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daddy eren🫶🏽🥺😫🥹

MUSICIAN! EREN AS A DAD😭😭?

ayooooo!!! 😭🥹🥹😭 listen, not only would the entire world have to stop when his child is born but that would one hundred percent, without a shadow of a doubt..be his twinnem! First and foremost, this man would bawl his eyes out the second he finds out you’re pregnant. He’d be absolutely thrilled that he’s going to be a father..running to tell all his boys about it and literally happy as hell. Right away, he starts working on a nursery, getting things ready and of course, waiting on his darling wife hand and foot. Attends all the appointments, makes sure you’re okay..like superrr involved in the process. Once that little bundle of joy is here, Eren is a completely different man. That dumb boy you had to drag out of the studio some nights? No more. He’d got his little angel on his chest, swaddled up in a blanket in bed so you can get some rest. When he does have to work, he doesn’t want to be away from his baby too long so he’s ready to finish up and get back to them ASAP! Never misses an opportunity to remind everyone he’s a father now. You don’t have to ever worry about a thing. Some nights, when his child is crying and you’re too exhausted, he’ll sneak into the nursery and rock them back to sleep. You’ll hear his beautiful voice all the way down the hall, helping soothe the baby and you just want to tear up because he really is the greatest dad ever. When they get older, he’s taking them everywhere with him. The little mini me tugging at his pant leg and trailing behind wherever he goes. And yes, he definitely would have your child in the studio with him, sitting on his lap and learning to mix and master songs. “And see, that button makes it get louder.” (he can’t help himself, really.) Also, he’d sneak them things that you said they couldn’t have. “We’re not supposed to have candy for breakfast but don’t tell momma..” and pleaseee don’t get me started on the fits. If you thought you were spoiled, oh, y’all’s kid would be the flyest in the room at ALL times. Jordan’s, Rick Owens..I mean, DRESSED, just like mommy and daddy. His baby would never have to want for anything and neither would you. He would be so happy to have a family of his own and strive to be the best dad ever.

Heyyyyyy!💕💕

Going out with Musician!Eren and him railing us in the bathroom after a paparazzo got a little too in our business and then flipping them off when we come back outside because who tf are they😩😩😩

hiii bby!! 💕💕💕

this is too good cause I just he would be so worked up and take it all out on (y/n), right there against the sink! And y’all know aggressive eren is so mf sexy. 🥴 like the way I’d let this man—lemme hush

imagine: you and Eren decide to go out for a nice little outing. Dinner and shopping in the Design District and a walk on Ocean Drive. Something you had done numerous times on your date nights. But there was also another constant you had to deal with: annoying ass paparazzi! TMZ reporters lurking around the area, looking for a scoop and shoving mics and cameras into the face of the first notorious figure they can find. Tonight, poor (y/n) and Eren were the unsuspecting victims. You knew he hated even entertaining those jackasses so when they started talking to you, trying to ask questions, he immediately pulled you along to shield you but you were in a bit of a spicy mood and felt like letting them have it. Rumors recently circulating about infidelity, you using him and even problems in your marriage. None of which were true in the slightest. “Y’all asking too many motherfucking questions. We doing good over here, don’t worry ‘bout me and mine. Put that in your little articles.” And you wave them off with a hand before walking inside of the building. You really don’t think much of it, but oh bitch, that shit just got your man so excited! “Damn, baby. I’ve never seen you like that.” Because he’s so used to being the hothead but hearing you cuss these people out like that and get on their asses, has him ready to pounce on you!

hence why he takes you to the bathroom halfway through the entrees and ends up beating your shit up in front of the mirror! Putting his hand around your throat and making you look up at him as your titties bounce out of the top of your dress. “Mmm, shit! Oh my god, you fucking me so good!” Muttering to him and making him smile down at your fine ass physique.. “…can’t help it, baby…got my fucking dick hard..talking like that..” Eventually, his fingers found home in your mouth and he’d watch you suck the digits slowly as you begged him for more. Truthfully, the thought of him corrupting you..turning you from the media’s golden girl to his mirror image was such a turn on. Being as mean, bold and brash as he had been to these people. All he could do was helplessly rut his hips into your wet little pussy. The sounds of sipping wetness and slapping skin, coagulating with your moans was such a beautiful sight. He’d keep it going until he couldn’t hold it in and had to nut in you right there in a Ruth Chris’ restroom. Both of you watching it go in and out for the last time as he finally pulls out and drags the silky string of cum along with him. “Ahh, fuck..look what you did.” But all you do is tug him down and shove your tongue into his mouth. Once you get yourselves cleaned up and make it out just in time for the check, Eren slams a few hundreds onto the table and gets you out of there as soon as possible. But as expected, the second you leave, those vultures are still perched for a story, however..Eren is on cloud nine and they are not ruining his night. When they ask him something, as he’s helping you into the car because he needs about five more rounds after that little thrill, he tunes it out and just flips them off. “Like my girl said, put that in your fucking article.”

i can be eren’s acrobat 😜😏

Helloooo

I tripped and accidentally spread my legs to ur blog🙈 But I was wondering if you could be prompted to write about Baby fever Eren? Wants a pretty lil baby with his pretty lil princess? Thank you love 💕

hiiii 🩷🫶🏾🫶🏾 well welcome 😭 I swearrrr, y’all must’ve known I’ve been missing my man. I can absolutely make that happen!

BUN IN THE OVEN

feat. heavy breeding kink, our sweet EJ + influencer (y/n), spreader bar, porn with no plot, mating press, nipple play, lots of sweet talk, daddy’s used

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“Mmmmphm…can you take some out, pleaseee?..”

“Aww, but princess..you’re doing so good right now and you feel..so good. Please don’t make me stop..”

the consistent rutting and pounding ensued as you found yourself flat on your back..legs suspended midair and pulled apart with the assistance of a metal bar clasped around your ankles. Your wrists were also bound and dangling from the center. Quite an interesting and vulnerable situation you’d been put into. But you wouldn’t place this level of trust and submission into anyone other than your loving husband, EJ. Who had just returned from his tour..rather than lethargic from endless days of performing or suffering from treacherous jet lag, he was rather energetic. Mainly because the prospect of seeing you once he stepped foot from the plane was all the more worth it. But perhaps the most exciting part of coming back to you was getting to be one with his lady. In your absence, he missed you terribly. Your scent, your touch..your warmth. So much so, he wanted to always be a part of you, even when he couldn’t be around…which began his wheels to turning…

“ ‘Ren…baby..’m so close.”

“I know, baby. I know you are..and if you keep squeezing me like that, you’re gonna get all this nut. Just like you wanted, right? You do want another one, don’t you?”

see, Eren had been contemplating for a while on the subject of having children. It was something that the two of you had mulled over but ultimately decided it was for the best to wait. However, his mind had quickly changed when he saw you babysitting a friend’s toddler. He loved his natural and instinctively you cared for the child..how soft and nurturing you were. That’s when his mind and thoughts would wander farther onto the more salacious side!…imagine you with a cute baby bump. Full of his seed and carrying his baby..Eren often thought about how attractive you’d look with that swollen belly and of course, those already perky tits becoming plump because you’d be lactating. The thought often left him salivating and stroking himself in his hotel room whilst away from home. So now, he was atoning for lost time. Thrashing his cock into your tight little hole..the same one that clenched for him over the lens of a FaceTime call, begging for him to stuff it full when he got home..the one that squeezed your fingers tightly as you pumped them in and out, moaning his name. And now? It was the same one that’d give way to your aching womb; desperate to be bred. He’d feed you deep seeded strokes, glaring directly into your eyes with gentle coos ringing out in the form of sweet nothings. “Yes d-daddyyy..but I can’t—“ “..then let me handle it, princess..you gone look so fucking pretty with my baby inside of you..” the sheer thought causing his cock to twitch as it bottomed out inside of your womb. Consistently colliding with your thighs as that thick length sloshed around in that sloppy mixture; comprised of your juices and his previous loads. He had to ensure that you were good and full of his warm cum before he let up. You’d see the excited yet unrelenting glare on your man’s face and knew that you were in good hands. “You’re gonna look so beautiful—fuck..I can see it now..you gonna have my baby..let daddy get you all full? You want it?” Cooing to you with the single swipe across your lips and you had never felt more comfortable than you had in that moment. Despite the rough and rambunctious love making that you guys had just participated in, it was going to have the most delicate and precious result.

“Yes..I want it!..want to give you a baby.” That sweet answer was all he needed to persist and he wouldn’t leave until his goal was achieved and those lines popped positive.

“That’s all I wanted to hear, princess..all I needed. ‘M gonna get you pregnant. Even if it takes all night..”

good girls finish last • e. jaeger

your best friend was always adamant that he’d have you and he follows through on it in a huge way.

word count: 2.3K

black fem!reader, heavy dom!eren (he’s yandere if you squint), PWOP, overstimulation, back licking, squirting, reader calls him daddy, calls reader princess, growling/marking, orgasm denial. he speaks German/Italian, many other themes I don’t feel like listing

in case you all were wondering what inspired this: enjoy! 🫶🏾

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“Mmmm!…please..”

“Shhh, keep your voice down, baby. I won’t say it again..”

the deep vibrato rang out in your ear in almost a growl like tone..his voice tantalizing and almost honey like as it deeper into your brain. He was trouble..that you had always known since the day you met him. Your best friend of several years, even when everyone else told you otherwise. However, that was of no consequence. Especially when you were certain that he was the only man for you. Someone who saw your flaws as perfections, who thought the world of you even when you seemed insignificant. It was more than what could be said of the man who had you before..hence why he was now there to pick up the pieces.

“..don’t talk, just breathe..that’s all you need to do right now. Just focus on my voice..” the command simultaneous with the sounds and sensation of his thick, warm fingertips fluidly moving in and out of your warmth. Your slick building up on the hilt of his knuckles as he flexed his wrist. His tattooed digits and arm were already decorated in the remnants of your previous orgasms and he was looking to add more to the collection. “I—I just..this isn’t right..we shouldn’t be doing this.” A statement only followed by that same maniacal laughter you had heard many times before and a soft clutch around your throat. “And why is that? Hmm..scared that he’s gonna walk in here? Good, let him see what a real man is supposed to do.” Even so, your chest couldn’t help but to heave with every delicate, calculated movement he made. Working your cunt over with the most intricate of strokes. He occasionally uses his free hand to squeeze your throat or grope your tits that were pulled from your tank top. That thong dangling at your ankles and your plaid skirt flipped up to expose your lower half..he was enjoying this! All of it far more than he should’ve but he couldn’t help himself, really. Eren had been in love with you since the two of you first became acquainted. Those beautiful lips, those thighs and pretty dark skin he found so perfect..the best part was? It was all his!…regardless of how many losers you allowed into your life. You were his lady, forever and always. And he’d make certain that everyone knew it. Removing that hand from your throat, he’d quickly replace it with a trail of gentle kisses. As well as the slight drudge of his teeth up the sensitive skin.

“Don’t you get it? We were always supposed to be together. Just me and you against the world, princess. That’s what you told me, right?” Your answer seemingly coming a moment too late for him, as he snatched your head around to meet his gaze. “Right?!” “Ah!—yes! Yes, daddy..” the name inciting more of a fire in him than before. Truth be told, he knew you liked it. You loved it, in fact. That much apparent by the subtle smirk on your face. “Look at you fucking smiling..admit it, mama. You never loved him. You were only pretending. You always were such a people pleaser..my good girl.” His voice dropped even lower as his fingers elevated to your g-spot once more. Pressing on the fleshy pad and making you writhe in his grasp. You were as good as stuck..you wouldn’t leave this spot. This bed where you and your ex had consummated your relationship several times. And not once did it ever bring you the thrill and rush that fucking Eren did. The way he spoke to you, held you close and made you feel as if he existed solely for you.

“But that’s why I’m here…you don’t have to appease anyone. You can be selfish with me, baby. Give in to what you really want…so tell me..what is that? Tell me what you want me to do…” all the while, his movements became sped up and you were clawing at his tattooed forearm; mere seconds from climaxing whilst he coaxed you through it. “C’mon, closed mouths don’t get fed, princess. Talk to me..” just as smooth as ever and devilish as well. He always had such a way with words and knew exactly how to articulate them to get his wishes. Maybe that’s why so many people despised the cocky brunette. Because he was the total package, head to toe. But an asshole to his core. Still, that didn’t mean shit to him..or you! Through your lens, he was picture perfect and nothing could change that. Working those digits in and out, you’d finally screech and yelp, unable to keep your voice lowered and in response, all he could do was laugh. Knowing that you were trying so hard to spare the feelings of someone you shouldn’t have. You’d quickly cup your hand over your mouth but to no avail.

