Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]
Pairing: Eventual Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader
Rating: Holy shit M.
AN: Hello everyone, and welcome to my latest indulgence. This tale will run parallel to the show, picking up between episode three [The Sin] and episode four [Sanctuary], so spoiler warnings for all portions!
Our story begins a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…on Nevarro, to be specific. Enjoy!
Tag List: @wrestlingfae @helplessly-nonstop @huliabitch @culturalrebel
[And here is the playlist for this (now completed) series! Be warned that this post does contain spoilers for all chapters of Stay Safe, so if you would rather just have the playlist without additional exposition or breakdown, you can find it here!]
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Alfie Solomons x modern!reader - social media/university au
summary; you finally move out of your parents house to live and study in London with your older brother Michael, your cousins and friends. You don’t know anyone in the city, besides them, and frankly, you don’t feel the need to get to know anyone new…well maybe except that one guy with a dog who you saw at a party that you didn’t want to go to.
PART 1
PART 2
PART 3
PART 4
PART 5
PART 6
PART 7
PART 8
PART 9
PART 10
PART 11
PART 12
PART 13
Story Summary: In pursuit of the Child’s people, the mysterious Jedi, Din Djarin and his foundling find hope in a woman who shares the kid’s strange powers. Newly partnered with the Mandalorian, you are trained in the ways of the Force, but you’re no Jedi. You’re just trying to find your place in the galaxy.
Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (fem; no y/n)
… . …
Chapter One: Convergence | 4.0k | T
Chapter Two: Interference | 4.6k | T
Chapter Three: Confidence | 5.8k | T
Chapter Four: Disruption | 5.5k | T
Chapter Five: Connection | 5.8k | T
Chapter Six: Divination | 4.8k | T
Chapter Seven: Hostility | 7.9k | T
Chapter Eight: Security | 7.9k | T
Chapter Nine: Curiosity | 8.5k | M
Chapter Ten: Transient | 6.5k | T
Chapter Eleven: Disillusionment | 5.5 | M
Chapter Twelve | Coming Soon
… . …
These are links to a couple of beautiful TLOS-inspired moodboards made by my equally beautiful friends. Julia and Leo, thank you forever!
Moodboard by @huliabitch
Moodboard by @leo-moon
“The Weapon of the Jedi Knights” Artwork by @hokudraws
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💕Tiff
Rating: Explicit for strong smut, angst angst angst
Wordcount: 14.9k (I’m just as shocked as you are)
Dedications: To @yespolkadotkitty you own my heart!! I love you beyond words, the mostest of them all; and most beloved crowned angst-queen, co-conspirator @thirstworldproblemss Thank you both ever so much for your endless patience with me, talking me off the ledge from deleting and for being the most amazing beta-readers.
Also to @loversandantiheroes 🎂 HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! 🎉 you amazing genius you! & to @buttercup–bee 💖🐝 know that I love and adore you and your beautiful writing.
A/N: Nothing actually happens for 10k words, then they have sex for 8 pages (feel free to skip ahead to the “Spring” section). PLAYLIST SOUNDTRACK
Summary: It’s what always happens in the movies; the man grovels, the woman forgives. There’s a passionate kiss; all is well, cue the credits with a heart swelling cinematic score. But somehow you’re unable to forgive him.
Photo by Rhendi Rukmana on Unsplash
Maybe the right decision would have been a divorce.
On paper, only a madwoman would have stayed. The man failed a standard drug test at work for cocaine and lost his pilot licence. Then still under suspension, he’d left the country for a month-long stint (promising it’d only be a week). Leaving you and your new baby at home. Leaving you to wonder if this meant you would have to carry on as a single mother from then on.
When he finally returned, it was with $17,000 deposited in your joint bank account and a haunted look in his eyes, attached to a poorly made up lie.
And as you were contemplating whether to stay and forgive; or leave and resent him forever, your family and friends all told you that: ‘sometimes good people make bad decisions. They fuck up, but it doesn’t mean they’re bad. Just human, capable of making mistakes.’
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for day 12 of my hyggetober ficlet challenge. today’s prompt is “pets.”
Francisco “Catfish” Morales/gn!Reader, rated gen (warning: contains mention of snakes, though they exist entirely off-screen). can’t stop won’t stop writing extremely soft babyfic about hot single dad Frankie Morales™. 525 words. thanks to @heatherbel for suggesting Frankie for this prompt.
