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Lovely person asked if Aphrodite’s Daughter!Reader in my Batfam x neglected reader could end up with Percy so I will leave this up to you all, I’ll tag the series HERE so you can read where it’s at so far
hi bae will you still continue the wha x elf!reader?? 🥺🥺🥺
Friend!!!! Hello!!!! I hope you’re doing good!!! I will be continuing it I promise I’ve just been trying to empty out my drafts with some stuff that’s been sitting for a while, I do have bits and pieces of Part 3 sitting there tho I promise it’s in the works!
Imagine a isekai reacher!reader ( she could be the daughter of reacher- Amazon version) who when dunken is about to help tansel jumps in and single-handedly takes out the guards and prince aerion. Everyone is stunned looking at the “small” lady who just overpowered three grown men in stunned silence. And when Aerion wants to have her punished she teases him about admitting that he and three kings guard were overpowered by a young lady. Nobody would believe that and he would become a laughing stock. Only the people who were there believe it happened and even they don’t trust their eyes. She likes dunk cuz his size reminds her or her dad. Please add on more!!!!!
Oh I love a strong lady. I feel like Aerion would be obsessed with her to a disgusting degree after the fact. I’m so blurbing this
Warnings: gun mentioned, violence, blood, let me know if I missed any!
Falling. You're definitely falling. And fast it looks like.
"Oh fuck m-"
You turn your body just in time as you hit a branch on a tree, stomach first, shirt getting caught until it rips and your hand fumbles to get a catch on anything to slow your fall.
Your hand grabs a branch and your arm snaps like a rubber band pulled taught as you stop just enough for the branch to snap as you hit what feels to be every branch on the way down until you land flat on your back.
The wind gets knocked out of you as you hit the ground and you groan. Your hands are splayed out as you bend your legs individually to make sure you didn't break anything.
Groaning, you stand up as you check to make sure your gun is still tucked under your shirt and into your pants only to find it gone. Your eyes widen as you look up at the tree you hit and then around the forest. You're lucky there's hardly any bushes around as you look for it.
Spending around ten or so minutes you finally find it maybe twenty feet from where you'd fallen. You eject the magazine, checking for any missing bullets and pop it back in, clicking it in place as you retract the barrel, popping the bullet in the chamber out and catching it. No damage, everything intact. You pop it back in and switch the safety on and tuck it back into your pants and under your shirt as you rub your arm.
Some blood wipes as you check the cut. Not deep enough to cause any actual damage and use your shirt to wipe it away as you look around.
“What the fuck.”
Grass, trees, no sign of life except for bugs that fly by your face. You swat at them as your eyes scan past the trees. Straining your eyes, you can see plumes of smoke. Maybe a mile or so away and start walking in that direction.
You brush past trees and foliage as you grumble and break branches.
"Stupid doors leading to nowhere. Dumb fucking sheriff," you finally hit a road leading into a small town with numerous tents set up. Thankfully, the sun has only just lowered as you step into this very strangely set up town.
"Where the fuck am I?"
A scowl works it way to your face as you slowly creep into the town. There are people dressed like they're in some medieval period, definitely not at all like how you're dressed with your jeans, dirty and beat up combat boots and black long sleeve shirt. You find yourself getting odd looks as you give a glare back.
"Fucking freaks looking at me like I'm the weird one," you mutter as you walk deeper.
One woman comes up to you, quite bravely you might add, considering that you're sure you look just positively beautiful with the cut on your brow and bruise on your jaw. Not to mention your ripped shirt and bloodied arm, courtesy of that damn fall.
You look her up and down as she approaches you slowly.
"Are you alright, dear?"
"Uh, yeah, I'm fine, where exactly am I?"
She gives you a strange look as she takes in your clothing, messed up hair and bloodied and bruised face.
"You're in Ashford Meadow. Why don't you come with me, I'm sure we can find a knight to help you."
Your brows furrow as she lightly grabs your arm, bringing you further into this "Ashford Meadow" as she calls it. As she's bringing you in you hear a commotion coming from a tent as you shake off her hand and start to walk toward it. It's when a scream tears through that you sprint in the general direction and see people start to shuffle around a large pitched tent.
You shove past onlookers as you see a light haired man holding what looks to be a girl in armor on the ground with a dagger to her finger as he uses his blade to cut her finger and pull the bone out. Another person runs up behind you and makes to move, only for you to hit the ground running first.
You run up and shove the blonde haired man off the girl as some other men come at you. You kick the first man in the groin as he groans and falls back, the other coming up to grab your arm as you spin and grab his, driving your knee up and displacing his elbow as he screams in pain.
From the back, a man wraps an arm around your throat as you take a deep breath in and crunch yourself down as you flip him over your back and driving a hard kick in the head, hearing a crunch as his head slams against his helmet.
The man you'd kicked in the groin runs back as he swings at your face, only to miss as you duck back and drive your knee into his chest and down onto your knee as you slam him onto the ground.
Your head flies up as the blonde haired man runs at you, dagger first as you kick him in the chest and bring his face down to drive your knee into it. His head flies back as he bleeds from his nose and moves to swing his dagger at you. Your hand darts out and grabs the hand with the dagger, turning his wrist until he's forced to drop it as you turn him around and grab him in a headlock. You tighten your hold on him as he thrashes around, hitting and kicking as you keep a firm hold on your arm.
He hisses out air as he struggles to breath, scratching at your arm with his nails and drawing blood as you breathe heavily, tightening your grip even more.
“Go to sleep, go to sleep-”
You mutter as he continues to thrash in your grip as the man you’d pushed past watches you with wide eyes as does the rest of the crowd.
After a minute or so, his body finally goes slack as you release your hold and kick him away, his head hitting the ground as the other men groan in pain.
You look at the girl who cries as you rush to her, kneeling in front of her and grabbing her hand that she cradles.
"Are you alright? Fuck, you're probably in a lot of pain. I don't have any meds on me," you rip the bottom of your shirt, exposing your stomach as you pop her bone back in place causing her to scream in pain.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but it won't heal correctly if it's not set right," you wrap your shirt around her bleeding hand as some other people rush to her side.
Your grip on her is tight as she cries and you move in front of her to glare at them. They keep their hands up as they look at you.
"She's one of our own, she's our puppeteer."
Your eyes flit to her as your breathing starts to even out, "are they telling the truth?"
She looks up at you and nods as she sobs. Slowly you let go of her as they take her away.
You stand up and look at the men on the floor, only to look up and see a crowd of people dressed in medieval clothes staring at you in disbelief.
"The fuck is your problem?"
You sneer as a very large man comes up.
"How did you-?"
Before he can say or ask you anything else a little bald boy runs up with wide eyes.
"Ser, did you do this?"
You huff as you shake your hand and wipe at your arm, movement causing your scrape to bleed again along with the scratches he'd left on you.
"I-" the large man gestures to you as the blonde man you'd held back starts to groan. The large man swiftly kicks the man in the mouth in panic as his head lulls back. Raising your eyebrows, you just shrug until he groans again and stands. Spitting blood out, he looks to the three of you as you turn and stalk toward him until the little boy yells out for you to stop. You turn to him as the man stands up fully, taking in heaving gulps of breath.
"You impudent little rat," he starts out. Even though you're sure he means it towards you, he's staring directly at the little boy. You shift so that you cover his view of him, glaring at the what you can now see is silver hair on the man.
"What's happened to your hair?"
The little boy steps out from behind you as he glowers at the man.
"I cut it off brother, I didn't want to look like you."
You turn your head down to the little boy, then side eye the man in front of you and point a thumb as you speak.
"That psycho is your brother?"
He nods as the larger man steps closer to the both of you.
"Dude, I'm sorry but that's gotta suck."
"Bring them to the castle."
You arch an eyebrow as the three, what you're assuming to be guards, approach you warily. You glance at the young boy as the larger man is taken along with you to whatever castle they were talking about. You're walked out as you follow silently with a guard on each side.
The crowd watches in silent horror as you're walked off to face whatever fate will be decided for you.
As soon as you arrive in front of a large stone castle you whistle out as they pull you inside.
"That's a big bitch, is this real stone?"
You knock on some stone as you pass by and get put into the same cell as the larger man.
"That's real stone, huh."
The door locks behind you as you stand with your arms crossed. Turning to look at the large man you lean onto one side as you look at him.
"You alright man? You look like someone stole your dog."
He looks to you from his place by the barred window, watching the rain and a rat that scurries away, with furrowed brows and wide eyes.
"'Am I alright?' You've struck a prince! We're likely to be tried for treason."
"Oh prince schmince, that guy is an asshole."
"Are you not afraid of death?"
He asks you, bewildered beyond belief. Before you can answer, if you even had a proper answer, the door opens as the same little boy, now dressed in more "princely" attire, walks in with food for the both of you.
As soon as the food is set down you start to eat, happily eating. The large man follows suit, chewing slowly as the little boy stands with his arms behind him.
"My uncle says I must beg your forgiveness for deceiving you."
"Your uncle?"
"Prince Baelor."
