#Adventurer Conqueror King | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ninetailedfoxmanchi · 10 months ago

Text

The Northern Winds (pt. 2)

PART 1

Plot: Arranged marriage between the Lord of Winterfell and a lady from a minor house

MASTERLIST

Warnings: profanity, mention of blood, violence & death, menstruation, miscarriage, sexism and medieval notions of women, mature NSFW content (18+), possessiveness/over-protectiveness, brief mention of r@pe

Summary: Whilst Cregan is on a march against the wildlings, Lady Y/N navigates the ruling of Winterfell in his absence as she awaits his return

Words: 15k

A/N: There will be a part 3, with which this series will end (I think). The intro of this part is a bit long but it gets better I promise! (Cregan comes back 🤫)

Taglist: @nixtape-foryou @accountforreading123 @melsunshine @lovemesomevesey @goldenxshine @beebeechaos @mckennah123

@blonde-scandinav1an @letaliabane @answer-the-sirens @lilyed777 @travelingmypassion (I hope I didn't forget someone! <3)

***

It has been a week since the Lord of Winterfell took his host north to Last Hearth, the seat of House Umber, to fight against the wildling invasions. The number of his warriors and those of his sworn bannermen was strengthened by some three thousand men provided by Lord Jonos Whytefort in exchange for his daughter’s hand in marriage with the Warden of the North. Lady Y/N and Lord Cregan Stark were wed for near half a turn of the moon before he was bound to ride north. Although Lady Y/N was instructed in the ways of Winterfell’s functioning and her duties before Lord Stark’s departure, it was one thing ruling the North with her husband by her side and a whole other to do it on her own. Lady Y/N had noble servants whose loyalties lied with Winterfell to advise her, yet the burden of duty and responsibility weighed heavy on her shoulders. The North was a vast and colossal place to rule with hundreds of thousands of people who looked to House Stark for leadership. Even in the days before Aegon the Conqueror, the North knew no king but the King in the North whose name was Stark.

Winter is coming. The words resonated with Lady Y/N as if they were those of her own House. She thought them every morning when she woke up for her duties and every evening as she laid to rest. The emptiness of her bed at night proved an even greater challenge to Y/N than the absence of her husband at her daily duties. She was surrounded by people great and small whilst the sun was still in the sky. Yet at night, Y/N grew lonely and yearned for home, yearned for Whytefort. No matter how hard she attempted to persuade herself that Winterfell was her home now, Y/N had yet made no memories in this place, felt no familiarity nor true comfort. She found consolation only in her mare, Blackspur, and her ladies-in-waiting, particularly Lady Ellyn Mormont. Whilst Y/N did not mind the company of the other ladies, she had grown the closest to Lady Ellyn. They would often share their meals and walked the castle grounds, although they could not ride together for Lady Mormont had a terrible fear of horses. She was thrown off her mount when she was but a child, which caused Lady Mormont to break her leg. Y/N had not noticed it until it was pointed out to her but there was a small limp in Lady Ellyn’s walk because of this accident. Lady Y/N did not wish to make her companion uncomfortable so she shared her rides with Ser Tybald Cassel, the master-of-horse, or lately more often with Ser Harwyn, the master-of-arms. Whilst Ser Tybald was undoubtedly a man skilled and knowledgeable when it came to horses, he often gave the impression that if Lady Y/N had not been Lady Y/N Stark, he would not have paid her the respect she deserved on the account of her being a woman. Ser Harwyn, on the other hand, proved himself a man as loyal as they come and a pleasant companion on adventurous rides around the grounds of Winterfell. Lady Y/N grew even fonder of him than of Maester Bennard, who was also a tremendous help in navigating the ways of her duties as the Lady of Winterfell.

One day, as Lady Y/N and Lady Ellyn walked the glass gardens of Winterfell that were warmed with hot spring water on which the castle was built, Lady Ellyn asked her mistress whether she had been able to grow accustomed to living at Winterfell after near a moon of staying there.

“I imagine it is not the same now that Lord Stark is gone as well,” said Lady Ellyn as they sat down on a stone bench beneath an orange tree.

“No … It is not,” thought Lady Y/N saddened as she played with the sleeve of her lilac gown.

Y/N gazed around the glass gardens. Half of the plants in them Y/N had only seen painted and documented in books. They did not grow in the north, especially not in an area as mountainous as Whytefort. They would not grow here either if not for the thermal waters. Most of the plants were brought from the south through White Harbor in large wooden crates, tended to by maesters specialising in botany and herbology. There was a type of fruit that looked much like an apple, red and yellow with fuzz on its skin that reminded Y/N of moss. She could not remember what it was called, however. And another which seemed like pumpkin yet its flesh was green and sweeter than that of a pumpkin although the foreign fruit smelled similarly. There were also strawberries the size of pebbles unlike those as small as raindrops that grew in the mountains. There were vegetables a plenty too: all sorts of green leafy plants that were often served at nuncheon or for supper along with grains, seeds, and eggs. There were many medicinal herbs and roots as well, particularly for the brewing of potions and infusions.

Nevertheless, Y/N’s favourites remained oranges. She looked up at the big round orange fruits. “Do you suppose we could take one and share it?”

Lady Ellyn smiled to herself. “Of course, my lady. Everything you see is yours.”

Lady Y/N smiled as well although she still felt like nothing more than a guest at Winterfell, especially without Cregan in the castle.

“It …” began Lady Y/N, unsure whether she could trust her thoughts into Lady Ellyn’s care yet she had to speak to someone or she might go mad. “It is hard being away from home,” said Lady Y/N whilst Lady Ellyn’s smile slowly disappeared as she listened.

“I know Winterfell is my home now but I cannot help but long for the familiarity of Whytefort. I miss even the people I thought I despised – and I do, I do despise them still!” Y/N laughed but she might as well have cried. “It is only … It is only this feeling in my chest …” told the Lady of Winterfell as she held a hand over her heart as if to keep it from falling apart. In that moment, she really did think she might cry for everything that she had to leave behind.

“It seems to me that everyone expects me to fail, that they think less of me because I am not from as a great and noble House as they would expect the Lady of Winterfell to be,” spoke Lady Y/N evenly as she tried to contain her emotions. “Lady Daela—” considered Y/N, remembering the comments she swore were meant only as jests and the looks given to her by Lady Manderly when she believed Lady Stark was unaware.

“My lady,” Lady Ellyn cut her mistress off. “I believe Lady Daela’s moods may be a consequence of her having harboured notions of becoming the Lady of Winterfell herself.”

Lady Stark’s gaze darted to her lady-in-waiting. She felt a sting inside of her, an itch she did not only want to scratch but cut out altogether. Suddenly, the thought of Lady Daela made Y/N’s stomach twist into knots; not only of Lady Daela alone but of her and Cregan.

“I had believed you knew, my lady,” said Lady Ellyn. “That is why I did not mention it sooner. I thought you did not wish to speak of it.”

“Tell me,” asked Lady Y/N when so many things about Lady Daela suddenly made sense. The looks and the comments, her little japes and glares.

“I do not know much, my lady,” said Lady Ellyn. “As you would know as well, she is the youngest of Lord Manderly’s four daughters and all of them are already married to men of great and noble Houses: Tallhart, Mallister, and Arryn. White Harbor is one of the largest harbours in Westeros and the largest in the North. The match between Lord Stark and Lady Daela would not be unseemly.” Not like the one between Lord Stark and me, thought Lady Y/N with a heavy heart.

“But Lord Manderly is already fighting his own war at sea with the pirates from Essos,” thought Lady Y/N aloud. There was often news from White Harbor at the councils Y/N attended as the Lady of Winterfell. “He has no men to spare whilst my father has nothing but men.” And sheep.

“Indeed,” agreed Lady Ellyn. “Yet as far as I am aware, the match was never proposed by Lord Manderly. The prospect of Lady Daela’s hopes of marrying Lord Stark are but that – hopes and illusions,” Lady Ellyn gave her mistress a reassuring smile.

“I see,” said Lady Y/N, her blood boiling at the thought of Lady Daela and Cregan, and yet at the same time, Y/N felt a heavy weight in her stomach. She had already felt like everyone was judging her before Lady Ellyn told her of this – a match between a lady much nobler than Y/N herself and the Lord of Winterfell – and now the feeling only grew worse.

“If I may be so bold, my lady,” spoke Lady Ellyn when she saw the storm of thoughts in her lady’s features.

“Of course,” said Lady Y/N, “I wish nothing more of you than to speak plainly and in the manner you feel.”

“I long knew I would be a lady-in-waiting for the Lady of Winterfell when Lord Cregan would wed,” began Lady Ellyn. “Yet when I left Bear Island, I felt just as you do, my lady. Lost and alone, with everyone staring at me and watching me. I too had to leave my home and my family, my sweet little brothers and my lord father,” spoke Lady Ellyn, a sadness to her voice. “Even with Lady Daela, with Jocelyn and Harryett, I could not find peace here at Winterfell… Until you arrived.”

“Me?” asked Lady Y/N, her big eyes widening still.

“You were so kind to me – to us. Even when you need not have been,” said Lady Ellyn quickly. “We … We all bear names of great Houses: Manderly, Dustin, Karstark, and Mormont. But we … Lady Daela is devious, Jocelyn barely speaks a word without being called upon, Harryett is in her own world of gallant knights and pretty maidens, and myself … I cannot even accompany you at the thing you love most because of my stupid, stupid fear of horses.”

“And yet it matters not because you are a friend to me,” said Lady Y/N honestly as she took Lady Ellyn’s hand and squeezed it. "A true friend."

“I … I cannot make friends easily,” confessed Lady Stark. “Acquaintances, yes, quick friends perhaps, but not true friends, not loyal friends.”

“If not for you, I …” said Y/N as she looked away. “I would have no one to talk to but Maester Bennard,” she said. “He would have tried to invent a healing potion for my thoughts or ascribe it all to moonblood,” Lady Y/N laughed and Lady Ellyn joined her.

Just so, both the Lady of Winterfell as well as the only daughter and the oldest child of Lord Mormont breathed a little easier and shared an orange on their way back to the castle.

***

It was a moon’s turn since Lord Stark departed for north. Lady Y/N’s days were still filled with council meetings, settling disputes, and listening to the woes of the smallfolk and trying to find solutions. She hosted lesser members of House Dormand and later House Flint. If Y/N could not find the time to take Blackspur for a ride, she would at least take a walk around Winterfell. Yet she would visit the godswood everyday even if the sun had already set only to pray for her husband’s safe return. For the longer he was away, the less news arrived, and the more anxious Y/N grew. She prayed for her family as well; for her lady mother and her brother, and even her father, who was fighting against the wildlings alongside Lord Stark. If there were no duties waiting for her, Y/N could sit beneath the heart tree for hours, wrapped in her thick fur coat as she would lean against the weirwood tree. Whilst her own bed brought her nothing but sadness these days, Y/N encountered what little peace she could find at the godswood and sometimes in the presence of Lady Ellyn, when Y/N found the strength for company.

The stars appeared in the sky that night and the moon was so bright it made the evening frost glisten like crystals. There had not been any snow in a week yet the cold was even greater than before. Lady Y/N was returning from the godswood, hardly needing a torch to light her way as the moon was bright enough. She was more restless then normally and her body felt as exhausted as if she had climbed up to the top of the Iceraven. There were weights bound to her legs and a pressure in her stomach. Y/N had venison for supper with buttered beats and a slice of blackberry tart. The sweet must have been too much because Y/N had to steady herself against a tree and catch her breath. Cold drops of sweat gathered on her chest and neck before she bent over with nausea. All that she had eaten that evening left her body. Y/N leaned against the tall pine and tried to find the strength to return to the castle. She slowly made her way up the cobbled path that lead back. She had to stop twice when she felt too weak to continue.

As Lady Y/N finally made it to the castle, she was awaited by Lady Ellyn.

“My lady,” gasped Lady Mormont as she hurried to her mistress’ side. She took her arm as Y/N leaned against her friend. “Somebody call the maester!” called Lady Mormont. The servant girl nearby dropped the linen from her hands and ran to fetch the maester whilst Lady Ellyn escorted Lady Y/N to her chambers, her skin as pale as the weirwood tree.

“I do not need the maester,” spoke Lady Y/N weakly when she laid in her bed. “I only need some rest.”

“My lady,” implored Lady Ellyn. “You have to allow Maester Bennard to see you.”

“Tomorrow,” whispered Lady Y/N. “If I do not feel better.”

“At least allow me to stay with you, my lady. You must not be alone like this,” said Lady Ellyn as she helped her lady out of her clothes. She brought Lady Y/N her nightgown and a cup of water which Lady Y/N could not be more grateful for. Yet even simply drinking some water made Y/N nauseous again. Lady Ellyn fetched the basin for washing and held back her lady’s hair.

“I beg of you, Y/N,” spoke Lady Ellyn gravely. “Allow Maester Bennard to see you. My lady, you could be gravely ill—”

“I am not ill,” said Y/N as her eyes let in hot tears. She had known it for some time now yet she did not want to admit it to herself. She realized it that afternoon in the gardens when she joked with Lady Ellyn about Maester Bennard.

Lady Y/N rose her gaze to her lady-in-waiting, who could read the answer from her mistress’ eyes.

“You are with child,” breathed Lady Ellyn. Y/N nodded as salty tears slid down her pale cheeks. Lady Ellyn put her arms around her mistress. Lady Y/N’s hands clutched to her friend’s back as she sobbed.

“Are … Are you not glad, my lady?” spoke Lady Ellyn carefully and not without compassion.

“W-What … What if he … What if he does not return?” Lady Y/N’s voice broke. The thought of her alone at Winterfell without him was unbearable, what more alone but with his child. The child who would never know their father nor could their mother tell them much about him as they were only wed for half a moon before he had to march north. The child that she would love with all of her heart but would remind her of the man she had lost.

“Lord Stark?” asked Lady Ellyn.

Lady Y/N nodded.

“He is one of the best swordsmen in all of the Seven Kingdoms,” said Lady Ellyn with every confidence. “Everyone says so and not only because he is our Lord of Winterfell. He will come back to you safely, my lady.”

Ser Harwyn said so himself, Lady Y/N considered, although that is not what concerned her. She had seen Lord Stark train with the master-at-arms herself and many other seasoned warriors with whom he won every time. Yet Lady Y/N also remembered her husband’s body, his scarred chest. If the savage’s arrow had aimed but an inch lower and pierced Cregan’s lung …

There was a knock on the door with Maester Bennard awaiting outside. Lady Ellyn got up to speak to the maester whilst Lady Y/N managed to change into more comfortable garments.

Lady Ellyn asked Maester Bennard to return in the morning, explaining of her lady’s sickness – but never mentioning the pregnancy – and how she was feeling better already.

As she closed the door behind her, Lady Ellyn’s heart grew heavy. She had not known Lady Stark for very long but they had grown quite close in the recent weeks. Lady Ellyn wished to help, to comfort her Lady Y/N but she could not find the words that would do so.

“Lord Stark will come back,” assured Lady Ellyn once more. “And he will be delighted with the news,” she tried to cheer Y/N up. It worked because Y/N’s dark thoughts were replaced with bright, happy memories the child would bring to her and Cregan. She imagined telling him, mayhaps sending a raven or a messenger to deliver the news. Or she could wait for him to return and see for himself.

Lady Ellyn was sitting on the edge of the bed beside her mistress, gently caressing her hair. Although they had spent a lot of time together, she noticed Lady Stark was shutting herself away from others. She would take her meals alone more often and spend much of her time in the godswood. It must have been since she found out she was with child, Lady Ellyn considered. Whilst herself, Lady Daela, Jocelyn, and Harryett could somewhat bond over their duties as the ladies-in-waiting to the Lady of Winterfell, Y/N had no one to share her burden with, not truly.