Every now and then, Frankie has a flair for the dramatic. You hear him come through the front door, murmuring excitedly as he makes his way through the house to find you in the bedroom, folding laundry, and he pauses in the doorway, baby in tow.
“You will never believe,” he declares, “what we just saw.”
“What did you see?” you ask. You’re a little distracted, facing down three socks without their pairs, so you almost miss it when he widens his eyes expectantly.
“Guess,” he says.
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In this house we are sOFT for Din Djarin! Enjoy me being sappy and having too many damn feels about this man.
Part 1 ▪ Part 2 ▪ Part 3
Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x gn!reader
Summary: Cuddle arrangement. Faces are touched. Feelings were had. Reader is mad crushing on the Tin Can. A keldabe kiss? More likely than you think.
Words: 2.0k
Warnings: none, just fluff.
Note: Set before Din finds the Child
It was unreal how warm he was. He was like a furnace, giving off heat in waves, completely enveloping you. It should be uncomfortable, way too hot and having you scooting away after a few minutes. Yet somehow you don’t mind.
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Pairing: Young!Sirius Black x Reader
Summary: Basically just the mere perfection of your relationship with Sirius and fluff. *requests are open*
Word Count: 1.5k
The weekends spent in Hogwarts were usually delightful if you had made plans to go to Hogsmeade or simply if the professors had given you little to no homework. You decided to spend the day lounging around the dorms and playing Wizard Chess with your best friend, Lily in the Gryffindor common room. She was winning by just a smidge but you had enough experience with the game to be able to catch up with just a few more moves. Both of you could care less who won the game, it wasn’t really a priority—just a fun game you decided to play.
“Knight to E8.” You said, the black chess piece sliding to her Queen and was quick to destroy it in hundreds of tiny pieces.
“It’s a bit peculiar don’t you think?” Lily sent you a perplexed look as she said what had been itching her mind all morning. “They haven’t bothered us since this morning. I’m starting to think they’ve died.”
“You mean ‘The Marauders’?” You eyebrows raised, amused at the thoughts conjuring in your mind of what absurd antics they could be doing at the very moment. But you did know that Remus and Peter were going to spend the afternoon studying. Well, it was more of Remus tutoring Peter.
“You seriously call them that?” She laughed, one of the last of her pawns completely obliterating yours to pieces.
“You get used to it.” You answered simply. The Marauders were your closest friends in Hogwarts besides Lily. A joy to be around them, really. Their pranks often bring a smile to your face every once in a while. Of course, there were downsides to that friendship such as when they’d gotten you involved in a prank that ended with all five of you receiving a week’s detention with Madam Pince, reorganizing the library books you had gotten all mixed up.
“And I happen to like them a lot. Seriously.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re dating one of them.” Lily smirked at the reddish tint that formed on your cheeks. “Snogged Sirius lately?”
“Stared at James lately?” You countered, leaning on you elbows to further tease the girl.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She answered, now keeping her eyes focused on the board game.
If you knew anything about Lily’s feelings for a certain Potter boy, it was that she was beginning to like him back recently. Although she was as stubborn as a toddler not wanting to eat their vegetables, her small actions of glancing at the brunette a few seconds longer than normal and the increasing moments of her tagging along with you to watch the Gryffindor quidditch team practices did not pass by without you noticing. You concluded that she just needed a little push in the right direction.”
“Mhm. Sure you don’t.” You innocently, sipped your tea beside you. Somehow annoying her even more.
“I’m serious, (Y/n)!”
“No, you’re not. I’m pretty sure my boyfriend’s not ginger nor a girl.”
Lily groaned at the over used joke and scrunched her face in disgust at how much the cocky Gryffindor boy had rubbed off on you.
“Godric….he changed you.” She sighed, jokingly. “By change I mean ruin, just so you know.”
You rolled your eyes, quickly finishing the last drop of your tea before taking her king, smiling victoriously at another win and sadly, a ruined wizard chess board.
“They’re not so bad you know. Maybe you should give James a chance.” A scoff escaped her mouth, crossing her arms at your suggestion.
“No way.” By this time, James and Sirius came back from their previous endeavors and made their way towards your table, where you and Lily debated whether or not dating James was a good idea. Sirius smirked at the sight of you in just your short skirt and a cashmere sweater. Lily continued to state the downsides of dating James, despite being seated perfectly across the entrance of the common room where the two boys were just in her line of sight.