And you've tuned out, eating the bread as they both converse. You gather some words like "Heir to the Iron Throne" and "Prince Egg," whatever that means. Though, you swallow your food roughly as you glance at the boy and his clothing. "Iron Throne" does sound familiar, it was from some show if you remember correctly.
The little boy sits down by you as you glance at him before looking away. You pointedly stop your slouching and pull your shirt further down to hide your gun. The large man continues to chastise the young boy as he gets more and more upset. When a moment of silence brings itself you clear your throat as they both look to you.
"Not to be rude, but who're you anyway?"
"Egg."
"Egg?"
"Egg."
You chew as you nod slowly and look to the large man now, "and your name?"
"Dunk- er- Ser Duncan the," he clears his throat, "the Tall."
"Right, right. I'm (Y/n). Reacher."
"I don't know of a Lord Reacher. Is he a knight?"
You chew your food slowly as your eyes flit from the boy to Dunk.
"Of some kind, I guess, but he's no lord" you bring the cup to your mouth as you drink and wince at the taste. Duncan looks to Egg with slowly quelled anger.
"What will they do with us, Egg?"
Your eyes flit to the young boy, to Egg, as he speaks.
"My uncle wants to see the both of you after you're done eating."
You nod stiffly as Duncan takes a deep breathe, "I'm done now then. I've already kicked one prince in the mouth, I don't mean to keep another one waiting."
He looks to you next, as if waiting for you to say you're done, only for you to furrow your brow as you swallow your food.
"I'm not gonna stop eating just because some stuck up prince needs to talk to me, he can wait."
Egg says nothing and Duncan just sits and watches you finish your food. As soon as you're done, you wipe your mouth with your hand and wipe it on your shirt as you stand and stretch, stomach revealing itself as you do so. Duncan looks away with a flushed face until you stop and sigh.
"All right, let's go meet this prince whatever."
The walk to where this Prince Baelor is, as Egg kindly told you, is silent and awkward as you walk with the two boys. Your stomach rumbles lightly as you pat it.
"Ugh, indigestion. I need a Tums or something."
"A what?"
You lift a brow as you pinch your index finger and thumb until they get to about a fingers thickness.
"A Tums, it's about yay big and a thing people take when their stomach hurts. It's an antacid or whatever."
"Ant-ass-id?"
"The way you say it is weird."
Duncan just makes a face as Egg shakes his head.
You arrive in front of a door as the same two guards from before open the door for you. You let Egg walk in first as he pulls your sleeve for you to follow, then Duncan as the door closes behind you.
It's quiet as the three of you stand in front of who you assume to be Baelor until you open your mouth with a shit-eating grin.
"So, Prince Baelor?"
You look him up and down and think to yourself, 'would.'
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As soon as you hit the steps to Lord Ashford's castle you're barking orders to bring Baelor to a room, a nervous Lord Ashford glancing to Maekar who yells at him to do as you say. Once that order is given, he's moved to the room he resided in and placed on the bed as carefully as possible.
You're immediately by his side and giving orders for rugs to be removed and for any food to be removed from the room. Servants move quickly to do as you say as you keep two fingers on his pulse, counting and keeping track of his breaths. You look to see Valarr with your satchel in hand as you point at him.
"Place my satchel on the table, I'll grab my sutures from there soon, for now I need to get his bleeding under control."
Maekar and Valarr stand, unsure what to do, as you quickly take out your yarrow paste, catgut and needle, multiple rags and grasp a servants arm before she leaves the room.
"I need boiled water and soap. No, bring two bowls, and the cleanest rags you have, as fast as you could bring it, please."
She nods with nervous eyes as she runs out of the room carrying the last remnants of food on a tray and out the door.
You turn to maester Yormwell now, who looks over Baelor's form with hollow eyes.
"Do you have long tweezers, fuck not tweezers, uh, pincers or forceps? I'll need it to remove the bits of skull from his brain."
Maester Yormwell nods slowly, but does open his mouth to argue.
"We need to balance his humors, not staunch his blood."
You just blink in confusion. You just said why and you know the rest already.
"We do not need to balance his humors. He has shards of his skull in his brain, it's dangerous to leave it in. The stitching I can handle, I will need honey, but the most important thing is to keep his wound clean."
Maester Yormwell glances at Maekar who nods gruffly, before leaving the room to get the honey and his own supplies.
Maekar, still clad in his armor moves to you as soon as the maester exits the room, gripping your arm as Valarr scrunches his brows at his uncles movement.
"How do you intend on helping my brother?"
You shake your arm out of his grip as you unspool the catgut and thread the needle, tying off the thread and placing it on a rag.
"I need to clean his wound first, stop the bleeding as much as possible. Balancing his humors will do nothing but harm him. The most important thing is to get Baelor as stable as possible."
The servant comes back with the boiling water, soap and rags, setting it down on the table as you thank her with a strained smile. Not long after, maester Yormwell comes back with a single blade, forceps, honey and his own bag of medical supplies.
You and maester Yormwell speak lowly to each other as you each bring out the necessary supplies that you'll need. Maester Yormwell turns to Maekar and Valarr with furrowed brows.
"You'll not want to be here for the cleansing, your Grace-"
"Like hell I won't!"
Valarr purses his lips as Maekar argues. He doesn't want to leave, but one glance at his father and he knows that him being there serves no purpose. Not really. What could he do? His father is unconscious, he's bleeding. He shuffles to stop Maekar from continuing to argue when you look to him from where you're cleaning your hands with the boiling water and soap.
"If they want to stay, let them," you sigh from where you scrub your hands and forearms, "just don't get in the way," you dry your hands with one of your rags as you motion for Yormwell to clean his hands too. The older man frowns, until he gets a glance at Maekar who glares at him and does the unspoken order. Yormwell goes to the unused bowl of water only for you to direct him to the one you'd used.
"I need that other bowl of water to clean him."
You look to the two princes now, both hands up and above your waist to not contaminate them.
"Don't interfere, don't get close. We need space and the cleanest possible area that we can."
Maester Yormwell finishes rinsing his hands as you hand him a rag and pull out the blade that he brought, disinfecting it as you pull another rag and splay it out to lay the tools down beside Baelor. You grab the rags brought by the servant, the honey, the forceps (disinfected as well) and lay them down on the stretched out rag.
Maekar nods stiffly in his armor and sits at the table as Valarr follows suit.
"If you feel as if you are going to faint, leave the room. I will not break what little sterile field I have to help you."
You look to Maekar now, frown and brows furrowed heavily.
"Truthfully, you should go to Prince Aerion and Prince Daeron, I can't imagine they're in good shape."
Maekar's eyes widen as he stands abruptly and leaves the room. Valarr watches his uncle leave the room with haste, now having seemingly remembered he had his sons to look after.
You sigh as Yormwell looks to you before opening his own mouth, only for you to stop him with a raise of your hand.
"You should look after the prince's, I'm aware. I figured the both of you had forgotten. Aerion got cut close to his artery in his leg, he'll need you. I can handle Prince Baelor here, this isn't the first gruesome wound I've had to deal with."
Maester Yormwell nods before rushing out of the room to follow Maekar, his medical bag in hand, only to turn back to you.
"I trust you know what you are doing, Prince Baelor spoke highly of you, gods know why."
He leaves after that, door shutting behind him as the only ones left in the room are Valarr and you. You turn to Valarr briefly before moving to Baelor and slowly untying the strips you'd ripped from your dress.
"Do you really want to stay, Valarr?"
You grab rags and replace the soaked one that you used to cover Baelor's head. You throw the bloodied rag on the floor, placing the steel used to keep it in place on the side to be cleaned later. Valarr swallows his spit heavily as he watches you quietly work.
"I've seen blood. It is of no bother to me."
"That's not what I asked."
You press the rag firmly on the unconscious man's head as he groans weakly, eyes fluttering. You look down at his face in alarm and turn to Valarr.
"Get me the black bottle in my bag!"
Valarr moves as quickly as he can, fumbling around in your bag before pulling out and handing it to you as you place Baelor's head down as gently as humanly possible and open his mouth to drop a few drops into his mouth.
"Swallow, I know the taste is awful, but it will help."
He stills as his eyes flutter lightly before shutting entirely. With no modern equipment you can't monitor his brain activity, but it is likely he'll fall into a coma due to both blood loss and shock and it wouldn't surprise you at all.
He breathes lightly and you watch his chest rise and fall, resting two fingers on his carotid to feel how strong his pulse is before sighing.
"He's out. Pulse still strong, breathing still steady."
Valarr watches with worried eyes as you lightly turn Baelor to his side and grab a pillow to place under his chin and tucked into his front, using the pillow to support him. Thank God the pillows are dense as all hell. You'd been able to feel how dense the pillows were when you'd slept in Aerion's bed, goose feather no doubt.
The rag you'd pressed to the back of his head is thankfully still there to shield it from Valarr's view, but you move it off as Valarr gasps behind you. As soon as you hear the intake of breath you speak.
"If you are going to faint, please do it on the chair."
He takes deep breaths as he looks away from the back of his father's head. When he'd heard he was wounded, he would have never in all his years imagined a wound like this. There's still a continuous amount of blood drooling out of his head, but the pressure has gone down. His brain is exposed, there's pieces of his skull embedded into the skin and his brain. The skin is mottled and torn, muscle exposed. It's a horrific sight, enough to make him sick to his stomach. He stays by your side, though, either through some need to prove himself a man or because he simply can't make himself move, he doesn't know.