“Allow me to stay with you tonight, my lady,” asked Lady Ellyn, her hand pausing on her mistress’ shoulder. Lady Y/N nodded, allowing someone in properly for the first time in as long as she could remember.

Lady Ellyn laid down in bed beside Y/N, who turned around to face her lady-in-waiting. Her eyes were closed as her tears slipped down into the pillow. They fell asleep together in silence, Lady Ellyn’s hand tightly wrapped around Y/N’s palm.

It was in the hour of the owl when Lady Stark woke in terrible pain. She had felt it coming for hours but half believed the pain was only in her nightmares. Lady Y/N whimpered in pain as she sat up in bed, her nightgown wet with blood. The candles were out but there was still the light from the hearth and the brightness of the moonlight through the windows. Y/N cried in horror, waking up Lady Ellyn, who sat up immediately. Her gaze followed Lady Y/N’s, her mouth parting in shock at the sight of the blood.

“Gods …” breathed Lady Ellyn as her mistress’ hands shook uncontrollably. “Guards!” called Lady Ellyn and got up. “GUARDS!”

Ser Martyn, Lady Stark’s sworn shield, burst into the Lord and Lady of Winterfell’s private chambers.

“Get the maester! NOW!” shouted Lady Ellyn, surely waking half of the castle before she returned her attention to the Lady of Winterfell. “It’s alright, it’s alright, my lady,” whispered Lady Ellyn soothingly over and over again yet she could not mask the doubt in her quivering voice at the sight of all the blood.

“N-No, no, no … No, no …” cried Lady Y/N as she stared at her blood-stained fingers. “Wh … What is happening?” she whimpered. Lady Y/N clutched to her abdomen in the moment of another striking pain, more painful than anything she had been feeling throughout the night. Lady Y/N’s nightgown was soaked with sweat, her wet hair sticking to her chest.

Although an old man, Maester Bennard rushed to his liege lady immediately. His assistants were with him, all three of them freezing at the sight of all the blood. Maester Bennard knew then that Lady Stark had been with child but no was longer so.

After the maester and his assistants did the best they could to stop Lady Stark’s pain and bleeding, they let her rest. Although Lady Y/N was given milk of the poppy, it only helped with her physical pain, which was nothing compared to what Y/N felt in her heart. The dawn had already broken and yet Lady Stark could not stop weeping since she had awoken in the hour of the owl.

All four of her ladies-in-waiting wept with her yet none could truly understand. Even Maester Bennard’s heart went out to his lady although he was a man of science, who placed logic and stoicism above most everything else, particularly feelings.

Nevertheless, Maester Bennard allowed himself to approach the foot of the bed. “Even if you had let me come see you last night,” spoke the maester gently, “I would not have been able to make a difference, my lady.”

Lady Stark was blaming herself for losing the babe and her eyes would not go out of tears like deep and endless dark pools do not run out of water.

“It is not uncommon for women to lose their first child, especially this early in the pregnancy,” continued Maester Bennard. “And they go on to have perfectly healthy children, my lady. Do not despair …” The old man wished to comfort her but Lady Y/N could not be consoled. A part of her believed Maester Bennard’s words. If one of her ladies-in-waiting had been in her position, Y/N would be sure to tell them the same as the maester told her. Yet she could not help but feel that it had been her fault. That she had not loved it enough, that she had not wanted it enough and feared for it too much, and that that is the reason why it went away.

Lady Stark’s chest broke into a heart-breaking sob as she clutched to her chest. Maester Bennard decided to leave his lady in the company of Lady Ellyn instead. She wrapped her arms around her lady but Y/N’s pain could not be contained. That day Lady Ellyn shared Lady Stark’s bed once again for Y/N could not bear to be alone with her thoughts. She took some sleeping drought prepared by the maester and drowned her pain in the depths of sleep.

***

The days which followed were the hardest. Lady Y/N spend the first few days in bed, recovering from the loss of blood, but mostly from the loss she felt inside. Lady Stark commanded the maester not to send a raven north to the Lord of Winterfell. If someone was to tell Lord Stark of what had happened, it was going to be Y/N herself. She recalled their final night together at Winterfell and how he said she might be with child by the time he returns. A part of him spoke with hopefulness and Y/N’s heart broke even further at the thought of it.

The recovery was hard. Lady Y/N could not even think of food, much less make herself have an proper meal, which did not go unnoticed on her weight.

“The servants will prepare anything you wish, my lady,” said Lady Jocelyn as she helped her lady get dressed properly for the first time in days. “Lemon cakes, apple tarts, anything you wish. Lord Stark will not be pleased to find you like this when he returns,” begged Lady Jocelyn and did the lacing on Lady Y/N’s dress.

The mention of Lord Stark made Lady Y/N turn around to look at her lady-in-waiting. Lady Jocelyn Karstark was plain of face with brows which would always have one believe she was saddened. Her hair was like wheat, her frame slim yet hardy. She enjoyed wearing gowns in blue shades as she thought it would make her hair seem more golden than brown. Yet what Lady Y/N learned of Lady Jocelyn was that she was timorous in the face of authority and did not care much for Y/N personally, rather what the Lord of Winterfell and his maester will write to her family of her service at the castle.

Once when in her cups, Lady Jocelyn confessed she wished nothing more but to be married. She never wanted to come to Winterfell and doted on a boy from her family’s castle in The Grey Cliffs. She was Lord Karstark’s youngest niece through his only remaining brother for fever took the rest some years ago.

The boy Lady Jocelyn spoke of had only his name but no House he belonged to. He was the castle smith’s apprentice. Neither her father nor Lord Karstark would ever allow for them to marry but Lady Jocelyn refused to lose faith. She sometimes accompanied her lady to the godswood where she prayed that the Lord of Winterfell should send her home and she could marry the boy.

Lady Stark felt sorry for the girl. She was only four-and-ten, and although a girl flowered, Lady Jocelyn was not yet a woman grown. She had yet to learn that life was not as simple as a maiden’s dreams or Y/N would have been a stable master’s apprentice or a knight in some lord’s service, trained in swordplay and travelling on horseback throughout the Seven Kingdoms. She had always wanted to see the yellow sands of Dorne and the Red Keep of King’s Landing. She wanted to ride the Rose Road through The Reach and have wine in some meadow outside Highgarden. And if she would have found the courage, Y/N would have even boarded a ship to Essos.

“Go and break your fast with the ladies, Lady Jocelyn,” said Lady Stark as she fixed her earrings herself. She wore a gown of deep juniper green with a slim headpiece of yellow gold and a matching belt.

“And have the servants prepare stewed beef with wine and cloves for nuncheon,” Lady Y/N instructed her lady-in-waiting. Lady Jocelyn curtsied and left Y/N’s private chambers.

Alone at last, Lady Y/N sat down at the table and helped herself to some cheese to break her fast. She was not truly hungry. She had not been able to gain appetite in days. Nevertheless, as the sweet and savoury taste of bread and cheese mingled in her mouth, Y/N’s body recognized the need she had been avoiding. Y/N had some wine with her food when a knock came on the door. Ser Martyn entered and bowed, announcing that Maester Bennard wished to see his lady. Y/N had half a mind to ask him to meet her later when the council was to take place.

“He speaks of a raven from the north, my lady,” said Ser Martyn. Lady Y/N’s heart stopped in her chest as she looked up at her sworn shield.

“Send him in,” urged Lady Y/N and got up immediately.

Maester Bennard entered her private chambers, a scroll of parchment in his wrinkled hand.

“My lady,” the maester bowed. “A raven flew in from the north bearing Lord Stark’s seal.” He handed the scroll to Lady Stark. She took the letter eagerly, but once in her hands, the parchment paper seemed to her as heavy as an sword of steel. Even if the news were grave, Y/N could not wait any longer. She broke the direwolf in the grey wax and rolled out the parchment. Her heart beat savagely in her chest as heat crawled all over her body.

Y/N left out a shivery breath.

“What is it, my lady? What word comes from the north?” asked Maester Bennard with haste.

“They are well,” breathed Lady Stark as her eyes welled with tears. The scroll in her hand, she leaned against the table, her chest raising heavily as her tears soaked the walnut wood of the furniture. Lady Stark took a deep breath as she collected herself and brushed the tears from her face. She looked at the maester who was visibly relieved as well.

Lady Stark offered him the scroll to read.

“They had already pushed the wildlings north of The Gift. It is only a matter of time before the host is defeated and whoever is left flees back across the Wall,” told Lady Stark as she sat back at the table with great relief whilst Maester Bennard read the news for himself. He nodded, a hint of a smile hiding in his usually unemotional features. He was neither a tall nor a strong man but the wisdom of books and age made his presence as prominent as any.

“Will you sit, maester?” asked Lady Y/N and poured the man who brought such joyous news from a flagon of sweet Dornish red.

“If it pleases my lady,” said Maester Bennard. Although they have always been courteous to each other and Maester Bennard was an indispensable source of wisdom with a deep personal loyalty to House Stark, Lady Y/N never found a moment to form a personal bond with Maester Bennard unlike with Ser Harwyn, with whom it happened almost naturally.

“The wildlings are just that, my lady, wild and untamed,” commented Maester Bennard on the letter. “Their kind may fight in numbers but not in form and organization, nor is their steel any match for ours.” He never doubted the strength of Winterfell or its lord, yet strange things may happen when an army goes on a march – disease and weather being just two of them.

Lady Y/N saw a wildling once. He was caught in her father’s mountains stealing sheep from the shepherds. The men brought him to Whytefort to her lord father. The man wore sheepskin and leather and seemed to Y/N no different then any man she had met other than in his choice of garments and lack of courtesy. Lord Jonos made his men cut off the wildling’s hands at the wrists before he was hanged and made an example to warn both the smallfolk as well as any other wildlings that thought of sealing in his lands.

“If my lady would consider writing back to Lord Stark,” suggested Maester Bennard carefully.

“I will write to him,” Lady Y/N nodded.

“I am sure my lord would wish to know of my lady’s recent condition,” agreed Maester Bennard. Lady Stark’s gaze rose to him, an unusual coldness lying in her eyes.

“No,” said Lady Stark. “I would not worry him. He needs a clear mind,” she concluded although that was only half of the truth. The other half was that Y/N did not know how she would tell Cregan what had happened. She did not know how he would react and if he too would blame her as she blamed herself.

Maester Bennard wished to speak, to persuade her, but Lady Y/N got up.

“I would have the council gather today, Maester Bennard. It has been too long since I sat in it,” said Lady Stark. Near a week had passed since she fell ill. The North had been in the capable hands of Winterfell’s councillors in the meantime, but Y/N would not allow herself to disappoint the Lord of Winterfell in failing to rule the North in his absence as well. She mustered all of the strength she had left.

“As my lady commands,” said Maester Bennard and left her chambers.

Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers running through the soft furs laid on her husband’s side. He will come back, thought Y/N. The smile slowly faded off her lips at the thought of it. She was grateful to hear that the warriors were successful, that Cregan was alive and well. She could cry out of happiness. But Y/N could not imagine telling him, not even at the insistence of the maester.

***

Yet another turn of the moon passed before the raven came with news of Lord Stark’s return to Winterfell. Some of the warriors remained south of the Wall to make sure the wildlings were gone, one of those hosts led by Daeron Whytefort himself whilst Lord Jonos returned to Whytefort with the greater part of his army.

Lord Stark’s host was to return to Winterfell half the moon’s turn after the raven of the same news arrived. The castle was in upheaval with the preparations for its lord’s return. There would be a feast held in the honour of the victorious host of warriors. The lords and commanders were to dine in the Great Hall whilst a feast for the soldiers and warriors of Winterfell was to be held in the winter town.

Lady Stark ordered the servants to prepare sweet beef, pork-and-onion pies, roast venison and baked mallards for the feast in the Great Hall.

Lady Y/N paced around the watchtower in her skirts of deep blue with embroidery of flowers in the string-of-gold on her long bell sleeves and ornate bodice. She wore her tear pearls with yellow gold and a cloak of deep blue and fox fur for warmth. Y/N watched the horizon every day, waiting for an army of men to appear in her sight. It had been so for days until a rider came in one of the evenings, announcing the return of Lord Stark’s host on the morrow.

“My lady,” said one of the soldiers who was with her atop of the watchtower. Lady Stark’s gaze followed that of the young man where it found riders on the horizon. Y/N’s heart began to beat harshly against her ribcage, threatening to tear her chest apart and escape. She licked her dry lips when she saw the banners of House Stark flying in the cold, northern winds.

It was midday when the host of warriors reached the castle gates. Lady Stark was waiting in the courtyard with Maester Bennard, Ser Harwyn and Ser Martyn, and countless others. Even the smallfolk who served in the castle gathered in the courtyard to see their lord’s return, at least those who were not busy preparing the feast.

The sound of hooves approaching echoed through the castle walls. Lady Y/N’s arms prickled with goose bumps. She held her breath as the riders arrived into the courtyard, Y/N’s gaze immediately finding that of the Lord of Winterfell. Lady Y/N’s chest quivered. Cregan’s hair was longer and his cheeks covered in yesterday’s stubble. Other than that, Y/N felt like nothing had changed, and yet everything. For a moment, it seemed to her that she was looking at a stranger, someone from a dream she remembered but did not know.

The Lord of Winterfell and his men dismounted as the stableboys and squires took care of their coursers. Lord Stark made his way to his wife with Maester Bennard and Ser Martyn by her side.

“My lady,” spoke Lord Stark, a warm smile hiding in the somber line of his lips. He took Lady Y/N’s hand into his, kissing the top of her knuckles and held it a moment. The touch of his hand felt so familiar and yet so strange to Lady Y/N.

“Husband,” breathed Lady Y/N quietly. Their gazes entwined as neither could manage to fill the silence with words and yet their eyes spoke a thousand phrases.

Y/N remembered to breathe and curtsied gracefully, “Welcome.”

“Thank you, my lady,” said the Lord of Winterfell and watched her as if he had just seen her for the first time. His grey eyes were neither cold nor warm, neither hiding nor revealing; at least not to her.

The Lord of Winterfell greeted the rest of his court whilst the commanders expressed their courtesies to the Lady of Winterfell. Y/N could hardly focus on them as her gaze kept escaping to her husband’s broad back hidden beneath a heavy cloak of wolf fur. Y/N’s eyes watered yet she was unsure whether it was from the icy wind or her husband returning. She could feel Maester Bennard’s gaze on her, however, hiding only one thought.

***

“I would have a bath, scalding hot,” Lord Stark instructed the servants as himself and the Lady of Winterfell reached their private chambers. The servants disappeared to fetch the water and the tub as Lord Cregan took off his heavy coat with a suppressed groan.

“Are you well?” asked Lady Y/N, not anticipating the strange awkwardness that lingered in the air after the comfort she had grown to feel in their time together but that was four moons ago.

Lord Stark smiled to himself whilst he hung his coat over one of the chairs. He had been longing to hear his wife’s voice in the long, lonely days that he had been away.

“I am well,” said Lord Stark as he took Lady Y/N’s hand and gently pulled her to him. “Only tired from the ride,” he spoke more quietly, leaning his forehead against hers. Lady Y/N wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist and came closer, resting her cheek against Lord Stark’s chest. He smelled of horses, smoke, and pinewood but she did not mind, not in that moment. Cregan held his wife, realizing how much he had missed her. There was nothing but blood and slaughter and battle everywhere around him, frustrated advisors and fellow commanders, and warriors impatient in the cold northern climate. Lord Stark’s mind often drifted to his lady wife, to Y/N. He longed for the peace of holding her in his arms, for the touch of her soft skin beneath his sword-calloused hands. He missed her big, pensive eyes and her warm, gentle voice.

