himself. “Even once I was on Dragonstone, where Aemond couldn’t ‘have’ me, you were never nice to me. None of you were, except Rhaena. She’s the only one who ever apologized to me for what you did on Driftmark.”

He stared blankly at where Emrys had wrapped the tip of his tail around Arianwyn. A gentle touch of comfort, protection, and possessiveness from a beast capable of such awesome death and destruction.

She closed her eyes and let herself imagine that the touch was not Emrys but Aemond. That it was his warmth she was feeling. But if Aemond were here, if he heard what Jace was saying to her…

Perhaps it was a good thing her husband was so far away.

“So, you do hate me,” Jace whispered as the revelation finally came to him, “and… I deserve it.”

Arianwyn rolled her eyes, prepared to say something cutting, but then she saw the devastation and self-loathing on his face. She swallowed the retort, along with the slight pang of guilt in her chest. “Well, maybe not ‘hate,’ exactly. Just… very, very strong dislike.”

“That is the definition of hate,” he replied with a sad laugh.

“I’m sorry,” Arianwyn said, and despite herself, she meant it.

He shook his head, shoulders drooping. “No, don’t do that. I should be the one to apologize to you. For how I’ve treated you, for the things I’ve said, and for… everything with Aemond.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. It was not forgiveness, for that would require more than a simple apology. All she would – could – give him was acknowledgment. That she had heard his words, that she understood him. That, perhaps, forgiveness was possible.

Sensing the tension disappear, Emrys rose from his protective crouch and flexed his wings. He stretched a bit, testing the weight of all the saddlebags – and the sword, Lamentation, carefully attached to the side of Arianwyn’s seat. There had been a place for a weapon built into his saddle, but it had never been used until now.

“I think he’s ready to leave,” Jace sighed.

Arianwyn stood and looked back to her mount. He certainly was. She could tell by how he leaned down on one side – his way of asking her to climb on. She smiled, stroking his side before gripping the first handhold of the saddle.

“Can I…” Jace started, making her stop her ascent for a moment. “Can I ask you one more question before you go?”

Emrys bristled at the further delay but did not make any other attempts to intimidate the boy. Arianwyn didn’t respond until she was settled in the saddle with the leather straps around her thighs fastened. “You may.”

Jace looked up at her, brown eyes pleading and shoulders squared. Arianwyn knew that whatever he was about to ask, the answer was monumentally important to him.

“If things had been different,” he began, never breaking his gaze from hers for more than a blink, “if I had been different – been better… could you ever have loved me? Chosen me, instead of him?”

Arianwyn froze. He had just given her the power to break his heart.

She knew she should think about her answer, should try and imagine a world where Jace had been kind and sweet. One where it may have been him to spend those long days in the library with her. Or one where, once they were on Dragonstone, he changed to her and became the Prince to rescue her from her tower.

But none of those imaginings could even begin to form in her mind.

For each time, her mind instead conjured an image of a story she’d so often been told. Two white-haired babes – one swaddled in green, one in bronze – meeting for the first time. Smiles breaking across their still-pink, chubby cheeks as they reached toward each other with clumsy arms.

They had never stopped reaching for each other. And they never would.

“No,” she said. She knew it was the answer he was dreading, but no matter what he had done, he deserved the truth. And this was a truth etched into her heart, her soul. “It was always Aemond.”

Though his eyes began to water, Jace smiled tightly as he nodded. “I am very happy for you, that you are so happy. And… I will try to be happy for him as well.”

Arianwyn knew that ‘try’ was the most important word in that sentiment, but she smiled back anyway as she grasped Emrys’ reins. “Thank you, Jace. I will pray that you and Baela can find the same happiness in your own union.”

She meant it. When the betrothal was announced, she saw how excited Baela was. How her half-sister had looked so deeply in love the night of the dinner. If Jace would allow himself to, they could find genuine love together.

He pursed his lips in a way that usually meant he was about to make some snide comment, but he bit it back with a twitch of his head. Then, he stepped away from Arianwyn and Emrys, giving the dragon ample space to take flight.

“The next time we see each other,” Jace called, his voice sodden with regret. “We may very well be true enemies. It will be my duty to hurt you. Or kidnap you. Or...”

“I think it is more than likely, I’m afraid,” she agreed.

Jace was silent for a moment, looking down at his shuffling feet. “Aria?”

Though she still bristled at hearing him call her that, she did not comment on it. “Yes, Jace?”

He took a deep breath and looked directly into her eyes. “Promise me that whatever happens, you will stay far, far away from Daemon.”

So, he did believe her story.

To her surprise, she felt no instinct to gloat. On the contrary, she was touched by how worried he was about her.