“And, he’s just a bit too similar with Sirius.”
You rose you brows as you placed your hand over your heart in feign offense. “My Sirius? Oh sweet Lily, no one can be like Sirius.”
“You called?” The devil himself pounced, wrapping his arms around your neck before kissing your temple. “You ladies couldn’t get me out of your head?”
“You know my mind could never stop thinking about you, love.” You grinned, leaning your head lovingly on his arms. Your hands, gripping his as he attempted to pull you back towards him, the wooden chair you sat on only allowing his chest to connect with the back of your head.
“And I could never get the taste of your lips out of mine, darling.” He hunched down towards your neck, your heads nuzzling against each other like birds on a spring day, completely forgetting about the red headed girl across you.
“Gross.” Lily gagged, causing you and Sirius to pull your heads away. With a chuckle, Sirius kissed your cheek to annoy the girl even more. “I get that you’re in love and all that but try not to do all that mushy, lovey-dovey crap in front of me.”
James made his way to her side, placing his hand over the red head’s shoulders. “Hey Lily, think of this. If you go out with me, we could do all this weird couple stuff Sirius and (Y/n) always get to do.”
You leaned your head back towards the crook of your boyfriend’s neck, watching the scene unfold before you. James’ daily efforts of asking Lily for a date always ended up in an instant rejection from the Evans girl. It was kind of a repetitive scene but entertaining nonetheless.
Sighing, Lily removed James’ arm from around her before getting up from the table. “Bye (Y/n), Bye Sirius.” She sent you a smile and left without another word.
James’ shoulder slouched in defeat, sitting on the chair where Lily previously sat.
“That was smooth.” Sirius stated, smiling cheekily at the brunette.
“I don’t understand why you’re still single, Prongsy.” You teased as well, restiing the side of your head on Sirius’ arm.
“Bugger off, love birds.” James let out a scoff then turned his head away from you, earning not so silent laughs from the two of you.
The next morning, you sat eating breakfast with the four boys with Sirius’ arm placed leisurely around your waist, and Lily, who was adamant on convincing you that she was only tolerating sitting near James because she wanted to sit beside you. You were simply smiling to yourself, fully aware that that was not the case.
Stabbing your silver fork on one of your strawberries, you elicited a soft hum of content at the savoring flavor the fruit had. “The berries are extremely sweet today.” You placed your fork in front of your boyfriend, watching him devour the strawberry off the silver, the fruity taste filling his taste buds.
“Delicious.” Sirius nodded in agreement, taking one of the fruits on his plates and popping it into your mouth. “However, not as delicious as you though.”
You remembered the first time Sirius fed you with his own hands, quite a funny story. It was one of those times when you had been distracted and overly engrossed with an assignment that was unfinished and due the next day. He realized you hadn’t eaten at all that day and forced convinced you to eat dinner with him in the Great Hall that night but failed when you brought the essay you had been working on along with you to the table and were ignoring the savory mash potatoes and chicken pot pie in front of you. That night, strange looks were sent in your direction as Sirius spoon fed you your dinner, the thought of you passing out due to hunger crossing his mind.
It became a daily routine after that.
Sirius captured your lips with his, smiling as you returned the sweeter kiss. Despite him being notorious for his bad boy facade and often flirtatious attitude, it didn’t bother you one bit at seeing the other side he had. You were the first girl he’s ever really cracked in front of and it brought butterflies all the time.
Your friends groaned at your connected lips, however you didn’t bother stopping your mouths from connecting once more. Remus ran a hand on his face, tired of seeing the constant PDA from the two of you.
“Seriously guys, we’re eating here.” He said, gesturing to his pile of chocolate chip pancakes. “Stop being in love for just a few minutes.”
Sharing a breathy laugh through your lips, you leaned into Sirius one more time before pulling away to pop another strawberry in your mouth, half of it peeking out to which was bitten of by Sirius before you could.
“Love you.” He whispered.
“Love you.” You replied breathlessly, kissing his cheek.
“Guys!” Remus exclaimed, earning a small chuckle from you and your boyfriend as you turned your heads to look at the lanky boy across you. You smiled, resting your cheek on Sirius’ shoulder. “Sorry, Remus.”
“Don’t worry, Moony. I’ll help you find a girl so you’ll be able to snog her like I do with mine.” Sirius grinned at the annoyed glare he had gotten from the boy. “I’m in love, mate. Let me flaunt it!”