“Have you been well, my lady?” asked Lord Cregan in turn. Y/N paused. The moment was perfect to tell him yet she could not do it.

“Yes,” spoke Lady Y/N quietly and nodded. In truth, she had been anything but. Ruling Winterfell in her husband’s absence was one thing, yet trusting her body and finding leave to grieve at the same time was a different matter entirely. When Lady Y/N was with her moonblood for the first time since she lost her babe, she wept. She wept from happiness of things going back to normal and she wept from sadness as the blood only reminded her of what she had lost.

The servants returned and prepared a bath for their lord. Lady Y/N stood by the window as she noticed the snow had begun to fall almost as if it knew the Lord of Winterfell had returned to his castle. The servants retired once they readied the bath, leaving their lord and lady alone once again.

Cregan began unclasping his thick, leather jerkin lined with warm wool.

“I can leave you if you wish,” offered Lady Y/N gently as Lord Stark pulled off his boots. He turned to her with a frown.

“I have been gone from you for neigh four turns of the moon, wife,” said Lord Stark. “I do not wish to be parted from you a moment longer.”

A blush crept to Lady Y/N’s face as her spoke those words, an even greater fever flushing though her cheeks when Lord Stark took off his tunic and breeches and stepped into the bath. The feeling lasted for but a moment, however, because Y/N’s gaze fell to Cregan’s built chest, which was bandaged beneath his armpits and across his left shoulder.

Lady Y/N hurried to him and knelt by the bathtub.

“What happened? You said you are well,” asked Y/N quickly, her eyes wide and her brows in a frown. She wished to reach out and touch the bandage yet she did not dare.

“I am,” assured Lord Stark, the hint of a smile returning to his lips. His wife’s concern for him warmed Cregan’s heart.

“But—” Lady Y/N shook her head, looking at the red-brown stain of a wound trying to disguise itself in the pale bandages.

“You have my word, my lady,” said Lord Stark as he reached his hand to Lady Y/N’s cheek. His thumb brushed against her soft skin. He leaned in slowly as Y/N’s hand reached just beneath his jaw and their lips met in a kiss not of lust and desire but of profound longing. Y/N wondered how she could find the strength to hold back and not kiss her husband the moment he climbed off his horse. An overwhelming set of emotions washed over Lady Y/N as she rested her hand on her husband’s cheek, his lips leaving ever so familiar kisses on her own. It has been too long.

Lady Y/N pulled away hesitantly and reached for air. Her husband’s eyes lingered on her lips before they shifted to her eyes, his gaze warm and full of longing.

“I should call Maester Bennard to attend to your wound. Gods only know what sort of pretender treated it on the battlefield,” said Lady Y/N, whose voice was grave with worry and even anger at the thought of some charlatan posing for a maester treating her husband’s injury.

“Later,” agreed Lord Stark to reassure his beautiful wife. “I would have this bath first.”

Lady Y/N nodded, still holding her husband’s hand that held her cheek only moments ago. It was wet from the water yet still Lady Y/N held it tightly, drawing shapes into his palm with her thumb. Her eyebrows were in a deep, troubled frown, her eyes like big pools of worry and sadness.

“What is it?” asked Lord Stark, not unkindly, yet his own voice was grave with worry and suspicion. Something was amiss, something must have happened whilst he was away for Maester Bennard’s eyes were also hiding something when he awaited Lord Stark in the courtyard. He saw the meaningful look the maester gave to his lady wife yet the meaning was still unknown to the Lord of Winterfell.

Lord Cregan’s brows hung formidably as he studied his wife.

“Hm?” Lady Y/N looked up. She felt as if she had been caught red-handed yet Cregan could not have heard her thoughts. “Nothing,” lied Y/N and pressed a soft kiss atop of her husband’s hand before she let it go. “I was only … I am glad you have returned.” Lady Y/N offered a small smile but she could not mask how troubled her mind was to Cregan. He had learned to recognize in their short time together when something was amiss with his wife even when no one else would notice.

“I should prepare for the feast,” Lady Y/N changed the topic and got up. Lord Stark did not question her any further yet his grey eyes lingered on Lady Y/N as she walked to the dressing area.

Lady Y/N had a gown made especially for the feast in the white and green of the field of House Stark’s banner and string-of-silver for its grey direwolf. The base of the dress was white with the hems of the sleeves, collar, and the bodice embroidered with dark green jewels, Myrish lace, and string-of-silver. Lady Y/N wore her necklace of emeralds and pearls and matching earrings gifted to her by her mother and had her handmaidens braid her hair for the occasion.

When Lady Y/N emerged from the dressing area, Lord Stark was already in his dark boots and breeches yet held off the tunic and jerkin until the maester would change his bandages. As the servants and the handmaidens left, Lord Stark’s grey eyes fell upon his wife wearing the finest gown in the colours of his House. His mouth parted softly.

“I had it made for this occasion,” said Lady Y/N when her husband would not speak. She felt a mixture of self-consciousness under Lord Stark’s gaze as well as some satisfaction at his reaction.

“I hope it pleases you,” said Lady Y/N as she locked her hands, offering a small smile.

“Pleases me?” breathed Lord Stark and got up eagerly. Yet before he could even take two steps towards his wife, the door of the chambers opened, announcing the arrival of the maester.

Maester Bennard brought his assistant, who carried a heavy yet ornate wooden box of herbs, potions, and medical supplies. Lord Stark’s gaze lingered on his beautiful wife a moment longer before he sat back down and allowed the maester to change his bandages. Lady Y/N stood by, watching it all from a distance. When Maester Bennard revealed a gash in Lord Stark’s chest just above his heart, Lady Y/N’s brows returned to a concerned frown. Whatever blood there was was old, dry and crusted on the bandage whilst the wound seemed to be healing. It was a cut caused by a wildling’s short axe who managed to steal into the Lord of Winterfell’s tent one night. The savage came at him with a dagger but did not know Lord Stark was still awake. Cregan knocked the man on the floor and took his dagger but the wildling recovered as they rolled on the floor. When the man got up, he came at Lord Stark with his short axe but managed only a weak blow for the Lord of Winterfell broke his arm when he had knocked him on the floor. Cregan got to the wildling’s own dagger and stabbed him in his side and then in his heart.

As Lord Stark told the tale of his new scar, he did not look at his wife. Cregan could feel her worried gaze on him with every word he spoke and did not want to give her any more cause for concern. Lady Y/N, however, had to hold her breath to keep the tears from her eyes as she listened, refusing to show her feelings, least of all in front of Maester Bennard. They have been working relentlessly since Lady Y/N recovered from that night, never speaking of it once since Lord Stark’s letter from The Gift arrived – other than checking on her health once in a while to ensure the lady’s recovery. Lady Y/N did not want to give Maester Bennard any more cause to see her as weak or incapable of ruling Winterfell in her husband’s absence. She made all the efforts to keep the council happy and Winterfell functioning as it should.

“Considering everything, the wound is healing nicely, my lord,” concluded Maester Bennard after he changed the bandage and stored away his supplies.

“Thank you, maester,” said Lord Stark as he got up and pulled on his tunic and jerkin. His cheeks were shaven clean and one of the servants must have shortened his dark hair some. For a moment, it seemed as if the march north had never happened, thought Lady Y/N, although in truth she felt as if four years and not four moons had passed since Lord Stark marched.

“Will you join us at the feast, Maester Bennard?” asked Lord Stark.

“I will. Thank you, my lord,” smiled Maester Bennard and bowed courteously. “And if I may, my lady, you look exquisite,” he added, turning to his lady and bowed as well.

“Thank you, maester,” said Lady Stark, slightly taken aback by Maester Bennard’s comment.

The Lord and Lady of Winterfell joined the commanders in the Great Hall where the feast was held. The music was already playing merrily as the lords drank on ale, waiting for their liege lord to begin feasting on delicious foods as well. Once the presence of Lord and Lady Stark was noted with everyone rising in respect before they sat down together, the servants began to bring dishes of beef and venison, meat pies, buttered vegetables, and even baked mallards. When all of the food was brought into the Great Hall, the Lord of Winterfell rose with a cup of ale in his hand.

“My lords,” addressed Lord Stark firmly, his voice booming and as solemn as ever yet unmistakably pleased. “Another march north is behind us and once again we have defeated the wildlings and sent them beyond the Wall where they belong!” he spoke with a heavy northern accent as the Great Hall roared with cheers and fists and cups slamming against the heavy oaken tables. “We protected our homes and we protected our people; our wives and our children—” the Lord of Winterfell continued but Lady Y/N’s heart sank to her stomach at the sound of his words. Her eyes rose to Maester Bennard, who was holding onto his cup of warm honeyed wine and watching his lord address his noble commanders. Still, Y/N wondered whether the maester wrote to her husband in secret, whether he told him of what had happened without her leave.

“This feast is for you! The finest warriors in all of the Seven Kingdoms and PROUD NORTHERNERS!” Lord Stark’s voice thundered through the hall as he rose his cup. The men cheered even louder and got up as well as did Lady Y/N, all emptying their cups to Winterfell’s victory over the savages.

The men dug into the delicious food prepared for them, having lived off stew and porridge for too many days on end. It was difficult enough to cook anything in a camp, much less something that did not come from a big pot for a great many people.

The Lady of Winterfell helped herself to some sweet beef and some buttered potatoes, having no more than a cup of wine all evening as she feared it might make her say something she would regret. For a moment, Lady Y/N considered it was all in her head – Maester Bennard’s burning gaze that she seemed to feel on her at all times. Nevertheless, when she rose her eyes to the maester, he was already looking at her. He averted his gaze when the Lady of Winterfell caught it. A part of her was furious with the old man and yet a part of her understood. He would not have his lord remain in the dark about anything, not even his wife.

Lady Y/N lost her appetite even before the desserts came. She made the kitchens prepare blueberry tarts and rice pudding with spices that warmed up even the coldest hands.

The Lord of Winterfell did not care for sweets yet he nevertheless had a slice of the blueberry tart. The tension at the high table could be cut with a knife, the mood no longer reflected only in Lady Y/N and Maester Bennard, as well as Lady Ellyn who sat by her lady’s side, but also in Lord Stark himself. The uneasy looks, the silence on both sides, where there was usually at least talk of the weather, made Lord Stark’s thoughts drift into dark and unsettling places. A seed of anger and frustration grew inside of him and it did not go unnoticed in a man who was usually as calm and stoic as a rock. He was tired and his patience was thinning.

“Would you tell me what is it that you are hiding from me?” suggested Lord Stark to his wife as he washed down the slice of tart with a cup of ale. The tone of his voice was harsher than he intended but once the words lingered between himself and Lady Y/N there was no taking them back and his wife’s silence only frustrated him more.

Lady Y/N stared into her husband’s eyes as if she were searching for something, something she hoped to recognize from many moons ago. She squeezed the fingers of one of her hands inside the other until it hurt. Lady Y/N licked her dry lips as she realized she would no longer be able to keep her secret to herself. If it would not be she who tells Lord Stark, the maester surely will.

“Will you … Will you walk with me?” asked Lady Y/N as she avoided her husband’s gaze.

Cregan studied his wife as his brows rested in a formidable frown but agreed nevertheless. “I will.”

The Lord and Lady of Winterfell got up from the high table and walked the grounds of their castle, its walls filled with the sound of merriment of its warriors. They walked the path to the godswood, the crowns of the pine trees blocking the snow some. Lady Y/N slowed her pace once they were finally alone and away from even the smallfolk attending the castle.

“Do you …” began Lady Y/N, not sure where to start. “Do you remember what you said to me the night before you left Winterfell?” she asked, her voice small and shiver-like. Her breath came out in small, white clouds.

Lord Stark looked at his wife as they walked. His face was frowning in such a formidable way that made Lady Y/N’s stomach twist into painful knots. She remembered her father and his anger.

“You asked me to return safely and I said I would,” said Lord Stark, his voice clear and sombre. Lady Y/N nodded but he could see that that was not what she meant. They walked down the path of cobblestones towards the godswood. It was narrow enough for only one person to walk it at a time. Lady Y/N went first, Lord Stark following on her trail. Y/N could almost feel his warm breath on the back of her head from his closeness. Goose pimples rose on her arms and legs. She held up her skirts as she passed some stairs until they reached the godswood, the heart tree, and the black pond.

“I told you that I loved you,” tried the Lord of Winterfell as they stood beneath the great, haughty weirwood tree. Lord Stark’s voice turned quieter yet remained earnest.

Lady Y/N’s gaze rose to her husband’s grey eyes as her entire body froze. Her heart broke into a million small pieces like a figurine made of glass shattering on the floor. Her eyes watered with tears although she had been doing everything in her power to keep herself from crying. She turned her head away and bit her lip to keep her chin from quivering yet it was all in vain. Hot, salty tears escaped her eyes and stung her cheeks as she closed her eyes. She could not make the words pass her mouth.

Cregan watched his wife, his own heart aching at the sight of her tears. A thousand and one thought had passed his mind on their way to the godswood. If something had gone wrong with the ruling of Winterfell in his absence, if there had been a falling out with one of the Houses, Maester Bennard would be sure to write of it to him whilst he was away. Yet another, more pressing thought weighed heavy on Lord Stark’s mind, a thought that made him burn with anger, with fury and jealousy unlike he had ever known before. If his wife had been unfaithful … He would not allow himself to believe that thought. He did not know what he would do if it proved to be true. Yet when he saw Y/N’s tears when he mentioned the time he told her of his love for her, Cregan had almost believed it – believed there was another man. But as his wife turned away, her body shivering with tears and a sadness so great that it threatened to break her, Cregan knew it could not be the love of a man that made her weep.

Lady Y/N’s small, delicate hand rested on her stomach as she looked down, her cheeks stung with tears.

“You might be great with child by then,” the Lord of Winterfell remembered his words from the night they last lied together. Cregan’s heart dropped to his stomach and he could not swallow the heaviness that formed in his throat. Furious with himself for his foolish thoughts and his harsh behaviour, Lord Stark’s mind overpowered with concern for his wife. He understood now too why the maester was involved.

Although Cregan was saddened about the babe, the feeling could not be compared to the sight of Y/N, his wife, in such a state of sorrow.

Lady Y/N’s chest allowed a small sob to escape, her hand closing over her mouth.

“Y/N …” spoke Lord Stark, his voice deep and hoarse as he reached for his wife. Y/N took a step back instinctively, her shoulders tensing around her neck as if she believed he might strike her.

“I am so sorry,” whispered Y/N as she shook her head, tears stinging her cheeks.

“If you will ever … ever be able to f-forgive me,” Lady Y/N’s voice broke as she made to kneel.

“Y/N,” Lord Stark spoke again, this time even more gently as he took her shoulders. The frown on his face was no longer one of anger and frustration but one softened with sadness and worry. Y/N’s eyes were red, her lashes clumped with tears.

Cregan pulled her into his arms. Lady Y/N resisted at first but Cregan held her tightly. At last Y/N’s chest broke into a painful cry, one with sobbing so sorrowful it made even the Gods cry. The face of the heart tree was lined with red streaks as the Lord of Winterfell held his wife.

“I am so sorry … I am so sorry,” spoke Lady Y/N over and over again against her husband’s chest. Her fingers were buried in his coat as Lord Stark held her head close.

“It is not your fault, Y/N,” assured Lord Stark with all of the authority in him but it made no difference to Lady Y/N. “You are not to blame.”