You grab a new clean rag and walk to the table to dip it into the unused bowl of water, wringing it out. You stop for a moment before grabbing the bowl and walking back to Baelor, placing the bowl on the table beside the bed and wiping at the skin, cleaning the outside of the wound. You grab the blade next and start to shave the hair away from the wound, wiping at it to catch any stray hair from getting into the open wound. You only shave an inch around the wound before discarding the blade and using the same rag, dipped in water and wrung once more, to wipe at the skin.
You toss that rag onto the floor next and grab the tweezers, inserting it into the skull to pull out pieces of bone carefully, using a new rag to dab at the blood that drools out. You hear Valarr breathe in deeply as you continue to pull pieces of his father's skull out.
"Can you go to the table and grab the catgut? It's spiraled and already has a needle tied, it should be on a rag. Just grab the rag and fold it over to bring it."
Valarr shifts his feet unsteadily at first, before gaining confidence as he brings the covered catgut to you. You glance up at him before looking back at Baelor, moving pieces of his brain to search for anymore shards of his skull.
"Thank you," another quick glance at him and your tone falls flat, though there can still be some worry found in it, "you look pale, you should sit."
"I'm fine," Valarr takes a deep breath, the scent of iron filling his nose as his mouth starts to water.
"I'm not suggesting it for my health. Sit down and don't look."
Valarr nods as he tries to tear his eyes away from his fathers open head, walking shakily back to the chair he sat in before rising to bring you the black bottle. He sits harshly, eyes blinking rapidly as his mouth still waters. You can hear him swallow harshly, breathe expelling from him as you hear him lean forward.
"Arms above your head, hands clasped behind. It'll expand your lungs and help you breathe better. Keep your eyes closed, or whatever makes you feel better," you call out as he glances up and does as you say.
"If you need to," you try to think of a word that won't make him instantly vomit, "expel, there should be a bucket by the door."
Valarr swallows once more as he takes deep breathes, that mouth watering feeling slowly subside. Your voice calls out again to him as he keeps his eyes closed.
"I have ginger in my bag, when I'm done here I can boil some for your stomach."
He nods his head, though you don’t see the motion. You continue with picking out the small pieces of Baelor's skull and place them on the rag next to you. You continue to dab at blood that slowly oozes out as you glance at the rag with the catgut that Valarr had set down beside you.
Dropping the bloodied rag in hand, you focus on the skin now only for the door to open abruptly. Looking up you see Maekar, now down to his chainmail and he pulls a chair to sit down beside you.
"Uncle-"
Valarr begins, but Maekar has already sat himself beside you by the time the word leaves his lips. Valarr's eyes land on his father's open skull and he shuts his eyes tightly before tilting his head up and taking deep breaths again. You can hear a light grunt from him that you pointedly ignore.
You don't spare Maekar more than a glance after he sits down by you as you use the tweezers to begin pulling skin to over Baelor's wound. You set down the tweezer's as you stand and walk to the table to wash your hands.
"Where are you going you are not finished."
Maekar grunts out as his eyes flit to his elder brother before landing on you as you wash your hands with soap and water, water turning a faint red as you dry your hands.
"How are your boys, Prince Maekar?"
"They live. Are you going to fix my brother or not?"
You pull out some ginger and grab a small knife that was left on the table and begin slicing it as Maekar watches you with a frown on his face. You finish slicing the ginger and walk to the door, opening it as you search for a servant. There's a fireplace in the room and you intend to use it.
You flag down a passing girl as you speak to her quietly before walking to the table with the bowl of now dirtied water. You pass her the bowl, thanking her quietly as she walks away to grab the materials you asked for and dump the water.
Maekar stands from his chair as he towers over you grabbing your wrist that goes to grab your book from your satchel.
"I let you play maester at my brother's expense. Answer me, are you going to fix him or not?"
His hand grips your wrist tight, tight enough that you're sure it would leave marks. You finally look at the white haired man as Valarr watches, uncertain if he should step in.
"I need to clean my hands. I won't stitch his wounds with bloodied hands and your nephew," you point to Valarr, "looks like he's near to hurling."
You pick up a slice of ginger and hold it in front of your face as you speak next, "so I'm making him ginger tea. It'll help his stomach."
You drop the ginger slice as it thumps on the table. Maekar glowers at you before releasing your wrist as he moves to sit back in the seat. He sits with his hands clasped, elbows on his knees as he stares at Baelor.
You sigh as you pull out your book and flip through it to a blank page. You grab the charcoal pencil you'd been using to write and begin jotting down letters and lines. Valarr opens his eyes to peak at what your writing and sees you draw lines and write words at the top of the page. His head starts to spin before he closes his eyes again.
You make your own vitals chart before you drop the charcoal pencil and walk to Baelor and grab his left arm, placing two fingers on his wrist as you count his heartbeats. You also watch his chest rise and fall before placing his arm back down and writing down what you've observed.
Maekar and Valarr watch as you silently move before a knock on the door sounds as they turn their heads to the sound. Walking to the door and opening it, two servants come in: one holding a small, black pot and a pitcher of water and the other carrying a new pot of water and some scissors. They both place their respective items on the table before leaving as you thank them.
Maekar's eyes watch you move before his eyes fall back onto Baelor.
"You needn't thank them."
You glance at him as you pour water into the empty pot and place it into the now lit fireplace, before walking to the table and grabbing your disinfectant from the table and wetting a cloth to clean the scissors. You place them on the bed second pot and washing your hands and forearms with soap and water, then drying them.
You sit back down at the side of the bed, where Baelor's head sits, reaching over him to tap his face lightly. He breathes out softly and his face twitches before his eyes flutter and he starts to groan. Maekar's eyes widen as he stands abruptly, knocking the chair back.
"Baelor-!"
You grab the black bottle and open it before quickly tilting Baelor's chin down and dropping two drops of whatever is in the black bottle and closing his mouth. Maekar's frantic eyes fall onto you as he grabs your wrist, nearly dropping the black bottle as your free hand falls beside Baelors head.
"What did you drop into his mouth?"
"Milk of the poppy. I can't have him moving while I stitch his head, truthfully I'm surprised he responded. I would have thought he would have gone into shock already."
You pull your wrist free from Maekar's hand as you place the black bottle back down and let your hand rest on Baelor's face. It's cool, understandable given how much blood he lost. You move to kneel on the bed carefully and watch his face as his brows furrow. Your hand rests on his face for what feels like an eternity as you wait for the poppy sap to take effect.
Maekar and Valarr watch as you treat him gently. Your thumb lightly smooths over the skin of Baelor's cheek as his brows slowly relax. You bring your hand that doesn't rest up and use a finger to smooth the furrow that remains in his brow, faint lines staying, betraying how often he furrows his brows. You look at his eyes as you watch his eyes move behind his eyelid until they stop.
"He's finally asleep."
You sit back down and take the needle and pierce it through the first flap of skin to close his head as Maekar slowly sits back down and watches you intently.
"Why did you not start immediately?"
You don't move your eyes from your stitching as you speak.
"He would have still been awake, I didn't want him to be hurting more than he already is."
You pull the needle through his skin silently as you stop briefly to dab at his skin before continuing. You cut the stitch with the scissors before you tie more catgut to the needle and start to stitch another part of his head. Oddly enough the wound will be coming together in a star pattern, likely fitting the shape of Maekar's mace. You don't mention the fact to the man.
It's quiet as you work. The only sounds being the crackling of wood and the occasional clearing of a throat. You can feel Maekar's eyes on you as you work and while you normally wouldn't mind, the feeling of it does bother you a bit.
“You’re hovering.”
Maekar's eyes flit to your face before falling back onto the needle entering his brother's skin.
“Can you not work under pressure?”
“It’s not a matter of working under pressure, it’s a matter of you hovering over me like a hen does her chicks.”
“You’re calling me poultry?”
He sounds vaguely offended at the notion.
“I’m calling you a Nervous Nelly,” you point your needle at Maekar with a furrow to your brow, “if you’re not going to help, then either don't hover or leave the room.”
He guffaws at your tone. You? Commanding him like he’s some common whore to be bought and moved as you please.
He opens his mouth in displeasure as he jabs a finger at you.
“I have never-”
“Never what? Been told you hover? Well you do. I’m busy stitching your brother’s head shut, so please do both of us a favor and let me work or leave the room. You need a clear mind and I need to not be watched like I’m committing some grievous sin.”
He sits still, in shock no doubt, but just frowns and huffs with some choice words before leaving.
As he leaves you call out to him, “get a drink, you’ll thank me later!”
Valarr sits with wide eyes as you handled his uncle, famous for his disposition and widely difficult nature, with ease.
"How did you-?"
"He's worried about his brother, it's natural. He needs to clear his head and put his attention to something that will keep him distracted. At least enough for me to work on closing your father's head."
Valarr smiles lightly, chuckling even quieter as you hum to yourself. He can feel his shoulders lowering as you work, stress leaving his body. He trusts you, you've kept his father alive thus far. He has no worries that you'll help him.