“Don’t worry,” she said in consolation, allowing herself a slight grin. After all, she was most comfortable around Jace when she was teasing him. But now, her tone was far more playful than spiteful. “I was planning on doing that anyway.”

Then Emrys took to the sky, hollering in delight that he was finally going home –where Arianwyn knew her husband would be waiting for her.

Aemond waited.

And waited.

Still, Arianwyn did not come.

How long had he been sitting on their bedroom floor amongst the shards of shattered glass, just waiting?

Minutes?

Hours?

Days?

Years?

An eternity?

He blinked slowly, his eye dry and heavy. And far too blurry to see where he had put his bottle.

So, he reached out blindly, discarding the empty bottles he found and savoring the clattering sound they made as they rolled across the floor. The pain it caused his aching head reminded him that he was alive and served as the beginning of the punishment he deserved.

Finally, he found a half-full bottle and brought it to his lips. Then, after another long gulp, he rested it against his heaving chest.

Night had fallen – or fallen again, if he had indeed been here more than a day. Moonlight shone through the window, reflecting off the pieces of mirror sprawled on the floor as it had once reflected off his sapphire.

But Aemond did not look at the moonlight. He could not appreciate its strange beauty.

He could only stare at the impenetrable darkness in the corner of the room.

It seemed to have emerged from within his broken soul.

And from within, staring at him like a wolf in the night, was the horrible, simple truth that he felt infinitely more guilt for hurting Kirin than he did for killing Luke.

It was that truth that made him a monster.

“Aria…” he whispered, his voice hardly more than a breath. Even as he drank, he did not dare look away from the darkness as he called out for his wife.

And he did not stop.

Next Chapter

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walkawaytall · 1 month

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You asked for numbers, here are my numbers:

But knowing how this works, I'm pretty sure somebody already sent it ao back-up number is 12

See, I really am getting to these prompts blindly chosen from this list!

This one took forever in part because I kept hating the ideas I had for it. I think this is all right, though. Thank you for leaving a number!

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

2. eye contact across a crowded room

Han would be surprised if no one expected him to change his mind and promise to stay after he and Luke were brought back to Echo Base. Beings always treated near-death experiences like they needed to change everything, like every time his life had been on the line, he should have gained some sort of perspective. But there was no perspective to gain this time.

As far as he was concerned, the decision to leave wasn’t even really his to make. Well, it was and it wasn’t. He could stay; he had planned on staying, had promised Leia he would stay, even; and then a bounty hunter’s blaster bolt had burned the previously unmarred skin of her neck while another punctured skin far too close to her heart, mere millimeters away from being a kill shot, and that decision had been walked back without anyone involved wanting it to be.

There had been so much blood.

So, his mind was made up. He was on his way out the same as before, even if he and the kid had nearly frozen to death. Han hadn’t let any previous near-death experiences derail things for him, and he wasn’t going to start allowing that to happen now. He was okay, Luke would be okay, he and Chewie would leave, and Leia would be okay. They’d be safer without him around, attracting the attention of cartels. There was no reason to stay.

It seemed like half the base was crowded in the hangar when they landed. The medics took Luke first since the kid was barely conscious. They almost insisted Han be transported to the medical wing via hover-stretcher, but he insisted he could make the trip on his own.

When he left the ship, he saw Leia walking alongside the medics moving Luke through the base. She paused suddenly and looked back, meeting Han’s gaze. He could see from meters away that she had dark circles under her eyes, that there was some indefinable quality to her face that he associated with her crying — maybe some unusual coloring or puffiness that he’d only ever seen during the few vulnerable moments they’d had over the years when she’d allowed him to wipe tears from her cheeks.

She was really worried about the kid.

She said a few words to one of the medics, then, to Han’s surprise, broke away from the medical entourage and doubled back to him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, voice raspier than usual. “They were supposed to bring a second stretcher—”

“Told ‘em I could make it fine,” he said, his eyes not budging from hers.

Leia shook her head and said, “You’re such an idiot.”

Han didn’t have time to get offended before she slid her arms under his and hugged him tight.

Large, furry arms wrapped around them both, and Chewie howled far too close to Han’s ear. When all three beings had extracted themselves from the embrace, Leia said she needed to follow after Luke and headed in the direction of the medical wing.

[We stayed up all night hoping you would show up,] Chewie said quietly, sliding his arm around Han’s shoulders in an attempt to help him walk that he felt was mostly unnecessary.

“Yeah, well, was a little busy tryin’ not to freeze to death,” Han said as they walked a few meters behind Leia, also headed toward the medical wing.

[She cried when they said they found you.]

As if she sensed they were talking about her, Leia paused before rounding a corner in the corridor and again met Han’s gaze from meters away. She said nothing in acknowledgement, but seemed to be waiting for them to catch up.