“I was so afraid, Cregan,” cried Y/N. “I was so afraid you would not come back … And it … It made it go away …”

“That is not true, my love,” Lord Stark spoke more gently against Y/N’s hair. “It is not your fault.” Cregan kissed the top of his wife’s head and rested his chin there as he held her trembling frame close to his.

“Maester Bennard said there was nothing he could have done,” whispered Lady Y/N tearfully as her crying soothed down some. “There … T-There was just s-so much blood.” Lady Y/N's chin quivered as she remembered that night. “I was so scared …” she whispered so quietly she thought her husband would not be able to hear but he did.

“It is not your fault, my lady ... I am here now, my love,” spoke Lord Stark quietly against his wife’s hair as he caressed her head.

“I thought … I thought you would be so angry with me,” spoke Y/N in the same voice.

“Why would you think so?” frowned Lord Stark, his body tensing.

“I only thought … I thought you wished for it …”

“I did,” spoke Lord Stark gently and cupped his wife’s cheeks and made her look him in the eye. “But not as much as I wish for your happiness and health,” he said earnestly. Y/N closed her eyes. She could not look into her husband’s eyes no matter how much he wanted her to.

“We will have dozens of children if that is what you wish,” said Cregan but he could not stop his wife’s tears.

“Two dozen,” tried Cregan again. Lady Y/N laughed a small laugh through her tears and nodded. Cregan wiped away the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs before he kissed her forehead. Their lips met as snow began to fall. Lord Stark leaned his forehead against his wife’s, his eyes closed whilst he took in the scent of her hair. He longed for her; not only for her body but for her company.

“Come, my love,” spoke Lord Stark quietly, his hand caressing his wife’s cheek before they returned to the castle.

***

Neither the Lord or the Lady of Winterfell got up at the break of dawn that morning. Cregan laid on his side with his wife’s arm hung over his waist as she pressed against his warm back. Even in her sleep, Lady Y/N could not make herself part from the safety of her husband’s touch now that he had returned. As Lord Stark began to wake in the late hours of the morning, he took his wife’s hand absently and pulled it to his chest where it rested in his. Cregan could hear her sigh, her nose nuzzling against his broad back and making him smile. He turned around carefully.

“No …” murmured Lady Y/N as her source of warmth shifted, her eyes still shut tight.

Lord Stark smiled to himself and guided his wife’s small hand over his side once again. He pulled her closer and watched her catch the last minutes of sleep before the morning would turn into day. He studied the colour of her beautiful hair and the line of her jaw and her nose, the shape of her shoulder, which disappeared from his sight beneath the covers. Lord Stark guided his hand from his wife’s ribs down to the curve of her waist, which made his body warm with desire. The feeling did not linger long, however, as Lord Stark’s mind drifted to his time away on the march and the loss not only he but especially his wife suffered. Cregan reminded himself to speak to Maester Bennard about Lady Stark’s health and what happened. He caressed his wife’s head and shifted his body lower so that he could kiss her forehead. Cregan left soft kisses on Lady Y/N’s cheek until she smiled through her sleep and slowly opened her eyes.

“What time is it?” mumbled Y/N just before Cregan softly kissed her.

“Late,” said Lord Stark yet did not seem to care. He had just returned from a march – he was entitled to a good night’s sleep for once.

“I can get dressed,” said Lady Y/N but snuggled closer to her husband’s body. The Lord of Winterfell smiled yet could not hide the worry that settled in him. His body was tense and his hands secured its grip protectively around his wife’s body.

Lady Y/N rose her head and looked at her husband. “Is something the matter?” she asked softly. After they returned to the castle last night, they only went to sleep. They had not been together since Cregan returned although in truth it has only been a day’s turn.

“I’m sorry I was not here for you when it happened,” said Cregan, caressing his wife’s cheek. All of the sudden Y/N was wide awake. She hoped they had closed this matter last night in the godswood.

“Why … Why are you sorry if I … If I was the one …” Y/N tried to find the right words without triggering any tears but that was harder than she thought.

“You had to go through such a terrible thing alone,” said Lord Stark solemnly. “If I were here—” But Y/N could not hear it, she would not hear it, and so she placed her palm over her husband’s mouth.

“Please,” pleaded Lady Y/N. “Don’t make me talk about it any further … I just want to forget.”

Cregan nodded and took his wife’s hand and kissed it. “Forgive me.” But Y/N only shook her head. She leaned in and softly kissed her husband. His large hand cupped her cheek instinctively as he brought her closer.

“You cannot imagine how I longed for you all this time, my lady,” said Cregan against Lady Y/N’s lips in a deep, husky voice of the morning. He shifted and leaned against his arm so that his wife laid beneath him. She wrapped her soft legs around his waist. Y/N realized how she too longed for him and his touch and how it was even possible they had not been together yesterday already. She pulled Cregan closer, her hands wrapped around his neck as she tugged gently on his hair. A soft moan escaped Y/N’s mouth when Cregan’s hardness brushed against the inside of her thighs. She gathered the hem of his shirt, yearning to see his body. Cregan pulled off his loose tunic, revealing his strong, built chest but also his injury that sobered Y/N some.

“Are you in pain?” asked Lady Y/N quickly. “Should we—”

“I am only in pain from not having you,” Cregan cut her off and pulled off his nightbreeches before entering his wife. The pleasure he felt was so great that when Lord Stark steadied himself against the headboard, the wood cracked beneath the grip of his fingers. Cregan could not be bothered as he savoured the delight of his wife’s body. He tried to go slow and gentle but his desire was too strong. Instead, he slid an arm behind Y/N’s waist and turned them around without leaving her. Cregan laid on his back and let his wife take control or he would lose it.

Y/N pulled her hair to one side of her neck as she leaned down to Cregan’s lips and kissed him passionately. She almost leaned her arms against his chest before she saw the bandage that she had forgotten about in her pleasure. Y/N steadied herself against the bed instead whilst Cregan’s hands wrapped around her hips as she moved steadily against his waist. Her heart beat hard against her chest when she began nearing her climax. She both wanted to stop and have Cregan take over but at the same time Y/N would do anything for the feeling never to end.

“Fuck,” muttered Cregan when he saw how close Y/N was. He sat up, drunk on desire, and helped her by moving his hips as well. His hands reached for her soft breasts that he squeezed and kissed, his fingers brushing against her nipples that made Y/N whine in pleasure.

Y/N was almost there. Her thighs quivered and her nails dug into Cregan’s back. She leaned against his body when a series of quiet whimpers escaped her mouth and her entire body trembled with pleasure. Her shivering breath disappeared in her husband’s loud groan with his arms locked around her waist tightly. They were breathing heavily in each other’s arms, incredulous how they could bear so long without each other. Cregan was still inside of her as they already laid back on the bed, him unable to stop kissing Y/N. His strong arms were wrapped around her bare shoulders, holding her to him as if he feared she might disappear if he let go.

“Gods, I love you,” murmured Cregan against his wife’s lips. Y/N pulled away some, looking up in to her husband’s grey eyes, the warmest she had ever seen them.

“And I you,” spoke Y/N softly.

***

After breaking their fast, the Lord and Lady of Winterfell attended the council together. Lady Y/N wore a grey dress with embroidery of string-of-silver in the pattern of tree branches with small red leaves representing the heart tree. She wore her pearls and the ruby necklace of her wedding day.

Lady Stark sat beside her husband at the long table whilst the councillors discussed the matters of the past few moons. Lady Y/N spoke herself at times, adding and taking from some of the words of the lords. Some would make things seem better or worse than they were to please the Lord of Winterfell and look good in his eyes. Y/N did not say anything then but after the council, in the private audience only between herself, Cregan, and Maester Bennard, the three could discuss plainly what was said and where the real truths lied.

“Thank you, Maester Bennard,” said Lord Stark as they came to the end of both daily matters as well as things concerning his recent absence. “I will see you in the evening should there be more ravens and matters to attend to.”

“Of course, my lord,” said Maester Bennard. His small eyes glanced between the Lady of Winterfell and Lord Stark. “Would you allow me a private audience, my lord?” asked the maester carefully. He looked down in respect and Lady Y/N did not think twice of it. She told Cregan everything and if the maester wanted to check on that, she would let him. If it was about another matter, Y/N could not be happier to be relieved of her duties for once.

Lady Y/N looked at her husband but Cregan was already waiting to hear her wishes. Y/N smiled reassuringly and curtsied.

“I will take Blackspur for a ride. It has been too long,” said Lady Y/N and left the maester and her husband to speak privately.

Lord Stark leaned in his chair and watched his loyal advisor take a seat before him. He had been meaning to speak to Maester Bennard himself ever since he learned of what had happened in his absence.

“My lord,” began Maester Bennard hesitantly, which was rather untypical of the maester. He usually spoke with conviction and certainty.

“If you mean to speak of my wife’s passing condition in my absence, I would have you know she had already spoken to me about it, maester,” said Lord Stark neither kindly nor upset. The maester seemed relieved at the news and nodded.

“It gladdens me, my lord,” said Maester Bennard. “Lady Stark commanded she should be the one to tell you.”

“I see,” said the Lord of Winterfell. “And if she had not spoken to me prior to this audience?”

Maester Bennard paused as he sensed tension in his lord’s voice. “I was of a mind that a raven should be sent to you when my lady fell ill,” said the maester. “These things rarely happen without complications. If nothing else, the loss of blood can be significant.”

The maester’s words made Cregan sick to his stomach. He had seen men’s limbs torn from their bodies, their heads hacked in half and cut off; he himself cut off many a man’s head be it as punishment or in battle, but the thought of his wife in a puddle of blood made Lord Stark’s stomach twist.

“But my lady recovered well,” said Maester Bennard encouragingly. “I believe she found solace in work although she is spending less and less time with her ladies-in-waiting, even with Lady Mormont, who was a comfort to Lady Stark in her darkest hours.”

The Lord of Winterfell listened.

“Whilst losing a babe, especially if it is the first, is nothing unusual and the body oft heals relatively quickly,” said the maester, “The healing of the heart, especially a woman’s heart, is a different matter.”

Cregan nodded to himself. “Thank you, maester,” said the Lord of Winterfell, understanding now.

“My lord,” bowed Maester Bennard and left Cregan be. Lord Stark looked through the window on his right. The sun glistening in last night’s snow blinded his eyes. He wished he knew what to do.

***

Buried in his work, the Lord of Winterfell lost the sense of time. One of his personal servants came to call him to a late nuncheon, making Lord Stark realize how long he had been chained to the desk.

"I will join the Lady Stark in a moment," said Cregan and pressed his seal into hot, grey wax.

"My lady has yet not returned from her ride, my lord," said the servant cautiously.

"What do you mean she has not returned yet?" said the Lord of Winterfell, his stern, grey eyes rising to the servant's. The young man looked down.

Lord Stark rose from his desk and stormed to the master-of-stables who informed him that Lady Stark had left only with Ser Martyn as her escort.

“How could this happen?” Lord Stark rose his voice mindlessly at his servants. They all bowed their heads and looked at the ground, even Ser Tybald. “She is the Lady of Winterfell! She should have an escort of at least a dozen knights!” thundered Cregan with anger boiling within him. His fists were squeezed tight as he stormed outside and called for his men to gather. The hour grew darker by the moment with a snow blizzard on the horizon. A party of two dozen men was gathered, most of them horsed save for the master-of-kennels, Ser Jon, and his apprentices that held the hounds on their chains.

The cruel northern winds whistled mercilessly as Lord Stark mounted his courser Nightkeeper. The snowflakes were dancing in the air, not a single one reaching the ground in the wild wind seeming more like ash than snow.

The party did not even make outside of winter town before they ran into the Lady of Winterfell and her sworn shield, Ser Martyn. He looked as pale as the weirwood tree in the face of his lord’s anger yet his sword was bloodied and his armor soiled red.

The Lord of Winterfell dismounted immediately as did Lady Y/N and Ser Martyn. Cregan stormed to his lady wife, grasping her shoulders before he pulled her into an ardent kiss of relief never minding his men watching. Lady Y/N was knocked out of wind and would have stumbled backwards if Lord Stark had not held her arms so securely.

“Where were you?” demanded Lord Stark from his lady wife. He still held her tightly by the shoulders, his brows in a terrible frown. Lady Y/N’s cheeks were flushed red where the cold wind lashed at them but not only that. The redness masked the small cuts that neither bled nor remained insignificant. Her neck, where visible, was more of the same and her head of long hair loose from its braid and windblown.

“And you!” snapped Cregan before Lady Y/N could manage a word and grabbed Ser Martyn’s breast plate. “How could you leave without an escort?” Lord Stark roared at one of his best men, but in that moment, Cregan could just as well kill him with his bare hands for endangering his wife. Lord Stark could not tell what angered him more: the thought of his wife alone with another man or that man, her sword shield, allowing Cregan’s wife to leave the grounds of Winterfell without a proper escort to protect her.

“Please, everything is alright now,” urged Lady Y/N as she came up to her husband, “A host of bandits attacked us ... ” She touched Lord Stark’s arm but he winced livid with fury, his cold, grey glare snapping to his wife.

“I should think,” snapped Lord Stark. Lady Y/N took a step back and lowered her gaze. Cregan was breathing heavily, still holding onto Ser Martyn’s breast plate although his eyes were on his wife. Lord Stark’s breathing began to calm although not so much his anger born from concern.

“I will hear of your pretensions later, knight,” the Lord of Winterfell growled at Ser Martyn as he let go of his breast plate with a yank.

A shivery breath of relief escaped Lady Y/N’s chest as she stared at her lord husband. He turned as did she, intending to mount Blackspur.

“No,” commanded Lord Stark, his insides still boiling with anger. Lady Y/N’s big eyes found her husband’s furious glare as he took her hand and led her to his courser. The dark brown stallion paced restlessly as he sensed his master’s rage. Cregan grabbed a hold of his wife’s waist and lifted her effortlessly on his courser. Y/N gasped soundlessly but dared not say a word. She had never seen her husband so furious or his anger so slow to cool. She wanted to tell Cregan what had happened and how Ser Martyn was not to blame but the wind whistled so loudly she could barely hear her own thoughts. They had to get back to the castle and quickly.

Heavy snow began to fall as the Lord of Winterfell climbed up into his saddle, one of his arms tightly wrapping around his wife’s waist. Lady Y/N held onto his strong, tense arm as Cregan spurred his mount around and they rode back to the castle. One of the men took Blackspur’s reins and led her to the castle with them. Y/N could almost sense the white-hot anger radiating off her husband’s body as he held her to him. Lord Stark’s anger only cooled some when he began to realize his wife was unharmed for the most part but was fuelled yet again as he knew none of it would have happened if a larger party escorted her. A tempest of thoughts ran through Cregan's mind. He doubted they could have got lost and were ambushed. Ser Martyn may not have been born in Winterfell but he had been a squire for his father since he was a boy of seven. He knew Winterfell as well as any.

Cregan’s heart pumped furiously as a seed of jealousy began to grow in him once again. Just the thought of Y/N alone with another man, any man. The foolish idea in Lord Stark's mind was soon overpowered by a thought that could prove to become all to real if Ser Martyn had not brought Y/N back safely. A pack of bandits, if they had prevailed over Lady Y/N's sworn shield ...

Cregan’s grip on Lady Y/N’s grip tightened even more just as they passed the castle gates. Lady Y/N squeezed Cregan's forearm, trying to tell him wordlessly that the grip was too tight but Lord Stark was too deep in his thoughts. The more Y/N tried to peel his arm off her waist, the stronger Cregan’s grip became.

“You’re hurting me,” said Lady Y/N at last. Her words sobered Lord Stark immediately and woke him from his poisonous thoughts. His hold softened immediately and he released a long held breath.