“Aww, what’s the matter? Don’t want your ‘man’ to hear us? Hear me playing with this lil’ pussy? Afraid it might break his little heart? You’re so considerate..” sarcastically stroking the side of your face with a lilt in his tone. But there was simply no need for you to be so courteous. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. He’s with another bitch right now. Somewhere laid up with a girl who couldn’t even think of competing with you. So why hold back, baby? Why are you trying to fight what’s meant to be for his sake?”

in a moment of haste, Eren retracted his fingers and used them momentarily to pacify your cries. He’d work them in between your jaws and meanwhile, usher you onto all fours. Prompting you to arch your back. Just as quickly, he’d tug those sweatpants down and remove his shirt in the process. He could feel you teeming right on the edge of climatic bliss but he was selfish. He needed to reach that point with you…to feel every bit and part of you as you made it to that point. Once he freed his stiff cock from those boxers, he’d align himself with your slit and immediately begin slapping it against your folds. Leaning down, he’d lace your shoulder blades with those same markings on your neck; biting gently into your flesh like a predator claiming its sweet little prey. Grunting and moaning into your ear how gorgeous you were and how he couldn’t wait to beat your pussy up. You were so delicate, soft and pretty. But he couldn’t help but to defile you..to make you a product of his sick perversions. He’d dreamed of the nights that he could pound this little pussy into oblivion. Making you cream on his shaft until you left him an utter mess..going deep until he forced you to squirt all over him and then shortly after, breed you so that he was with you in more ways than one. Having vivid daydreams of your belly swollen with his kid..it was the ultimate sign of possession!

“Fuck me, Eren! I can’t take it…” “..now where’s those manners you love so much? Say please..” there was that slick mouth. You always loved it when you weren’t the one on the receiving end but seeing as you were about to combust, you were feeding into it. “Please, daddy. I need it so bad..need you to make me come, right now..”

grasping at the sheets beneath you, you’d feel a sharp sting when his palm collided with your asscheek before those same fingers laced your throat. Eren never did like being told what to do but for you?…he could possibly overlook it.

“Shhhh! pazienza, amore mio..” pushing a finger to his lips.

the switch in dialect sending a pang to your stomach. You were always so fond of the fact that he was trilingual, being the son of immigrants. He’d tested it out on you earlier in the night as his tongue drudged between your folds and lapped at your clit. He’d begin complimenting your flavor and scent in his native languages; letting the words ooze like honey.

“We’ll get there when I say so..” suddenly, you’d feel yourself become full as he impaled you on his cock. Shoving that girthy, long member into that swollen heat. It was no time before you acclimated, despite his massive size. It was almost as if you designed just for him. “Ahh…so fucking tight. Just like old times..when you’d sneak out of class or practice, just to come fuck me. Ooh..that pussy felt so good..” Referring to your high school days when you were just alike. Delinquents and deviants only caring about each other. Fast forward and you were trying to get your act together. In college, new job, and supposedly a new man. However, old habits die hard and he was a hell of a one to crack. “You used to be such a slut f’r me. Let’s see if you still have it in you..” mocking whilst he smacked your ass repeatedly, telling you to meet his thrusts. The collision of that plump backside driving him crazy, especially when you reached back voluntarily and spread yourself open; glancing back with a smirk on your face. “Mmm..like that?” “Fuuuck..yeah, there’s my nasty lil’ bitch. Here..open up.” In one fell swoop, Eren tugged your head back and your jaw would fall slack; opening your enough for him to fill it with spit which made you giggle in return.

“Mmm, thank you, daddy..” he couldn’t help but to twitch each time you uttered the moniker. It always did sound so much sexier when you said. “You’re so welcome, princess..thank you for being so patient. I know you wanna come so bad. I want you to..” as he persisted with his speech, his strokes became a bit more sped up. The sounds of clapping flesh growing louder as well as your moans.

“ ‘Rennn…oh my God..” “..that’s right, baby. Pray to me, worship this fucking dick like you used to.” Commanding that you take it. Tightening his grip on the back of your neck, he’d force (y/n) face down, flat on the mattress in a prone position. Now, he could go as fast as he pleased without you faltering. “I’m the only one that can make you feel this good. The fuck were you thinking give my pussy to these fuck ass little boys? Are you crazy?” Seemingly switching his demeanor midway. That side of him always did scare you. But he’d never even so much as entertain the thought of hurting his princess. The only pain he wanted to cause you was consensual and pleasure filled. The kind you’d beg for.

“Nnngh, I’m so sorry, daddy. I’m so fucking sorry..” your voice high pitched and wailing as he pounded you mercilessly. You couldn’t take another minute of this. Your bladder felt as if it were going up burst, your eyes rolling back and tears staining your cheek. But he was inconsolable, thinking about another man in this bed with you. Being inside of you without a clue of how to make you happy. That was his job and his alone.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…don’t cry. I’m not mad at you..I’m just so disappointed that you’d settle like this..” breaking into yet another chuckle whilst his strokes became sporadic. “Please!..I’m so close..” “I know, I know you are..” leaning down to mark your spine with kisses as he lifted you back up and to also rattle off in your ear. “..so let’s get you there, pretty girl..” just then, those strokes would reach maximum speed and you’d find yourself trying to brace but you were coming undone! You could barely keep a grasp on those sheets and he was drilling you like no one’s business. Tugging you back to his chest with that same grasp on your throat, Eren kept talking; coaching you through your orgasm. Telling you when you squeeze and hold your muscles. To not release until he gave you explicit permission. Meanwhile, he’d stroke your clit repeatedly until you were nearly convulsing, trying to hold back. You had always trusted him but this teasing was too much to bear. You had to let go right now! And luckily, he wouldn’t keep you waiting for much longer

“Come for me, princess! Come for me..squirt on my dick! Spritz auf meinen Schwanz..” repeating the phrase a couple times more with a heavy growl and with that accent peeking through, you’d fall apart right there in his grasp, releasing a puddle onto his cock and the linen. You were finished; completely spent and on the brink of collapse. But he was quick to hold you in place and steal one last peck from those pretty lips.

“I love you..I love you so fucking much..you hear me? Don’t you ever leave me again..” his voice faint through his seemingly overwhelming amounts of emotions. He was so happy that you were back where you belonged. In his arms, in his life. Maybe being a goody two shoes got you nowhere and you’d gotten your heart broken trying to do the right thing…

“I love you more, baby..I’m right here..”

and hell, maybe good girls did finish last but if this was what was waiting at the end of the line?

“I’ll never leave you again, Eren. I promise.”

you’d fall behind every time!

@dancingwithdeities @iadoreprettygirls @arminsbbymami

@shamelesshoefairy @chiquititaosita @greenieweeniesworld @ichigosluvrr @thickbihhwitdagapp

WARM-BLOODED SERIES CASTLIST

𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘵.

D E E N A   S A L É E

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘛𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘥

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K L A U S   M I K A E L S O N

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘖𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘏𝘺𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘥

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V A N E S S A   S A L É E

𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘚𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘯, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘢𝘭è𝘦 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩

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E R I K  G R E Y

𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘕𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘊𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘗𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘞𝘰𝘭𝘧, 𝘊𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘊𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘗𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘫𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘕𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘊𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘞𝘰𝘭𝘧

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Q U I N N  O L I V E R

𝘉𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘜𝘱 𝘖𝘯 𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘞𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯

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N I L E S

𝘕𝘦𝘸 𝘉𝘰𝘺 𝘐𝘯 𝘛𝘰𝘸𝘯 , 𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘝𝘢𝘮𝘱

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BOOK TWO CAST LIST

(New faces joining the original cast)

R O M A   N Ú N E Z

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗨𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗪𝗼𝗹𝗳

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BOOK THREE CAST LIST

(New faces joining the original cast)

G A I A S I E N N A

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗩𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝗧𝘄𝗶𝗻

( 𝘙𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯'𝘴 𝘛𝘸𝘪𝘯 𝘚𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 )

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D R. J A N E A R M B O R N

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗶𝘀𝘁

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M A E V E

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗧𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗛𝘆𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗱

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BOOK FOUR CAST LIST

(Coming Soon)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌-𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐃

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

(The Originals)

☆ 𝗔 𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗦 what if the child was a teenager/YA throughout the show duration and not at season 5?

𝗙𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚: Original 𝑩lack And Of Color Characters In Paranormal Fiction, 𝑩lack Bisexual MC, 𝑳GBTQ+ rep, Slight 𝙒hy Choose?, 𝑴ore Father & Daughter + Family Duo (𝑫uo Pov), 𝑴orally Grey Characters And Flawed, 𝑪haracter Development, 𝑮ood Girl Turned Bad (Within Reason...And Maybe For Fun), 𝑴ental Health Rep, 𝙒erewolf Mating Bonds, 𝑳ike Father Like Daughter...Eventually. 𝙋𝙇𝙐𝙎 𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙀 𝙏𝙊 𝘿𝙄𝙎𝘾𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙍 𝙒𝙃𝙄𝙇𝙀 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙄𝙉𝙂!

𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚: Mature

↳ strong language, violence & gore, murder & death, eventual explicit sexual content, heavy prejudice, blood magic, sacrifices + more overall mature subjects not suited for young audiences (each fic are rightfully tagged and labeled of these subjects and more that happens later on within)

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Cast List

Alternative Set Up For The Fic (read before reading)

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< Read The First Five Chapters Of Book One Posted Here >

Chapter One | New Orleans

Chapter Two | The Prophecy

Chapter Three | Nature’s Loophole

Chapter Four | Human

Chapter Five | A Dream Through The Night, A Nature That Bites

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Where To Read ?

Book One

Book Two

Book Three

Book Four : Coming Soon

Wattpad Link If Not On Ao3 : Four Books In One (not as separately organized as ao3)

𝑲𝒍𝒂𝒖𝒔 𝑶𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑺𝒂𝒊𝒅 …

Book Two of Warm-Blooded ;

Chapter 23 | when dreams come true

A DRAGON’S TOUCH

(HOTD FIC)

☆ 𝗔 𝗙𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗬 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘 𝗧𝗔𝗞𝗘𝗡 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗜𝗡 𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗦𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗥𝗔𝗚𝗢𝗡𝗦 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗟𝗗 𝗕𝗨𝗧 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗟 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 (in-depth explanation inside)

☆ 𝗢𝗖!𝗕𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝘅 𝗢𝗖!𝗧𝗮𝗿𝗴𝗮𝗿𝘆𝗲𝗻

☆ 𝗙𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝑩lack Bisexual FMC, 𝑩i F/M Couple, F/F, 𝑩oy Falls First And Harder, 𝑺tabby Women With Blood On Their Hands, 𝐖ild Dragons, 𝑴orally Grey Characters, 𝑫ragon Dreams, 𝑻ouch Her And Die (Quite Literal), 𝑬veryone's A Little Gay, 𝑭amily Rivalry, 𝑺teal Your Man And Your Dream, 𝑺trong Female Characters & 𝑺oft Female Characters With A Strong Heart, 𝑪annibalistic Rituals & Beliefs. 𝙋𝙇𝙐𝙎 𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙀 𝙏𝙊 𝘿𝙄𝙎𝘾𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙍 𝙒𝙃𝙄𝙇𝙀 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙄𝙉𝙂!

𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚: Mature

↳ vulgar language, violence & gore, murder & death, eventual explicit sexual content, acts of war, incest, sexual themes, dragons eat people too, + more overall mature subjects not suited for younger audiences

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< Read The First Five Chapters Posted Here >

Chapter One | Toland

Chapter Two | State Your House

Chapter Three | King’s Landing

Chapter Four | Red In Many Forms

Chapter Five | Ladies Of The Court

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Where To Read It ?

AO3 Link

Wattpad Link If You Don’t Have A03

𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

word count: 4.4k~

warnings: violence/mild gore, death, prostitution (living at a brothel), strong vulgar language, Targaryen/Dornish mixed bastard, mentions of sexual themes & crushing on an older man (slight grooming), and overall mature setting for mature (18+) audience.

a/n: this is the 1st chapter of my AU HOTD longfic featuring my Black OC. It’s also my first ever posting a fic on here so If there’s more I should add to my warnings that I skipped or whatever, please let me know.