James, who sat next to him and peered at Lily who sat across from him. He twisted a piece of strawberry in his hand and began to open his mouth. “Say Lily—”
“Don’t even think about it.” She said, shaking her head.
When classes came rolling on Monday morning, you found yourself once more with Sirius. You were on his back, his large hands holding onto the bottom of your thighs to keep you on his back. He was seemingly enjoying carrying you to your Transfiguration class regardless of the fact that you weighed like a ton in your opinion.
“Well, how nice of you to bless us with your presence, Ms (Y/L/N), Mr. Black.” McGonagall’s eyes narrowed at your current position but still, Sirius remained holding you up. In the corner of your eye, you could spot James, Remus and Peter trying to suppress their laughter.
“You are very welcome, Minnie!” Your face cringed at his words, using your strength to slide down from his back. A loud snort came from Peter, who cracked earning a quick warning glance from McGonagall.
“I apologize, Professor.” You mumbled, your eyes staying glued to the ground. “It won’t happen again.”
“Ah yes. I trust you’d keep that promise—however, I do not believe the same would be done by Mr. Black.”
“I’m hurt, Professor. You think so little of me.” Sirius gasped, placing a hand over his heart. He pouted, feigning a whimper. “We were simply showering these sods the beauty of our everlasting love.”
You swore your eyes were the size of two quaffles when the dark haired boy, shoved his way onto one of the tables and stood in the middle of the room. His arms were wide open, a beaming smile on his face as he opened his mouth to speak. “My fellow brave and proud Gryffindors and extremely intelligent yet kind off showoff Ravenclaws—”
“—Mr.Black.” The Professor attempted to warn him.
“I, Sirius Orion Black, the man who had a star named after him—”
“—You were named after a star, Mr.Black.” Mcgonagall stated, rubbing her face in exasperation while you watch your boyfriend embarrass not only himself but you as well.
“Am hopelessly, utterly, completely, foolishly…” You weren’t quite sure whether or not his sentence was grammatically correct but somehow he managed to bring a smile upon your face. “In love with (Y/F/N).”
Sirius turned, pointing his hands toward you and grinned cheekily. “The woman I will spend my life and raise puppies with.” With reddened cheeks, you let out a quick breath, the smile never leaving your face. It was sure that your classmates were either trying to keep their laughter in or were contemplating his last sentence that only you and the marauders would understand.
“Did he just indirectly propose to her?” Someone asked, this urging the boy even more, fortunately the Professor had enough and ordered him to take his seat and why you were still standing by the end of the room, you didn’t know.
“But Professor, I’m in love!”
“Then professing your love would need a rain check.” She said, her famous emotionless poker face evident. “Detention, Mr. Black and you may take your seat, Ms. (Y/L/N).”
You made your way towards the table Sirius stood on and took his hand on yours and urged him to take his seat next to yours. This was the only way to prevent him from causing more trouble ending up with a even worse punishment.
“Love you.” Sirius smiled, pecking your lips as quick as possible.
He was going to get an lecture from you later on but in spite of the humiliating yet amusing show he put on, you were happy with him nonetheless.
Harry Potter - Fic Recommendations
Main Rec Masterlist
Sirius Black
Regulus Black
Authors Note: This was a request, but I might have accidentally deleted it! If this was something you requested sorry for the lateness! Idk what happened
Word Count: 4748
Warnings: angst, aemond is a loud-mouthed asshole
Description: Aemond is sure that you are enemies and stuck in a marriage of convenience
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Part one of the More to Love series
More to love: “Marrying Prince Korkie would be your inevitable doom to a life of tea parties and being seen and not heard, why should you agree to that when you’re worth so much more?”
Summary: As war between your homeland of Corellia and the kingdom of Chandrilla is approaching, you, the princess of Corellia agrees to an arranged marriage that would form an alliance with the war kingdom of Mandalore. However, you find yourself falling in love with a man who’s face you’ve never seen and name you’ve never heard.
Warnings: NSFW (more in future chapters), Swearing, War, Arranged Marriage (will be more specific with each part)
Word Count: 6k, NO USE OF ‘Y/N’
Tropes: Royalty AU, Princess x Knight, Arranged marriage, Fantasy AU, Reader-insert, Virgin!Reader, Single father, Din Djarin is your royal guard
Authors Note: WOW I LOVE THIS FIC ALREADY. A few things to keep in mind: Star Wars Canon ages and years are not compliant in this fic, Korkie is much younger than he would be if they were compliant, this is an 18+ fic!! THERE WILL BE SMUT!! Also enjoy me making up a bunch of stuff about Mandalorian Royalty and culture.