They reached the castle where one of the stableboys took the reins of Lord Stark's horse. The Lord of Winterfell dismounted and took his wife’s waist carefully. As her feet reached the floor, Cregan towered over her easily. He was suddenly acutely aware of his strength and how his thoughts carried him away.

“Forgive me,” asked Lord Stark of his wife, “It was never my intention to harm you.” Lady Y/N looked up into her husband’s eyes, taken back by the change in his voice. Cregan was far from calm, she could tell, but calmer still than he was only moments ago.

“Only if you can forgive me, my lord,” said Lady Y/N and bowed. Her hands began to tremble as she remembered the group of bandits. Neither herself nor Ser Martyn were sure they would be able to escape and it was her fault for persuading the knight they do not need more men with them. But she was no longer the young Lady Whytefort who no one knew of. She was the Lady of Winterfell, wife to the Warden of the North, and therefore much more valuable to bandits and delinquents.

“There were six of them,” told Lady Y/N once in her husband’s solar. “One of them was slain by Ser Martyn and another lost his arm at the wrist but the rest of them remained unscathed. Some of them had swords and short axes, and two of them were ahorse – one of those died at the hands of Ser Martyn when they chased us through the Wolfswood,” said Lady Y/N quickly, her words flying out of her mouth as if they were in a race to be heard by Lord Stark and Maester Bennard.

“Is there anything else you remember, my lady?” asked Maester Bennard as he wrote down the details for there would be a search party and an award for anyone who would provide information of the delinquents.

Lord Stark stared at his wife, wondering what it would be like if her and Ser Martyn had not returned, if he could not find her in time. Cregan had only just returned home only to neigh lose his wife, the woman he dreamed of every night on his march north.

The snow blizzard raged outside but that was the least of Lord Stark's concerns. If Lady Y/N could not have managed to escape the bandits … The wax stick in Cregan’s hand snapped like a twig. He had been rolling it around his fingers to keep his focus and pace his temper.

Lady Y/N’s eyes moved from Cregan’s eyes to his hands and finally to the maester. She shook her head.

“Thank you, my lady,” said Maester Bennard curtly and put the quill away. Lady Y/N nodded and finally felt at ease enough to remove her cloak. She hissed when the heavy fabric drew across a deep gash on her shoulder that she had forgotten about in the midst of it all.

Cregan jumped up hastily at the sight of the wound. The sleeve of Lady Y/N’s riding gown was drenched in blood.

“I think I caught a branch when we were running away,” said Lady Y/N, her fingertips red with blood as she inspected her wound.

“Why didn’t you speak before?” asked Lord Stark, rushing to his wife’s side. Lady Y/N looked up into her husband’s eyes, his formidable frame looming over her. He looked the wound before he tore off a strip of his tunic and wrapped it around her upper arm to stop the bleeding, whilst the maester went to fetch his things.

“I forgot,” said Lady Y/N quietly yet in all honesty. Cregan frowned at her, hardly believing what she was saying. Only then could Cregan see the tremble in her hands and the fear in her eyes. The small cuts on her face became more prominent once the blush from the wind drained from her cheeks. Lady Y/N should have taken a larger escort but the bandits had no business lurking the grounds of Winterfell in the first place, much less attacking its high lady. If Cregan feared for his wife's safety, how frightened must she have been in the face of it all.

Cregan caressed his wife’s cheek gently and pulled her closer, careful not to brush against her shoulder. He kissed the top of Y/N’s head as he felt her small hands reach around his waist.

“Please forgive me,” said Y/N quietly. Tears soaked her voice as she leaned against Cregan’s steady frame. "I was a fool not to heed Ser Martyn's advice. I never thought ..."

“Forgiven,” murmured the Lord of Winterfell against her hair. A different kind of anger rose inside of Cregan as he caressed his wife’s hair.

“I will have their heads and hang their from the walls of Winterfell, my lady. You have my word.”

***

It took a week for the snow blizzard to settle and near another three for any traces of the bandits to be found. Ser Martyn led one of the search parties, knowing full well what the men looked like. Just so, it was his group of knights who found them. Ser Martyn delivered the news as the Lord and Lady of Winterfell had their nuncheon in private. They had trout prepared in a skin of herbs with baked potatoes and a flagon of dark ale.

Lady Y/N’s heart paused in her chest when she heard the news.

“How did you find them?” asked Lady Stark. It has been so long everyone began to lose hope of ever catching the group of delinquents.

Ser Martyn hesitated a moment, showing a clear discomfort. “We found them despoiling a peasant girl,” he told.

Lady Stark’s lips parted but she could not find the words she wanted to say. Her stomach twisted and turned into knots and Y/N had to do everything in her power to keep her meal down. Blood began to boil in her veins. Out of nowhere, Lady Y/N could see the men’s faces in her mind as if it were yesterday that she encountered them in the Wolfswood. The man slain by Ser Martyn, the one who lost his hand, the short one with missing teeth, the two lanky men who seemed to be kin and the one who remained on horseback. Y/N did not know why but she wanted to see how the life would leave the bandits’ eyes. She wanted to be there when Cregan would pass the judgement and condemn them to whatever punishment he saw fit.

“I will see them,” said Lord Stark severely and got up from the table. Lady Y/N's eyes followed him.

“There are only four of them left, my lord,” informed Ser Martyn. “We interrogated the men separately and all claim the fifth was taken by the snowstorm.”

“After I am through with them, they will believe the frozen fool fortunate,” said the Lord of Winterfell.

***

The bandits were brought to Winterfell in chains, unharmed at the command of the Warden of the North. When the day of their execution came, most of Winterfell and the winter town gathered in the main square to witness the deaths of the men who had been pestering their lands. The Lady of Winterfell was not the first person they attacked and the peasant girl would not have been the last if not for Ser Martyn and his knights.

As the four men were led to the scaffold, not one of them walked without a limp. Their faces were broken and bruised but Lady Y/N could recognize them still even with the blood drying on their wounds. As per law, their heads were to be cut off for their crimes, but the Lord of Winterfell ordered their carcasses be hanged above the main gates of the castle as a warning to others.

The morning already broke but the snow was falling heavily in the silver-blue light of day. Lady Stark was standing with Lady Ellyn on the dais beneath a canopy that shielded them from the worst of the late autumn snow. Lady Y/N had trouble sleeping and had been feeling uneasy all morning. She could not find comfort not even in her husband’s embrace. Y/N could not stop thinking about the peasant girl nor of the day herself and Ser Martyn were ambushed. She could have ended up as the peasant girl or worse. The whole of it made her sick to her stomach. Lady Y/N wanted to be there for the execution, she wanted to see, and yet she wished for all of it to be over as quickly as possible.

The Lord of Winterfell marched on the scaffold where the prisoners waited in line. Thick snowflakes nestled in his heavy fur cloak and his long, dark hair. Ice hung solemnly on Lord Cregan’s back as the charges were told to the prisoners and the crowd that gathered.

“The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword,” Cregan told Lady Y/N when she asked last night who will bring doom to the bandits in the morn. The words rang almost as profoundly of House Stark as those of “Winter is coming”. Y/N had long thought it an old-wife's tale yet the longer she stayed at Winterfell, the more she began to believe there really never was a Stark without honour.

An eerie silence filled the square when the Lord of Winterfell unsheathed his great longsword. Cregan took off the prisoners’ heads one by one yet before he could reach the third, Lady Y/N’s head grew light as a summer cloud and a sickness settled in her stomach. She could not watch any longer but it was too late. Y/N tried to grasp Lady Ellyn’s hand to steady herself but her grip was no grip at all, merely a touch before she came crashing to the ground and darkness swallowed her vision.

Lady Y/N could feel the pillows beneath her as she began to wake but even the slightest movement of her head sent her head spinning. Y/N groaned and steadied herself against the mattress, slowly opening her eyes. She recognized the ceiling of her private chambers. There were voices speaking but there was ringing in her ears and she could not understand them. Suddenly, a heavy nausea came over her and she threw up, a basin already by her side. Someone took her hair and held it back as sweat coated Lady Y/N’s neck and forehead. The ringing in her ears gradually stopped as did her vomiting. She was offered a cup of water by someone. Lady Y/N rose her gaze and saw her lady-in-waiting.

“It’s alright,” whispered Lady Ellyn with a small smile.

“What happened?” asked Lady Y/N as she looked around her chambers. Cregan was standing by her side, his eyes bright and restless and his brows in a concerned frown. If this were a battle, he would have been swinging his sword and shouting orders. But this was no battle although his body was just as tense.

Lady Y/N noticed Maester Bennard was there as well as were her other three ladies-in-waiting. The ladies wore cheerful smiles and exchanged silent whispers.

Maester Bennard offered a small smile. “I am pleased to say that your ladyship is with child again.”

#house of the dragon #game of thrones #hotd #house of the dragon fanfic #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #hotd cregan #cregan stark x y/n #winterfell #house stark #the wolf of the north #cregan fanfiction

519 notes · View notes

anyca786 · 10 months ago

Text

"DRAGON'S EMBRACE"

Daemon Targaryen x sister!Targaryen

WARNINGS: canon typical incest/targcest (brother & sister), fluff, kissing, violence ( at the tourneys) (possible rhaenyra x aunt!Targaryen?! Idk)

Series

Daenys stepped into the Dragonpit, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and apprehension. The air was thick with the scent of sulfur and dragonfire, and the distant growls of the dragons echoed through the cavernous space.

A particularly menacing growl caught her attention. It was Caraxes, the Blood Wrym, Daemon's fearsome mount. The dragon, with its long neck and bright red scales, loomed over her, its eyes glowing with an otherworldly intensity.

Daenys approached Caraxes cautiously, her voice steady. "Be calm," she whispered in High Valyrian . "Remember me."

To her relief, Caraxes seemed to recognize her. The dragon's growls subsided, and it lowered its head, allowing Daenys to stroke its scales.

"Good dragon," Daenys praised, continuing to speak in High Valyrian. "You are a magnificent creature, a true beast of the skies."

Caraxes purred contentedly, its tail thumping the ground. Daenys pressed her forehead against the dragon's, feeling a surge of connection. "Good boy," she whispered.

Just then, Daemon entered the Dragonpit, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Came back after so long, and already on a mission to steal my dragon?” He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Daenys rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. With a final pat to Caraxes' scales, she ran into Daemon’s arms.

He caught her effortlessly, pulling her into a warm embrace. “I’ve missed you,” Daenys mumbled into his ear, her voice soft and a bit breathless.

“I’ve missed you more, my love,” Daemon replied, placing a longing kiss on her cheek. “Though I’ve heard quite a lot about your adventure in the North, and let me assure you, I’m intrigued.”

Daenys rolled her eyes playfully, but a blush crept across her face. “Women have needs brother. And men in the North know how to satisfy their women.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Their women? Sweetheart, you’re mine.”

Daenys blushed and walked towards Nyx, her dragon, who towered over Daemon’s Caraxes. Daemon followed quietly.

“You have a wife, Daemon,” Daenys said, patting Nyx, who purred in contentment.

Daemon wrapped his arms around Daenys from behind, placing a passionate kiss on her neck. Daenys bit back a moan, her body tingling with anticipation.

“Aegon, the Conqueror, had two wives,” Daemon replied, his voice low and seductive.

“You’re no Aegon,” Daenys said, turning to face him with a smirk. She pulled him into a passionate kiss, her hands tangled in his hair. Daemon’s tongue fought for dominance, and he deepened the kiss, his hands exploring her body.

Suddenly, a low growl interrupted them. Daenys laughed, realizing Nyx was jealous. “Someone’s feeling left out,” she teased, turning to pat her dragon.

Nyx huffed but seemed to relent "Calm down, girl," she said, patting the dragon's snout.

As they stood there, the wind carrying the scent of the sea, Daemon turned to Daenys. "I'm glad you're home."

"Me too," she replied, her heart filled with a warmth she hadn't felt in a long time.

"Alright, I've got to meet Aemma and Rhaenyra," Daenys said, pulling away from Daemon.

But Daemon wasn't done. He pulled her back for another deep kiss, his lips moving against hers with a possessive urgency. Daenys melted into the kiss, her body responding to his touch.

Catching her breath, she finally managed to pull away. "I'll see you at the tourney," she said, her voice a little breathless.

Daemon grinned. "Don't be late."

As Daenys turned to leave, she couldn't help but glance back at Daemon. A soft smile played on her lips as she walked away.

🥀

Daenys ascended the grand staircase to the balcony, her heart pounding with anticipation. The crowd below roared as King Viserys I addressed them, his voice carrying over the din.

"Be welcome! I know many of you have traveled long leagues to be at these games. But I promise, you will not be disappointed" the king announced.

Daenys found her seat beside Rhaenyra, her niece, and gave her a warm smile. Viserys stood amidst the nobles, his voice booming.

"When I look at the fine knights in these lists, I see a group without equal in our histories. And this great day has been made more auspicious by the news that I am happy to share: Queen Aemma has begun her labors!"

"I'm yet to see your mother," Daenys said to Rhaenyra. "How are you, my sweet niece?"

"Pleasant, now that you're here," Rhaenyra replied, her eyes sparkling with admiration for her aunt. Daenys was everything Rhaenyra aspired to be or to be with.

Two knights, their armor gleaming in the sunlight, charged towards each other in the center of the stadium. On the second run, one was dismounted, sending the crowd into a frenzy. The winner approached the balcony, bowing.

"Who's that?" Daenys asked curiously.

"A mystery knight?" Rhaenyra replied.

"No, a Cole, of the Stormlands," Alicent Hightower, Rhaenyra's best friend, said.

Boremund Baratheon rode up to the balcony. "Princess Rhaenys Targaryen! I would humbly ask for the favor of 'The Queen Who Never Was.'"

The nobles exchanged glances. Rhaenys approached, dropping a wreath on Boremund's lance. "Good fortune to you, cousin," she replied.

As the tournament continued, Rhaenyra turned to her aunt and best friend. "Lord Stokeworth's daughter is promised to that young Tarly squire."

"Lord Massey's son?" Daenys asked.

"Mm-hm. They're to be married as soon as he wins his knighthood," Rhaenyra replied.

"Best get on with it. I heard that Lady Elinor is hiding a swollen belly beneath her dress," Alicent said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Boremund and Criston Cole, the mystery knight, clashed. Boremund was unseated, the crowd roaring with excitement. Harrold approached Rhaenyra's seat.

"What do you know about this Ser Criston Cole, Ser Harrold?" Rhaenyra asked.

"I'm told Ser Criston is the common-born son of Lord Dondarrion's steward. But other than that, and the fact that he's just unhorsed both of the Baratheon lads, I really couldn't say," Harrold replied.

Daenys teased her niece. "You seem curious about the Coleman."

The crowd erupted in cheers as a Targaryen flag was raised, signaling the entrance of a group of knights into the arena.

"Prince Daemon of House Targaryen, Prince of the City, will now choose his first opponent!" the Master of Reveals announced.

Daemon rode out, his eyes scanning the assembled jousters. He finally settled on a knight wearing the Hightower sigil. Daenys couldn't help but smirk as she realized it was Otto Hightower's son.

"For his first challenge, Prince Daemon Targaryen chooses Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown, eldest son of the Hand of the King," the Master of Reveals announced.

Rhaenyra squeezed her best friend's hand, Alicent's face pale with worry for her brother.

Daemon glanced at the crowd one last time, making eye contact with Otto before charging forward. The two knights collided, their lances splintering upon impact. Daemon was hit and lost his lance, but he managed to stay in the saddle. Otto looked pleased.

Both riders were given new lances and charged again. At the last moment, Daemon swung his lance in front of Gwayne's horse's hooves, sending both tumbling over. Gwayne was injured but managed to get up, eliciting mixed reactions from the crowd and nobles.

