AKOTSK men reactions to their partner bringing in an injured animal, and nursing it back to health. Reader is taking a stroll, and comes across the injured animal and immediately takes it to see the measter.
Akotsk men when you bring home an injured animal
so cute, thank you for the req anon! also guys i just realized apparently i need to fill up the tags to the max so i reach more people?? i did not know that
hcs of aerion, daeron, duncan, valarr
Aerion - You had wanted to go foraging. Aerion insisted on coming, not because he enjoyed tramping through the woods, but because you had a habit of wandering off and getting lost. He wasn't going to admit he worried. He just said he needed fresh air.
You found the raven at the base of a twisted oak. Its wing was bent, its feathers matted with blood. It let out a weak croak when you knelt beside it.
"Aerion, look."
He looked. His nose wrinkled. Gross. In his opinion.
"It's probably diseased. Don't touch it."
"I'm already touching it."
"Of course you are." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Put it down. We'll find a healthy bird somewhere else."
"It's hurt. I'm not leaving it."
He watched as you carefully scooped the raven into your shawl. It didn't peck you. It just lay there, breathing shallow, its black eyes fixed on your face.
"You're going to carry that all the way back?"
"Yes."
"This is why I don't let you go anywhere alone."
You smiled at him. He glared. But he walked beside you the whole way, and when the raven let out a pitiful cry, he even held a branch out of your way so you wouldn't trip. Maybe sliced a few branches too.
The maester set the wing. You set up a small nest in your chambers, nest being a basket lined with soft cloth, placed near the fire. Aerion watched from his chair, arms crossed. What an attitude.
"If it gives me a disease, I'm blaming you."
"It won't give you a disease."
"You don't know that."
The raven recovered slowly. You spent hours feeding it scraps of meat, changing its bandages, talking to it in a low, soothing voice. Aerion pretended not to notice, but he noticed. He noticed that you weren't paying attention to him.
"You're obsessed with that bird," he said one evening.
"It's healing."
"It's a bird. I'm your husband."
You looked up. He was scowling, but his ears were red.
"Are you jealous of a raven?"
"I'm not jealous. I'm stating a fact. You've spent more time with it this week than with me."
You laughed. He didn't. In fact he does not find it funny.
The raven, sensing an opportunity, let out a loud caw. Aerion glared at it.
"I hate that thing."
"You don't hate it."
"I do."
He didn't hate it, you knew that because you caught him sneaking it bits of bread when he thought you weren't looking. You saw him talk to it once, low and gruff, when you were pretending to sleep.
"You're not so bad," he muttered to the bird. "But if you tell her I said that, I'll pluck your feathers."
The raven cawed softly.
When it was finally strong enough to fly, you carried it to the window. It sat on your wrist, looking out at the sky.
"You have to go," you said.
It didn't move.
"Go on."
It hopped to the sill, turned, looked at you. Then it flew.
Aerion came up behind you, his hand on your waist.
"It'll come back," he said.
"How do you know?"
"Because you're its person now."
You leaned into him. He pressed a kiss to your hair.
"Don't get another one," he said.
"I make no promises."
He sighed. But he was almost smiling. Maybe next time you could bring home more birds, or maybe a deer!-
As if Aerion read your mind, he cut you off. "Don’t get carried away."
Okay. Nevermind.
Daeron - You found the squirrel at the base of a chestnut tree, its leg trapped under a fallen branch. It was tiny, frantic, its tail twitching as it tried to drag itself free.
Daeron was walking with you, as he'd been trying to spend more time outside, fresh air instead of wine. He stopped when you stopped and crouched down.
"What's that?"
"A squirrel. Its leg is stuck."
He crouched beside you, peering at the animal. "It's very... twitchy."
"It's scared."
"It looks like it wants to bite me."
You lifted the branch carefully. The squirrel scrambled back, then collapsed, its leg bent at an odd angle.
"We need the maester," you said.
"You want to bring that thing to the maester?"
"I want to bring it to the maester."
He sighed but helped you wrap the squirrel in your handkerchief. It bit him through the fabric.
"See?" he said, wincing. "Vicious."
"You'd be vicious too if your leg was broken."
Once the maester did what he could, you set up a small box in your chambers, lined with some rags. The squirrel slept for a full day.
When it woke, Daeron was sitting nearby, watching it.
"It's staring at me," he said.
"It's curious."
"It's plotting my demise."
You laughed. He didn't.
Later that evening, you found Daeron offering the squirrel a drop of wine on the tip of his finger.
"Daeron!"
"What? It looked thirsty."
"It's a squirrel! They don't drink wine!"
"It's an animal. Animals like wine."
You slapped his arm playfully, but you very serious.
"Don't give alcohol to wildlife."
"Fine. More for me."
He took a sip himself, then watched as you fed the squirrel a piece of apple.
"You're good at that," he said.
"At what?"
"Being gentle. I'm not."
"You're gentle with me."
He was quiet for a moment. Then he reached over and took your hand.
"That's different. You don't bite."
The squirrel healed slowly. It grew bold, climbing the curtains, stealing crumbs from the table. Daeron complained constantly, but you caught him talking to it when he thought you weren't listening.
"You're a menace," he muttered to the squirrel. "But she likes you. So I suppose you can stay."
When the squirrel was fully recovered, you carried it to the forest. Daeron came with you, standing a few feet back.
"You'll miss it," he said.
"A little."