“Thought we could walk together since we’re going the same way,” she said when Han and Chewie got close to her. She fell into step on Han’s right side and slid her own arm beneath Chewie’s, supporting Han’s lower back.

He glanced at her as they walked through the corridors, trying not to think about the fact that this was likely the last time she would touch him, that it might be the last time she wasn’t entirely pissed at him. He was still leaving after all.

#my fics #ficlet #star wars fanfiction #hanleia fanfiction #ficlet prompt

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rainbowresurrection · 6 months

Text

The thing I find lame about SNW is that they "lean into" Spock's human half. Ohhhhh oo-hoo-hooooo look at me! I'm a writer who wants to put my goofy ass spin on Mr. Spock!

But then they want to call it a canon prequel to the ORIGINAL? Like canon. To the original. I don't buy it. Canon to the OG where Spock is literally disgusted and ashamed of his human half and has spent his ENTIRE life hiding it? Like the entire time, that includes the time in which SNW supposedly takes place? And the T'Pring shit I can't even bring myself to talk about because it deviates so far from canon? A one-off character they just brought back to make Spock seem less fucking gay?

Hoh look a musical episode! Wow! It's camp get it??? Camp?? Cuz the original was campy?? Except Spock is straightwashed so they managed to make camp heterocentric so what are they doing and what was the point? Who the hell is this supposed to be for?

What. Were. They. Thinking. I'm going insane. Episode where SPOCK becomes HUMAN? Episode where they SPLIT the MIXED RACE character who was written as MIXED RACE in the SIXTIES! I dare them to write a goofy episode where Oops! I turn Full Native and see how quirky and racially sensitive it is. Hoho so fun and goofy!

No I cannot overlook these transgressions. I want as many people as possible to know that I'm disgusted and to feel vindicated in knowing that they aren't the only one. I'm so sorry fellow mixed race queers. We deserve better from a "Star Trek show". And Spock as a character deserves so much more respect than he's ever given in reboot writing. A kid with a Spock action figure could conjure up a superior narrative.

I haven't been this angry since AOS (straight Spock [x2] White Khan [x1] mental diarrhea [x1000]).

There's so many types of Star Trek Show at this point that there is bound to be some contention over what is the "right vibe" and what is sacrilege but whatever the fuck SNW and AOS is dishing out is just sooooo far removed from everything I found appealing about Star Trek. Oooo big het guys do tuff stuff but never in a gay way (maybe throw a qweer in the background so people can't call out lack of rep) and also the enterprise looks like a migraine and maybe there's some explosions oooooooo [has a stroke and fucking dies]

#snw hate #tagging so maybe then people wont come for me and just say Im being mean #my concerns are legit its ok to be mad about shit #aos hate #aos has haunted me for like 12 years.#the crazy part is that I am Not a star trek purist i just genuinely expect more out of these reboots and h8 the directions they took #rant #long rant #venting #you know what there was a fan series my trekkie uncle showed me that was so much more respectful in its writing than this contrived bullshi #it was called Star Trek Continues #thats a vibe I can fucking get behind because at least they respected the damn source material #kirk and Spock were fucking great in that im serious

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aroacenezhaanddainsleif · 7 months

Note

i heard you had a tlt royalty au? 👀

TRAFFIC LIGHT TRIO ROYALTY AU

Okay so. This started off with my own self-indulgent high-fantasy projection that i injected some of the LMK cast into and then went “oh shit! an au!!!”

The core of this is basically based off of this one comic where somebody brought up the idea of TLT being a second generation of their ancestors… DBF vs Wukong vs Dragons… and their friendship being a story about how to forgive and be better than the past. And they are still that in LMK! That theme just isn’t as strong for the trio specifically, so. this AU where they're kingdom heirs and have to work through the issues of their parents and their own roles in life. This is supposed to be roughly based off of old (imperial) Chinese bureaucracies but I know very little so take this as gen royalty fantasy AU vibes.

MK: Celestial Court

Red: Demon Court

Mei: Dragon Court

Sandy: water spirit from the dragon kingdom who is really just vibing and into building stuff

Pigsy: was a personal chef for DBK (they got along) and PIF in the Demon Realm until MK arrived in the Celestial kingdom, went “that’s my son now” and completely switched over bc that’s his son now

Tang: Pigsy’s husband. Originally from the celestial kingdom but didn’t like it there, but he was willing to follow Pigsy back bc why not

Nezha: the Celestial kingdom’s top general/realm guard and also basically MK’s babysitter. he has a tense relationship with some of Mei’s family due to his past with Ao Bing, although Mei's chill with him.