Mandalore was one of the wealthiest kingdoms in the land. Their profit off of wars has been revered far and wide, from their sister kingdom Naboo in the south, to their enemy kingdom Coruscant in the west. There have been several wars across history that Mandalore had been in the center of: The legendary Battle between the Sundari Front and Mandalorian Territory, the tireless months spent on the Borders of the ancient civilization of Ach-too, and the most recent war between the forces of Mandalore and the Grand Army of Coruscant. Their involvement has brought nothing but wealth and prosperity for the small kingdom. That is precisely why you, the princess of Corellia, has agreed to an arranged marriage with the Prince of Mandalore.
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Hi hi! Okay so those song prompts are magnificent. How about ‘17. And at once I knew, I was not magnificent - Holocene, Bon Iver’
It would be good to have something where Aemond l sees the reader for the first time at a ball or something and his own little view that he is superior to others comes crashing down because he is in absolute awe of her? Feel free to alter/tweak/change whatever!
thank you so much @littlemisscaptainfandom ! i ran wild with this one. feral. i love the idea of aemond being outplayed because of his smugness, and the ball idea - enjoy!
request a song prompt!
Magnificent
Warnings: Aemond being in deep denial lmao WC: 3333 (nice)
Prompt 17: "And at once I knew, I was not magnificent" - Holocene, Bon Iver
He heard you long before he saw you – the uneven heel clacking of a noble’s daughter who had shirked one too many dance lessons.
“No,” he heard a lilting voice laugh, impatiently. “Like this - right foot second, you dolt.”
Dolt indeed – the instruction was lost on the girl, whoever in the Seven she was. Yet another sacrificial lamb to lure the unwed dragon into marriage, no doubt. Even with one eye and a turned back, Aemond could practically smell her family’s pathetic attempt at temptation – a corset two sizes too small and a family ambition two leagues too large.
The prince didn’t deign to watch the scene. He preferred the game of gleaning, observation – seeing without seeing. Creating the tapestry in his mind and tracing the threads to know which to pull to watch it all unravel. It had long been said by the Maesters that when one loses a sense, the others bolster themselves, and indeed, all he had to do was listen.
Aemond heard the Dolt relinquish a dramatic sigh. “It seems that I simply must retire to the fray then Elyana, lest I bring shame upon our most noble house.”
The younger – Elyana – huffed.
“It would be wise. How father expects to make you a dragon bride, I will never know. You cannot dance, or sing, or embroider –”
“Yes, and lest we forget my stunning lack of maternal instinct,” you lamented. “Remember when Darya’s little one bit me?”
Aemond smiled – smug, slight, vulpine. He was right, of course, as he always was.
The sudden sound of shattered glass upon flagstones jerked Aemond out of his wager. He acted on instinct, as he always did, head whipping towards the drunken laughter and breaking his reverie. Behind him indeed stood two girls, as different as the sun and moon. The younger, dressed in fine lilac gossamer and silver, swiftly began to chase the bard and beg for another song.
And then there was you. Aemond’s eye roamed your figure, appraising the rich, dark olive of your gown and its deep, square neckline – Braavosi velvet, he’d wager, a show of wealth to have such long sleeves of the stuff. A little demure for an attempted seduction, he mused. Perhaps her family thought to appeal to mother’s piousness.
The prince would never admit that this was the longest he had stared at a woman. He simply wanted to improve his skill of gleaning, listening, to compare the observations he made with the reality before him. It was imperative to absorb every detail; the way that your gold pendant heaved with your shallow, shocked breathing, and the sliver of hair resting on your cheek. There was a power in your tensed shoulders - coiled, reactive, ready for the threat of weight. Aemond felt his fingers twitch against his will, a yearning to carry it for you.
He snapped himself back to reality with an internal grimace - the dragon cannot lie with the lamb. The music had begun again, and you finally turned towards him, face blanching at his discovered proximity.
“Prince Aemond,” you started, eyes wide, muscles coiled – caught in the courtly snare.
The lamb is too stunned to curtsey, he mused, watching your quick fingers wringing the golden band on your thumb. You certainly were the most radiant of the sacrifices offered to him so far. Though, he parried, there would be little use in marrying a fool.