More times passes as you tie off another stitch, tying the catgut back to the needle and stitching the very last bit of Baelor's head closed as you dab at the remaining blood before dropping the rag onto the floor and standing as you go to wash your hands. You look at the boiling water in the fire place and dry your hands before dropping ginger into the bowl. Luckily the fire isn't too hot that the water has boiled away completely, there's still more than three fourths of the water left. Perfect for Valarr's stomach.
You grab the honey from the table next and grab some dressing from your bag, cleaned and soaked in disinfectant and wrapped in a rag, before going to Baelor and placing honey on his wound and wrapping his head. You put the honey down and move to the back of Baelor, grabbing a pillow and resting it behind his back to keep him on his side.
You take a deep breath before exhaling in one motion as you place your hands on your hips and stretch.
'Finally done with the annoying part, now to wait for him to wake up.'
A darker part of your mind says if he wakes up, but you shove the thought down in favor of grabbing the pot out of the fire place and pouring the ginger tea into a cup for Valarr. You drop some honey in as well and stir it before giving it to him as he looks to you in relief.
"It's hot, so be careful," you say quietly as his fingers graze your own. They linger lightly as he takes the cup from you, sipping the tea while maintaining eye contact with you.
"Thank you. For everything you've done," he places the cup down as he leans back in his chair. You'd turned back to your book and look to him in surprise.
"For what?"
He stands as you turn back to your book. Baelor's vitals are not terrible, his heart rate is a little slower than you would like, but his breathing is normal and his temperature should be going back up shortly. You bite your thumb as you focus on the book. He'll need around the clock care, someone to monitor his vitals every hour.
"'For what?' For saving my father', devoting yourself to his care, for saving his life," Valarr walks closer to you as you briefly glance to him before going back to your book.
"I did what anyone capable would do," you mutter, flipping through pages of the book, looking at different herbs for inflammation, pain, and fever. You have some herbs already, thankfully, but you'd likely need more especially since you have Dunk to look after.
Your head whips up as Valarr startles at how quickly you move. The book is pushed away as your arms fly abruptly from the table, bottles rattling in your shove toward the door.
"What's wrong?"
"Dunk! Where is he?"
You almost fly out of the room as Valarr grabs your shoulders to keep you from leaving.
"The hedge knight?"
You try to pull yourself out of Valarr's grip, only for his hands to hold you tighter.
"Where is he?"
Valarr's head follows yours as you look past his shoulder, his eyes land on your frantic gaze.
"The hedge knight has been looked after, I assure you-"
"How do you know? Has the maester talked to you? I said I would look after him, I promised him!"
Valarr pulls you to his chest as you try to pull yourself out, hands pushing him as he wraps his arms around you tighter. His heart clenches as you continue to plead for him to let you go. Your attachment to this hedge knight makes a knot coil in his stomach, a green monster erupt behind his eyes. Why? Why do you care so much for this hedge knight and why does it bother Valarr so much?
"Prince Valarr, please I need to find him."
He tucks his head into your neck and breathes you in as you start to settle.
"I need to find him, I promised I would help him," you mutter as your hands clench the fabric of his tunic. Valarr thinks on what to do. He doesn't want you to leave, his father needs your help, but he also doesn't want to hold you here and possibly make you resent him. He kisses you neck as he pulls away and looks at you.
"I will find him," his hands hold your face as you look at him with furrowed brows, ready to argue, only for him to kiss you quickly. Your eyes widen and before you're able to reciprocate or do any other action he pulls away and places his forehead onto yours, "please stay here, I'll find him for you once you rest."
You open your mouth to argue, but he gives you a look and you know better than to argue.
"In the morning, I will look for him. Just stay here."
You nod as he gives you a smile and you sit at your table, staring at Baelor as you watch him through the night. He stirs only a few times as you stay up the entire night, only drifting off here and there.
When you go to his side to check his vitals, his eyes will flutter as if he means to open them, only for them to stay closed as he goes still once more.
You don't see Valarr the rest of the night as you watch his father and you find it's better that way. You gather that Maekar may have forced him to get rest, as you had forced him to.
Come morning, he finds himself at your side once more, opening the door as quietly as he can when he sees your form slumped on the chair.
He walks close as he brings a finger to your face to push away any stray hairs that have come loose from their protective style.
Your eyes flutter at the motion as you open your eyes fully, standing immediately to check on Baelor, only for Valarr to grab you.
"Rest. You need to eat."
"I need to check on your father," you mutter as you lightly push him away and go to Baelor's side, grabbing his wrist to take his pulse.
Valarr glances at the table and sees your book open. There are two pages taken up with numbers that have some meaning he is unaware of. Likely what you had been doing all night if some of the dragging of your pencil is what he has to go on. He figures at some point you had exhausted yourself as he sees a number trailing off.
You come back to the table and write down a new set of numbers, a little lower than the last recorded and you sit as you wipe your face.
"You need to eat."
"Have you seen Dunk?"
"Ser Duncan?"
He's bewildered. Early in the morning and the first question you ask isn't for food but for the hedge knight. He can feel that familiar burn of jealousy as he sighs.
"I will find him for you. I will also send something for you to eat, please, eat it."
He leaves the room quickly as you sit there blearily blinking your eyes. You promised you would help him. You would be his healer. You feel like a fraud. You hadn't helped him at all, you'd left him. To save a prince, the crown prince, yes, but you'd still left him. Taking in a deep breath you turn back to your notebook and pick up your charcoal pencil with a shaking hand.
It's best to focus on the task at hand. Baelor is still in dire condition, it's a waiting game now.
Valarr stalks through the halls, grabbing the first servant he sees and requesting for her to send breakfast to Baelor's room. She nods her head fervently as she scatters away from the prince.
Valarr now walks down the hall looking for his youngest present cousin. If there were anyone that had to know where that hedge knight was it would have to be him. He's attached to him like a barnacle to a ship.
He finds the boy leaving a room quietly, closing the door softly as he turns to walk away.
"Egg."
The young boy jumps at his eldest cousins voice and quickly turns with his hands behind his back. Face looking guilt ridden already, though Valarr has no inkling why.
"Yes, cousin?"
"Where is the hedge knight?"
Egg furrows his brows as his mouth opens and closes, he looks to the side as if looking for someone to jump out.
"I don't know."
Valarr blinks as the boy rolls on one of his ankles, looking away from his eye. He knows.
"He's not in trouble. She asks for him. She's worried, gods know why."
Valarr mutters that last bit, though Egg can hear it clear as day. He gathers his cousin doesn’t like Dunk all that much, which he supposes is fair given how Baelor has ended up at the end of the trial.
“How’s Uncle Baelor?”
Valarr takes in a quick inhale and Egg notices the tension growing on his cousins shoulders.
"Right," the boy mutters, head cast down. He supposes any wound like that is bound to kill anyone, so he shouldn't be surprised that his uncle has fallen-
"He lives. Thanks to her."
Eggs head whips up and his eyes sparkle as he takes in his words. He knew you would do good, he just knew it.
"Where is she? I want to see her."
Valarr steps in front of him, keeping him from moving.
"She's looking after my father. Where is your knight?"
Egg narrows his eyes at Valarr. He's noticed his fascination with you and the way he lingers around you, clings to you. He personally has his hat in the ring for Duncan and he's not above meddling.
"She's asking for him, not me, Egg."
Well, that changes things. Egg would rather like to see the two of you end up together, he could gain a brother and a very kind, motherly figure.
"He's by his camp, most like. A large-"
"Elm tree. I know the one."
Egg was not aware how or why his cousin, Heir to the Iron Throne would know where the elm tree was in a small meadow, and he was not in a position to ask. He only gives his cousin an odd look and walks away.
Valarr leaves the castle quietly, though a Kingsguard does follow him even if he wished to be alone. He makes the silent trek to the where the hedge knight lays. At your calling he finds he would do most anything.
Underneath the elm tree, Dunk sits forelorn as Lyonel pulls himself away from the large man to piss.
Lyonel staggers close to the stream and unveils himself as he curses and groans.
"And if not, well, fuck you, I'll hate you like a brother."
Dunk slumps lower, legs splayed out as Lyonel pisses just away from him.
"It's a fine offer, Lyonel," his broken shield lays next to him. A stark reminder of the damage that has been laid out, the lives taken and what it cost to be deemed innocent, "but all I do is bring pain and suffering to those around me."
Lyonel doesn't glance back as he responds, "you've done the realm a kindness. You'll see that one day."
He finishes as he tucks himself away, swiping his hand on his breeches, "the only good dragon is a dead dragon."
Dunks face pinches as he gives out a "fucking gods!"
Lyonel turns, confused as Dunk continues.
"Baelor fought for me. He gave his fucking life. Can you speak of him with a little respect, please?"
"Fuck that, and fuck you!"
Lyonel yells at the large man, finger pointed in anger.
"I fought for you. I- Hardyng, Beesbury, the fucking apple boy, we fought for you."
He waves and points his hand to punctuate the names of those who fought and died for Dunk. He points to himself then to Dunk as he continues.