Guanyin: an advisor at the celestial court and basically MK’s aunt-uncle

and obvi, TLT are the heirs!!! their kingdoms have… tumultuous relationships due to past grievances, but the trio are trying their best to work past their parents’ issues and create something better for all their kingdoms, but it’s a long road ahead. but before i get into that, i’ll address everyone’s obvious question: ‘where’s Wukong?’

that is where stuff gets messy.

see, Erlang hated his uncle for (gestures to his backstory) obvious reasons, and just kind of… fucked off because he had no interest in being the JE’s heir. he’s still an on-call general, but stationed far, far away and without claim to the throne. although having an heir was not urgent (bc immortal), the JE was getting tired and so looked around for another powerful person as an heir; enter Wukong.

Wukong was technically in line to be the next Jade Emperor/smth similar, but it's Wukong, and that was *obviously* not his style, so he took a group of his friends and went on a very long pilgrimage/adventure. things in general ended a bit... messy, and he also managed to piss off DBK and the dragons, so Wukong basically went into self-imposed exile.

then MK popped into existence (from Wukong power residue), and Wukong went "grand! new son/protege!"

turned out that raising a still mostly-humanish boy in an entirely monkey kingdom with no friends was perhaps slightly detrimental to his growth. Wukong realized that he was probably more fit for being a weird uncle/cousin figure than an actual DAD, and this didn't follow "standard monkey raising protocol", and he reluctantly traveled back to the Celestial Kingdom.

after much convincing, Wukong was convinced to stay alongside MK, the boy being raised as the Celestial Prince instead of Wukong, and that’s how the Celestial Prince MK came to be!

(p.s. before you ask, Macaque is Wukong's ex bf(f) who launches an attack on the 3 kingdoms later) (p.s.s. MK was basically a young monkey prince when he first arrived due to Wukong raising him around monkeys, so the entire celestial palace and guard, ESPECIALLY Nezha, basically had to deal with Wukong all over again, aka MK climbing on stuff and getting into meetings he should not be in.)

Nezha: you have a meeting in five. Wukong: now i don’t. Nezha: WUKONG- — Nezha: you have a meeting in five. MK: now i don’t. Nezha: MK-! Nezha: (I have a feeling this is what I’m doomed to do for the rest of my existence.)

now for Traffic Light Trio, the real fun of this AU:

as the next royal heirs grew up, people kept desperately hoping for an alliance or possibly even an arranged marriage between at least 2 of the 3 bc of the kingdoms' tensions. what they didn't expect was for the trio to instead grow up to become best friends who had sleepovers and judged plays together.

Mei and MK were fast friends, but it took them forever to get Red Son to be friends with them. they used the "it's to build a political alliance" excuse a lot so Red could rationalize it until he eventually realized that "oh shit, these idiots are my FRIENDS now”, and she had to deal with the political and social implications of that, esp with the Celestial Realm being the most powerful of the 3 realms.

they're all pen pals tho, and all of their kingdoms whisper about marriage alliances and whatnot, but in truth Mei and MK will just be bullying Red into ruining his public image by trying to eat plastic or something, and at balls they try to do 3-person jigs just for fun and everybody sees these powerful heirs just falling over each other and laughing like madmen.

roles and life: hey you guys shouldn’t be friends and even if you are connected, say through marriage, you guys have political roles and duties to think about- TLT: no thanks. we’re gonna do this our own way.

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lunar-wandering · 1 year

Text

well now i’m just thinking about Ao Chang so here’s a few more things with him,

Two whole weeks after MK catches his first glimpse of Ao Chang, he wakes up in the middle of the night to find Ao Chang sitting beside him poking his face with a stick

Ao Chang: whats your name? MK: what are you doing in my house??? Ao Chang: What’s your name?? MK: ....MK Ao Chang: oh. cool.

and then Ao Chang just leaves and MK wonders if he hallucinated the whole thing.

he asks Wukong about it the next day and Wukong just freezes before going;

Wukong: I. have no idea who you’re talking about. MK: Monkey King- Wukong: no seriously I’ve never heard of a demon like that in my life- MK: Monkey King. Wukong: are you sure you saw him on Flower Fruit Mountain? maybe you were tired from training and hallucinating- MK: Monkey King he’s standing right behind you

and Wukong JUMPS and spins around to see Ao Chang, and just mutters;

“I thought my desire to eat sticks off the ground was getting suspiciously stronger.”

Literally when Ao Chang is hanging around the amount of Bullshit that happens is so funny

Wukong will stare at a wall and say “I wonder if I could run through that without using my powers” and MK will look at Ao Chang with his last thread of hope as though he’d hold a sense of reason only to find that Ao Chang has already slammed into the wall.

within the context of Ao Chang’s existence being an AU, Macaque actually briefly escapes from the Mayor in s2 and flees to FFM for help- only he encounters Ao Chang instead of Wukong.