MASTERLIST | NEXT->

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗢𝗻𝗲 | 𝗧𝗼𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱

𝑺𝒀𝑳𝑽𝑰𝑨 𝑷𝑨𝑼𝑺𝑬𝑫, letting the air within her lungs expand and release through her lips as she listened to the earth move around; the brushing wind as hot as a blowing breath and the sun, beating down sweat against her deep brown skin that clung her dirty beige shirt like water and clay. What was once loosely fitting, now tight and wet.

        The wooden bow she made for herself rested at her side. Her sweaty fingers covered in dry sand curled around the thin string and held the arrow in place to release whenever.

        With her shoulders tensed and ears open, Sylvia stepped over browning leaves and hopped rock to rock to cover her footprints. Yanis' words replayed in her head, reminding the girl to move with the earth and not of the ground. She never understood his silly sayings but loved the way it sounded off his tongue. Proof he cared for her more than he led on.

        She stood on the heels of her worn-out boots when leaves shuffled somewhere to the left. Backing against the tree, a clear view of an antelope with pointy antlers chewed on plants. A beautiful brown creature it was. Sylvia lifted her bow and leveled the sturdy weapon with the tip of her nose. Stretching the arrow as far back as it could, she released it and allowed the wind to carry the rest.

        The antelope fell.

        Sylvia lowered the splinter-prone bow with a victorious smile suppressing her youthful face.

        "Yes!"

        She jumped off the rocks and followed wet trails of a failed escape, finding her prey bleeding out with an arrow sticking out its head. Using her foot to help pull out the arrow, even more blood poured. Its legs twitched.

        "How did I do?" Sylvia asked, wiping its blood along her trousers, still too big for her waist.

        Over her shoulder stood Yanis, leaning against a towering tree with his arms across his ash brown attire, head slightly tilted, with not one spec of shared delight. His expression was more grim, disappointed. He jumped off the hill in one clean movement and headed toward her. Even then, Sylvia couldn't stop the blood from rushing her cheeks.

        There was a reason women fancied Yanis. Besides his thick accent, his adventurous encounters around the world, and the obvious fact that Dornish people were most beautiful, he was perfect. Glistening golden skin, thick dark curls reaching his neck, deep mud-brown eyes. A skilled swordsman, a former knight, a true seeker of the world, and a great lover—which she only knew because he'd spend his leisure time at pleasure houses, one where she and her mother resided.

        Women loved when Yanis came around. He had the power of making those around him feel beautiful and loved inside and out. It was why her cheeks burned often, why her pulse spiked and warm tingles were felt between her thighs—she liked him. A lot. He made her feel both beautiful and loved despite her unique features.

        Silver hair.

        Grey eyes.

        Scales.

        The scales she bore since a babe weren't any ordinary scales often mistaken as Greyscale—they were dragon scales.

        They stretched along the center of her left cheek to her chin and scattered her neck on the same side. Few along the blade of her left shoulder, and back thighs. Black as the night sky but shined a dark shade of purple and blue even green against the rising sun or close-up. Thick loose curls white as fresh fallen snow with a warm undertone. Eyes grey like pouty clouds during a terrible storm with a mauve tint mixed into the pallet, known when it's bright out. And to those who have yet compared her to a monster or an unknown disease, she was quite a beauty. But hid her feminine frame beneath men's clothing and her beauty, beneath a black scarf.

        Unlike a mother who cuddled her children from the dangers of the world and left unprepared in a life that waited for no one, Sylvia knew herself well. She's a bastard. Her father whom gifted her uniqueness, Daemon Targaryen, was prince of Dragonstone and a commander. He fought wars for the king, his brother who ruled the Seven Kingdoms, and won. A fearless warrior with a heart of stone, skin of burning fire, hands stained of innocent blood, and a stare that lugs fear. But he was kind too. At least to her mother, he was. He granted her knowledge of his world during his stay in Dorne and sought only her comfort before he left.

        There is pride in what you are, Sylvia's mother often reminded. And she was proud of her inheritance. To be born a bastard with royal blood in her veins made her feel special even if her father knew not if she existed. Yet, not too prideful that she must cover herself so as not to stand out.

        There weren't any white-haired people in Toland. None with grey eyes or dry scales. They were all of black and brown with black and brown hair and black and brown eyes. Sylvia stood out regardless.

        "Sloppy." Yanis replied.

        "Sloppy?" Sylvia repeated with much distaste. "I killed it with a clean shot! What do you mean I was sloppy?"

        He snatched the arrow from her hand. And instead of wiping it clean as he normally did, he pointed the sharp end toward the stain on her trousers, careful not to pierce her. Blood.

        "That is what's sloppy. Might as well admit your guilt while its blood still drips wet. Because you are a woman, no one would expect you to be strong enough to kill a man. That is why no evidence of your kill should lead its trail back to you unless you wish yourself an early grave." He tapped the rounded side of the arrow against her forehead with two taps. "Keep that in mind. Your body can't please everyone, but your skills can build a kingdom. Your blood is a kingdom."

        Sylvia rubbed her forehead, no care for his words. "That is why I have you to teach me this stuff."

        "Only because of your silver hair do I give you the time and day."

        Sylvia drew blank as Yanis curled his finger around a loose strand of her white hair. His tall frame hovered like a tree shading the sun as his breath blew warm against her burning cheeks.

        Her brows rose with mild shock at his obvious response. "Is that so?"

        "It is," Yanis said, and while she knew he was teasing, there was a vein of seriousness beneath his voice.

        "And that is all?"

        Stepping closer to minimize the gap, Sylvia looked into his eyes for more than he offered. A sign that all this hunting and pointless preparation for whatever reason was in fact courting with an end goal of being wedded. Why else would he choose to stay in a shithole for five years when the world called for him? Why else would he tease her with gentle touching, even once almost kissed her, and profess his need to protect her from the dangers ahead?

        He must know his power over her. How her body responded to everything that involved him. And if not a coward, Sylvia would have stood on her toes to kiss him. To end this vacancy and choose their future for them.

        Sylvia had recently turned nine-and-ten years (19) and he was six-and-twenty (26). Still a maiden, still young enough to birth children though she was crossing the line of being considered too old to marry, and they got along well. He was the only man at her side, the only she wanted to keep forever.

        But as affectionate as Yanis was, he was naturally nice and welcoming which was why Sylvia failed to decipher between the two. It was why she couldn't kiss him no matter how desperately she wanted to.

        The corner of his lips tugged upward. "That is all."

        Yanis didn't look at her but was rather intrigued by her hair, as he stated once too many times.

        "If my hair intrigues you so much, why not take me as your wife so our children may share the same trait?" Sylvia boldly asked, and at that, Yanis chuckled. She could tell he saw her as a child and not a woman. "Don't let my clothes fool you, I'm a woman through and through. A woman who will need a husband. A husband who not only provides and protects, but a husband who knows how to fuck."

        His chuckle grew into a full-blown laughing fit, as though what she said was funny. Even Sylvia was convinced and didn't know how to react besides copying him. Her teeth were shown, slightly parted, yet nothing came out. She possibly appeared more confused than humored. This wasn't a laughing matter. . .was it?

        "And what do you know about fucking? You're still a virgin, yes?" Yanis' laughter never died and it was starting to irritate her.

        "Yes."

        "Then what do you know?"

        Untouched by a man, but not by a woman. Not that it was important or he needed to know.

        "So teach me." Sylvia flung her arms around his neck, his beautiful head of curls soft beneath her fingers, and they were now inches from kissing. "Teach me how to fuck. Teach me as your wife. You obviously know more than I do, why keep it to yourself? Why waste another second on hunting when the prey you seek stands before you, ready to be consumed?"

        If her mother was standing in this very predicament, watching her daughter fling herself onto a man, she'd be gravely disappointed. It was the man who should do the chasing, not the woman. Her mother taught her better than that. How to lure a man without outwardly doing so. Be seductive while being seduced. Speak of lies with small truths, enough to gain his trust and feel as though she would have his back against the world. Know her options, and within those options, know which games to play to keep a roof over their heads and a man running back for more. For only a woman can do so much, but a man with wealth and power can open true doors to eternal happiness.

        But Yanis wasn't a game. He was just a man Syliva wanted.

        She was almost tempted he would finally give in and make her his. . .until he was no longer laughing, a grim expression overtook despite his smiling attempt that grew smaller and smaller. Until he removed her arms from his neck and placed them at her side. Until he realized there was no enjoyment from his humor because she wasn't teasing, she was serious.

        "Cover this up." Cold air rushed between as he removed himself from Sylvia's vicinity, and she frowned, feeling embarrassed and an ache in her chest unable to decipher. "Help me get this to the butcher, then we and the house shall feast tonight."

        He took Sylvia's bow and arrow to bury in the bushes—a spot they picked together—and bent to grab a strong hold of the antelope's antlers to drag. Her black scarf was back over her head to hide her braided hair and wrapped around her face with only her eyes showing.

        Sylvia then helped drag the antelope to the town's butcher without another word or rash confession. Once the animal had been dropped off, Yanis instructed her back home before her mother grew worried, not that it would be a problem as she was to be washing and drying sheets outside before he distracted her.

        She quickly unpinned sheets drying under the sun and shoved them in the straw basket where it was last left. Rushed into the white-bricked house built three floors high, hoping she wouldn't run into Madame Marget and her pissy mood swings. The smell of sex and shitty ale burned her nostrils, passing various rooms of laughter and moans of pleasure, even those who didn't have time to make it to a room.

        It was a house that attracted men and women from around the world when docking at Toland either to trade, hide from their crimes, or stop for supplies to be on their merry way. Sylvia loved when outsiders would visit. She'd listen to drunk stories of their world and silly customs and marital problems and wars that were waged on bets, pride, and revenge, learning more from them than her own mother.

        As she hurried room from room replacing dirty sheets—god knows what substances were spilled whether it was vomit, bodily fluids, blood, alcohol, and worse—with clean sheets, the basket fumbled out of Sylvia's grip when she bumped into someone exiting a nearby room.

        "S-sorry," Sylvia was quick on her knees shoving the sheets back into the basket. She kept her head lowered not to attract any unwanted attention. As she was taught; when your head is kept down, no curiosities are to be made.

        The blazing sun stitched delicately along the hem of the man's shirt was clear indication he was a man of status. A man who could do great harm just for the fun of it, if his peaceful day was ruined.

        Kissing his teeth, he kicked at the basket which tilted everything out again. "Watch it, boy." He insulted as he took his leave. The musk of sex lingered behind.

        And the breath she held finally released itself.

        Another pair of brown hands decided to help with the mess. "No need. I can do so my—" Sylvia's words choked down her throat when her mother stood before her. "—mother."

        Her sheer dress of yellow hung off her shoulders, the roundness of her brown nipples pinched through the fabric, and her loose curls hung lushly at the blades of her shoulders. The deepened crease between her soft brows conveyed disappointment, yet Sylvia had no idea what she had against her now.

        "Have you gone hunting with that man again?"

        Well, that was something to hold against her.

        To avoid the conversation and further disappointment, Sylvia shoved the sheets into the basket with one big scoop. The basket hugging her chest as she stood. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Been busy with chores all day." She lied with ease, rushing to get away from her.

        But she grabbed at her trousers. "And this?"

        Sylvia didn't need to follow her gaze to the smeared blood, evidence which Yanis advised earlier.

        "I told you to stay away from Yanis," now she remembered his name. How funny. "Yes, he is handsome and treats the women here well, as he is wise with his words. But I don't like the way he looks at you. Or the fact he knows about. . ." Her narrowing eyes completed the sentence.

        About her defects. Which she was to be proud of, but couldn't if she was to be treated like a creature of the night.

        "All the women here share the secret of my white hair, so what if one more person knows?" Sylvia slipped her trousers from her grasp and continued her journey to the kitchens. Her mother tagged along. "And I don't like the fact you fuck him knowing I l—" She caught herself from spilling truths. "—that I meet with him every now and then."

        "This is my job, Sylvia. My life. Our survival. And he pays for my services as he has paid for countless women here. Should I turn him down?"

        "Yes."

        Sylvia picked up her steps.