"Your prince," he hisses the word out as if it offends him, "fought for you against men sworn to protect him. He risked nothing!"
He shakes his head as he feels his anger quell, eyes landing on Dunk, tired, exhausted.
"And the gods don't favor a fraud."
Dunk looks to Lyonel with a clenched jaw as his eyes search his face, looking for an answer he can't give himself.
"Then why have they favored me?"
Lyonel is about to respond to Dunk until Valarr walks into his camp, grass crunching beneath his boots.
"Gods know why you have been favored. Why she cares so much is beyond me."
Dunk startles at the prince's voice, Lyonel rolling his eyes as he takes another swig of whatever alcohol he has in that skin attached to his hip. Valarr pushes past the trees that cover the road to where Dunk's camp sits and he stands in front of the elm, in front of the man.
"Pri- Prince Valarr."
Dunk struggles to stand as Valarr watches with bored eyes. He reminds himself he's only here for you and for your peace of mind.
"My father is in dire straits, barely alive. Yet still he lives because of your healer, but all she asks for is you."
Even with one good eye, Dunk can see that the prince is none too happy with the words he speaks. He clenches his jaw as Valarr looks down on him. He feels somewhat elated to know you’re asking for him even with a prince at your hands. He wonders how you are, if you still smell faintly of lavender.
“You are to come to Lord Ashford’s castle. At her request.”
Dunks eye widens as he looks to Lyonel who only glowers at the young prince. He looks back to Valarr as he goes to stand, unsteady on his feet.
“Of course, your Grace and your father, is he…?”
He trails off uncertain of where he means to go. The last he saw of Baelor, he was pale and bloodied. Brain matter and shattered fragments of his skull on the ground. He’d just barely gotten a glimpse of the wound before you’d rushed to the castle. Even he knew a wound like that was difficult to come back from if at all possible.
“He lives. She is looking after him. Come, Ser Duncan.”
Dunk's eyes perk up only the slightest bit at news of Baelor living, even if it is slight as he follows Valarr back to the castle. On their way they get stopped by the friendly, yet cut up face of Raymun as he talks to Dunk. He only notices Valarr when he shifts and he has the decency to look at least a bit embarrassed.
“Your Grace, my greatest apologies for your father.”
Valarr gives Raymun a courtesy smile and thanks as Dunk gives him a sorry look. Dunk knows he doesn’t want to spend more time out of the castle than necessary, but he doesn’t have the heart to stop Raymun when he fought for him. There are onlookers who give Valarr a second glance, not expecting to see the newly named heir outside the castle. Much less with the man responsible for the death of his father. Word is being tight-lipped about his condition so all the people can do is speculate and with some seeing Baelors limp form being dragged to the castle, there is no good speculation to come out.
If Valarr feels any ire at having to wait he doesn’t show it. Ever the prince with his poise as he stands quietly, face impassive as Raymun’s newly appointed wife steps out of his small tent.
He looks away from the scene as Dunk awkwardly witnesses their displays of affection. His attention is brought back only when he sees House Targaryen knights come on horseback, calling for Duncan.
They look and see Valarr standing quietly as their eyes widen, bowing their heads to him.
"Prince Valarr, our apologies. Prince Maekar demands for Ser Duncan."
"We will be there."
The two head to the castle as Dunk first goes to talk with Maekar. He can see you after, once he has quelled whatever it is that Maekar urges of him.
They reach the castle. Valarr waits outside the doors as Dunk goes inside to see Maekar seated at a large table. The very same room Baelor once sat in when he suggested a trial by combat for Duncan.
"I'm sending Aerion to the East."
He grits his jaw as he stares down Duncan.
"A few years in the Free Cities may change him for the better."
Dunk stays silent as Maekar continues.
"Some men will say I meant to kill my brother. The gods know it is a lie, but I will hear the whispers till the day I die."
Dunk pinches his lips together as he blinks.
"You swung the mace, m'lord. But it was for me Prince Baelor has gotten injured."
Maekar clenches his jaw at his words. His brother, as far as he is concerned, teeters on the very edge of life or death.
"If I had not fought, you would have had my hand and foot. I sat under the tree this morning and I asked, could I have spared one?"
Dunk scoffs to himself, straining himself as he stands.
"I mean, how can a foot be worth a prince's life?"
"He still lives or do you lack faith in your healer."
Maekar glowers as he stands, limping on his unsteady leg.
"My youngest son seems to have grown fond of you, ser. It is time he was a squire. But he tells me he will serve no knight but you."
Maekar sits himself against a stone fire pit, letting his hand rest on his bent leg.
"He is an unruly boy, as you will have noticed."
"He's a good lad. Just needs a stern hand, that's all."
Maekar is pained as he asks his next words.
"Will you have him?"
"Me?"
"There is a place for you at Summerhall. You'll swear your sword to me, and Aegon can squire for you."
He lifts his head as Dunk finally turns to look at him.
"While you train him, my master-at-arms will finish your own training. Your Ser Arlan did all he could for you, I have no doubt. But you still have much to learn."
Dunk lets out a wet cough as he thinks on the prince's words. Eyes lowering to the floor while he sways. He eventually looks up at Maekar, face tight.
"I beg your pardon, m'lord, I do. But I think I'm done with princes."
Egg, from beyond the door, beyond Valarr's gaze, listens to his ser refuse him and casts his eyes down as he wanders away.
Dunk follows Valarr, limping with his stick to keep himself upright as they finally make it to Baelor's room. Valarr knocks before opening the door as you call out for whoever it is to come in.
"(Y/n)?"
You turn at the call of your name and your eyes widen as you drop your pencil and run to the large man who leans against a stick, throwing your arms around his neck as his arms go up and drop his makeshift cane.
"Dunk! Are you alright? No, of course your'e not," your hands come up and cradle his face as you look at his swollen eye, blackened and bruised, and scratched face, "I'm so sorry I couldn't stay with you. I'm so, so sorry."
His arms slowly lower and envelop your waist as you press yourself to him as close as you possibly can. He keeps down a grunt in pain, relishing in your touch as Valarr tries to keep his ire at bay. He clenches his jaw and turns away from the display you two show, instead clasping his hands in front of him and letting you two have your moment.
You drop your hands immediately and bring Dunk to sit, helping him take a much earned rest on his legs as he breathes sharply in pain.
"What hurts? Is it your side? Your leg?"
He says nothing, but his breathing grows ragged as you pull up his shirt and see that the stitches on his stomach are flush with blood. They were done hastily and the skin looks inflamed.
"Gods," you mutter as you grab a clean enough rag and dab at the blood, falling to your knees to get a better look. Dunk flushes for another reason as his good eye gets a look at you between his legs, looking up at him with pinched brows. He knows this isn’t the time nor place, but he can’t help the blood that rushes to his cock. Thankfully with his breeches rumpled, it’s not as noticeable.
Valarr noticed and scowls behind Dunk as he leaves the room briefly.
“Did they even clean this?”
“The maester used wine,” Dunk rumbles out as his brows pinch together in pain.
“Wine?!”
Your eyes fly open in worry as Dunk groans. Valarr walks back into the room, having stepped out for unknown reasons and come back with a hand to your shoulder.
“I had Lord Ashford prepare a room for you, you may take Ser Duncan there.”
Immediately, you rise and cover Dunk’s wound as you bring him to the room.
“Which room?”
You keep a hand around his waist as Valarr leads you to the room directly next to Baelor’s. You kick open the door as you bring Dunk in and lay him down on the bed.
You run to Baelor's room to grab your necessities. You grab the scissors, catgut and your needle, your bottle of poppy sap and disinfectant and two clean rags.
You run back into your newly appointed room and splash some disinfectant onto a rag. You lift Dunk's tunic as you lay the rag on his wound as he hisses at the sting.
"I'll fix this, I'll make it right. I promise."
You open the bottle of poppy sap as you place your hand under his chin.
"This won't taste good, but it will help distract you from the pain."
He lowers his jaw as you drop more than a few drops onto his tongue as his face pinches at the bitter taste. You smooth his hair as you wait for around fifteen minutes for the sap to finally kick in. Once Dunk's face relaxes and his breathing evens out that's when you know you can finally begin with removing his stitches.
Valarr watches as you wipe his wound and use the scissors to cut them out. You also take the time to use the only clean portion left on the rag to saturate it with your disinfectant and clean the needle before you do anything with it.
"Should you not be tending to my father?"
It's phrased as a question and he tries to hide any jealousy he may feel as you take out the twine used to suture Dunk's wound closed.
"He's asleep. He should be out for the next hour at least. I gave him enough poppy sap to render him unconscious."
You use the rag to wipe at Dunk's wound, disinfecting the inside as you push the rag into the wound itself to soak up any blood. You slowly pull it out, noting his face for any signs of pain. When you find none you start to stitch his wound closed, one stitch at a time.
You take your time as you close his wound through one muscle layer at a time. It takes you longer than you would have liked, but you do finally close his wound and soak the other rag you'd brought with more disinfectant and clean his wound once more.
You leave his tunic up as you wipe the sweat off your brow. His wound is still a little inflamed, once he wakes up you'll have to have him drink lemongrass.
"There. I cleaned it out as best as I could, for now he just needs to wake up so I can make him tea."