Ao Chang does hold enough level of interest in Macaque’s presence to hold a bit of a conversation with him, but then the Mayor shows up and just flicks a coin off into the distance and Ao Chang immediately follows the shiny object and Macaque gets captured again.

Macaque completely misunderstands who Ao Chang is and ends up assuming he’s either a runaway clone or like, Wukong’s actual kid

which leads to a HILARIOUS conversation with Wukong later on

Macaque: so hows your other kid doing Wukong: my other what Macaque: yknow. your kid. the one that chased after a coin when i needed his help Wukong, knowing MK wouldn't do that: i. who are you talking about- Macaque: the monkey demon that looks a bit like you? Wukong: Wukong: you think he's my KID?? Macaque: HE'S NOT???

Macaque, turning to Ao Chang: are you his kid?? Ao Chang: yeah Wukong: what- no- Macaque: have you been neglecting your child, Wukong????

Macaque knows full well Wukong has not been doing that but he drags everyone else into the joke. Someone at some point asks Wukong to pay child support.

There’s one week where Ao Chang ends up in teh city and starts stealing stuff and people instantly blame Wukong for it and put a bounty on his head

MK just over with Wukong in his apartment like "i am harbouring a CRIMINAL oh my heavens-" "kid im not the one who-" "oh they're absolutely going to come to me to get to you, I publicly announced myself as the monkey kid dammnit-" "MK it wasn't-" "you'd THINK they'd know better than to go after you considering havoc in heaven but-" "MK please it wasn't me"

meanwhile Ao Chang is in Wukong's house just watching TV and vibing

Macaque is with Ao Chang. he knows exactly what happened. he finds this incredibly funny. he's sitting there letting Ao Chang brag/ramble/show off the things he stole

an entire week into "the monkey king must be brought under arrest", MK and the others manage to track down Ao Chang who has been just barely avoiding them through just pure luck

“ this is great, now we can prove you're innocent Monkey King! ....Monkey King?”

and Mei lets out a sigh. Red Son taps MK's shoulder and points him in one direction

Wukong is biting on one of the jewels Ao Chang stole while Ao Chang is cheering him on

MK, with as much disappointment as he can muster: ....Monkey King.

#Monkie Kid #LMK OC #Ao Chang

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 5 days

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The big story of the 300th Bugle episode AO (after Oliver) should be that it's Ahir Shah's debut, but I'm 7 minutes into it and Hari Kondabolu is already stealing the show. For anyone who doesn't know, Hari Kondabolu is an American comedian who became a Bugle regular I think because John Oliver must have recommended him, as I cannot imagine him crossing paths with Andy otherwise. His role on the podcast is to be sardonic about politics and baffled about Andy Zaltzman, and it's frequently gold (he also has several very funny comedy albums on Bandcamp, if anyone's interested in that).

He hasn't been on The Bugle in a while, and I'd forgotten that sometimes he likes to come on UK comedy podcasts and talk shit about the entire UK comedy industry. He did this in much more detail on the Comedian's Comedian podcast, I found his episode a fascinating exploration of UK vs US comedy. In that episode Hari did express admiration for various UK comedians and for their work ethic as a group, it was a nuanced conversation about pros and cons on both sides and made a great interview. That, however, is less funny than Hari just turning up on a podcast with 2 English comedians and shit talking their entire life's work, as he's done within the first seven minutes of this Bugle episode.

Andy Zaltzman: So, you two shared a flat in Edinburgh in 2011?

Hari Kondabolu: Yes, yes. Ahir was a fetus at the time. He was still in the womb, yet somehow finishing up at Cambridge. And I was a 28/29-year-old comic, hungry, excited for the future, thinking there was a career for me in the UK and beyond. And, no. No, not so much.

Andy Zaltzman: So, Ahir, are you going to Edinburgh this year?

Ahir Shah: I'm going back to the Fringe. I'm going to do a fortnight of the show I did last year.

Andy Zaltzman: Well that sounds like quite a long show. Is this the edited down version of it?

Ahir Shah: Yeah, it's like one of those Mark Watson things that takes absolutely fucking ages.

Hari Kondabolu: Has anyone ever made money at that festival? My understanding of how your system in the UK works is that you spend two weeks to a month in Edinburgh, and you lose all your money, and you owe your management company all the money for putting up the show, and then you spend a good chunk of the year paying them back. It seems like it only works because you have good social services that allow you to survive somehow.

Andy Zaltzman: That's a charmingly nostalgic view of the state of British social services, to be honest.

Ahir Shah: Yeah. The Edinburgh Festival, brought to you by the NHS.

Andy Zaltzman: Well, you know, it's just good for creativity. Most great figures from the creative arts through history were stung into action by needing to earn money. So that's the way the Edinburgh Festival works, clearly, is it makes people hungry in that regard.