Daemon rode up to the balcony, where Rhaenyra, Daenys, and Alicent stood.

"Nicely done, Uncle," Rhaenyra said.

"Thank you, Princess," Daemon replied, his eyes lingering on Daenys. "Now, I'm fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent. Having your favor would all but assure it."

Alicent hesitated, sharing a glance with Otto before dropping a wreath on Daemon's lance. "Good luck, my Prince," she said.

With one last glance at Daenys, Daemon returned to the tournament.

Daenys frowned as she saw a maester whisper something in Otto's ear, who then relayed it to Viserys. Viserys looked nervous and stood up to leave.

"What's happening?" Daenys asked Rhaenyra.

"I don't know," Rhaenyra replied, her voice filled with concern. "Something must be wrong."

The tournament raged on, the crowd roaring as another knight was unseated. The fallen knight, however, refused to yield. He pulled his opponent off his horse and began to attack, his actions met with a mixture of cheers and gasps.

The attacking knight raised his axe, the crowd holding their breath. With a powerful swing, he brought the axe down, ending the fight with a sickening thud. The onlookers gasped, the weight of the moment heavy in the air.

A dead knight was dragged away, the tournament briefly pausing.

"Ser Criston Cole will now tilt against Ser Daemon Targaryen, Prince of the City!" the Master of Reveals announced.

Daemon and Criston prepared to joust.

Neither was dismounted on their first pass, Daenys watching nervously. They took new lances, the crowd's anticipation building.

As they collided again, the world seemed to tilt for a moment. Daemon landed on the barrier in the center of the arena, barely managing to stay on his horse before tumbling off. He pushed away a man who tried to help him up as Criston dismounted.

"Fuck," Daenys muttered, her heart sinking.

"Sword!" Daemon demanded, a squire bringing him his weapon.

"Prince Daemon Targaryen wishes to continue in a contest of arms!" the Master of Revels announced.

Criston approached Daemon, his morningstar gleaming. With a powerful blow, Criston hit Daemon from behind, pinning one of his arms to the ground.

"Yield. Yield!," Criston said, offering his hand to help Daemon up.

Daemon hesitated for a moment before yielding, swatting Criston's hand away as he stood. As he surveyed the crowd, his eyes met Daenys', who, along with Rhaenyra and Alicent, had run to the edge of the balcony.

Criston approached them. "I was hoping to ask for the Princess Daenys' favor."

Daenys smirked, tossing a wreath down to him. "I wish you luck, Ser Criston," she said.

"Princess," Criston replied, clearly blushing. Rhaenyra coughed, noticing the interaction, and all three girls burst out laughing.

But the laughter was cut short as Otto approached the balcony, his face grave. "The Queen is dead," he whispered to Daenys.

Daenys stumbled back, her knees buckling. Otto caught her, his voice filled with concern. "Princess," he said.

Daemon noticed the exchange, a worried line appearing on his forehead.

The Queen was dead.

A/N- Filler Chapter, next one will have some🌶

Aemma deserved better😔

#daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #tumblr #hotd daemon #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targeryan #hotd

218 notes · View notes

scielitobonito · 11 months ago

Text

Painting The Roses Red

Jacaerys Velaryon/Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader

canon divergent, mentions of war/ptsd, a lot! of fluff, yearning, forbidden love, mentions of death and infidelity, dragonrider!reader

summary: HEAVILY INSP by this HC from @enviedear Reader is restless from nightmares of the war and Jace soothes her back to sleep by reading stories of Targaryen History while reminiscing on their past. Jace wonders how their story will fit into the future of Targaryen History.

word count: 1,566

a/n: It started off short because I was inspired by @enviedear 's head cannon (THIS ONE IS FOR YOU BABE) about Jace reading you to sleep with Targaryen History but then it became a whole thing of its own since I crave fluffy Jace and I love forbidden love. I want to write the wedding so pls let me know if a part 2 with memories of their wedding or any other of their war adventures would be interesting.

You threw off your sweat-drenched sheets and found solace in the cold breeze through the window. Your sleep had been restless all through the war, and you thought once it was over, you would finally have some peaceful rest, but the fear had settled into your bones, and you would never be the same again. Tears welled in your eyes as the memories of the past two years replayed in your mind. You didn't even realize that soft sobs had begun to leave your body as you stared out at the sea; however, Jacearys did notice. His coarse hand wrapped around your wrist, startling you out of your trance as he pulled you into his chest. "We're safe, you're safe," he whispered into your hair, rubbing soft circles on your back. This had become a routine for both of you since you found yourselves back at Kings Landing, and both of you constantly had to pull one another out of the distant memories of war. "I know," you murmured, "but that still doesn't change the chill in my bones and the fear in my heart as I watch you die over and over again." you whimpered as he tightened his grip on you. "Jacearys, you almost died. I fished you out of the water and watched you come and go from consciousness. The maesters believed you dead." He sighed. "But I am alive, and our victories will be written in the histories. The greens will only grow to be a stain, but a footnote in the rich Targaryen history." He pulled away from you to grab a large leather-bound book containing the tales of Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters wives before settling back on your bed. "Come," he beckoned you over softly, "we shall be the rulers our descendants look upon with admiration and seek guidance from just as we look to our ancestors."

You shook your head, offering him a sad smile as you climbed alongside him, adjusting yourself in his chest. His voice was a lullaby that warded off the fear that threatened to destroy your peace, and with the vibrato that escaped his chest, you could feel yourself being pulled by sleep. Your eyes are heavy as you cling to every word of the stories of Rhaenys and Aegon. As Jace looks down to see you opposing your rest, he aids the sleep process by entwining his hand in your hair, softly running his fingers along your scalp.

You can feel yourself losing your battle, and Jace knows he's won as he hears your soft snores in his embrace. He looks down at your peaceful face in admiration and sadness. It was rare to find you so calm. It had been years since he had seen you so happy and carefree.

The war had taken so much from you, your home, your family, and most importantly, it shook your lineage. You were a firstborn daughter, a lady created for more domestic pursuits, the beauty of Highgarden. You weren't fire and blood, or so you thought. However, when the war made you a dragonrider, the garden's secrets became revealed as your mother had to uncover the truth of an affair your great-grandmother had with a Targaryen prince during the rule of King Jaehaerys. The gods were merciful, and this child bore only a tiny resemblance to the Targaryen prince who fathered him, and your grandfather, the heir of House Tyrell, would pass his Targaryen blood to you. Amongst learning to ride dragons and fight for the rightful Queen, you learned the news that your home and your family had been taken and slain. You were now the Lady of Highgarden, thrust into a position you were not born for and fighting to make your place in the world while also trying to preserve whatever you had left of the life before the war.

Jacearys wasn't supposed to fall in love with you, and you weren't supposed to fall in love with him, but you two were drawn to one another, bound together by some invisible string. He thought that he knew what love was supposed to feel like. After all, he and Baela were affectionate and devoted to one another, but with you, it was different. He felt electric when you accidentally brushed your hands against his while adjusting your riding gear. Or the way that it felt that the air had been sucked out of him when you gazed into his beautiful ember eyes. The way that your laughter filled the room and made his heart sing. Being with you made Jaecarys feel like the world had stopped and only you two were transceding through time.

It was only a short time before Rhaenyra noticed her son became fond of roses and would always request them no matter how difficult the import may be to Dragonstone. She also noticed how their newest dragon rider began to shed the colors of her house in favor of the colors of House Targaryen. It was hard not to notice the late hours you spent with Jace in the library, desperate to learn the language and customs of old Valyria as you both filled the castle with laughter into the hours of the night. You and Jacearys trained together, constantly pushing each other to your limits as you both developed a dance, a routine where your motions almost mirrored the other and your fierce devotion to one another became unmistakable, as when one of you was assigned to a mission, the other was desperate to go along to protect the other. This devotion would make you the woman who saved the heir to the iron throne, Prince Jacearys Targaryen.

Once you became the Lady of Highgarden, Baela came to Queen Rhaenyra requesting to end the betrothal between herself and Jacearys. "He loves her, Your Grace," she stated, "and I do not believe he will ever stop loving her nor she. As we have witnessed, they would give their lives for one another if necessary. It would not be fair to Jacearys to watch the woman he loves marry another man; he is far too honorable to take her as a lover. Instead, he will be trapped with me, always longing for someone he can't have. Wondering of a future that could have been."

Rhaenyra sighed, knowing all too well what comes from loveless and forced marriages. She knew her son's behavior, and Baela was right. Unlike herself, Jacearys was far too honorable to lie with another woman, but he may never bring himself to love Baela. Instead, the two young rulers would be forced to be yearning gazes at court with Baela caught in the middle of an unspoken desire. Rhaenyra sighed. "I will grant your request."

Queen Rhaenyra announced the end of the betrothal that same night, causing mixed uproar from the lords and ladies at court. Jacearys looked at his mother and Baela in horror and confusion as one of the lords called out, "Who shall be the bride of the prince now, Your Grace!?" "Shall we all present our daughters?" "I have a girl of marrying age!" Jacearys eyes searched for you and found you staring back at him, hopeful. He felt guilt as he looked back to Baela, who only nodded at him. A small smile crept on her face, and her eyes gestured at you. "Go to her," she mouthed. Jacearys blinked in confusion as his emotions raged inside him, and he felt his body begin walking toward you as his mother tried to quiet the unruly crowd.

The crowd hushed as they noticed the prince making his way to you, the court, holding their breath as the realization dawned on them. The prince had fallen in love with the most beautiful but thorniest rose in the Highgarden. "My prince," you whispered, "they are watching."

Jacearys only hummed in response as he lifted your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the back. Hushed whispers rang through the crowd. "The Highgarden girl?" "There are rumors that they are a love match, but the Prince was promised to the princess." "She saved the prince's life; I, too, would fall in love with any woman of the sort." Jacearys chuckled as he caught some of the whispers and looked at his mother, who gave him a permissive nod.

"I have decided to marry Lady Tyrell, the Lady of Highgarden, if she will have me." Tears welled in your eyes as Jacearys publicly declared for you. "I will accept your proposal, Prince Jacearys." You nodded, a smile covering your face. Your heart overflowed with your love for Jacearys; you had spent so much time holding back due to duty and scrutiny. He laughed heartily as he kissed your forehead, pulling you in for a hug. "A love match!" someone shouted out, causing the court to erupt in applause and cheers. This union would promise peace amongst Westeros, for the people would know that the dragon prince and his thorny rose would furiously protect each other and their people.

Jace shook himself from the memories and kissed your head, closing his eyes to breathe you in. "I love you," he whispered before shutting the book and drifting off to sleep. He staved off the nightmares from both of you for just another night and dreamed of what tales they would write for you both.

#house of the dragon #jace velaryon #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys valaryon #hotd jacaerys #hotd jace #jace targaryen #jace x reader #jacearys targaryen x reader

153 notes · View notes

misswynters · 1 year ago

Text

Dragon Twins Series (Teaser)

pair: aegon targaryen x dayne! fem!reader x aerion targaryen

synopsis: You finally arrived at the capital, the land of in which aegon the conqueror came through. You are from the illustrious House Dayne from Dorne. You catch the eyes of the targaryen twin princes, aegon and aerion. aegon is the heir to the iron throne. whereas aerion is more of the adventurous and rebellious type.

warnings: none

a/n: it’s easier for me to write it as a fem reader whoever i can always change it.

series masterlist

The sun was setting as you made your way to King’s Landing. The banners of House Dayne which beared the white sword and falling star, fluttered against the warm breeze. You sat there, with your head held high as your eyes peaked through the small windows of the carriage. The only think you saw was the streets of the capital buzzing with people at the market and kids playing. The Red Keep Loomed ahead, its imposing silhouette casting long shadows over the ancient city. As they approached, you could feel the weight of your family’s expectations that are now resting on your shoulders. House Dayne, renowned for its ancient history and the legendary sword of Dawn, had always maintained an influential presence in the realm. Therefore your arrival in kings landing was not just a matter of formality; it was a declaration of the dayne influence and a future entailment of your role at the kings court. As the procession entered the castle gates, You were greeted by the sight of the Targaryen standard flying high above the ramparts. The dragon sigil seemed to shimmer in the fading light, a reminder of the power and legacy of the house she would soon be entangled with. She dismounted gracefully, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, and adjusted her violet cloak, a gift from her family marking her status as a noble of Dorne.

Inside the red keep, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. Nobles and the servants whispered amongst themselves as their eyes followed your presence. You were escorted to the grand hall where there was a feast being prepared in your honor. The hall was a marvel of architecture, with high ceilings adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the history of House Targaryen. The long tables were laden with an array of dishes, from roasted meats to exotic fruits, and the air was thick with the mingling scents of rich spices and sweet wines.

At the head of the hall, seated upon the dais, were the twin princes of the realm: Aegon and Aerion Targaryen. Aegon, the elder by mere minutes and the heir apparent, had an air of composed authority. His silver-gold hair was neatly trimmed, and his piercing violet eyes exuded a sense of calm determination. By contrast, Aerion's dark auburn hair fell in wild waves around his shoulders, and his eyes sparkled with mischief and restless energy. They were a striking pair, embodying the duality of fire and ice that defined their lineage.

You approached the dais with measured steps, your heart beating a little faster with each step. You bowed gracefully, acknowledging the princes with the respect due their station. "Your Highnesses," you greeted them, your voice steady and clear.

"Lady ___ Dayne," Aegon replied, his voice smooth and commanding. "Welcome to King’s Landing. Your presence here honors us."

Aerion leaned forward, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Indeed, it is not often we are graced with such beauty and distinction from the South. I trust your journey was pleasant?"

Your eyes met Aerion's gaze, twinkling with amusement. "It was long but not without its charms, your grace. The roads of Westeros are always full of surprises."

Aegon’s expression softened slightly, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "We are pleased you have arrived safely. There is much to discuss in the days to come, matters of great importance to both our houses."

As the evening progressed, you found yourself seated between the two princes at the high table. Conversations flowed around them, a mix of courtly pleasantries and subtle intrigues. Aegon spoke of politics and the future of the realm, his tone serious and contemplative. Aerion, on the other hand, entertained her with tales of his escapades and dreams of adventure, his laughter ringing through the hall like a melody.

taglist: @sab-falco @spn-obession @tomgcsmrs @sturnioloarchive @arquiiva

#aegon targaryen x reader #aerion targaryen #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon #house dayne #house targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #rhaenyra targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon smut #dragon twins series

160 notes · View notes

writingsofwesteros · 10 months ago

Note

Viserys and Alicent being left to raise Daemon’s royce daughter after he remarries. She’s an adventures and spirited princess that remind the king and queen of his late-mother and Rhaenyra. The pair would be come so obsessed with her, both of them moaning her name while they fucked each other. After Rhaenyra moves away, the king and queen would marry her, sharing the princess like the conquerors had with Queen Rhaenys. With their new bride, the king and queen would find a new balance and flame in their relationship.

THE HOTTEST!!

The idea of them moaning her name whilst together is too delicious; Alicent riding her King with her eyes closed and moans of another falling from her lips.

#hot thots

122 notes · View notes

differentpostrebel · 30 days ago

Text

Lost and Found: A Pirates Promise

Chapter 67: Reunited and it feels so good

A/N: And we are back at it again with a new chapter! This one is a bit long, but well worth it! We have Zoro making some declarations in public... Law making an appearance, and the crew is finally reunited! but all is fair in love and war ;). Thank you guys so much for the love and likes, and shares on my posts! Now without further ado, let the adventure begin!

Tags: @rubyninja1 @starlight-glitter-88 <3

Our love sick cook is back!

