#lizziewrites

—𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

Dany was used to pain, she had experienced much of it during her short life. Something that caused her great sorrow, for she was only a young girl, innocent once, when the pain began. And no longer innocent when it stopped. If it ever did stop.

But never had pain been as rewarding as the one she felt during childbirth. The agony she was put through, the agony Jon, by her side, felt, was rewarded the moment the midwives placed her child in her arms.

Her daughter had come to this world crying and screaming, kicking like a goat, strong, alive. Breathing. Unlike her Rhaego. Her little girl was alive and well.

And after feeding she had quietened, but still, she breathed.

"She takes after you, Dany" Jon whispered, as if he was afraid the slightest of sounds would perturb their daughter "She's so beautiful"

With careful movements, Jon stroked their baby's cheek. So careful, so frightened he might hurt her.

"Do you wish to hold her?" she asked in an equally quiet tone.

"I..."

"You will not harm her" Dany reassured him, yet it had been him who treated most often with babies. Before, at least "Take her"

He sat on the bed, next to Dany, and with a curt nod, she proceeded to place their daughter in his arms. His grey eyes filled with tears at the slightest of noises their child made. Dany carefully wiped them with her fingers so they would not disturb their baby. Her head fell against his shoulder.

Jon smiled.

"I was afraid of this once"

"As was I. But she is here now"

The baby protested, stirring, making her parents laugh.

"And she wants to be heard" Jon chuckled, head falling to the side, to gently rest against hers "Rhaella, was it not?"

Rhaella or Lyanna?

"It matters not now" she whispered.

They fell quiet, the three of them, silently enjoying the warmth of the others. The comfort. The feeling of being home. Something she had not felt in years, until Jon.

"I love you, Dany. I could not do without you"

Her own vision began to blurry with unshed tears.

"Neither could I, without you, not anymore"

—𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐓𝐇

In the past, Lyanna had never wished to finish her rides, to return to Winterfell. For Winterfell, much that she loved it, was constricting. A cage. Not the walls nor the keep in itself, but who ruled it. Who ruled her.

Or used to.

Much had changed since then, even if not much time had passed. Now, Lyanna walked through the halls of the Red Keep with more confidence that she once had. Surer of her place there. Of her new life.

"Mama!" a loud voice called for her once she had entered the nursery.

A smile formed in her face the moment she heard him, her little boy. Aemon stretched his arms towards her, opening and closing his little fists in a way of demanding to be held. Lyanna all but ran to him, picking him up from the carpet where he had been so decisively playing with his toys, and pressing him carefully against her body.

"Hello, my little love" little Aemon stared at her with a toothless smile and wide grey eyes that were a mirror of hers "Did you missed me?"

"I certainly did" Lyanna turned, a grin still gracing her face, to see Rhaegar approaching at a slow pace. He was fairly calm, she noted, his face did not bear the stress it usually did. Mayhaps there were fewer responsibilities today "Zoklītsos"

He bent his head to kiss her, softly, slowly, as a warm welcome. Aemon protested, making a slight and incomprehensible noise that made them separate a bit.

"What is it, Aemon?" Lyanna asked in a teasing tone "Do you not want Kepa around?"

Rhaegar placed a hand over his heart, in mock offense.

"Now, Aemon, you wound me"

Aemon, once again, stretched his arms, asking to be held by his father this time. Rhaegar did so, holding him against his chest. There was no sweeter sight, nor one who would warm her heart as much.

Lyanna rested her head against her love's shoulder, listening to their son babble about something that mightily interested him.

—𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

Buffy pressed the gauze against the open wound. Spike moved, hissing the moment the alcohol touched his flesh.

So sensitive for a vampire, she thought amused.

"Ouch" he complained.

"Sorry" Buffy smiled apologetic. She didn't want him to be in pain, but the wound needed treating "Stop moving, you—"

"You don't have to do this, pet" Spike tried to sit straight on the couch "Really, I'm—"

Buffy did not relent.

"Stop it, this wound looks bad you need—"

His hand wrapped around her own. It was warm, no, that wasn't right, he was a vampire. She was warm. Too warm, maybe. Her face did feel on fire.

"Blood. I need blood" he finished for her, though that was not what she wanted to say "I am a vampire, there's no wound a little blood can't heal. Well, except a stake to the heart. Can't heal if I'm dust"

Buffy chuckled, eyes moving to where their hands were joined. To where his hand was still wrapped around hers.

"But maybe you'll heal faster with help"

Spike just smirked.

"Well, far be it from me to stop you, Buffy"

She smiled back. He said her name more, lately. He didn't call her "Slayer" as much as he used to. The change was unexpected, to say the least, but not unwelcomed.

"You never could"

"No one can" there was a glint of something in his blue eyes, something that a few years back would have had her giggling.

If only....

He had comforted her so many times before. And she hadn't. Not really. Why hadn't she?

"Is that a good thing?" Spike squeezed her hand gently.

"Don't doubt yourself"

Buffy thought she could feel her heart beating on her throat.

"I'll get you some blood" he still didn't let go of her hand.

"You don't have to" she still didn't want him to.

Baby we can talk all night / But that ain't getting us nowhere / I told you everything I possibly can / There's nothing left inside of here

Eyes of chocolate brown and a smile that made my heart pound in my chest. Thinking of your smile still elicits warmth. A memory of playing cards with you at the kitchen table. The delightful giddiness I felt as I watched a blush creep down your neck when someone snapped a picture. My first lanky boy. My first kiss.

He lept over the terrace railing and onto the ground below, running toward the falling form as fast as he could. It was too late though, the shining orb crashed to the cement pavement before him, millimeters from his outstretched hand.

“GOD DAMMIT!” he bellowed, startling pedestrians. A whirring sound emitted and rewinded the tape. Joshua Parker glared at the suited figure, who kept rewinding those fatal moments. His partner glared daggers into his head, cold, crystal green eyes sat fixated on his right temple. Heels clicked on the linoleum floor of the federal interrogation room. The agent, finished repeating those moments turned and left the room, leaving the couple alone and a waving form of the paused orb, literally grazing Joshua’s hands. Once the door clicked, his partner exploded.

“So, LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT! You LITERALLY held the FATE of ALL HUMANKIND and YOU DROPPED IT?!” She screamed. With red hair matching, the fiery anger running through Scarlet’s veins would literally cause Hades to shy away in fear.

“Yes, Scar, yes! I dropped it. That piece of shit is so damn slippery, matched with wet floors, FBI agents and ridiculous jumps, I’m surprised that I was even able to SURVIVE!” Joshua yelled. Both stood, glaring. A small click sounded, and both whirled around to face the agents.

she closed her eyes.

"fuck!" 

indulgent. ladies weren’t supposed to swear; she certainly knew that. but…there were some occasions that called for it.

she swallowed, hard, and stood up. put her coat on, and her shoes. her hands were shaking.

(stupid! you stupid, stupid girl! you had everything, and now where are you? and all for that boy. was it worth it, making her angry? making her walk out on you?)

she put her hands over her ears. out. she had to get out. 

she raised her chin, picked up her bag, and walked briskly out of the apartment and down the stairs to the street. outside,  it was cold, the city sky dreary and the pavement crunchy with snow. she turned left off of forty-second street, towards the small coffee shop she used to frequent.

"galinda."

she turned, almost to the door.

loose black hair, lumpy gray hat, too- large navy coat- she didn’t look like much, not now, not after that hell of a weekend. she stuck her hands in her pocket and looked down at the pavement.