        "Sylvia," her mother called. When she didn't stop the first time, her mother then grabbed her hand and forced her to look into her brown, sadden eyes. "I don't wish to fight with you, I am sorry. I failed to consider your feelings and I will do better. Do you truly hate me?"

        Of course, Sylvia could never truly hate her mother for what she does to provide for them. She was born and raised in this house, therefore, her world was only within these walls. But was she selfish to want more? To experience more? To see more of the world that has yet been discovered in her gaze?

        That was what Yanis gave Sylvia—hope. The many people who visited the small town of cultured backgrounds which lies at the mouth of Greenblood River, gave her hope.

        She held no judgment toward her mother's sacrifices nor her promiscuous lifestyle. Beautiful inside and out and quite young when Syliva was born, the two almost like sisters, she was everything to her and most girls here. But she has wondered. . .if she wasn't like most children who would drown in discomfort and with shame to learn their mother fucks men and women at any time of the day, and often in the bed they slept in. To hear conversations of lovers who described her skills in detailed manners, or seeing nothing but balls and tits daily.

        But it was just them. Sylvia and her mother.

        And when one was born into a life that seemed no more than ordinary, it was hard to view it as. . .unordinary.

        With a sigh, Sylvia leaned forward to kiss her mother's cheek. "No, I could never hate you. I just don't see why you hate Yanis so much."

        "I don't wish my life to be yours, Sylvia. Why do you think you're scrubbing floors, washing pissy sheets, and cleaning up after shitty men until your nails are weak and bones brittle? If the madam had it her way, you would've been warming beds long before you bled, starting even younger than me." Her mother continued with great passion. "I've protected you as long as I can and will continue doing so because you deserve better. And with Yanis, he won't give you what I want you to have."

        "And what is that?"

        "For one, a husband. You deserve a man who will love you as you are as a person, a woman, and not by the color of your hair. A true equal who sees you and one you can learn from. Two, a generosity of wealth and titles. He's a drunk and spends his leisure time in pleasure houses. You'd be broke by the day of your wedding. Your children will inherit nothing but sand and you will be unprotected, left on the streets begging for scrapes. Yanis has his charm, but you're no ordinary woman. You are the daughter of a legendary Targaryen, a ruthless prince. Should my letters reach him and he comes to claim you, you will be a legitimate princess, a noble lady. And a princess deserves better."

        Sylvia said nothing. She doubted her father would acknowledge her after nineteen years. Countless days her mother would spend by the window watching and waiting for a sealed letter or her father to come swoop them away to a life of riches and wealth. Even Sylvia would wait and braid her mother's hair to pass time, or be rocked on her mother's lap as she sung and spoke of promises her father made.

        Together they would wait and wait, until one day, Sylvia accepted the truth. No man will come save them. Her father would never come. But her mother thought otherwise. Still, to this day she waits.

        Her mother meant well and their views aligned when it came to finding Sylvia a husband. Although, she was unsure how they would find all of that in one man when Sylvia had spent the rest of her life within these walls cleaning and cooking after everyone. The men here were no good for her, as her mother said. But, she would love to see her mother try. Or that day to come.

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                    𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑰𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑫𝑨𝒀, the antelope Sylvia killed was ready to cook. The knights monitoring the area would set campfires along the street and outside of the pleasure house, or hang around the diner area to drink their asses to death and fuck any lover they please.

        Sylvia sat far from the gathered group around the campfire playing with her soup and picking at the cooked meat. After a long day of chores and avoiding curious outsiders wanting to know what's hidden beneath her scarf, she looked forward to nights like this. Where she hid best and where the most interesting stories were told.

        The air was cooler at night and stories of battles and petty fights filled her ears. Men would project their scars and penis' to prove their manly hood and wow whichever whore stuck at their side for the night.

        A pair of boots filled her view.

        "Why don't you join our campfire rather than sit so far away?" Asked Yanis.

        Sylvia shrugged while playing with her food, the steam warm against her face which was exposed. He knew the reason she sat away from everyone when guests were around, and was surprised he came up to her after her foolish confession. It still left a shameful bitterness on her tongue.

        "I like being alone." She told him. It wasn't a lie, but she preferred friends over loneliness.

        "Why not be alone with me? At our campfire?"

        A beautiful smile stretched his lips when Sylvia lifted her head, her breath caught in her throat. Such a contrast to earlier and it was confusing. Men were confusing. No, he was. What he wanted from Sylvia was unclear and it was infuriating playing a constant game of tug-a-war.

        Yanis didn't give Sylvia an option to respond before taking her arm, dragging her over to their campfire, and sat her next to him. The flames were awfully close her toes grew hot and sweat lined her upper-lip, but it was oddly comforting. The campfire was shared with two knights who were too drunk to sit properly and one who couldn't keep his hands to himself.

        "Is this not nice? Alone with company." Yanis said.

        "I guess so."

        He then offered a cup of ale and held her breath at his lips brushing the rim of her ear as he whispered with breath thick of shitty alcohol, "Don't worry too much tonight. I will look over you." He nudged the cup until it was in her hand. And pulled away.

        He knew what he was doing. He did.

        The bitter taste soured her face and nearly choked swallowing it down. Sylvia never been much of a drinker and because her tolerance was quite low and given the environment, she likes to remain clear-headed in case she needed to defend herself. However, Yanis promised to protect her. So one cup became two, then four.

        Laughter echoed at her sixth or seventh round before ripping through her meat.

        Brianne, a close friend and whore sold from Myr—a woman Sylvia has kissed twice—sat across the fire. A knight was currently kissing roughly into the crook of her neck while fondling her tan breast. "Why not take off your scarf, Sylvia? You'll be comfortable, yes? Men here are too drunk to remember, and we are familiar." She proposed.

        The guard kissing her neck looked to the girl who struggled to hold up her head. "Aye, the boy is a bitch?" He questioned with interest.

        "Be quiet!" Brianne slapped his hand away from her breast. "Or you don't touch me again ever."

        Wiping the ale from her greasy lips, Sylvia looked to Yanis for an answer she could've answered herself. Something she would never do but her stupid brain thought him closer than he actually was. He shared the same concern with her mother when it came to keeping herself covered to avoid future conflicts.

        As though he felt her gaze and knew why she looked at him, Yanis shrugged nonchalantly. "Do as you please. At your pace of drinking, you won't remember either."

        Yanis slouched over the wooden bench and rested his elbows on his knees, staring out into the fire.

        But Sylvia knew he was watching from the corner of his eyes as she unraveled her scarf finally revealing her bold hair braided down her back, then placed the scarf in her lap. She waited for comments to roll in, but as Brianne said, they were too drunk and occupied to care.

        "Pretty like your mother." Brianne gleamed. "Don't you agree, Yanis?"

        A weird but warm feeling expanded her belly when Yanis turned his head to view Sylvia under his curled lashes. He's witnessed her a million times without the scarf, so why was it different now? Was it light from the fire which glistened in his eyes? The dark stubbles outlining his handsome face? The frizzy curls being pushed so that he may hold this gaze with her? Was it a drunk illusion of what she wished would happen?

        "Yes," his voice barely whispered, which only she heard, then grinned brighter than the moon. "Very beautiful. Always have been."

        His grin found her face. Sylvia lowered her head to hide the blush creeping red amongst her already flushed cheeks. Everything her mother listed about Yanis not being a perfect match was thrown out of the window. Their earlier encounter, thrown out. And as confusing as he was, one fact stayed true—I think I may love him, a lot more than I intended to.

        But her thoughts were erupted by a piercing scream filling the smoky air. Her muscles tensed when a wet substance splattered across her face, almost blinding her. She lifted her shaky fingers and touched her face. Blood. But she wasn't hurt nor did any pain send signals.

        Thump.

        A figure beside Sylvia fell at her feet. The color from her face fled and her pulse spiked at an arrow shot deep and clean through his skull, out his eye socket, now catching fire.

        Yanis.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

If you like what you read and wish to read more of this fic, you can read more here

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦-𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐝

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

word count: 4k~

warnings: strong language, eventual violence, a pretty much tamed 1st chapter…for now

a/n: this is the 1st chapter of my au longfic based off the The Originals (what if the child was a teenager/YA throughout the show duration and not at season 5?). If there’s a warning I skipped let me know.

MASTERLIST | NEXT ->

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗢𝗻𝗲 | 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗢𝗿𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘀

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒.

It wasn't how Deena imagined it to be the moment she stepped off the smelly bus onto the gravel sidewalk, with a packed bag hung across her shoulder and an old black suitcase covered in band stickers she used to listen to years ago.

She came a long way from Le Havre, France. Spent about seventeen hours on a plane and another two hours riding two buses to get here, stuck next to an annoying older woman spilling her lifelong secrets.

The sunny sky was touched with a gloom and many buildings looked as if they came out of the 1700s in American films with a modern touch to fit today's society. There were many interesting stores that had caught Deena's eye as she traveled down the sidewalk with no plan in mind. She enjoyed the urban touch of the city through the people and how together they were which was much different back home. Also, it was very much diverse compared to the small area she lived in.

She felt comfortable. At home.

Off the side of a group of friends passing through, Deena pulled out a picture of her beautiful mother in the arms of a man that's to be her father—Klaus Mikaelson.

Her mother was happy in this picture. They both were. In a black shirt hanging off her shoulders, ripped tights under a pair of shorts, smiling at the camera with a drink in her hand and her curly hair almost taking up half the photo. The man—her father, Klaus—sat leaned into her mother, kissing her ear with an arm thrown around her waist. He wore a basic leather jacket with dark blue jeans. Dirty blond hair, dark blue-greenish eyes, and a killer smile. The table in front of them covered in empty red cups and half-filled liquor bottles. They were both young, in college, and in love.

"I want to find him," Deena said to herself in a soft voice. "I need to find Klaus Mikaelson."

But the problem was if Deena ever found her father, she didn't know what she would tell him. She practiced what to say when meeting him, but it was all gibberish and uncompleted sentences that made no sense. She feared a lot of things about her father; him being married with kids and she would come into his perfect life and ruin the happiness he made for himself, no knowledge of his other child he had created across the globe. Or he was a dead-beat with nothing going for his life. Or he has long passed away.

But whatever truth lies in his life, she just wanted to see him. From afar, if needed. To see how he lived. And if he cared enough to know that the woman he met in this very city before she moved to France years ago, was now dead. But she selfishly wanted him to know that she existed.

...if she knew where he was. Or where to start.

The city was so big, nevertheless the state and because Deena wasn't from around—this was her second time ever in America—it was difficult for her to navigate or read the English signs she never learned. But she grew hungry and entered the nearest restaurant.

"Hey, welcome in! Take a seat anywhere," Greeted the waiter, passing by with both hands filled.

Most tables were filled as Deena searched for an empty spot.

Sensing the panicked teenager, the waiter stood before Deena after she finished serving a table. "Must be your first time here, so welcome. Just join a table with someone, anyone, but choose wisely; some people can talk more than they chew." She was picking at the older customer sitting at the counter who obviously heard what she said and sent her a squinted look with pursed lips. "That's the motto of the restaurant; To Meet A Stranger Along The Way. Eating alone doesn't mean you have to be alone. So sit anywhere and I or another waiter will be with you soon."

Deena sent the nice lady a smile. "I understand, thank you."

She pulled along her suitcase looking for a place to sit down. Most tables were occupied and many shared engaging conversations of their own that Deena didn't want to intrude, until she noticed a brunette sitting alone with a book in her hand reading quietly.

"Can I sit here?"

The girl looked up from her book and gestured towards the empty chair. "Go for it," she went back to reading.

She took off her backpack and placed it in the empty seat next to her before sitting down. The girl was young, or at least she appeared to be. Had to be around the same age, and she was very pretty.

That part Deena will keep to herself.

As if the girl felt Deena's complimenting stare, she tore away her gaze as the girl lifted her head from the book, but it was already too late since she was caught. "Have you read it?" She started. "Romeo and Juliet?"

"Who hasn't?"

"I know right? It's for some stupid class, so the teacher's forcing us to read up to five chapters and come back to a pop quiz. Which, I know I will fail."

Both girls shared a short laughter.

"I'm Deena.” She introduced. “I'm new around here."

The waiter then came to take Deena's order while also setting down a grilled turkey sandwich with extra avocado and a side of fries for the girl. She finally placed down her book, giving thanks to the waiter before digging into her food.

The mouth-watering scent made Deena's stomach grumble. I’m so damn hungry.