Aemond hummed, relishing in your panic for a few seconds longer than any decent gentleman would.
“I’m half-blind, not half-deaf,” he said lowly, taking a step closer. “One would do well to be wary of the court, my lady. You never know who might be listening.”
Your eyes narrowed imperceptibly – a flash of something Aemond didn’t quite recognise, gone as quickly as it appeared. Idiots have trouble accepting their transgressions, he supposed, but her polite smile had something hidden behind it, like the dark side of the moon. Deep within the tides of the fray, Alicent observed the scene with a ghost of a smile. She watched the girl hide fire and intelligence in her muscles like a coiled serpent, and bitterly wished that she had the same instinct as a girl. Perhaps then she could have avoided her fate of staring at ceilings and dancing with dragons.
Her prayer was silent as she observed you, implored with eyes instead of the tongue: Keep buying your time, sweet girl. Her second son was much too perceptive not to see through your mummer’s moronity eventually – she could already see Aemond’s eye probing your mask.
“Aemond,” the Queen beckoned with a regal nod of her head.
Time. She thought, noting the way your minds danced around each other, palpable. Love matches were rare, mind matches even more so – but she could see the way you looked at one another. Time and choice. She would gift you the mercy the gods denied her.
The prince pried his eye away from you with great effort, waiting for you to answer him. You remained silent, gaze unwavering.
Interesting. He conceded as he walked towards his mother. For a dolt.
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Your eyes narrowed through the dim candlelight. The crowd ebbed and heaved like fresh seafoam, and you searched for your sister, your anchor in the waves, like the Oldtown lightower would a lost ship. In truth, you felt uneasy without Ely, your sworn shield against courtly attentions. It had been like this ever since you were children – a symbiotic relationship, the tide to your moon. She would sing and whirl through your father’s halls, a gossamer dervish, drawing the attention to herself and leaving you free to pursue your histories and hidden halls, and hone your sharp tongue.
You finally spotted the girl by a large table of ale, humouring a dark haired young lord who had not yet grown into his long limbs. You weaved your way through the crowd to reach her, forming a courtly, waxen smile to begin your manoeuvre.
“Sister!” You gasped, watching Elyana’s dark eyes twinkle as she recognised your ruse. “Mother requires you at once–” You cocked your head, silently wondering how every little lord fell for it. “Something about Ser Randyll?”
The little lord – Arryn, you’d wager by his gleaming brooch – blanched at the sight of your mother in deep conversation with Lord Reyne and his son. You stifled a laugh watching his chest puff up slightly at the challenge – your work was done. You pried your sister away from the little falcon’s talons, barely managing to stifle your laughing fit until he was out of earshot.
“Seven hells, Y/N, it took you long enough!” she huffed, preening over your shoulder to make sure that the young Lord Lannister hadn’t seen the exchange and think her spoken for. She had always been a romantic, excessively so, even for her six and ten years.
You pinched her dimpled cheek with a grin. “That’s for having far too much mirth in calling me a dolt earlier.”
Elyana rolled her eyes, batting your hand away. “It was your grand strategy, if I recall.”
“Yes, and I accounted for the pinch.” You said wickedly, before surveying the hall.
“A job well done I’d say, The Prince heard our performance. I even refused to curtsey. He’ll no doubt relay my idiocy to the Queen, and we’ll be home in no time at all.”
Elyana regarded you pensively, gently taking hold of your hand. Her gentleness felt like a cage to you, sometimes – perceptive, inescapable. “You know you will have to marry one day.”
Your sister watched your eyes flutter, soaking in your surroundings like a sponge. Your reply was barely audible over the internal hum of your own thoughts. “Not like this.”
You had decided that long ago. You knew you couldn’t escape a married fate – all women were cursed with the knowledge of how their lives would go from the moment they stepped into their first etiquette lesson with the septa. But, if you were to be married, it would be on your terms.
Impossible, father often branded you, but always with a fond smile. If you could not escape your fate, you would fiercely guard the little time you had with your freedom as the kingsguard would protect the king.
Though sometimes, when alone in the vespertine hush of your chambers, you could admit the presence of a longing in yourself, a desire to be seen for who you were by whoever you might be sold off to. Such longing is dangerous, you told yourself. Expect the swing of the sword, never mercy. Especially if you found yourself drawn to the wielder like a moth to flame – you were lucky to have honed your courtly mask so well upon seeing his handsome face. Though you had heard takes of the “one-eyed brute”, there was little account of the beautiful shadow his cheekbones cast, and his knowing, surveying gaze.