Valarr watches as you stand and stretch, hair now frizzy with your sweat and your eyes gaining faint under bags. Despite this he still can't help but find you beautiful. He clears his throat as he looks at you.
"So, we wait then?"
"Yes. All we can do is wait. Both for him and your father."
You walk back to Baelor's room as the prince follows close behind. Happy to leave the hedge knight.
Brilliant movie and its theme of how not being true to yourself can have disastrous impacts and how parasocialism is awful and can evolve into horrifying circumstances but like massive trigger warnings if you ever watch it cause I was not at all aware of what was in the movie
Does anyone know why some blogs don’t get tagged when you @ them??? I feel really bad for the people who ask me to tag them in my works but for whatever reason tumblr won’t let me?
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You will literally never be able to be 100% sure whether a fic was written with AI unless you have some kind of actual evidence that the author used AI. And no, “the prose feels repetitive,” “they use too many em dashes,” “this sentence sounds too polished,” or “I ran it through an AI detector and it said 87%” are not evidence.
AI detectors are notoriously unreliable. Human writing is repetitive. Humans have writing quirks. Humans reuse sentence structures, have favorite words, overuse punctuation, write in a certain rhythm, and sometimes produce prose that sounds “too polished” or “too generic.” None of those things magically become proof of AI usage.
The writing witch hunts happening in fandom are fucking deranged. Some of you are reading a fic you don't like, deciding that something about the prose feels “off,” and then treating that gut feeling like you're conducting a forensic investigation. You're dissecting someone's punctuation, analyzing word choices, running paragraphs through AI detectors, and then publicly accusing them of cheating because an algorithm gave you a percentage.
Do you understand how insane that sounds?
If you genuinely have evidence that someone used AI, that's one thing. If an author admits it, you find AI-generated material in their drafts like the prompt, a chatbot, or there's some other concrete evidence, then obviously you're allowed to criticize that.
But “I don't like their writing style” is not evidence.
“Why do they use em dashes so much?” is not evidence.
“They suddenly got better at writing” is not evidence.
"There are too many repetitions" is not evidence
“This sentence sounds like ChatGPT” is not evidence.
And once you've publicly accused someone, you can't just shrug and say “well, I could be wrong 🥺” after potentially destroying their reputation. You're making an allegation about a real person based on a fucking vibe.
The irony is that people claim they're trying to protect human writers while simultaneously making it completely miserable for human writers to write in the first place. Because apparently you're not allowed to have a recognizable writing style, repeat a phrase, use certain punctuation, improve over time, write quickly, write slowly without someone deciding you've secretly employed an AI ghostwriter.
Writing is not a crime scene.
Sometimes a fic is just a fic. Sometimes the author has a particular style. Sometimes they edit their work. Sometimes they use the same words too often. Sometimes they have a weird obsession with em dashes.
If your only “evidence” is that the writing feels AI-generated to you, keep it to yourself. You are not Sherlock Holmes. You are reading fanfiction.
Summary: Daughter of Aphrodite and Bruce Wayne one would think your life would be one of wonder and love, but after an attack on your field trip leads to you finding a real home at Camp Half Blood you’re reluctant to return to that same city you’d left behind for nearly 3 years.
Word Count: 5,239
Masterlist
Tags: cursing, violence, let me know if I missed any!
A tense second of silence permeates the air as Clarisse and Robin look at you and watch your face fall at the letter your mother sent for you.
“(Y/n),” Clarisse starts, but you’re already starting to spiral.
“This can’t be true right? Our parents shouldn’t know who the children of prophecy are, right?”
Your eyes are filled with worry. You’ve heard about children of prophecy. Always in danger, even more so if it’s a major prophecy and they almost never live past the age of fifteen. It’s rare, so rare that no one ever wants to be the child of a major prophecy. Hell, you know a lot of campers that don't want to be a part of any prophecy!
Percy is a child of prophecy, or he’s rumored to be, and you don't even know if he's going to make it to sixteen, he has a year or two left before he could die. You never know!
You're clutching the letter in your hand and scrubbing your face with the other, descending down a rabbit hole of what ifs. What if you are the child of prophecy? What if you die before you hit sixteen? What if you die before you even get back to camp now? What if you never see your family again? What if-
Clarisse is the one who breaks you out of the descent, pulling your arms away from your face and shaking you slightly.
"Stop, don't do that to yourself. We don't know if you're the child of Prophecy. You could be, sure, even if you're not, I won't let you die. Me or Robin," Clarisse keeps a stern look on her face as she looks in your eyes.
"Right, you have us and we're not letting anything happen to you!"
Robin smiles at you as you raise your eyes to them, shaking slightly.
"Okay, okay, yeah, we don't know for sure. I can, I can live with that for now."
Clarisse slowly lowers your arms, watching your face for any sign of you falling down another rabbit hole or spiraling any further.
You breathe in deep before letting out a shuttering breath. You can feel your heart starts to stutter back into a normal rhythm, anxiety quelled, for now.
"Let's just focus on getting Herme's favor over with."
You nod your head firmly, as Robin gives a shrug of their shoulders.
"What do you think the favor from Hermes is anyway?"
Clarisse lifts her spear and twirls it around, thinking deeply.
"Whatever it is, we'll figure it out, we have that horn from the bull and the ring, maybe they’re connected?"
Robin snaps their fingers and motions to the bag.
"What?"
"The bag!"
You toss Robin the bag as they rifle through it and eventually pull out a paper, it's rumpled and worn, but has a stamp on the top right corner of a caduceus.
They smooth out the paper on the wall by rubbing it across the flat end and read out loud.
"'Hey! Congrats demigods, I wasn't sure if you would find this paper, you can thank the snakes for the note. I'm sure you're bright, but just in case you haven't figured it out: that ring needs to be given to a dear friend of mine, someone you know well. Make your way to the Empire. Also keep an eye out for any monsters out there and for dear old Perseus. Tata! -Best god ever.'"
Clarisse looks gob smacked, you just narrow your eyes as you look around for a camera, while Robin just rereads the paper.
"Are we a delivery service? What the fuck does he mean a dear friend? He's friends with all the gods?!"
You just slump down with your head in your hands.
"Hermes...what the fuck man."
-kj,
Bruce finds a spot to park the Batmobile from prying eyes and stalks through the alleys, using Tims last coordinates sent to locate the last location you were. Eventually, he finds the alley that the three of you are camping in thanks to the sound of Clarisse complaining and grumbling.
He quickly scales the apartments next to you and waits for the right time to talk to you. He doesn't even know what he's going to say. How does he approach his daughter that he apparently knows nothing about?
He's thinking this over as he listens in on the conversation you're now having with the two other kids with you. You’re slumped against the wall inspecting your spear, while the taller of the three of you drinks from a bottle of water. The other kid with you just cleans their own blade as they listen to you talk.
"Okay so to recap: give the ring to someone close to Hermes, go to the 'Empire,'” you put the word empire in quotes with your fingers, " and beware of Perseus? Whatever that means and avoid monsters as best as we can. Perfect plan, really appreciate that."
Clarisse grumbles from her corner of the alley, she shucks on the bag and tilts her head for the two of you to follow. You and Robin follow her along as Bruce trails after silently.
"Well, the only Perseus we know is Percy, so that's one of them done, probably. The Empire could be the Empire State Building so we're going in the right direction. The only thing we really need to worry about is who Hermes friend is," you twirl your spear, now back in pen form, in your hand as you move forward.
Nighttime rolls on as the three of you walk until Clarisse thinks back on the letter your mom sent you.
"Hey, (Y/n), about that letter..."
You glance at Clarisse with a lifted brow.
"What about it?"
"You already knew demigods don't typically live long right?"
You’re quiet as Robin glances at your face, its dark, your mouth is pinched and your brows are furrowed.
"Yeah, I already knew," you mutter back.
Clarisse pinches her brows together, "do they know?”
She stops between another alley, this one a little cleaner than the last as she opens the bag and passes the water bottle to Robin and you pull your shirt forward to wipe your face. You already know who she's referring to when she says 'they' and your face falls into a solemn expression.
“No, I don’t plan on ever telling them,” you mutter as your eyebrows furrow as you click open the pen and clean your spear.
“Don’t you think Duke and Alfred at least deserve to know?”
“It’s not the right time. Besides, it’s not like I ever plan on going back anyway, it’s better they don’t know.”
Robin and Clarisse throw each other a look, not really agreeing on your decision but it’s yours to make not theirs.
“(Y/n).”
Clarisse calls you, you turn to her and you can already see the argument in her eyes.
You breathe out your nose, "you know what it’s like to tell your parent, your family that you won’t live long as a demigod, Clarisse. I don’t want them to worry.”
“Should you die and they don’t find out, it would devastate them, and if you’re a child of prophecy-”
“Then I’m most likely to die already, I know, I just-” you pull at your hair, hard, “how do I tell them I’m most likely going to die before I turn sixteen? How do you even bring that up?”
Bruce's heart plummets at your words. From what Diana said, he knew that demigods don't live long, but to think that you, his own daughter could possibly die? He wouldn't accept that. He continues to watch you three from above the alley, eyes locked onto you specifically. 'A child of prophecy?' He should have asked Diana more questions instead of just rushing off, but he can't risk you seeing him. Not yet.