Hari Kondabolu: I really do love watching a bunch of half-finished hours of comedy that should have probably taken a year or two more to be polished and perfect, but of course the drive for having a new hour every year is so important. And then making the full hour of comedy brilliant, and then not recording it, and sharing it with the world. Therefore no one has ever really seen it other than a few people in your own country. It's a brilliant strategy.

Andy Zaltzman: It's a great strategy, yeah.

Ahir Shah: I'm feeling really intensely patriotic at the moment, after all of these - it's like, you leave our festival alone, okay? You visited one time. You visited one time. It doesn't even count.

Hari Kondabolu: I did visit one time.

Andy Zaltzman: Well maybe we should take up the New York system of just doing the same seven minutes for twenty-five years, and ending up bitter at why fame has passed you by.

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thegeminisage · 1 month

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it's early i know but kirk or sisko

EVIL QUESTION! sisko makes me happy every single time hes on screen. i always look forward to seeing him. he's a great dad and he supports his people - i think i've only seen him come close to dropping the ball a few times. he's the antithesis to (almost) everything that drives me nuts about picard so it's very cathartic in that regard. plus our fucking introduction to him (picard killing his wife, "you exist here") will be imprinted on my neurons forever. possibly the best intro of any star trek character yet excepting every single time we've seen spock.

so far though i haven't seen sisko struggle as much as kirk does, excepting of course re: his grief. i'm sure this is because i'm in the middle of his first season rather than say past the end of his run, but i also think the struggle helps make kirk interesting. sisko hasn't had his mirrorverse "not on my ship" moment for me yet, or any equivalent. they haven't unintentionally close encountered him nigh on a dozen times. most of his dilemmas so far have been ethical ones, not ones where his life and other lives are in physical danger. and, for all it was brought up in the first episode that the death of his wife has permanently changed him and he is still struggling to live without her, we don't actually SEE that struggle - jennifer has only brought up a couple of times. i have total faith that all of that is on the way, i just haven't got there yet. because we're watching in release order and ds9 never aired by itself we will always be flipping back and forth to either tng or voyager between it. it'll be a slow process.

also, there is the simple fact of attachment. kirk was the first trek character i ever fell in love with. my entry to this series were the aos movies, and while i liked spock a LOT in those movies and still do, quinto's spock can't really hold a candle to nimoy's - he can't QUITE capture what makes spock so important and unique in the same way. so in my very, very, VERY first encounter with star trek, i imprinted on dead dad guy. kirk, let alone aos kirk, is no longer my fav (tos kirk is superior to aos kirk any day) but put him against most people who are not spock and he will probably win.

that doesn't mean sisko isn't really great though. full ranking coming at the end of s1 but rn odo kira and sisko are def my top 3.

#liz answers asks #chantrykomori #personal #star trek blogging #ds9 lb #tos lb #aos lb #? sure.

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nyx-b-log · 10 months

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phew it's been a busy week! in between life stuff, prepping for an exam on sunday and finishing all these books, i feel like i've been in go mode all week!

i started and finished the house in the cerulean sea by tj klune, about a inspector for state-run orphanages for magical children who gets sent on an assignment to an orphanage with the antichrist and learns what found family means. t only took me a few days to read, it's incredibly easy to sit with and just read for long periods of time, which i think i needed after some dense sci-fi. it's a bit heavy handed in its message in places (the word groupthink was also used at one point), but if you can look past that this is a perfectly pleasant way to spend an afternoon or two. not mind-blowing, but it brought a smile to my face.

worth mentioning is the accusations that the (white) author was using (specifically canadian) residential schools for his own gain. honestly, without knowing that going into it, i'm pretty sure i would never have made the connection (though that might be on me) and i'd bought the book before i found out about this. there's a (positive) discussion of it in this reddit thread (which i'm not linking because i necessarily agree with op, simply that it's comprehensive) and (a negative) one in this one and it's worth looking into on your own before deciding to read the book.

i also finished left-handed booksellers of london which was fine? i enjoyed it enough that i'm interested in reading book two, but i *despise* susan as a character asdfghjkl she spends the entire book going 'what? what?' and doesn't really grow from this. she had so much potential (a shaven headed punk girl in the 80s!) but fell very flat for me. cos of that the romance between her and merlin also felt like an afterthought. the world is great tho, and every time a new character or thing came up i was always interested to see what it was. as a YA book, it was enjoyable. the audiobook performance was occasionally annoying (which maybe contributed to my dislike of susan), but on the whole it's pretty good. she does accents well.

for manga, i read watashi no tadashii oniichan vol 1 again, the manga about a woman looking for her older brother and falling in love with the cute insomniac she works with, but properly this time. still loved it, the building of relationships and reveals is great and i'm really looking forward to finishing the series.