Your sister pulled you out of your thoughts, head nodding to a balcony alcove. She knew the price you paid for duty as the eldest. “Go. Take your refuge. I’ll be with mother.”
You offered her a tired, grateful smile before wading through the crowd towards your sanctuary, too close to paradise to be aware of the shark circling.
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It wasn’t as though Aemond had been watching you. Mother had always taught him to be an attentive host - he was merely cultivating good will, bolstering support for the war to come. He watched you grab your third - no, fourth - glass of wine, an irritated huff escaping his nose. He supposed there was little use in lying to himself any longer - he felt pulled to you the same way he felt called to the skies. Perhaps this was the lust that seemed to drive Aegon to the depths of Fleabottom every night - maddening.
The more he watched you, the more his one good eye narrowed in bewilderment. Supposedly too dim to follow a septa’s simple instruction and notice the ears of court, yet cunning enough to weave your way through this nest of dancing vipers and their hungry sons. You could redirect the attention of a young lord with a single word, and charm your father with the raise of an eyebrow. You moulded the scenes that unfolded around you, parrying dance requests with a skill he’d only seen with Ser Cole and his morningstar.
So why the overt blundering before him? He leaned against the pillar, pensive. The only rational explanation he could fathom was that you had heard stories of him and thought to demean yourself as a marriage prospect. The prince scowled. Of course. What woman such as her would want a one-eyed beast as a husband? Aemond felt his insides twist and his fingers twitch, barely containing the ire towards himself.
Despite your repulsion of him, Aemond felt his curiosity turning ravenous in his stomach as he watched you approach your sister. He could not help but want to map you as The Conqueror once did his lands – even if you did not want him, he could watch your mind work from afar. So watch he did, as your sister held your hand in hers like water. He mapped it all to memory – your hushed words, the steely set of your eyes and jaw, your deceptive smile; a sliver of his favourite crescent moon.
The hour was late and the candles burnt low. Nobody would begrudge any of the young ladies for retiring for the night – the young Tyrell girl had already sunk so far into her cups that she had to be carried to her chambers like an overwatered rose. Yet there you slithered to the alcove, alone, alert with empty company and a full cup.
Aemond had begun to follow you long before his mind registered the movement of his legs. He followed your trail through the flurry of bright skirts, drunk on the hunt. His long legs strode with a purpose that was lost to his conscious mind, stopping when he reached the boundary of the lush, red drapery. Aemond stood outside of your sanctuary for a long while before breaching it, in an act that almost reminded him of protection. From what, he did not know. A mangled dragon guarding its hoard, he thought wryly, before stepping onto the balcony with the silence of a predator.
The prince wasn’t sure what he expected. A maiden in tears after being shunned at court, perhaps – he wasn’t sure how far you’d go to keep up the show. But there you were, in the furthest corner of the alcove, with your elbows on the dark stone and your eyes to the stars. He glanced at your now-empty cup before clearing his throat.
You sighed imperceptibly before turning to face him. So you knew I was here, then. The thought made him hide a smile - the idea of you sensing his presence and ignoring him anyway, even if you tried to hide that fact. Insolent. He thought. Magnificent.
You bowed this time, with a tired, chagrin smile - an apology for earlier. “Forgive me, my Prince. It has been a while since my sister and I have been in the capital. The intricacies of court politics appear to be lost on me.”
Aemond hummed, ignoring the way his innards clenched - my prince. He rather liked the sound of that. “Yet not so unhoned that you managed to avoid that Lannister whelp,” he paused, brow raised. It made him feel less shame to know he was not the only one you rebuked. “Not to mention that little Manderly lordling.”
The Prince enjoyed watching you war with yourself - needing to keep your shield up, yet too tired and full of ire to keep up the ruse for much longer.
“Evading them hardly requires a honed mind, my Prince.” You snorted. A clever answer. He thought. Too clever.
“Aemond.” He corrected. You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious. “If I am to play along with your farce, let the rest of it be real.” He amended, making his way next to you but never prying his eye away.
You breathed a laugh, toying with your rings again. “You see more with one eye than most do with two, Aemond.”
The prince hummed. “It is of little consequence. They still brand me “one-eye” after all.”