Unknown that he's listening, you just continue on with your conversation. Clarisse is the next one to speak while Bruce crouches low.
“There’s never a good way to tell them, you just do it. You may not like them, but they are still family, and they deserve to know.”
Robin twirls their blade in hand as they turn to you.
"Duke and Alfred at the very least deserve to know. Alfred is basically your grandfather, and Duke is your older brother. You should tell them at least."
You sigh as you pull harshly on your hair once more, biting the skin on your lip as you think hard on it. You should tell them, you know you should, but how would you even bring it up? Plus, it's not like you have any way to be able to call one of them.
"How? How do I tell them? Do I just go up to the mansion doors, knock and call out: 'Hey, everyone who I haven't nor wanted to talk to for the last two years, save two of you! I could die at any moment before I turn sixteen, okay bye, I'll just leave you all to grapple with that as I fuck off back to a camp that doesn't exist to normal people!' Like come on be realistic."
Robin purses their lips and just give Clarisse a disbelieving look. Clarisse for her credit just scoffs and shakes her head.
"Obviously not that, but yes, kind of. Maybe write a letter? We could probably have one of Hermes kids get the letter sent so that you can be at camp and not worry about having to face them."
You nod your head as you think. Yeah, that could work. From the comfort of camp, you could send a letter.
"Okay, I can work with that. Alfred is like a thousand years old, he's probably fine if I send a letter."
From up above Bruce falters in his stepping and a stone falls from the ledge and hits a garbage lid. Immediately, the three of you jump to action. Clarisse's spear charges with electricity, Robin holds their blade out and in front of them, and you hold your spear up and hit your bracelet, shield opening as you hold it in front of your body.
-
Bruce sighs from above and uses a grappling hook to lower himself from the top of the apartment and brings himself in front of the three of you.
Everyone is quiet while you four have a stare off. No one says anything before you hold your spear in front of Clarisse and Robin to stop them from rushing forward.
"Son of a bitch, false alarm, it's just this guy."
Bruce says nothing at first before he finally says one word.
"(Y/n)."
Clarisse makes a disgusted face as she stands up straight, spear still clenched in her hand.
"What the fuck. How do you know her name?”
"Language."
He's already set in 'dad mode' just in seeing you. He blinks and he sees not just you now, but you when you first came to the manor as a baby, you as a four-year-old running around the manor. It's hard on him and he's not sure how to really go about not confronting you but approaching you is the word he would like to use.
"Who the hell is that?"
"That would be the Batman," you grumble out as you awkwardly stand in front of your two very hostile friends to keep them from mauling your dad.
"'The Batman?'"
Robin mumbles as their grip on their blade grows tenser. Clarisse just glares at the large man as he stands near the opening of the alley, and with the other end of the alley being fenced off, he boxes the three of you in.
"What the hell is a Batman?"
You sigh as you hit the center of your shield and minimize it back into the rose bracelet and click your spear back into a pen. Clarisse and Robin cast you a glance before warily lowering their weapons, not taking their eyes off of Bruce who still stands in front of the three of you.
"Batman is the protector of Gotham, who shouldn't," you throw a glare at Bruce with your arms crossed across your chest, "be here."
Bruce stares down at you with a faded look in his eye. He can't believe he's seeing you after two long years. Your hair has grown, your features are sharper, but you're still his little girl that he had let slip through his fingers when he should have been keeping watch over you.
"You're father wants you to come home, you're not safe out here."
You just scoff at his words, brows furrowing.
"I'm not going home, and my father, really? I know, Bruce. Y’know at first I thought you were a vampire, but this,” you gesture to his entire being, “makes more sense.”
Bruce doesn't say anything or move at first. Tense silence before he shuffles forward just the smallest bit.
"I don't know what you're talking about, but we should be getting you home-"
"This is so fucked. The mansion isn't my home and I’m not going back I have a quest to finish.”
Bruce steps forward, your shoulders tense as Clarisse moves to step in front of you and Robin moves to your side.
“Yeah, we’re not letting you take her anywhere.”
Bruce clenches his jaw. He isn’t sure how to breech this, clearly home is a sensitive topic and he knows that he really wasn’t there for you, but you're not safe out here.
“The mansion is your home and it’s safe, you need to come with me.”
Your eyes flash with anger and your temper flares. No, he doesn’t get to do this. You jab your finger out at him as you seethe.
“It's never been my home, and you've never been my father. You're just- just a shadow that creeps around. Not once have you been there for me. You don't go to my school plays, you don't show up to parent teacher conference's. But, oh, you know what you actually do? You creep around at night to watch over the citizens of Gotham and fight the fucking Joker when you could just kill him and be done with one of the biggest problems in Gotham! But no, you're a coward. A fucking coward, Bruce."
By the end of your speech you're huffing heavily as Bruce stands there, jaw clenched as you blink tears away from your eyes. You bring your finger up and jab it at his chest, teeth bared as you look into his cowl covered eyes.
"You never showed up for me, what makes you think I want you to show up for me now?"
"You could be killed,” his voice, though gruff, breaks in such a subtle way that you wouldn’t have even caught it if you weren’t as close to him as you were.
You just roll your eyes and scoff as your heart thumps, and you make eye contact with Clarisse and Robin who uncomfortably watch you yell at the giant of a man in a bat costume of all things.
“Whatever, I have a quest to finish, go home, Bruce.”
His body tenses at the words, the use of his name and his muscles clench in his legs, pulling in his calves as he can feel his body move against his will. His eyes glaze over and his mind goes foggy, what was he doing again? He was in New York, he was in Manhattan, right? You all watch as he shoots his grappling hook out and pulls himself out of view.
You bring a hand to wipe the tears away from your eyes as you sniff and shake off the lingering anger.
“Fucking sicko, piece of shit dad, even Zeus is better.”
You inhale deeply before turning to the other two.
“Let’s go, we have a quest to finish.”
-
Bruce arrives at the Batmobile in a fog. His arms and legs move on autopilot, merely mimicking the movements he normally would perform. Speeding through the streets of Manhattan, Bruce can't even think, he's just there. Acting with no thought.
Wait, he was doing something. He was looking for someone. Who was he looking for?
His hands on the wheel twitch. His foot shifts lightly. He was looking for someone. He was looking for…
-
Clarisse and Robin walk behind you as you lead them to where the Empire State Building is. It’s quiet and highly awkward.
“So…”
Robin is the first to try and break the silence, lazily swinging their blade, wrists rotating as the light of the day starts to break through.
“That was tense. Mind explaining who the hell that was?”
You turn your head back before looking forward again, shoulders curling in.
“That was my dad.”
“That was your dad? Do you want to elaborate?”
“Not really.”
You grip the pen tightly, thumb itching to pop the cap off.
“What is there to say, he’s a shit dad, but he’s good at being Batman. That’s the only credit I’ll give him.”
Clarisse clenches her jaw as she moves to walk beside you.
“So, you’re telling me that Bruce Wayne-”
“Yup.”
Her face grows bewildered.
“And the robins are?”
“Yuuuuup,” you stop at the sidewalk, looking both ways before crossing as Robin and Clarisse walk behind you.
“Then the guy following us back at the hotel?”
“Robin, Red Robin to be more specific.”
Robin is the one to chime in this time, blade now tucked into the belt on their waist.
“And the weirdos in spandex that were behind the wall when we were fighting the bull were?”
“My other siblings,” you grumble out, now irritated at the conversation.
“Is everyone in your freak of a family a vigilante?!”
You shush Robin as you look around, thankfully there aren’t many people walking the street that you’re on.
“I get it’s a shock, but I’d still rather keep it under wraps.”
You stop suddenly, grip tightening on the capped pen. The Empire State Building stands tall, windows gleaming and illuminated by the rising sun as people walk around the three of you. You get some strange looks, but are ultimately ignored. There’s been weirder things that have happened in New York.
"Alright, so the note said to keep an eye out for monsters and for Perseus, what do we do now?"
Clarisse grumbles as the three of you stand outside the Empire State Building. Robin leans against the building while you crouch down and re-read the note Hermes left for the three of you.
"'Ring needs to be given to a dear friend, beware monsters and Perseus,'" you mumble repeatedly.
"Perseus, Perseus? Per-see-us."
"Saying it repeatedly isn't going to reveal anything," Clarisse says as she spins her spear. You roll your eyes at her words as your eyes go back to the note.
"Well, there's only one Perseus in this century and that's Percy, so are we supposed to be meeting him here? That's the only reason why I can think of that we have to be here."
Clarisse looks around as you say this, eyes narrowed.
"He's on that quest for the labyrinth right? One of the entry points is here in New York so we might see him, we should just wait here until we get tired."
"Wait until we get tired? How unlike you Clarisse, I would have thought you'd want to avoid him."
She throws you a half-hearted glare. True, her distaste of Percy has been clear from the beginning, but she wants to get this quest done with and if he is unfortunately a part of that she can't argue against it.
"Look, seaweed brain might be a part of this so I just have to-"
"(Y/n)?"