"It had character."
"It had a lot of opinions."
He laughed. You set the squirrel down. It scampered a few feet, looked back, then disappeared into the trees.
"Goodbye, little one," you whispered.
Daeron put his arm around your shoulders.
"You know, I would never run away from you, if I was a squirrel" Daeron says, triumphantly.
"I wouldn’t let you."
Duncan - Duncan heard the crying while you guys were being adventurous, a thin, desperate mewling coming from a pile of rubble near the old watchtower. He lifted a broken beam and found her: a tiny grey kitten, no bigger than his hand, one leg bent, her fur matted with dust.
"Oh, sweetheart," you breathed.
Duncan knelt beside you, his big hands gentle as he scooped her up. She was trembling, terrified, her eyes huge in her small face.
"We need the maester," he said.
"I'll run ahead."
"No." He tucked the kitten into his tunic, against his chest. "She's scared. She'll be warmer with me."
You ran together. As the maester did his work, Duncan held the kitten the whole time, murmuring to her, his deep voice a low rumble.
"There now," he said. "You're all right. We've got you."
The kitten stayed in your chambers for weeks. She was too small to be away from her mother, but it seems the kitten was abandoned already, the maester said. She needed round the clock care.
You fed her warm milk from the tip of your pinky. Duncan built her a bed in a wooden box with your softest scarf as her bed. She slept curled against his chest at night, tucked under his chin.
"She likes you," you said.
"She's scared of everything."
"She's not scared of you."
It was true. The kitten, who hissed at the servants and hid from the maester, would climb into Duncan's lap the moment he sat down. She kneaded his tunic with her tiny paws and fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.
"She thinks you're her mother," you teased.
"I'm not her mother. I'm her... large warm thing."
When the kitten was fully healed, you sat down with Duncan to discuss releasing her.
"She's wild," you said. "She belongs outside."
Duncan looked at the kitten, who was currently asleep on his shoulder.
"She's not wild. She's never caught a mouse in her life."
"She needs to learn."
"She needs a home."
He looked at you. His eyes were soft.
"I want to keep her."
You stared at him. "You want to keep the kitten?"
"I want to keep the kitten." He shrugged. "She's small. She's quiet. She doesn't take up much space."
The kitten opened one eye, yawned, and went back to sleep.
"We're keeping her," you said.
"We're keeping her."
You named her Pip. She grew into a sleek grey cat who followed Duncan everywhere, sat on his shoulder during meals, and slept on his pillow every night.
(fun fact! Pip is actually based off of a REAL GREY KITTEN THAT I FOUND. it was yearsss ago but I still miss her.)
Valarr - You were eavesdropping conversations while walking with Valarr around the village, one conversation piqued your interest. A farmer was grumbling to his wife about the weakling lamb, the one born too small, the one that couldn't keep up with the flock. "No use wasting good grain on it," he said. "Let nature take its course."
Your heart clenched.
Valarr was beside you, as always, his hand resting on your lower back. He felt you tense.
"What is it?"
"That lamb. The farmer's going to leave it."
"You don't know that."
"He said 'let nature take its course.' That means he's going to let it die."
Valarr looked at the lamb, a tiny, shivering thing, one leg dragging, its eyes half closed. It was curled in a patch of straw, separate from the others.
"You want to take it," he said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"To the castle."
"The stables. Just until it's strong enough."
He was quiet for a moment. You could see him calculating the space, the feed, the maester's time, the inevitable mess. He did not like the idea of this whole thing. But he knew you. He knew this was important to you.
"Fine," he said. "Go talk to the farmer. I'll arrange for a cart."
You kissed his cheek and ran to the farmer.
The lamb was installed in a clean stall in the royal stables that afternoon. The maester examined it, malnourished, a damaged leg, mostly genetics but not entirely hopeless with enough care. You named it Clover.
Valarr visited once a day. Not because he cared about the lamb, but because he knew you'd be there. He'd lean against the stall door, arms crossed, watching you care for the tiny creature.
"It's going to follow you around like a dog," he said.
"That would be adorable."
"It would be annoying."
You smiled. He didn't, but his eyes softened.
When Clover grew strong enough to wobble around the stable, Valarr started bringing apple slices. He claimed they were for his horse. You noticed the lamb nibbling them from his palm.
"You're feeding her."
"I'm feeding the horse. She steals them."
"She can't reach your horse's mouth."
He smiled and didn't answer.
The day came when Clover was fully healed, her leg strong, her coat thick, her eyes bright. You knew she needed to go back to the flock, but your chest ached.
Valarr found you sitting in the straw, the lamb's head in your lap.
"You're going to miss her," he said.
"A little."
He sat down beside you on the straw, in his fine tunic, without a word of complaint.
"She can't stay forever, my love." he said.
"I know."
"But she can stay another day."
You looked at him. He was watching the lamb, not you.
"Really?"
"One more day." He shrugged. "Then she goes back to the farmer."
You threw your arms around him. He stiffened, then relaxed, his hand coming up to pat your back.
"Thank you," you whispered.
When you finally returned Clover to the farmer, Valarr walked with you. The farmer was very grateful and extremely surprised, a healthy lamb was worth something after all. He offered you coin. You refused.
As you walked back to the castle, Valarr took your hand.
"She has a good life because of you."
You squeezed his fingers. "Does that mean this can by a daily thing?"
No response.