We finally arrived at Bakuratown, Komachiyo coming to a halt with Luffy, Okiku, and Zoro riding on its back. I pulled on the reins of the horse I was riding, bringing it to a stop beside them. “Good boy,” I murmured with a smirk, patting its head as it neighed softly.

Suddenly, Luffy cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Heyyyyyy, we came to save you, Tama!”

My eyes widened in disbelief, mirroring the shocked expressions of everyone else. “Are you serious right now, Luffy?!” I hissed under my breath.

Okiku quickly clamped a hand over his mouth, muffling his words. “Quiet, Luffy Taro! Please be cautious. You can’t do that here!” she said urgently, darting her eyes toward the area ahead where several samurai stood armed with swords.

Instinctively, my hand moved toward the hilt of King’s sword strapped to my back. My grip tightened slightly, the weight of the situation urging me to stay alert.

“You guys look awfully fishy,” one of the samurai said suspiciously, stepping closer.

“The less attention we draw, the better,” Okiku whispered as she released Luffy.

“Why’s that?” Luffy asked cluelessly.

Another samurai stepped forward, holding a document in his hand. “There are no records of them leaving,” he muttered before raising his voice. “Who are you guys?! Start talking!”

Okiku glanced at us and said firmly, “We can’t trust anyone here—they’re likely in league with Otama’s kidnappers.”

I smirked, my gaze fixed on the samurai ahead. “Well, I’ve got trust issues anyway, so that’s already handled.”

Before anyone could respond, Luffy activated his Conqueror’s Haki. The wave of power knocked the samurai unconscious, one by one, leaving them sprawled on the ground.

“Let’s move,” Luffy said with a wide grin, clearly unbothered by the chaos he’d just caused.

Gripping the reins, I spurred the horse forward. “Guess we’re not drawing attention anymore,” I muttered sarcastically, shaking my head.

As we continued through the streets of Bakuratown, the grim reality of Orochi’s rule became increasingly clear. The townsfolk’s misery and the oppressive atmosphere weighed heavily on us all.

Just then, a sumo wrestler lumbered into view, barreling toward me with surprising speed. The horse reared up, startled, but before the wrestler could get any closer, Luffy stepped in and stopped him with ease.

“Shhh, easy boy, easy,” I whispered, gently petting the horse’s neck to calm it. It snorted and lowered its head, and I let out a breath of relief. “Thanks, Captain,” I said with a grateful smile.

“Don’t mention it,” Luffy replied cheerfully, grinning as the horse dipped its head in acknowledgment.

“It looks like there’s a sumo competition going on,” Luffy remarked as we passed by a bustling area.

From behind me, Zoro’s voice called out, “Hey, Y/N!”

“Yeah, Zo?” I replied, glancing back at him.

Zoro’s smirk was unmistakable, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary. “You look good up there,” he said, his tone casual but with a teasing edge. “Guess the horse isn’t the only one stealing the show.”

I raised an eyebrow, a sly grin tugging at my lips. “Flirting while I’m on horseback, huh? Bold of you, swordsman.”

He chuckled, leaning back slightly on Komachiyo as if unfazed. “What can I say? Thought I’d give you a reason to look back my way.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” I shot back with a smirk, turning forward again. “I always know when you’re looking, Zo.”

Just then, two more sumo wrestlers came flying our way, crashing into the ground nearby.

“Damn, is it raining men or what?” I quipped, shaking my head as Luffy laughed.

“Sumo wrestling, huh? I wanna try!” Luffy exclaimed with an eager grin.

“My money’s on you, Captain,” I said with a smirk, urging the horse forward as we approached the scene.

“Looks like a fight!” Luffy cheered, his excitement growing as we neared the crowd and the commotion of the sumo wrestlers battling in the ring.

“Okiku!” a booming voice called out, echoing over the crowd.

I raised an eyebrow, looking toward the source—a massive sumo wrestler with an obnoxious grin plastered across his face.

“Damn, he must have optic vision to be able to see from that far,” I muttered, the horse neighing in agreement.

“You accepted my invitation after all!” the sumo wrestler yelled again. “And what’s this? You brought the vision of beauty as well!” His eyes turned into literal hearts as he ogled me from a distance.

I groaned, slapping a hand to my forehead. Even the horse shook its head in exaggerated disapproval.

“You seem to agree with everything I say and do, huh? It’s like we may have met before,” I chuckled, patting the horse’s neck affectionately.

The sumo wrestler, oblivious to the scene, turned his attention back to Okiku. “I’m glad you finally came along and decided to marry me, Okiku!” he shouted proudly.

It was as if a record scratched in my mind, my entire body going rigid at the mention of forced marriage. A fiery rage bubbled up inside me, and my grip on the reins tightened as I growled, “Cocky bastard thinks he can force a woman into marriage.”

The horse bucked, as if sharing my sentiment, its movements sharp and full of energy.

“Don’t worry, boy,” I said with a dangerous smirk, calming the horse with a firm pat. “We’ll show him how wrong he is soon enough.”

“Wow! This is certainly a surprise! There’s a woman here who’s apparently engaged to Urashima!” the announcer declared, his voice booming over the crowd.

I turned to look at Okiku, who appeared frightened, her wide eyes betraying her unease.

“Don’t worry, Okiku. I too have experience with arranged marriages,” I said softly, scratching the back of my head.

“You were also forced into marriage?” she asked, her voice tinged with surprise and empathy.

I nodded, letting out a sigh. “It’s a long story, but yes. Although my marriage was annulled, my ex-husband insisted I keep the wedding band and ring.” I lifted my hand to show her the simple band still adorning my finger.

Before Okiku could respond, the announcer’s grating voice filled the air again. “And what’s this... it appears Urashima’s second woman has also arrived—on a horse, no less!”

I froze, my eyes snapping to the announcer as a wave of irritation coursed through me.

“I know you did not just say that!” I shouted, my voice sharp with indignation. My horse whinnied in agreement, stomping its hooves as if echoing my annoyance.

The crowd turned to me, their murmurs and whispers only adding fuel to my frustration. I gritted my teeth, determined to put an end to the absurdity.

“They’re both simply beautiful! Urashima is one hell of a guy to bag two women!” someone from the crowd shouted, their voice laced with mockery.

My jaw clenched as anger surged through me, my right hand instinctively moving to my side. A familiar red hue flickered to life, casting a glow over my hidden blades. Sparks of red lightning began crackling around my fingers, dancing with my fury.

The shift in atmosphere silenced part of the crowd, their attention locked on the ominous energy radiating from my hand.

“Enough of this nonsense,” I muttered, stepping forward as the horse moved with me, as if in perfect sync. My voice rang loud and clear. “Urashima doesn’t deserve even one woman, let alone two. And if any of you think he does, I’d be happy to prove you wrong right here, right now!”

The red lightning pulsed brighter, casting eerie shadows across the crowd. Gasps rippled through the audience, and the announcer stumbled over his words, clearly unnerved by the display.

"Y/N!" Okiku’s voice broke through the tension, hesitant yet urgent. She seemed unsure whether to pull me back or cheer me on.

Before I could respond, a loud, confident voice cut through the air, making my heart skip a beat.

"She’s not his woman! She’s mine!"

I turned sharply toward the source, my eyes widening as they locked onto Zoro, perched atop Komachiyo with his usual nonchalant expression.

The entire crowd fell silent, the weight of his bold declaration sinking in. Even my horse snorted, shaking its head as if to question Zoro’s audacity.

“She carries my ring on her finger!” Zoro continued, raising his voice for the entire arena to hear. “And I carry hers right here!” He lifted his hand, revealing the ring King left him glinting in the sunlight.

My jaw dropped, disbelief and annoyance flooding my chest. “Roronoa!” I hissed through clenched teeth, glaring at him. “What is the meaning of this?!”

He gave me a sly smirk, cutting me off with an infuriating calmness. “Relax. Just go with it. We’ll deal with the rest later.”

The crowd erupted into a mix of shocked murmurs and excited cheers, buying into Zoro’s theatrics. Urashima’s face twisted into an angry scowl, clearly not pleased with the turn of events.

Okiku covered her mouth, barely suppressing her laughter. "That’s... one way to handle things," she whispered.

Meanwhile, Zoro leaned casually on Komachiyo, his smirk never wavering. “See? Problem solved.”

“You just made things ten times worse!” I snapped, my cheeks heating from a mix of anger and embarrassment.

Zoro’s grin only widened. “You’re welcome.” The crowd buzzed with murmurs as Luffy's voice cut through the noise, completely oblivious to the chaos brewing around him.

“Hey, you guys! We’re looking for someone! Can you help? A little girl—her name is Tama! Can you tell me where the boss of this town is at?” he shouted.

I groaned inwardly. That’s one way of asking, I thought, shaking my head.

Before anyone could respond, a shrill voice rang out from the crowd, directed at Okiku. “It’s not fair! I wanted to be his husband!”

I turned toward the source, my eyebrows raised. A woman, eyes brimming with tears, stood with her hands clenched in frustration.

“Honey,” I said, raising my voice to be heard, “you can have him, ‘cause we sure aren’t fighting for him, that’s for sure.”

Luffy burst out laughing at my remark, and even Zoro’s lips twitched into a smirk. But the murmurs of the crowd still swirled around Okiku and Urashima, feeding into the sumo wrestler’s ego.

“Man, that’s annoying,” I muttered, gripping the reins tighter as my horse stirred restlessly beneath me.

“They’re all ignoring you,” Zoro quipped to Luffy, his tone teasing.

“Do me a favor, will you?” Urashima’s booming voice interrupted. “Grab Okiku and that vision of beauty and bring them over here!” He gestured toward us with an air of entitlement.

The sumo wrestlers around him cheered in agreement. “Boss, you gotta train us in the arts of love!”

I slapped my hand against my forehead, exasperated. “How do I put this gently... you’re not my type!” I yelled back, my voice laced with sarcasm.

The crowd erupted into laughter, but my horse suddenly began to buck harder, its movements more erratic than before.

“Easy, boy! What’s wrong?” I said, leaning forward to calm him with a firm pat. His wild eyes darted toward the advancing sumo wrestlers, who approached with smug grins and open arms.

“Hey, ladies!” one of them called out, waving as though he were doing us a favor. “Urashima told us to get you. Come on!”

The horse reared up, its hooves kicking in protest, and I had to grip the reins tightly to keep my balance.

“Y/N, you stay looking cool on that horse!” Luffy suddenly chimed in, his grin wide as he hopped off Komachiyo with Zoro and Okiku.

I groaned, shooting him an incredulous look. “Luffy, we have priorities!”

But he wasn’t listening, his attention already fixed on the commotion ahead. Meanwhile, the horse’s erratic movements grew more violent, its distress palpable.

“Hey, easy, boy! Easy!” I soothed, trying to steady him. Something was definitely wrong.

The horse’s movements grew sharper, as if it could feel the tension in the air. Its hooves stomped against the ground, each strike resonating like a drumbeat.

“We’ve got stuff to do—move!” Luffy yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Urashima, clearly enraged by the situation, bellowed at his men. “Knock out both of them!” he roared, pointing at Luffy and Zoro.

“What’s your deal, huh?!” Luffy shouted back, throwing punches that sent several sumo wrestlers flying. His movements were quick and decisive, despite the absurdity of the situation.

Zoro, meanwhile, took a different approach. For once, he relied on hand-to-hand combat, his strikes precise and powerful. I watched, momentarily impressed by his fluid movements.

“A nice slap is still my favorite... ain’t that right, princess?” Zoro called out casually, his voice dripping with smug amusement.

My jaw dropped. “Roronoa, you and I are going to have a serious talk…” I trailed off, only to be interrupted by Okiku’s scream.

“Crap,” I muttered, snapping back to focus.

The horse suddenly surged forward on its own, its instincts seemingly guiding it toward Okiku. “Boy, why are you—?” I began, but my hand instinctively reached for King’s sword at my back.

Ahead, the sumo wrestler had Okiku in his grasp, her struggles futile against his sheer size. “Lady, why are you resisting?” he yelled, tightening his hold.

The horse moved with an almost predatory grace, weaving past obstacles and slowing just enough for me to balance my blade in one hand. With a sharp pull on the reins, it came to a halt, positioning me perfectly close to the sumo wrestler.

The tip of my blade gleamed as it came to rest against his neck. “I suggest you let her go,” I said, my voice low and dangerous.

The sumo wrestler froze, his grip on Okiku faltering. A moment later, he released her, and she stumbled back to safety. Before he could react, my horse lowered its head and delivered a powerful headbutt to the man’s chest, sending him sprawling to the ground.

I patted the horse’s neck with a grin. “I really do think you and I have met in a past life, boy,” I said fondly.

The horse let out a loud neigh, its body shifting with pride as it pawed at the ground. It had clearly earned its moment in the spotlight.

Turning the horse toward Okiku, I asked, “Okiku, you okay?”

She nodded, her face still pale from the ordeal.

“Good,” I said, smiling warmly. I patted the horse again. “Boy, cool if you stay with Komachiyo?”

The horse whinnied, its head tossing slightly in protest.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay, my noble steed,” I reassured him, petting his nose gently before dismounting.

Okiku moved toward Zoro and Luffy, her steps cautious as I unsheathed my sword. While preparing for the next wave, I thought it best to rely on hand-to-hand combat for agility. As I strapped my sword to my back, a sharp tug suddenly yanked me off balance.

“What the—?!” I gasped, twisting to see ropes binding my waist tightly.

“When did this happen?!” I hissed, thrashing to loosen the binds. The ropes tightened further, digging into my skin.

Okiku let out a startled scream as another sumo wrestler ensnared her.

“Ahh! Damn it, I just saved you too!” I snapped, still fighting against the ropes.

Luffy and Zoro remained locked in their battle, but my struggles drew their attention as the sumo wrestler lifted me onto his shoulder like I was nothing.

“What the hell!” I yelled, kicking and writhing as he began to carry me off.

“Y/N!” Luffy shouted, his eyes narrowing.

“Put me down!” I yelled, furious and frustrated.

“Hey, big boy!” Zoro��s voice cut through the noise like a blade, cold and dangerous.

The sumo wrestler paused, his grip on me tightening.

“Ever heard the phrase, ‘Don’t touch what’s not yours’?” Zoro’s tone was low, a promise of violence lurking in every word.

“Doesn’t matter,” the sumo shot back, undeterred. “Boss wants both of them!”

Zoro’s growl sent a chill down my spine, and I knew what was coming. But I wasn’t about to wait for a rescue. In a moment of desperation, I did something drastic.

“I’m married!” I yelled, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them.

The sumo wrestler faltered, his grip loosening slightly as he processed my outburst.

“What?” he muttered, his confusion evident.

“I said, I’m married! My husband’s right over there!” I jabbed my head in Zoro’s direction, hoping the lie would buy me enough time to act. “Don’t believe me? Look at my ring finger!” I snapped, grinning as I held up my hand for emphasis. “He gave me this ring.”

The sumo wrestler blinked in disbelief, his eyes flicking from my hand to my face, still processing the situation. “He gave you that rock?!” he asked incredulously, clearly thrown off guard.

I kept up the act, trying to sound as confident as I could while still struggling against my restraints. “Of course, he did,” I said, a sly smirk forming on my lips. “He knew red is a symbol of strength and beauty; this ruby? One of a kind. Just like me. The diamonds surrounding it, was his idea”

The sumo wrestler’s grip faltered for a moment as he looked down at my hand, his eyes narrowing. “You’re really married... to him?”

“Of course!” I snapped, my voice sharp with mock annoyance. “He proposed on a moonlit night—very romantic, you know?” I couldn’t help but add, “He’s a catch, alright.”