At the call of your name you stand up and shrug the bag behind you and hold it on your shoulder. There in front of you is Percy, Annabeth, Grover, and Tyson.
"Tyson!"
The cyclops runs towards you as you open your arms and let him grab you and spin you in a hug. You laugh happily as he keeps you in his arms and sways back and forth as Annabeth tries to grab you from out of his hold.
Clarisse just grumbles while Robin waves at the other three over her shoulder.
"Great now all of them are here."
Percy sticks his tongue out at her as Tyson lets you down and you greet the other three. Unknown to your two groups, the camera just above Robin zooms in on your group and your form as you talk excitedly with Annabeth.
-
Bruce's hands are still on the wheel as he drives back to Gotham, Batmobile swerving between other cars as his mind still fogs over. His left foot is shaking as his mind tries to break free from the fog that keeps his movements automatic.
The sun is up and Bruce Wayne needs to be back in Gotham to maintain his image, but he can't shake that he's missing something. Blurry images of a child invade his mind.
A child.
A child.
He was looking for a child. But why? It's something he would do, but it's something about this specific child that he was looking for them.
Blurred hair curling into hearts at the end. A missing tooth. News outlet flashing about a missing Wayne.
You.
His foot slams on the break as his mind finally clears the fog that had gripped him. Cars honk at him as he resumes his speeding, fully intent on turning around and going back to Manhattan for you. He itches to turn the wheel and u-turn back for you when a call goes through the screen on the Batmobile.
He presses the button blindly.
"B? We found her. You need to get here, as soon as you can."
Bruce hangs up before Tim can get another word in. He presses on the gas to get home as fast as he can. With his mind clear he can finally focus on his mission. He found you. You were older now, less baby fat on your cheeks and your hair was longer. You also had scars, so many scars on your arms. So much had changed in you in just two years.
He needed to talk to Diana on just what goes on in that camp. On why his daughter, his baby, has as many scars as he did.
His hands tighten on the wheel as he gets closer to the mansion and to The Cave.
Whatever Tim found better be worth it if he's leaving you in Manhattan.
-
The Batmobile enters The Cave with a growl as Bruce jumps out of his seat and runs to where Tim sits in front of the computer.
"Where is she?"
Tim jumps as Jason looks up from where he was cleaning his bike.
"How did you get here so fast?"
"Where. Is. She?"
Bruce leans on the desk littered with notes, an empty coffee mug and multiple pens and pencils. Tim raises his brows and turns back to the computer and pulls up the live camera feed.
On the monitor for the cave to see is you chatting with a blonde girl, two boys and the same two people you were traveling with that went against that mechanical bull.
Bruce watches with rapt attention as one of his fingers thrums on the desk repeatedly. Tims eyes flit to it as he looks at Bruce's face next. His jaw is clenched and the muscles show, he's almost worried he might crack a molar.
"Hey, B, when was the last time you slept?"
Duke walks down the steps from the study at the same time Tim asks with a cup of coffee in hand that he takes a sip from before making a face.
"Sounds rich coming from you- oh shit is Bruce back already?"
Bruce pushes away from the desk as he stalks back to the Batmobile only for Jason to stop him as the older man frowns at him.
"Move."
"Let me guess: she didn't want to hear it?"
Bruce gently, as gently as a man of his size could, moves Jason to the side only for Dick to grab him next.
"You should take a breather, B."
Bruce pushes Dick off him, only for Dick to move higher and sit on his shoulders with his legs wrapped around his neck.
"I'm serious B, she didn't want to see you, and let me guess your brain went fuzzy after a while?"
At those words, Bruce halts his movement as Duke and Tim share a look.
"How did you know that?"
"Same thing happened to us," he moves his head so that he's looking upside down at Bruce, frown lines and grief clear on the older mans face.
"We found her, we can keep an eye on her and track her from here. Get some rest, talk to Diana or Clark or something."
Bruce's frown grows deeper as Dick tightens his hold on Bruce.
"We need to get a plan to bring her back, not try to force her."
Duke leans over Tim's shoulder as they both watch the screen showing you moving with much more excitement than they've ever seen from you.
"Wait zoom in... right," he squints his eyes, "there!"
Tim zooms in on the boy talking with you, he's pointing enthusiastically behind him and motioning with his hands as he speaks.
Duke watches his, eyebrows scrunched together as he looks carefully at the boy.
"Tim, is there any way you can make the image clearer?"
Tim looks almost offended at the question as he messes with some of the graphics and he throws an offhand comment on his ability with technology as Duke puts his hands up in mock surrender.
"'Can I make the image clearer?' Who do you think you're talking to?"
The image gets clearer as Duke takes another good look at the boy's face.
"That's him, that's Percy Jackson, she knows him-"
"Our little sister knows a terrorist?"
"Jason isn't too far off from that to be fair."
Jason yells in the background at how he at least didn't set a classroom on fire.
"Whatever, man, but yes she knows him, she was defending him. Whatever it is that she's involved in, demi-god or whatever you want to call it, she knows him and they're close enough to be friends at most."
Tim sits back as the group watches you chat excitedly with Percy and whatever group came with him. You look so happy to be talking to them. When was the last time they ever saw you that happy?
"Okay, so to recap: when you speak to her and you say something she doesn't like your mind goes blank and you show up somewhere else, she knows a terrorist and the god Hermes, and she's in Manhattan."
"That about sums it up."
Tim juts his lip out as steals a sip from Duke's coffee with the other man letting out a "come on man, I asked if you wanted some!"
"Have we tried having Diana go to her? She might take to her nicer since she's y'know, also a demigod?"
Bruce, from where he was forced to sit, looks up as everyone turns to look at him.
"I... hadn't thought of that."
Jason laughs in Bruce's face as Dick hits him in the arm.
"Jaybird, dude, come on."
"He didn't fucking think of that first?"
Dick sighs as Jason kneels over to catch his breath while Tim and Duke ignore them in favor of watching the monitor.
"Wait, this is weird."
The bigger kid, easily six feet tall, towers over the others as he keeps a hold on your shirt and plays with the ends of your hair, pulling it and letting it go as it curls back into hearts. Running a facial scan doesn't bring up the kid at all, it's like he doesn't exist.
"There's nothing on this kid and for Percy," Tim blows his cheeks out as his eyebrows fly up, "what hasn't he done? Grand theft auto, blowing up a national monument, numerous bouts of vandalism, trespassing in numerous amounts, he was even a part of a kidnapping."
Tim scrolls even further.
"Assault and battery, violent physical assaults and manslaughter? And she knows this kid?"
Duke nods with his arms folded.
"Said he was a good friend, I mean look at her she looks ecstatic to see him," he tilts his head up at the monitor as you give said dark haired boy a hug and pull at his hair.
"We need to get him away from her."
Duke nods as Jason looks up at the monitor, finally calmed down from his laughing fit as Bruce does all but sulk on his phone as he messages Diana.
"To be fair, demon spawn has also done most of those things."
Tim scoffs as he leans back in his chair.
"This kid is dangerous, we need to keep an eye on him."
They look to the monitor as Percy mimics some fighting to your amusement.
-
You laugh at Percy's mocking fighting as Annabeth and Grover roll their eyes. You perk up as you fish out the note from the back and bring it in front of you.
"Can you make any sense of what this note means?"
Annabeth grabs the note and scrunches her brows as Grover reads from over her shoulder.
"A dear friend?"
She puts a hand to her chin as she thinks before snapping her fingers and points at you with clarity on her face.
"Mr. D. Hermes and Dionysus have always been friends, even since myth. It's the only thing that makes sense."
Percy shudders as you shake Annabeth back and forth.
"The thought of Mr. D with a ring of invisibility is disturbing. Are we sure he's who you need to bring it to?"
Annabeth gives him a disbelieving look as he only throws his arms up in surrender. When she turns away he gives her a slow grin, always the wise girl.
You smile at Annabeth as you put the note away and throw Clarisse and Robin a grin.
"We can head home now."
Clarisse throws her head back as Robin holds a fist up in triumph.
"Finally, I'm getting tired of running into your family."
Percy gives you a look at that as you just wave him off and mouth a "later" to him. He shrugs as he motions for Grover, Annabeth, and Tyson to follow him into the Empire State Building.
"Glad we could help you, we gotta get back to our quest. Good luck, don't die!"
He waves at you as their group enter the building as you wave back and turn away.
"All right, let's head home."
-
Bruce looks at his phone while his kids talk logistics about what to do regarding you knowing a terrorist. A knot forms in his stomach as he looks at Diana's contact information.
He knows this is probably the best way for him to get you back, the smart choice even, but he can't help but feel that he failed if he can't even bring his own daughter back home.
With a sigh, he hits call and waits for her to pick up her phone. Already regretting his decision at the third ring until finally the phone is picked up.
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Not trying to rush you or anything but I've been wondering when you would work in the BatFam x PJO reader again. :< I love your writing and I've been reading all your other works too, but I just kinda miss that series
Hey friend!!!! Not rushing at all I honestly lost steam for it but I’ve been slowly adding to it so I will be posting some time soon ish it’s just a matter of hitting a point where I feel like it’s not slop at this point!