"Davina," while washing down her fries with lemonade. "Not new here. But I noticed the accent. Where are you from?"

"France. More specifically, Le Havre." Deena replied. "You?"

"Born and raised. Also, don't hate me but the only place I know of France is Paris, but I'm sure Le Havre is a fun place to visit and live at."

Deena shrugged showing no offense to Davina's knowledge of France. She didn’t blame the girl since she knew nothing of the US besides New York, California, Florida, and Texas. They were normally the most talked about and the most used location in films. Also, it seemed a lot always happened in those states.

"It's cool. I actually didn't know Louisiana existed until a few days ago." Deena admitted.

"But here you are!"

She gave a small smile, agreeing. "Here I am."

Some moments later, the waiter delivered Deena's food; half cut Cuban sandwich with extra pickles and a sweet tea. She dug in without question.

Davina was a cool person to chat with. Easy-going, funny, and there was something about her energy Deena felt oddly connected to. Davina also felt an odd connection to Deena but brushed it off as she stuffed her mouth full.

There was a long list prepared for the day, but realized it was quite small and she had no starting point. I came here on a whim. With little to no planning, and childish hope.

But remembered Davina was from New Orleans. There's a possibility she might've ran into her father or seen him around somewhere. Or visited a store he owned. Or attended school with one of his kids. Or visited his grave.

"So, I was wondering since you're from around if you knew this man?" Deena wiped the oils from her fingers before reaching into her front backpack's pocket. Pulling out the photo of her mother and Klaus, she held it in front of Davina to inspect.

Davina noticeably froze upon viewing the photo. She had blinked a few times to make sure the man she saw wasn't just some random person she's misjudging but a man who was famously known throughout the streets and the supernatural world.

She pulled back from the table and picked at the grilled bread. "What do you want with him?" suddenly, she got hostile with Deena despite her pure intentions.

She knew him.

Deena sighed with relief. Davina obviously knew her father, but the cold tone she used when responding made her nervous. He must be married. With kids. Or nothing but a dead-beat. Or worse. Dead.

Deena returned the photo back into her backpack pocket with a shrug. "So you know him?"

"Yea, Klaus Mikaelson. Anyone who's done him bad or crossed his path on accident knows of him and his notorious siblings—"

"He has siblings?" Deena interjected.

"—oh yeah. Elijah and Rebekah Mikaelson and whoever comes back to life occasionally." She continued, slightly confusing Deena but she was happy to hear there's more than her father alive. "Terrorizing the city and the people who live within. Any person with a sense of mind would tell you to stay the hell away. You don't want anything to do with that psychotic man and his troubling siblings. His family is a curse to this city, to the communities, and they care for no one else but themselves. I'm sure the woman in that photo was killed by the hands of Klaus Mikaelson himself." She sneered.

Deena, not knowing this man nor his siblings personally, felt offended by Davina's harsh words because they were her family. And even worse, she accused her father murdering her mother. A beautiful soul who raised Deena with everything she could give her, found locked in her car with a letter admitting how unhappy she was with her life.

The smile on Deena’s face faltered to a deadpan glare as Davina bad-mouthed the family she had ties to. She noticed the change of her expression, but she thought nothing of it since she assumed she was doing good by scaring the curious French girl away from Klaus and far away from this cursed city.

Deena abruptly stood from her seat already gathering her belongings.

"W-where are you going? You haven't finished your— "

"The woman standing next to Klaus is my mother. And the man next to her, Klaus Mikaelson, is my father. And she wasn't murdered by him, she hated her life and everyone within it so she did the job herself." Deena vividly watched Davina grow with shock upon hearing Klaus was her father and was filled with sudden guilt from all she had said about her parents before. "But you are right about one thing; we are troubling. At least it keeps people away. So thanks for nothing. I'll find him my own damn self."

She wasn't sure how much the meal cost altogether and because the currency was slightly different, she left a big amount on the table which included a tip. She was out the restaurant in no time. Her head felt dizzy and she was hot all over heaving out steam, suddenly impacted by the overwhelming emotions she thought she had pushed back.

A month ago, Deena's mother passed away.

Her death made no sense. She was a cheerful woman who often hid away in her art studio painting and sketching for hours until it was time to pick Deena up from school. Students were often jealous because while other parents nagged on their child's grades and permitted curfews, Deena's mother never hovered over her shoulder about her grades and trusted Deena enough to be home within a reasonable time. And while other parents came dressed in their finest most classiest clothing for teacher conference nights or the school performances Deena was a part of, her mother came dressed straight out of a Fruits Magazine.

She was stressless, free, a kindred spirit, and an amazing mother. Sometimes Deena would forget her mother wasn't a close friend or an older sister despite having her at a young age. She was vocal about her problems and told Deena since a young age that "anger should never be placed into a bottle. Let the world hear you even if they say you scream too loud. They don't like Black girls expressing themselves in any manner if not with their heads down, so you must do it for the next little Black girl who's taking notes.".

But still, it made no sense.

The morning before she died, Deena's mother showed no signs of distress. She made banana pancakes, sent Deena off to school, and when she came home, her mother was working on a late piece for an art exhibition a friend in town invited her work to. She then left after dinner and was never seen for two days until Deena received a call from the police station. But it was questionable and she didn't understand it.

Why was she unhappy with life when she expected so much out of it? Why would she leave when she promised me the world? Why wasn’t she vocal with her depression in the same way she taught me to be vocal?

"Deena, wait!" Davina called out after placing down her half of the pay and rushed out the doors. She knew she was wrong for what she said and she felt terrible. "Look, I'm sorry! I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to offend you or bring your mother into this; I was only speaking from a personal experience which is no excuse at all. Next time, I should watch what I say. But..."

Deena kept walking. She struggled to drag her suitcase with her speed. The old wheels looked as if they were about to break off at any second, but she somehow managed to keep going.

Davina huffed annoyingly. "But I know where he is, Klaus Mikaelson," Deena halted her steps, facing the girl. "And I know where you can find him."

As Deena studied her face to find any spec of bluff hidden in her tone or written amongst her face, she saw she was telling the truth. She knew where her father currently hung around or lived, and of course, she wasn't going to question why or how she knew that kind of information.

"Where is he?" Asked Deena.

"The Abattoir. I can take you there since you might get lost. Also, you might want a travel buddy traveling in that particular area."

Deena sized the girl down. "Why? Will Klaus murder me too?"

"Again, I'm sorry about that." With her eyes narrowed, Davina apologized again. Deena still felt offended by what she said but since she genuinely felt sorry for it, about her mother at least, she decided to cut her some slack. She doesn't need an enemy on her first day in New Orleans. "Look, you're not from around and I'm sure you don't know about..."

Taking in Deena's blank stare, Davina then shook off the conversation and reached down for her suitcase. "Never mind, let's go."

Deena's hand was still on the handle, able to hold her grip from slipping it out her fingers and asked, "I don’t need your help. I can carry it myself." She tried pulling back but Davina somehow had the suitcase fully in her hands.

"It's about to break, I'm practically doing you a favor." She noticed the band stickers on her suitcase and claimed to have listened to some of them when she was thirteen.

Deena allowed her guard down and quickly followed behind Davina across the street before the main light turned green. She continued on about the particular bands she knew and who she used to stan and asked Deena about the bands she was unfamiliar with.

Somewhere during the conversation, "Thanks," it was soft but Davina caught it

She offered a soft smile. "You shouldn't thank me. I might not particularly like Klaus, but if he truly is your father, I wouldn’t live with myself by keeping you away from knowing him. At least then, hopefully, you might run away once you do."

"Is he really that bad of a man?"

Davina was quiet at her question. To her, Klaus wasn't just a bad man, he was terrible, and he almost killed her multiple times if it wasn't for Marcel having to save her. She wished she could tell Deena these things in hopes she would stay away, but no one wants to hear the bad of a man you've never met. Especially when he was your father. Family. It also wasn't her place to kill the image she might have of him.

Then she shrugged. "I will let you be the judge of that."

━━━━━━ ━━━━━━

𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐋𝐃-𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄. It was well kept for the most part but it was obvious this house had been through hell, Deena definitely thought Klaus was a deadbeat. This wasn't a family home, but it was a pretty big property. Maybe a rich deadbeat?

Together they stood staring up at the white doors ready to be knocked upon. Davina stared at the door with fear. Every witch sense coursing through her blood told her to turn away and run.

She knew she wasn't allowed here—that witches weren't allowed here, but she came to protect Deena.

Deena wasn't aware of the supernatural world or the fact that her father was a ruthless millennium-old psychotic hybrid, and what lies within the compound was an 'army' of hungry blood-sucking vampires who were already aware of their presence. Vampires who were too scared to leave Klaus if not slaughtered after the gruesome war against Marcel's army and enemies, and whoever they could rally up if Marcel hadn't got to them first.

Nevertheless, Davina watched her new friend lift her hand to knock on the door. Sucking in a deep breath, her knuckles were seconds away from alerting the vampires before something churned in her stomach. She quickly lowered her hand and hurried away.

"I can't do this." Deena panicked.

Davina lingered a bit longer at the door before rushing after her. "Where are you going? He's right inside." She shouted, dragging along the suitcase.

"I can't do it." She breathed heavily. "I-I don't know why I came here in the first place. And I hate myself for being curious, but I don't think I can do it. I should go home with the money I have left."

There was so much roaming through Deena's brain all at once. She thought she was ready to meet with him, but she wasn't, or at least she was convincing herself that she's not. But after losing the only family she had, Deena had grown lonely and desperate for someone to care about her and love her as much as her mother did. That's why she went through her mother's things. She trashed her mother's room, the kitchen, the attic, even her own room in the process. She didn't know what she was searching for until she discovered the letter.

It was meant to be given on her 18th birthday, a couple of months early.

But now that she was here, she didn't feel as pumped as before. Maybe she should've thought a bit longer on the idea before hopping on the next plane to New Orleans? Maybe she was getting too ahead of herself? Maybe this wasn't the right thing for her to do?

Davina grabbed Deena just as she was about to cross the street and tugged on her arm so that she was facing her. "Just breathe." She attempted to calm her down.

Deena rolled her eyes. "I am breathing."

"No, you're not. You look like you're about to pass out." Despite her annoyance, Deena forced herself to calm down. Once seeing she had, Davina narrowed her gaze before speaking. "I have no words to comfort you. Hell, I can't even comfort myself, but I can tell you, that you will regret not meeting him and him not knowing you. You have a chance that many kids don't have; I don't even know whether my dad is alive or not, but you do. And you should take it."

"I feel like I'm gonna ruin his life." Deena admitted.

Davina scoffed with a dragged 'please'.

"I'm serious. How would you feel living a life of your own for however many years and suddenly a seventeen-year-old kid comes knocking at your front door claiming to be your daughter? I would close the door in her face and continue my show!"

"If I was Klaus Mikaelson, I would be pretty damn blessed to have a kid with my blood in their veins at my doorstep. You never know."

"He must be a pretty famous man the way you speak of him."

She shrugged. "You can say that. But look," She took hold of Deena's hand. "Go meet him. Let him know who you are. And if you regret it, you can take the first plane back to Le..."

"Le Havre," she completed.

"Right. Le Havre. And I will be right here supporting you."

Davina was right. At least she had a chance to get to know her father while many don't and she shouldn't let the opportunity pass by. She sucked in a deep breath and began making her way to the white doors, but just as soon as she took her first step, she was stopped by Davina's stretched arm hitting her chest. She appeared focused, waiting for something to come.

She pushed away Davina's arm from deep within her chest, but she stopped her again.

Deena rolled her eyes with a huff. "You give me some go-for-it-speech and now you don't want me to seize the moment while I'm ready?"

"Something isn't right," Davina eased out with worry.

Deena would've guessed the brunette was another spiderman from an alternate universe the way she peered around her surroundings like a guard dog. Or spidey senses, she'd call it. She didn't see nor feel what Davina was and there was no one within their proximity when glancing around to catch what she caught, so she wasn't sure what had her on edge.

"You are right," Both girls jumped at the deep voice of a brown-skinned woman who spoke with a slight thick accent. She wore a green tank-top with dark blue jeans and she had to be around thirty years old, and she was looking at Deena as she came forward. "Something isn't right."