i also read ao haru ride vol 1, which is a classic but i've never actually picked it up before now. it's about a girl who falls in love with a boy in middle school, but then there's a misunderstanding and he moves away, only for them to reunite in high school. it explores their new relationship and how they've changed as people in the intervening years. i *loved* this, i devoured it in one sitting and am very, very sad i don't have the rest of the series. the writing is fantastic, the characters are already amazing, would recommend if you're into character-driven stories and/or romance and haven't picked it up yet.

in terms of stuff i've started, i'm about a third of the way through the traitor baru cormorant and oh my god??? this is amazing???? it's a political fantasy about a girl whose island nation gets colonised by the neighbouring empire and how she's planning to dismantle it from the inside. it's such an angry book, but in the best possible way. deals pretty heavily with colonialism and homophobia (especially in the beginning), with references to sexual assault, so bear that in mind before picking it up, but the writing is exquisite, and it's so cleverly written. also accounting, lots of accounting.

for audiobook i was planning to listen to a guide to imperial china but it wasn't available, so i went with skulduggery pleasant playing with fire (book 2 in the series) which is a nice comforting read. a character will turn up and i'll get hit with a blast of nostalgia, like oh it's you! and i'm enjoying it just like i did the first one.

that's it for me, i'll check in again next week! have a good week everybody!

#bookblr #books #reading #manga #the house in the cerulean sea #the left handed booksellers of london #watashi no tadashii oniichan #ao haru ride #the traitor baru cormorant #skulduggery pleasant #playing with fire #was a good week overall #also i've written this on friday #but queued it for saturday as per #scheduled

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quitealotofsodapop · 3 days

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WAIT

Does this mean Tang can figure out a way Wukong can introduce his babies to Tripitaka after all?! What about Pigsy and the others? It'd be so funny watching Zhu Bajie try to understand what was happening or Ao Lie getting to meet his goddaughter and niece fr. Maybe a family trip to diyu is in order lmao

Referencing how Wukong is able to meet his mom through Guanyin manifesting her spirit.

Yes, but the small catch is that technically it's being possessed by your former life. Guanyin is chill with it cus they on vacation right then and don't got nowhere to be, plus they're powerful enough to manifest Shihua as a separate entity from themselves. It also outside certain holidays (example; Qingming or Halloween) it requires some Diyu red-tape to pass throught to get done.

The current incarnation/living person themselves needs Dao cultivation to channel their past lives, so Subodhi and/or Guanyin might need to give the Noodle Shop gang a basic rundown first.

Tang def does it as a special present to SWK.

Tang: "Heeey, Monkey King! I brought you a guest!" Wukong, preparing Yuebei for a nap: "Thats great Tang. As long as they don't make too much noise-" Tang: (*meditates and conjures the spirit of Tripitaka*) Wukong, forgetting volume control: "-OOOOOHHHHH IT'S MASTER!! MASTER HAVE YOU SEEN MY BABY!?! SHE'S FINALLY ARRIVED!!!" :D!! (*holds out Yuebei like she's the best thing in the universe*) Yuebei: (*sleepy and confused. Gets excited by the gold and shiny spirit infront of her and tries grabbing for him.*) Tripitaka, trying not to cry: "She's perfect Wukong." Zhu Bajie's spirit, walks into room: "Took her long enough!" Wukong: "Piglet!?" (」°ﾛ°)｣!? Tripitaka, smiling: "The others are in the next room." Ao Lie's spirit, walking in after: "Yes! I told you she was finally born! Mei told me! She's as beautiful in person too!" Wukong: (*can't even talk, is openly crying whilst clutching his baby*) Sandy, peaks head in: "Uh... the old guy didn't want to come, sorry. Mind if I cut in at least?" Wukong, knows Sha Wujing is here: "Yea" (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ) Yuebei: (*now even more confused. When did all these uncles get here? Oh well. Tries biting Zhu Bajie*)

The Pilgrims have a lot to talk about. Even if their current hosts can't keep it up long, Wukong is just so comforted by the fact that he can now talk to his brothers again.

#stone egg talk #stone matriarch au #slow boiled stone egg au #sun wukong #lmk tripitaka #lmk ao lie #lmk zhu bajie #lmk sha wujing #lmk sandy #lmk tang #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk aus

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jimkirksgirl · 11 months

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hate spock/chapel but hate the casting of uhura more.