“Little,” you snorted again, a glorious sound. Real, he thought, the soft skin of your hand calling him as your voice did. Real enough to touch. “Perhaps everything seems little to the rider of the largest dragon alive.”
The mention of Vhagar earnt you a small smile - a true one that you couldn’t quite look away from. Somehow you knew that it was Aemond’s version of a face-splitting grin.
You basked in comfortable silence for a while, noting how he had placed you on his right side – away from his eyepatch. The revelation made you frown, but left your vision unobstructed. It gave you a better look at the way his hair fell, an estuary of molten silver. You committed his profile to memory - the sharp edges that were strong, true, until he suddenly met your eyes. For once, you were speechless - the lush darkness of the night and the sweet smell of gardenias were suddenly oppressive.
“I really can’t dance, you know.” You blurted.
Aemond artfully raised an eyebrow in question.
“Earlier,” you clarified. “what you heard.” You tucked your hair behind your ear with what you hoped was a self-effacing smile. “I really am a terrible dancer, it was no lie.”
Aemond nodded grimly in understanding. “There is no need, my Lady, I understand your distaste for the match.” He stood taller, and tapped his eyepatch lightly.
Aemond watched ten emotions cross your face at once, until you settled on the one that most puzzled him; anger. Your eyebrows furrowed deliciously, something he noticed you did before you wielded your barbed tongue, and your lips parted. He did not see how your heart caught in your throat, nor the way your hands almost sprung to hold his shoulders. You slapped your palms onto the cold stone instead.
“Gods no. No, that is,” you breathed, warring with yourself before finally conceding. “It is not you, Aemond. Nor the sapphire eye that likely costs more than my entire dowry,” you jested half-heartedly.
You steeled yourself for honesty, looking into the sky once again and sneering in defiance at the gods who watched. “If I am to be sold off, I at least want to choose my buyer.”
Aemond’s gaze never left you, probing your truth as if he were caught in its net. He finally understood, and you knew he did. There was little that could be said, he thought.
Your eyes were almost crazed with a repressed frustration that was finally breaching the walls of your dutiful facade. A longing to be understood that matched his own. He saw fire – not that of ‘fire and blood’, but the fire of lightning. Beautiful, terrible, calculated in its strikes. Magnificent.
You trembled as if to cull the rage from erupting out of you. Years of playing placater, unable to unleash the true potential of your mind and spirit. Aemond’s eye flitted down to the stone, observing the shaking of your hands.
He did the only thing he knew how to and rested his hand gently over yours, the same way he would calm Vhagar. Real, he thought. Warm. Much too warm. You calmed under his touch. He understood, you know he did – years at court culling your own ambition at the expense of duty. Aemond created the “one-eyed brute”, just as you created the “little dolt of a lamb”.
You placed your hand over his. Horribly improper – it made you smile under the valleys of his scars and callouses. You wondered if you could map them in your mind as the maesters mapped the stars – a sky that was your own. Aemond felt your pulse thrum under his fingers and let it reverberate – his hands, his ears, his heart, his bones, it was all you. He knew you would have to leave soon enough, but for now, he would bask in you, knowing you’ve scorched him for life.
“Aemond,” You said, hushed. “How far can a dragon fly?” You looked up to meet his faraway gaze, relishing in catching him off guard. His lips were slightly parted as he stared at your own. It took every ounce of his steel restraint not to pull you to him and show you the meaning of fire and blood.
Instead, he hummed. “Vhagar has been known to make the trip from here to Dorne in a day, give or take - ”
He stilled at the interrupting shake of your head. If you had met his eyes, you would have noticed the questioning squint of his eye. Instead, your eyes were now trained above him, not wavering from the star-spittled sky.
“No,” you began, the gold of your necklace jingling as you craned your neck - as if the stars would be able to hear you better that way. “How high? Your maesters would not tell me.”
Aemond stared at you for a moment, finally following your gaze upwards with a slight smile. You asked the maesters. Of course you did. The thought of you badgering them in the palace library filled him with a disturbing level of fondness.
“Perhaps we could find out.”
Your head whipped towards him, eyes sparkling in the dark. “We?”
Aemond hummed again, this time in affirmation as he took your hand in silent question. “If I’m steering Vhagar, who will take note of the scientific observations? Maybe you are a dolt after all, my lady.” You squeezed his hand in your own, and your answering grin was like the sun. Magnificent.