Despite the weird look, at least Deena knew she wasn't a stranger judging by Davina's calm expression and her tensed shoulders releasing.

She removed her arm from Deena's chest with a sigh. "Zoeè? What are you doing on this side of town?"

"I could ask you the same, harvest girl?"

Davina doesn't respond.

"I sensed someone—" Her brown eyes flickered to Deena. "—special entered the city and came runnin' soon as I could. And now that the cloaking spell has worn off and the prophecy is clear, all that I need to seal the deal is standing right in front of me."

Davina stepped in front of Deena in a protective manner once putting together two and two. "I don't know what this is about but let's not do it here. You and I both aren’t safe in this area—" merely glancing back. "—and she has nothing to do with this. This is between me and you."

Deena was clearly confused. "I'm sorry but who is this?"

"Don't matter who I am. What matters is what you gone do to our kind once the Mikaelsons find out you're alive."

Whatever happened, happen so fast that Deena was unable to process absolutely nothing. After Davina screamed out, she pushed her back and lifted her hands in a wizard-like manner before she was thrown against the building wall with no effort.

Deena followed the invisible force to the woman, Zoeè who's smiling back at her and scattered away. She would have ran after Davina, but her first instinct was to get herself to safety first and take a moment to digest what the hell just happened.

"Solem," With a flick of a wrist, Deena failed to cross the road before she found darkness and the cold ground.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

If you like what you read and wish to read more of this fic, you can read here

𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍’𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇

𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄

A Dragon’s Touch :

Chapter 9 | The Princess With A Heart Of Gold

~ 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 ~

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌-𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐃

𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄

Book Three of Warm-Blooded :

(Season 5 of the originals)

Chapter 5 | Discreetly Obvious

~ 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 ~

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦-𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐝

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

word count: 2.7k~

warnings: strong language, violence against witches, murder, attempted sacrifice

a/n: this is the 2nd chapter of my au longfic based off the The Originals (what if the child was a teenager/YA throughout the show duration and not at season 5?). This chapter features both my OC’s AND Klaus’s pov with a proper pov switch—where Rebekah and Elijah are introduced for the first time. It is also the first and last chapter dual pov will be featured in the same chapter throughout the series. If there’s a warning I skipped let me know.

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𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗧𝘄𝗼 | 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗣𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗲𝗰𝘆

      𝐀 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐒 surrounded Deena's unconscious body as she began to awaken slowly. It was the blazing heat of fire marked around her frame, skinning her flesh of salted sweat which woke her up. She was faced with a bright color of reddish-orange dancing in the sky. The tug of her wrist slammed back down onto the cold concrete bed. She lifted her other arm—slammed right back down. Her legs—back to the bed they went. Lifting her head, she saw her ligaments had been restricted, tied down by some magical force that kept her positioned like a snow angel without the snow.

        "Que ce passe t-il (What’s going on)??" She struggled to break free, her brain unable to comprehend the matter of force that has bound her body to the bed without physical ropes. Just like when Davina was thrown against the wall and how she fainted when she felt fine before. Her breathing heaved. "Help! Someone help me, please! I've been kidnapped!"

        No matter the amount of force she used, gravity pulled her right back down.

        But there could still be hope. As she took in her surroundings, met with the dark night of the clear moon illuminating her brown skin, she knew off bat she was in a cemetery. The grey stones and engraved names and burnt-out candles and freshly bloomed flowers gave it away. And through the flames, Deena spotted a shadow. Six shadows scattered around her. They stood still with their hands at the sky as if they were praying.

        "Hey," Deena called out to the nearest shadow. Though she noticed their eyes were closed, they could still hear her. "Hey, get me out of here! You got the wrong person! What are you doing?"

        A twig snapped behind Deena and one of the shadowed individuals revealed themselves to the panicked teenager.

          "I know you," Deena exclaimed. "You're the woman I met today, Zoeè. Please, if you let me go I'll pretend nothing happened. I'll say nothing I swear. I don't even know you."

        The woman, Zoeè, peered down at Deena, a glint in her eyes as they found comfort elsewhere. Maybe she did feel bad for Deena getting caught up in all this mess, for something she had no knowledge of, knowing she deserved none of the torture that was to come as she was just a child. And she has never harmed a child nor was it in her plan to do so, but her pleads weren't enough to free her. She was determined to go through with the tricky spell. It had to be done.

        With a small shoulder lift, "I'm sorry, hun. If I could do it any other way then I would, but you are the key to strengthening our coven and placing back the balance which your existence upsets. But I'll try to make it quick."

        Deena is riddled with fear at the sight of Zoeè's hands locked on the sides of her head. She kicked her feet, lifted herself from the chest in hopes of shifting her head from within her hold. Deena had no idea what was to come or the reasoning behind Zoeè's hand positioning; she just felt like something bad was going to happen and wanted to prevent that gut feeling eating her within.

        "No, no, no—" The haunting chants grew louder, words Zoeè began to repeat back. The flames intensified, and something unexplainable sent Deena into a surge of pain.

She screamed.

        It was as if her bones were merging into one and her heart was being squeezed by rusted nails. Like her nails were being ripped one-by-one or a giant soul-sucking monster blowing its hot air against her body draining Deena of life. Her body has never experienced anything like this before. A wet substance begins to leak from her nose, curved down the sides of her sweaty cheeks and painted Zoeè's hands. Which she didn't mind. She was expecting the mess plus more. Then from the corners of her eyes. Blood so thick it could form a river to drown in; unable to see nor hear as the blood continued to rip her from life.

       "ÇA FAIT MAL (IT HURTS) , STOP!" Deena's screams were cut short by a puddle of blood coughing violently out of her dry lungs, the metallic taste filled in every corner of her mouth, seized in between her gums and the hardest parts her toothbrush couldn't reach. She cried but it was hard to tell which were tears or blood. "P-please."

       And as her prayers were answered, a gust of wind blew through the dark air and a loud snap of a thick bone followed by a thud silenced the air, just after a slushing sound of blood leaves the flesh of a woman screaming in pain.

        The heat from the fire died out and Deena's left arm was lifted from the magical hold, but she was too weak to lift a muscle and the blood continued to pour, choking her to death.

        Another high-pitched scream filled her thick ears. A body drops. And finally, Deena was able to breathe when Zoeè removed her hands with a jolt, the scent of fear grew at the bloody scene unfolding before her. The excruciating suffering stopped integrating her insides and her body didn't feel bound to the concrete bed. And though Deena still had no will to move a muscle, she forced herself up enough to spit out the blood clogged in her throat and plopped right onto her back.

        The puddle of blood led Zoeè to the dark blond man with raging golden almost yellow eyes. His pink lips drenched in dark blood, curled into a devilish grin. "I heard there was a party without me. Or did I ruin it already?" The lifeless body of a witch Zoeè knew plopped to the ground. He placed his finger between his lips after wiping the stained blood around his mouth, savoring the last taste of the witch he drained within seconds.

        Hitched breath, Zoeè stumbled back in fear at the presence of the hybrid. She almost tripped off the stand that held up the concrete bed, but held her position immediately. "K-Klaus," She swallowed hard, eyes frantic at her dead coven sisters who lie with their throats ripped out.

      Deena's head twitched. She could've sworn she heard the name which her father possessed, but the thick blood in her ears prevented her from hearing much but low vibrations. Her body has been through too much. And frankly, she's exhausted. As she clawed for air drenched in cold sweat, darkness comforted her body and her eyes slowly began to shut.

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      𝐊𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 with pride in his work of the dead. He quite missed the thrill back when there were no restrictions and he could feed his cravings by going on a little witch hunt—well, it's not as easy now as it was before. Witches had tasteful blood apart from muggles. He could almost taste their magic being absorbed into his bloodstream though magic had no use in his bones. Who knew all it took was Davina's cry for help from the witches again to allow Klaus to experience the good old days.

        Zoeè, the annoying witch who has had it out for Klaus since the treaty had been placed, followed the silent footsteps of his brother, the noble Elijah Mikaelson who appeared a few seconds late to the feast. "Now, now, Niklaus. We have a deal with the witches; we leave them in peace with their practices if the favor toward us is extended."

        Klaus saw how Zoeè's presence calmed upon Elijah's arrival, though fear was brooding beneath her skin. Feared blood was the best. His nobility title made Klaus nervous as he knew his brother had a tendency to seek sympathy for the opposing team if a door was led open, especially when he was faced with a witch Klaus caught sneaking out his bedroom the past few mornings. He must be done with the wolf girl in the Bayou. He just needs to make sure it stays closed and the plan doesn't crumble. Though there wasn't much planning put into this surprise attack.

        "But there is a problem," Klaus looked to his brother for support. Testing his loyalty. "Right, brother?"

        "Indeed, there is,"

        Klaus's grin broadened.

        1 Mikaelson is a warning. 2 Mikaelsons was a threat. Zoeè felt uneasy in the presence of Klaus Mikaelson alone. He was unreasonable and his actions were too unpredictable. Maybe with the Noble Elijah here to control his brother's impulse, she may be spared.

        "This got nothing to do with either of you." Zoeè dismissed the problem with a shrug. Her thudded heartbeat in Klaus's ear told him otherwise.

        Elijah crossed the dead witch and revealed his clean-shaven face and pale skin illuminating under the moonlight, his brown eyes trained on Zoeè while smoothing down the creases on his suit. "Actually, it does. You see, we received a message that the girl you intend on sacrificing tonight is a child miraculously born of Mikaelson blood. And Klaus is to be the father." Elijah cocked his head upon Zoeè's uncomfortable expression. "Of which you already knew seeing how you are not surprised. Now, we know it is impossible for my brother to reproduce any biological life-form as he has been technically dead for the last millennium. But because it is simply a rumor, we must investigate. And to do that, we need the child. Alive."

         Elijah followed the scent of blood to the child who currently lay unconscious. He could sense the torture her body has been through by the clogged air forcing itself from her lungs. He felt for the girl. As opposed to Klaus who's afraid of the possibility of this child being his which he knew sounded ridiculous, but it was something he couldn't ignore. Therefore, he was terrified. He refused to look at the child, but he could hear her faded heartbeat losing its strength.

        "This is witch business and the Mikaelsons are not allowed on sacred grounds. Nothing personal."

       "This is very personal," Klaus growled. It could create thunder alone and rumbled in Zoeè's bones. "Seeing how you and your little witchy friends would go through great lengths to tear down my empire and conspire against me again, when I have granted you your very freedom to do as the witches please as long as they stay in their lane and be of use when I need them. You have even brought in some girl off the streets, claim she is my child, to lure me here and kill me! Pray now to your god, because I cannot be killed!"

        "There is no lie or conspire against you, Klaus! The child is yours by blood. But why does it matter what we do with her when none of you knew she existed?"

        "Because whether she is Klaus's child or not, she is presumed to be a Mikaelson. And if she is, you have already broken your treaty with us. Therefore, you hold no upper ground and you are merely a snack." Klaus rolled his eyes upon his little sister's arrival. Of course, she had to make her entrance the best of all.

        Zoeè jumped at Rebekah's tall figure sneaking up behind the frightened witch. She lifted her hand to cast out a spell when she saw Rebekah reeling too closely to the unconscious girl, but before Zoeè was able to speak her first syllable, Rebekah was at her side within seconds and tossed her against the concrete wall before she had time to react.

        Rebekah slung her hair confidently over her shoulder. "Nice try, but that was cute."

        Klaus peered from the corner of his eyes, watching silently as his sister rushed to check on the girl. She checked her pulse though all of them could hear her faded heartbeats. But just like him, they were unsure if the child was going to make it given her current condition.

        It was making them nervous. Rebekah even more.

        She did what she thought was right at the moment and fed the child her blood. While doing so, her free hand lifted the girl's head as she slowly began to awaken and was forced to swallow down her blood so that she wouldn't choke. "Take your time, love,  drink slowly," She sung.

        "Yes, I agree." Elijah agreed with Rebekah's point. "And how do you presume we should handle this information?"

        Zoeè somehow managed to her feet with a limp. She was surrounded by the Mikaelsons and that was making her nervous. Her only hope was Elijah though he failed to call off his siblings. She still had hoped what they shared was real enough to save her.

        Klaus stepped forward, next to Elijah with his fangs piercing out his gums. His mouth filled with blood from the previous witch he fed on. "I say we kill them all. Each and every one of them. May their sacrificed blood teach the witches a lesson or two about going against us." He encouraged.