You should hate more on the casting of snw uhura

spock and chapel are not the issue. dont hate them much. hate the snw creators for downgrading and erasing uhura as a love interest. snw uhura is a flop in reception, no one cares about her because she is ugly and no one wants to ship an ugly girl with spock. that is the fault of the creators of the show. they knew this and they still went on with it.

spock and chapel can be a thing and it would have been fine if they have given us a hot gorgeous sexy uhura because it meant they could have built to spock and uhura as the show went on but that can never be because ugly masculine girls like uhura in strange new worlds are never romantic interest to very popular guys like Spock. they are in the mammy trope mode.

i dont like the spock/chapel ship, however i have a hatred for the casting of uhura a lot more.

I like your blog, however i wish you will join the voices of uhura fans who are unhappy by the way they have presented her in snw a lot more.

we dont like or want an ugly masculine uhura and we need more voices to make it so.

Okay, first of all, calling Celia Gooding’s portrayal of Uhura “ugly” and “masculine” is very unkind. I happen to think Celia is very pretty and can very much hold her own against Jess Bush’s Chapel. Now, is Celia pretty and sexy in the sense that Zoe Saldana is in her portrayal of Uhura? No, because the writers haven’t written Uhura that way for whatever reason. But that doesn’t take away from the beauty that Celia possesses and brings to the SNW version of Uhura. Calling someone ugly and masculine to degrade them simply because you don’t like them or think a character has been miscast is just hella distasteful and rude.

Secondly, and let me state again for the record that I like Celia as Uhura. I think my only problem is why they’ve made her so much younger in SNW than she appears in TOS/AOS. I think this may be part of why the writers haven’t made her a potential love interest for Spock. And we already know, too, that there are a few years between Spock and Uhura as shown in AOS. She was a cadet and he was already an instructor for 4 years when the first AOS film happens in the timeline. But in SNW she just seems a lot younger than the rest of the crew and I don’t quite get why the writers made that decision.

I will also say that I don’t agree with how the writers have written SNW Uhura. She reads as more of a background character for me and like she may not be as integral to the crew as a whole and that I truly don’t like. But that isn’t Celia’s fault and Celia is only able to work with the material given. So, I think the only point we can agree on here is that SNW’s writing of Uhura is shoddy at best and the writers should really do better for such an icon such as Uhura that Nichelle and Zoe so beautifully and powerfully brought to life in TOS/AOS. I just think the writers haven’t given Celia the material to do that yet and it’s such a shame because I think Celia could do a wonderful job at bringing more depth to Uhura in a way that fits better with her actual character instead of how they are writing Uhura to be right now.

And I do want to say thank you for liking my blog, but I will not be joining the hate train for Celia’s SNW Uhura.

#star trek #star trek aos #star trek tos #star trek snw #there really do be racism out in these streets today #snw uhura

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awyeahitsninokunitime · 2 years

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Damn do i actually have Thoughts? That's crazy

- I don't know all the juicy DS lore but I do know a little bit, and knowing that Lucien had fellow soldier friends is making his whole backstory cutscene a lot more heartbreaking. Were those his friends holding him down? His brothers and sisters in arms destroying not one, but two innocent villages (presumably along with all their people)? :(

- Lowkey I want to see more of Lucien back when he was just recently Shadar'd, before he was like a hundred years old. Probably looked just as depressed though

- Ni No Kuni I love you but What Is The Timeline. When did Lucien become Shadar? When did he destroy Bellicosia, and how much time was there between that and him destroying Halcyon? Alicia says she lived many happy days, so I'm assuming she had a sort of normal childhood, but I don't think getting your country Miasma Marsh'd counts as a good time (at least not in my book).

- Alicia...... what was her life like before the game's events? Where did she come from? Where did she go? I'd have been married a long time ago

- There really is something to the idea of the villain of a story being brought down by themselves (albeit themselves from another universe). The joy, optimism, and hope of Oliver winning out against Lucien's overwhelming despair? His younger other self restoring peace to the world and to both their souls? Mwah mwah

- I can't help but wonder what Oliver is going to feel like without a soulmate, though. Hell, what was his journey like having Shadar as his soulmate, even though he didn't know up until the end? I wonder if Oliver's going to feel like he's missing something he never knew was there in the first place. I guess Lucien will probably just be floating around in the afterlife until he gets reborn or smth. The way souls are talked about in Ni No Kuni is so cryptic

- Also how did the question of "hey so who's my soulmate" never come up for Oliver? He didn't even give it a passing thought? Really??

- Small child Alicia's outfit lowkey looks kind of like an Ao Dai, it's just missing the side cuts

- Just. Soul stuff. Ik the basic plot from here on out but I wonder if people really do feel sick or not whole after losing their soulmate in an unnatural way. I can't stop thinking about it and how weird it is that Oliver doesn't have a soulmate in the other world anymore

- literally who are the fireworks people I have not seen them even once in this game before why are they here

#back on my bullshit #oliver #lucien #shadar #alicia #just some thots

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