        Zoeè never imagined dying this way but if she did, then so be it. She will die willfully for her coven and her ancestors and her beliefs, but she will not go out without a warning. "Even if you kill me, it won't end here! The coven is aware of the prophecy and the power that lies in her blood. And as more discovers her danger, they gone keep coming until she's dead." She pressed her hand against her bruised side, a metallic taste of blood slipping between her lips.

        "Simple. Then we kill the whole coven. Poof—" Klaus emphasized his hands as if he were blowing up mini bombs. "Problem solved."

        "Niklaus," Elijah sent his brother an unspoken glare. Klaus lifted his shoulders with a shrug as if he should consider the proposition. Klaus's irrational actions will lead to much more than a coven on their heads and they don't need any of that. "We don't want a bloodbath on our hands, we just want the child. Once we have her in a safe place, we will be out your hair. And if the rumor is false, she will be sent back. How does that sound? Do we have ourselves a deal?"

        Suddenly—

        Rebekah's body flew back as she was feeding the child by the force of Zoeè's magic. She then snapped her neck. Klaus wasted no time and went in for the kill, but was thrown back into someone's grave and pinned to the wall where he could not move, bound by a magical force restraining him. Elijah was brought to his knees writhing in pain.

        Zoeè rushed in front of the child to keep them away from having her. "I'm sorry, but you can't have her. I will complete the spell if it means saving my coven, and then I will sacrifice the child while you all watch." Zoeè stretched her hands over Deena's unconscious body and began the spell all by herself. She didn't care if it was taking too much of her or if it was killing her from inside. She needed to complete the spell no matter what.

        Despite the pain, Elijah rose to his feet. He saw it was up to him since his siblings were unable to fight back. "Then forgive me," Within seconds, Elijah's brown eyes were coated licorice black. Black veins shrouded beneath his skin around his eyes. He was a demon. His true nature. "I have tried to reason with you but it seems reasoning isn't your thing. And one thing you should know of me is that I am not patient. And my patience runs out faster than my temper."

        With a swift movement, he took Zoeè's neck into his mouth and ran her dry, releasing Klaus who fell to the ground. Her screams filled their ears like sweet music. Dead with a snap of her neck.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

If you like what you read and wish to read more of this fic, you can read here

𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

word count: 4.2k~

warnings: violence/mild gore, war, death, prostitution (living at a brothel), strong vulgar language, Targaryen/Dornish mixed bastard, mentions of sexual themes, and overall mature setting for mature (18+) audience.

a/n: this is the 2nd chapter of my AU HOTD longfic featuring my Black!OC. If there’s a warning I forgot to add let me know.

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𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗧𝘄𝗼 | 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗛𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗲

"𝑺𝒀𝑳𝑽𝑰𝑨 𝑹𝑼𝑵!"

        The world stopped moving. Screams of those running for their lives muted, only her shallow breath was heard. The metallic taste of his blood sunk between her gums as Sylvia sat there. Unable to process, unable to move, unable to breathe.

        "Sylvia! What are you doing? We are under attack!" A pair of hands violently shook the girl from her stiffened position. It's Brianne again. "Here, let's put on your scarf and draw less attention. We must—"

        Sylvia pushed Brianne to hold Yanis' lifeless body in her arms. Fire burned his flesh clean off his skull, made him unrecognizable and no longer beautiful. Tugging him free, she was jerked violently by a man on a horse with a fist full of Brianne's black curls. Because of her grip on Sylvia's arm, forced her over the wooden bench onto her back, wheezing out a breath. Yanis continued to burn and Brianne's screams grew distant before she was silenced.

        Another tugged Sylvia to her feet and saw it was her mother. Not a sound was heard from her moving lips until Sylvia forced herself to zone out of the chaos and focus on her voice. 

        “Sylvia, we must go now! We run for the woods until we reach the sand and then the sea. Just as planned. Do you hear me? Are you hurt?" She smeared the blood off her face and checked her body for visible wounds, relieved none were to be found.

        "N-no, I'm fine. But Yanis. . . "

        She followed her tearful gaze to the unrecognizable body. His clothes were partially recognizable though. 

        “I’m sorry,” her mother apologized, though she sounded far from it. At least for her daughter she pretended to care even if Sylvia saw through it. “He was good in many ways, but life must carry on. We are no longer safe here. They will burn us down with the city if we aren't quick."

        She took her mother's hand and ran.

        The blazing fire of screams trapped inside their homes burned bright and warm against their skin as they ran through the tight alleyway to avoid the main roads of death and terror. Her loose braids were thick of residue raining the sky, lungs thick of smoke and the rotten stench of men, women, and children gut down, given no chance to fight for their home or run to safety.

        Sylvia caught a glimpse of their invaders, but they wore the colors of Dorne. The colors of their home, attacking their people. She never grew an interest in politics as her mother had, but knew their lord was a big-mouth greed with plans to break faith with his allies for their enemies. It was only a matter of time before someone raised their blade at his neck.

        A knight rushed between their secure hold and swung his steel sword. Though his presence took them off guard, Sylvia's mother acted swiftly and pushed her against a horse-less wagon filled with ale crates, seconds from slicing her head clean off. He dared to swing again all while she swallowed the churn pushing up her throat and struggled to gain control of her double vision.

        She shouldn't have drunk as much as she did. She shouldn't have trusted Yanis the way she did. She should've known this would happen and been prepared from the start, but none of them did.

        With a gasp, Sylvia pushed off the wagon to the ground just in time. His sword got stuck in the crates leaking a puddle of ale. The knight then noticed her uncovered hair, but it didn't change the faith in his heart. "Fucking white-haired bitch." He spat, still struggling to pull out his sword.

        Sylvia's mother revealed a dagger hidden in the band around her exposed thigh and jammed it deep into the tissues of his neck. Blood spluttered like a river as the blade sliced across and he fell to his knees, suffocating on his own blood, then on his face as death met him. Sylvia was too stunned to speak.

        She knew her mother was stronger than others aside from her toned muscles and bones ceasing to age, but never knew how strong of a person she was until now.

        Wiping the dagger clean of blood, her mother chuckled at Sylvia's stunned expression. "What? Did you think you were the only who has killed a man before?" 

        Sylvia took her offered hand to her feet. "I hunt animals, not men."

        "Animals are no different. They just don't speak our language or pay to fuck."

        A herd of knights charged in their direction with bloodied spears and swords. There were too many to take and Sylvia's skill set wasn't prepared to fight against combative human beings. Her mother must have known her fears or shared the same sentiment because she demanded they split up for a better chance at survival, but so she could lure them away.

        Sylvia grabbed her hand before she took off running. "No. I don't want to split up. Just come with me." She begged. "Please, ma, let us run together."

        She eyed the knights gaining closer by the second, physically torn between her choices that may change their faiths forever. Any hope Sylvia had left dispersed itself when her mother removed her tight grip and caressed a sweaty palm against her cheeks. A tear was captured.

        "I will find you. I will always find you because you are my daughter. Mine. We’re forever bonded, don't forget that.” Her mother's smile faltered with thought. "And if I do not make it. . ."

        "Don't speak like that!"

        "We must be realistic! Here, take this. Keep it safe.” A heavy pouch was placed in Sylvia’s hand. She didn’t need to look through it to know it was money. Possibly more than enough to own land with working staff. “I’ve been saving toward your future behind Madam’s back. Thought if your father wouldn’t come then we go to him and demand his acknowledgment. But this is yours to have and more than enough to live comfortably, wherever in the world may you go.”

        Sylvia cried. “Just come with me. Let’s see my father and demand it together. Like we planned.”

        Instead of tears, her mother smiled as warmly as the first smile Sylvia ever recognized. Full of love and care, pure happiness and free of stress. “If I can’t find you and the Gods decide to take me as I am, I will wait for you afterward however long it takes. Now go.” She shouted. “GO!”

        Sylvia almost tripped over the corpse when her mother pushed at her. She staggered backward—refusing to leave her but to remember every detail of her face—before clutching the pouch to her chest and ran for her life. Away from her.

        She found the woods and realized she wasn’t the only one trying to escape or prevent others from escaping. Knights weren't in her view but their sharp blades ending the lives of innocent people and children who had yet grown in their shoes were heard silencing them. It seemed most were running to the nearest village for sanctuary, but Sylvia continued toward the sea not to stray from the original plan.

        She wished to help, but even she couldn’t help herself. Having drunk too much ale to navigate through the woods with a sober mindset; bumping into trees, scraping pointy bushes, and tripping over rocks and sand hills. There was this buzzing in her ears aside from her pounding heart. Sweat poured Yanis' blood down her face, and her eyes dashed from one tree to another casting dark shadows, losing importance of the mission.

        But she kept running.

        Through the woods, to the sand, then to the sea.

        "Through the woods, to the sand, to the sea." Sylvia chanted like a song to help redirect her focus.

        Tempted to wait for her mother to catch up, Sylvia pushed forward. No looking back. She mustn’t look back. Pushing through her tight dry lungs until the emptiness of sand awaited her arrival up ahead, ecstasy flourished. Through the woods, to the sand, to the sea.

        A nearby scream as terrifying as the next had startled Sylvia. Her feet started dancing all over the place being thrown off-tracked, and the one second she peered over her shoulder to the shriek of a child, a lowered branch up ahead, knocked her out cold.

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        𝑾𝑨𝑲𝑬 𝑼𝑷, 𝑺𝒀𝑳𝑽𝑰𝑨.

        A prolonged groan rumbled through Sylvia’s chest upon her mother’s soothing voice calling to her. She gripped at her throbbing head and forced her eyes shut at a burning light like it was held to her face, a constant swaying created a sickening pit deep in her belly. 

        Wake up, my child.

        "She is up." Announced an unrecognizable voice.

        The wet pressing of a cloth dabbed her temple. "Ma?" Sylvia squinted at the figure of a woman leaning over with a face shaped like her mother's but with curly strands fitting above the ears, shorter and looser than her mother's.

        The longer Sylvia stared, the more her features transfigured from her high cheekbones and plump lips to an oval face with light freckles like someone flickered sand at her face and it stuck. Tannish skin and eyes of mixed green were filled with genuine concern, startled when her eyes shot open and wide.

       Sylvia sat up with a scream, her head instantly wavering as her brain shifted, so it felt like. The woman scattered back with a gasp, holding her pregnant belly, and hid behind her husband who sat protectively in front of her. They were the least of her problems when confirming the answer to motion sickness—they were at sea. Miles and miles away from land where everything appeared the same.

        Sylvia's heart dropped with panic. "Where am I? H-how did I get here? Who are—"

        She turned over the nearest edge of the boat to relieve herself of that churn choking up her throat. Living on land near water all her life and never once boarded a boat was ironic. There was never time or an opportunity to explore the option. Her mother didn't like her hanging around the dock, neither did Yanis, and it was unsafe with all kinds of grimy people lingering about. Had she been stubborn enough to seek her own opinion, she would’ve already seen the world. But to be surrounded by an enormous body of water with no chance of escaping having not learned how to swim was panicking too. Worse even.

        The woman handed her a wet cloth, the same that was cleansing her face. They were clearly no threat to her so Sylvia took it with a soft thanks and wiped her mouth clean. A deep reddish color stained the cloth and knew it wasn’t her blood.

        “I am Mar’kel. This my husband, Jorio.” She introduced while rubbing her belly big enough to burst. “And this, Malero if boy. Or Nilora if girl.”

        Jorio touched on the other questions asked earlier. “We sailed to Toland from the Free Cities for a new start, only days later to escape our new home in seek of another. That is how we found you.” He continued after a short beat, more fluent than his wife. “I wanted to leave you behind but my wife begged me to carry you. She believes your white hair signifies something special. You’re lucky to be alive.”

        My hair? That caught Sylvia off guard. She didn’t even want to think of the state of her hair.

        Mar'kel perked at the last sentence and scooted closer. "Yes, I hear stories of white-haired Gods. Never seen so close, but powerful people I know. And they ride dragons, yes? Do you have dragons?" Her eyes lit up like a child being told a bedtime story.

        Sylvia's mother spoke of Dragonriders. Said her father came in on one; bigger than the moon, a roar strong enough to shake one's organs. A terrifying day for small-minded people who never believed in such creatures existing.

        "I’ve never seen a dragon before," Sylvia told her honestly and Mar’kel frowned.

        "But your skin—it's dragon scales, yes? And hair is white, yes? And your eyes. . . "

        Sylvia grazed along her scales, out in the open to be viewed. She still heard her mother’s voice telling her to stay cover and keep her head down.

        "Yes. All true. I was born like this, but still. . . no dragons. I'm sorry to disappoint."

        Mar'kel offered a small smile and went shuffling in their things. It was then she remembered the pouch her mother gave her and almost had a panic attack until she discovered the bulky brown thing at her side. Aside from silver and gold coins, a beautifully crafted necklace with a red ruby pendant and gold bangles lay inside. Sylvia believed it was her mother’s, as were the bangles she used to play with on her arms, or that her father gifted the necklace, and wanted to feel close by slipping it on. 

        Jorio assured they hadn’t stolen a thing and weren’t thieves. For now, Sylvia believed his word.

        Dizzy from looking out into the endless sea, Sylvia struggled to fight the churn scratching up her throat again. The wet cloth was still clenched in her fist in case she threw up again. "How far are we from Toland?" She asked. The boat was so small that she could not fit in her space.

        "Quite far," said Jorio, navigating his compass to peddle in the right direction.

        "Where do you plan to go?"

        "Not back to The Free Cities. Yronwood, maybe. They have high valleys. Closer to sea, and I hear there is good work there. . ." Jorio noticed the frown painted on the girl's face and inquired further. "Do you have family in Yronwood? Or. . . back in Toland?"

        "My mother. She was there with me during the attack and promised she’d be right behind me. . .but she is not here.” She swallowed thickly, blinking away tears. “I am, though."

        Jorio nodded in understanding. "Sorry it was us who found you and not your mother. I can only carry so much at my old age." He said, not that Sylvia held it against him. "You think, if she made it out, she would know you were heading to Yronwood? She could meet us there."

        Sylvia’s gaze narrowed as she muttered, “I doubt it.”

        If her mother made it out alive, which Sylvia prayed she did, Yronwood wouldn’t cross her mind first. There was nothing there. It held no value to their lives. Since a young girl, all they ever spoke of was the great King’s Landing. It’s where Kings rule outside of Dorne and where her father resided. Or DragonStone, as mentioned countless times before. If she made it to either one of those places, the chances of her mother finding her there were greater. And she would wait for her.

        Sylvia cleaned herself of Yanis’ blood, seeped beneath her nails and used the ocean’s reflection to wash her face. The salty water dried her skin and felt as though the sun was slow-roasting her, but it was better than holding a constant reminder of a man she loved. She scrubbed at her clothes but it only made it worse, so she left it be. Mar’kel offered half a broken bread, smiling brightly. She didn’t take it at first so the woman placed it in her hand anyway and told her to eat and gain strength, that it should be enough to last until they landed in Yronwood. In the opposite direction from King’s Landing.

        Days seemed much longer traveling by sea and the sun made it even worse. It didn’t take long until Sylvia grew used to the wavering motion, especially on a somewhat full stomach. She rested along the boat’s edge, dancing her fingers along the current crashing against them. She could lose herself in the deep blue sea, almost black as the sun finally started to set in. It took her mind off her mother and left space to plan her next move in Yronwood. She had enough money to board another—and bigger—boat heading to King’s Landing.

        "There's a ship!" Jorio announced.

        Pulling back her hand being violently crashed upon, Sylvia sat up from her resting position to a large ship floating in their direction. She was quick to cover her hair and hid the brown pouch in her boot. Neither needed to flag their attention as they were spotted immediately being the only little boat in view. Even the current pulled them close.

        "State your house." A knight dressed in grey armor that was nearly white stated once the ship was close enough for him to be heard. Compared to their boat, it was taller than any structure with enough power to flip their boat by the waves it created.

        “We are just passing by.” Jorio said.

        “This far out? Should a storm come in the night, your boat will be shredded by the waves.”

        “We’ll make due.”

        Jorio tried paddling away but the current kept them stuck to the ship.

        “Looks like you need a ride. Real food and nice comfy sheets for the pregnant woman,” humor thick on the knight’s tongue. “State your house.” He asked with more demand as though their help would only be spared should their houses align.

        Mar'kel and Jorio grew silent, the same as Sylvia.

        They came from no house of a certain status, a kingdom that thrived on its own. Sylvia was raised in Dorne so she stood with them, but their armor was not of Dornish colors nor were their accent. And because her interest in politics was little, she didn’t know the kind of relationship outsiders had with Dorne. The last war fought was within the country against their own people as it’d been for a while after countless wars with other regions. 

        Sylvia lifted her head to identify the knight who spoke. The ship was too tall to view their banner and foggy to set their attire behind a kingdom with stories that had been told. Dorne was no friend to most, a region that could never be conquered no matter the treaties placed. Respected for their bravery, loved for their trades, but not as equally feared.

       Thinking carefully of her answer, Sylvia then foolishly went with the first thought on her mind. “House Targaryen.” She stated with confidence despite her nerves. Either it would get them killed or lend another day to live. Her chances were more certain than any house within Dorne, so she thought. 

        The knight’s expression widened with surprise and disappeared to inform whomever the ship belonged to. 

        Sylvia bit her tongue, feeling Jorio’s stare. Almost convinced her thoughtless statement had gotten them killed, a worn-out ladder was tossed over the ship. Jorio stabilized it before helping Mar’kel climb up first. Sylvia climbed up second with Jorio right behind, carrying the rest of what he could on his back. 

        A sword at her neck halted Sylvia once touching the wooden surface. Quite close the reflection wasn’t as appealing and one wrong move could have her bleeding out to death. Muffled cries came from Mar’kel being torn from her husband, forcing Jorio to react until a knight aimed his sword at her pregnant belly. Only then, he headed with caution. The closer knight holding Sylvia hostage against the edge tossed her to the ground, next to Jorio who pulled his wife protectively in his arms after she had been released.

        They were now surrounded by a bunch of white and few red armor. Fuck.

        The floor creaked beneath a short fat man with a head of black and grey hair long to his neck. A metal pin of a hand holding a crown glimmered against his dark clothing, and Syliva lowered her gaze when his presence stood before them.

        “There hasn’t been a Targaryen along the Sea of Dorne for years now. In fact, I am in close contact with their house, almost like family, aware of all their long and short travels. And yet,” his gruff voice held much authority and was gutter deep. “I don’t recall logging any recent travels this far out, nor can I say your faces regard familiarity. So, tell me, who was it? Unless you don’t wish to sleep with the fish for impersonating your king, speak.”

        Mar’kel and Jorio held no shame in turning their heads toward Sylvia without sparing a word. Blood could’ve spilled by how hard she bit her tongue.

        His boots stood before her. “So it was you. Who are you, boy? Or. . .girl in men’s clothing?” A hint of muse was found in his tone.

        Sylvia needed to be smart about this. The man seemed close to the crown and possibly her father, but she was no liar. Not entirely. She may not be full-blooded or raised in a lovely castle dressed in silk gowns and eating sweet cakes with high-born ladies, but her father’s blood was hers as she was his child. This might also be her golden ride to King’s Landing, or her last breath.

        Her pulse pounced through her fingertips as Sylvia removed her scarf, revealing her messy braided hair she once was taught to hide from the world. She then lifted her head to the old man with ocean blue eyes and a bushy beard shaping his face, exposing the scales along her skin and the color of her eyes.

        “I am Sylvia, born on the soils of Dorne, and my father is Daemon Targaryen." A collective of gossip flourished the ship, and the man only tilted his head with a calculative expression. "I have lived in Toland all my life until we were caught in the middle of a civil war. This kind family took me aboard their boat until you found us. I dare not impersonate your king or his house, but no lies have yet been spared. I only ask you let them go and allow me safe travels to King’s Landing and I’ll be out your hairs.”

        “Should I allow you safe travels, what is your next step when arriving at King's Landing?” He asked.

        The plan was simple. At least it sounded simple to Sylvia. She would buy land or a nice home with her own room and living space to reside in until her mother found her. 

        Unlike the original plan, she wasn’t sure if meeting her father was something she wanted. He was a stranger to her despite many stories told, and there’s a possibility he wouldn’t want her around. All the letters sent and not one response proved he wanted nothing to do with Syliva and her mother. Why ruin his peace now? 

        “That is for me to figure out when I get there,” Sylvia said, and the old man raised his brow with slightly parted lips and a soft huh.

        He appeared rather intrigued with information of her background, unable to deny her Targaryen-like features that were one of a kind, and said, “Well then, Sylvia, Sands of Dorne, said bastard daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen, you are welcomed on my ship and your friends are free to go.” He motioned the guards to release Jorio and Mar’kel, his eyes never leaving Sylvia as he stepped closer. “King’s Landing isn’t safe for a woman of your youth and physical appearance as said bastard of Prince Daemon Targaryen. However, I do believe I can make the proper arrangements to ensure your living situation is. . .comfortable.”

        Sylvia eyed the man when she stood. He didn't look knocked on the head and was confident as he spoke. Given the ship, the authority he had to command knights and permit her company, he was a man of wealth. And with that came power, and a price for his kindness. 

        “What do you want?” She asked directly, assessing the greedy look in his eyes.

        He smiled with a wicked touch. “That is for me to decide when we arrive.”

        “Just who are you again?”

        “How nice of you to finally ask,” he said and then offered a short bow of his head. “I am Haron Baratheon and Lord Hand to King Aul Targaryen of the seven kingdoms. And I believe we will be of good use to one another quite soon.”

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

If you like what you read and wish to read more of this fic, you can read more here

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌-𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐃

𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄

Book Three of Warm-Blooded :

(Season 5 of the originals)

Chapter 6 | Treat The Disease, Treat The Symptoms

~ 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 ~

𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡

- still obsessed I wrote this scene. Still obsessed with them and exploring their relationship with more to come … link below

A Dragon’s Touch

Chapter 7 | If I Knock, Will You Let Me In?

𝒲 𝐸 𝐿 𝒞 𝒪 𝑀 𝐸 𐀔

⸻ 𝒜 𝐵 𝒪 𝒰 𝒯 𝑀 𝐸 ⸻

she/her - ⚤ - sagittarius - infp-t - writer of OC-centric longfics & original works featuring Black women always as the protagonist (ofc my fics are open to all who acts right) - lover of many fandoms that will soon come to light - taking no request unless it’s regarding my fics, but happy to gush with you over fandoms and my fics - minors DNI

⸻ 𝐹 𝐼 𝒩 𝒟 𝑀 𝐸 𝐻 𝐸 𝑅 𝐸 ⸻

AO3 WATTPAD

⸻ 𝑀 𝒴 𝒲 𝒪 𝑅 𝒦 𝒮 ⸻

T H E O R I G I N A L S

↳ Warm-Blooded (oc-centric series <4 books>, father & daughter duo pov)

H O U S E O F T H E D R A G O N

↳ A Dragon’s Touch (oc-centric longfic, au, medium-burn, targaryen/dornish mixed!bastard X oc!targaryen prince)

T W I L I G H T

↳ Something About You (oc-centric longfic, college-setting, slight au, slow-burn for now, black!oc X seth clearwater <aged-up ofc> — coming soon )

⸻ 𝒮 𝒯 𝒜 𝒯 𝒰 𝒮 ⸻

Back from my writing break. Currently writing and preparing updates.

dividers credited to @anitalenia

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌-𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐃

- what happens when you turn an entitled rich werewolf into a vampire (a new look at Henry Benoit) … link below

Book Three of Warm-Blooded

(season 5 of the originals)

Chapter 6 | Treat The Disease, Treat The Symptoms

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌-𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐃

— Klaus Mikaelson and his somewhat mortal daughter, Deena Salée are finally the same age (21). He no longer physically passes as her father—he barely did before. And now it’s time he retains another family title to ward off suspicion …link below

Book Three of Warm-Blooded

(season 5 of the originals)

Chapter 3 | Your Sword And Shield

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌-𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐃

— a vulnerable moment between Klaus Mikaelson and his somewhat mortal daughter, Deena Salée. The two have been struggling with their relationship since coming into his life, that it’s time to sit down and communicate to understand each other best even if it’s not something Klaus is used to.… (there’s more to this scene) link below

Book one of Warm-Blooded

(season 2 of the originals)

Chapter 15 | The Original Tribrid