The crowd began murmuring, some of them clearly impressed by the story, others still skeptical but willing to go along with it. Okiku, still being carried away by one of the other sumo wrestlers, shot me a glance as I struggled to keep up the charade.

I tried to shift in the sumo wrestler’s grip again, the ropes biting into my arms, but I couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. I had them doubting now.

That is, until one of the sumo wrestlers from the crowd shouted, “He doesn’t even look like a good lover!”

My eyes went wide, and I whipped my head toward the direction of the voice. “And who the hell asked you?!” I shot back, my temper flaring. “I’m not here for your unsolicited opinions!”

The crowd seemed to react, some of them chuckling nervously, others looking a little uncomfortable. But then, just when I thought I’d regained some control over the situation, a familiar voice rang out.

“Well, I do know how to satisfy my wife, where it counts,” Zoro said nonchalantly, his tone so casual it was almost infuriating.

I froze, my mind racing as I processed what he had just said. Did he really just say that out loud? My face flushed with a mix of surprise, frustration, and embarrassment. Zoro stood there, arms crossed, looking smug as usual, clearly enjoying the attention he had just drawn.

“Zorojuro!” I hissed, my patience wearing thin as I glared at the swordsman. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Zoro simply shrugged, utterly unfazed by my frustration. His smirk remained steady, his tone casual as he replied, “Just making sure everyone knows my wife’s got what she needs. Ain’t that right, princess?” He threw in a wink for good measure, his cocky attitude earning him another incredulous look from me.

“You’re insufferable!” I snapped, but before I could continue, the sumo holding me tightened his grip, his deep voice booming.

“I still don’t buy it!” he barked, glaring at Zoro.

“Alright, Plan B,” I thought, keeping my movements subtle as I reached for the hidden blade strapped to my thigh.

Zoro, however, didn’t miss a beat. He tilted his head, the lightness in his expression replaced by a sharp intensity. “You know,” he began, his voice calm but menacing, “I’m not one to repeat myself. Put her down.”

The sumo wrestler hesitated, his bravado faltering under Zoro’s piercing gaze. Still, he managed a defiant snarl. “She’s coming with me. Boss’s orders!”

Zoro’s hand drifted lazily to the hilt of his sword, his posture relaxed but deadly. “You’re making a mistake, big guy,” he said, his voice lowering to a growl. “Touching what’s mine? That’s a one-way ticket to regret.”

Taking advantage of the distraction, I decided to speed things up. “You mind putting me down, big guy?” I said sweetly, injecting confidence into my tone. “As you can see, my husband isn’t the sharing type.”

The sumo hesitated again, clearly unnerved. Slowly, he lowered me from his shoulder, though his grip on the ropes remained firm. That was his last mistake.

“Oh, and by the way...” I trailed off, snapping the ropes apart with a sharp pull. Before he could react, I spun around, raising my leg and delivering a clean roundhouse kick to his chest. The force sent him flying backward, crashing into a food stall with a resounding thud.

“That’s for manhandling me,” I said firmly, dusting myself off as I tucked the blade back into its thigh holster. Ignoring the murmurs of the crowd, I strode toward Zoro and Luffy.

Zoro was grinning as usual, his arms crossed. “Not bad,” he remarked with a teasing edge. “But I had it handled, you know.”

I shot him a glare, though I couldn’t suppress the flicker of amusement. “Sure you did, husband.”

Just then, the horse trotted over, its ears pinned back as it let out a warning snort at Zoro.

“Easy, boy,” I said, stepping forward to stroke the horse’s nose. “It’s okay, I’m fine.”

The horse huffed dramatically, then leaned in to lick my face, making me laugh despite myself. “Alright, alright, I get it! You’re the real hero here,” I said, patting its neck. “No need to start a fight with him.”

Zoro scoffed, muttering, “Even the horse doesn’t like me, huh?”

I grinned as I turned back to him. “Can you blame him? You’ve been... extra today.”

Zoro leaned closer, his voice dropping to a murmur that sent heat rushing to my cheeks. “Extra? I’m just keeping the princess safe.”

Before I could retort, Luffy, who had been unusually quiet, turned back to glance at us, his grin as bright as ever. “Glad you’re okay, Y/N!” he called, his genuine warmth cutting through the chaos.

I smiled, touched by his concern. “Thanks, Luffy. I’m glad too. But Okiku—”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about her,” Zoro interjected, his steel-gray eyes narrowing as he turned his attention toward Urashima and Okiku in the distance. “I think she’s hiding something.”

I followed his gaze, unease settling in my chest as I noticed Okiku’s strained expression. Urashima towered over her, his grin wide and overbearing. “You think so?” I asked, my voice low.

Zoro nodded. “Yeah. She’s not as defenseless as she’s making herself out to be.”

Before I could respond, Urashima’s booming laugh echoed through the crowd. “Now, Okiku, leap into my arms!” he bellowed, spreading his massive arms wide. His arrogance made my skin crawl.

I cringed, shaking my head. “Disgusting,” I muttered under my breath.

“That’s her, isn’t it? The girl from the tea shop!” someone in the crowd exclaimed. The murmurs grew louder.

“She’s too low-class to be here. How did she get to the gate in the first place?” another voice chimed in, the disdain in their tone making my blood boil. My right hand clenched into a fist as an involuntary spark of red lightning crackled from my palm, striking the ground near the man.

“What the hell was that?!” the man yelped, stumbling back in fear.

“Oops,” I mumbled under my breath, quickly unclenching my fist.

A woman’s shrill voice cut through the commotion. “I knew she was a tramp the second I saw her!”

That was the last straw. My anger surged as I whipped around, my voice sharp. “If she’s a tramp, then what are you?”

The woman gasped, clutching her chest as if I had physically struck her. The crowd buzzed with murmurs of shock and amusement, and I could feel Zoro’s gaze on me, his lips twitching as though he was fighting back a smirk.

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” Zoro muttered, his tone half-admiring, half-amused. “But maybe save some of that fire for the real fight?”

I huffed, crossing my arms. “She’s just standing there taking their insults. Someone’s got to say something.”

Luffy chuckled, his grin as wide as ever. “You always jump in like that, huh? That’s why you’re awesome, Y/N!”

His words eased some of my frustration, and I smiled faintly. “Thanks, Luffy. But this is getting out of hand.”

Just as I was about to say more, Okiku moved with lightning precision, her sword flashing in the sunlight as she sliced through Urashima’s topknot. The arrogant sumo wrestler faltered, his confidence crumbling along with his prized knot.

I let out a low whistle, thoroughly impressed. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Luffy and I cheered loudly, our voices echoing through the stunned crowd. Urashima’s face contorted in shame and rage as he lashed out, trying to land a blow on Okiku. My hand instinctively went to my hilt. “Captain, we gotta—”

Before I could finish, Luffy was already on the sumo ring, his usual grin plastered across his face as he effortlessly blocked Urashima’s attack.

Zoro stepped up beside me, his arms folded casually. “My money’s on Luffy,” he said with a smirk.

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Smart bet.”

The fight escalated quickly, with Luffy dodging and countering with ease. It wasn’t long before he landed a solid blow, sending Urashima flying out of the ring and crashing into a distant building.

“Hey!” Luffy yelled, his voice carrying over the murmuring crowd. “We want to fight the boss of this town!”

Zoro, Okiku, and I stepped up beside him, our hands resting on our swords, ready for anything. Luffy’s fiery determination was contagious as he continued. “Tell him we’re here to save Tama!”

The crowd began to stir uneasily, their attention shifting to Zoro. Whispers rippled through them, growing louder with each passing moment.

“It’s him…”

“The murderer!”

The murmurs turned to gasps, and soon the townspeople began to scatter in fear. A nearby samurai pointed his sword toward us, his voice trembling with anger. “How could you do that to our champion?!”

Luffy, unfazed, waved his arms dramatically. “It was a sumo fight, now it’s a sword fight!”

With that, he threw his scabbard—again.

Zoro and I exchanged an exasperated glance before speaking in unison. “And he threw the damn scabbard again.”

I turned to Zoro with a teasing smile. “Seems my husband enjoys saying the same things I do.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in amusement. “Don’t get used to it.”

I chuckled softly, my grip tightening on my sword as the tension escalated.

Meanwhile, Luffy, in his usual chaotic fashion, picked up a sword from one of the downed samurai and began landing punch after punch on the remaining opponents, his voice echoing through the battlefield. “Tama!”

Zoro, ever the efficient swordsman, unsheathed his blades in a smooth motion, delivering two precise strikes that sent the others sprawling. He glanced back at me with a smirk. “Man, you could’ve saved some action for me.”

Nearby, Okiku gasped theatrically. “Whatever shall I do?”

I turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “Okiku, we saw what you did to Urashima. You’re more than capable of fighting.”

Her cheeks reddened slightly, and she glanced down shyly. “You’re saying… I should cut them down?”

I smirked, the adrenaline pumping through me. “If you don’t, then I will.”

Without waiting for a response, I reached down to my thigh halter and grabbed my hidden blades. Twirling them in my hands, I felt the familiar hum of energy coursing through the weapons. With my left hand, I moved swiftly, striking each opponent with speed and precision.

Switching focus, I tightened my grip on the blade in my right hand, electricity crackling to life along its edge. The air around me buzzed with static as I raised my voice. “Now… shock.”

A bright surge of yellow energy erupted from the blade, coursing through the enemies I’d marked. They cried out in surprise and pain as the electricity overwhelmed them, leaving them crumpled on the ground.

I stood tall, the glow from the blades fading as I caught my breath. Zoro let out a low whistle, sheathing his swords once more. “You really know how to clear a room.”

“It’s a talent,” I replied with a smirk as we regrouped. Zoro, Luffy, Okiku, and I continued landing strike after strike, systematically taking down the remaining samurai. Their numbers dwindled until only a few were left standing.

Luffy grabbed one of the last conscious fighters by the collar and pulled him close. “What’s your boss’s name?”

The man’s head lolled back, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s… oldem...” He passed out before Luffy could say more.

Luffy clenched his fists, his determination blazing. “Boldema, huh? I’m coming for you! And you’d better not have touched Tama, or you’ll pay!”

Before we could move, someone yelled, “There’s a fire!”

I turned to Luffy, my heart pounding. “Captain, you think Tama might be over there?”

Luffy nodded without hesitation. “There’s only one way to find out!”

Sliding my blades back into my thigh halter, I followed as we made our way toward the commotion. Luffy’s shouts grew louder as we approached the scene.

“Boldema! Get out here!”

A deep, gruff voice answered from above. “I’m right here, so stop your damn yelling!”

We all froze, looking up to see the so-called boss standing on a rooftop. Holdem, a Headliner for the Beast Pirates, towered over us, his presence as imposing as his voice.

Luffy’s eyes narrowed. “So, you’re the boss, huh? Hand over Tama, Boldema!”

Holdem sneered, a condescending laugh escaping his lips. “The name’s Holdem, not Boldema, you idiot! Who the hell are you people?”

Our eyes shifted to Tama, dangling precariously in the jaws of a snarling lion that protruded grotesquely from Holdem’s stomach.

“Big bro! Big sis!” Tama cried, her voice trembling with fear.

“Tama!” Luffy and I shouted in unison.

“We’ll save you!” Okiku promised, her resolve unwavering.

Komachiyo and my horse charged onto the scene, their fierce presence adding to our group’s determination.

“Don’t move!” Holdem bellowed, his tone venomous. “One wrong move, and I’ll crush her bones in an instant!”

I cursed under my breath, my hands clenching into fists. “Damn it…”

Luffy’s expression hardened, his focus sharp. “No way… his stomach’s a lion?”

The absurdity of the sight was almost enough to pull us out of the tension, but Tama’s plight kept us anchored.

Third POV…

From a vantage point atop a roof in Bakura Town, Penguin, Shachi, Bepo, and Law observed the chaos below. The flickering flames cast long shadows across the town, and the air was thick with smoke and tension.

Shachi held a pair of binoculars, scanning the scene. "Captain, we’ve got company down there. Hawkins just joined the party, and there’s a massive fire in town. Wonder what set that off?"

Law, crouched beside Bepo, checked over the sulking mink. Bepo clutched his chest dramatically. “Captain, I’m not going to make it…”

“You’re fine, Bepo,” Law deadpanned, glancing up. His eyes narrowed. “It’s probably Strawhat causing the fire. Chaos follows him like a shadow.”

Shachi let out a low whistle, shifting the binoculars. “Well, you’re not wrong. He’s down there, alright—him and Roronoa. But there’s someone else with them…” He trailed off, his tone shifting with curiosity. “Penguin, take a look at this.”

Penguin grabbed the binoculars, peering through. His grin widened. “Oh, yeah, I see her. That’s definitely Y/N.”

Law snatched the binoculars out of Penguin’s hands, his voice clipped. “Let me see.” He adjusted the focus, scanning the group below. His brow furrowed. “I don’t see Y/N. There’s just someone with long hair and another with short hair. Where is she?”

Shachi laughed, nudging Penguin. “You don’t recognize her, Captain? Man, you’re hopeless.”

Law’s glare shifted to Shachi, irritation flashing in his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Penguin smirked, leaning against the roof edge. “You’ll find out soon enough, captain”

Y/N POV…

“You think I’m scared of you? You can’t even get my name right! It’s Holdem, by the way!” he yelled, clearly frustrated.

I rolled my eyes at his outburst. “Y/N, got any ideas?” Luffy asked without looking back, his gaze locked on Holdem.

I tightened my grip on my blades, my mind racing. “All reckless captain, give me a second. I’m trying to figure out a way to get that lion to spit out Tama—even for a split second—so we can do something.”

Tama’s cries echoed in the air, and my heart ached.

“Why do you want this brat so much, anyway? Maybe it’s because you want to use her Devil Fruit ability, just like me!” Holdem shouted, his voice carrying a malicious edge. He smirked, looking smug. “You’re all going to be my hostages soon! Just you wait!”

I couldn’t hold back a sharp retort. “Fat chance, you coward!”

Luffy tilted his head. “What are you talking about, man?”

Holdem launched into a tirade about the robbery of the farms and the supposed trouble we caused.

I scoffed, my voice cutting through his nonsense. “And whose fault is that?! You terrorize these people and then blame them for surviving? You’re pathetic!”

“Luffytaro, Oy/n, I think it’s wise not to anger him in this situation,” Okiku said, her tone cautious.

Luffy shrugged casually. “He’s pretty angry already, so who cares?”

I couldn’t help but smirk at that. “He’s got a point, Okiku.”

Okiku sighed and explained the situation further. “The one who truly strikes fear into this town isn’t Holdem—it’s the man above him, Jack.”

Luffy’s expression shifted to confusion. “Oh, that guy? He’s already dead! The elephant took care of him.”

Okiku shook her head gravely. “No. Jack was here just a few days ago. He’s very much alive.”

“Welp,” I muttered, annoyed at the revelation.

“No matter what, we can’t let him bring disaster to this town again,” Okiku added firmly.

I rolled my eyes. “Wow, holding a town hostage. Real big man, huh?”

Holdem sneered, clearly enjoying his power. His lion tightened its grip on Tama, causing her to scream in pain.

My frustration boiled over. “Damn it! We need to do something. I can’t just stand here and watch this!”

Luffy stepped forward, his voice filled with righteous anger. “Stop it! You leave her alone!” But just as we thought we were about to make a move, the sound of a carriage pulling to a halt broke the tension.

“What’s the matter, Holdem? You need some help or what?” a woman’s voice rang out, and we turned to see a figure—half-woman, half-horse—step forward, throwing us a look that made my eyes widen. “I think... I’ve seen it all today,” I muttered.

Holdem grinned, clearly enjoying the chaos. The samurai, who had been hanging around, cheered. “The food treasure vault is rolling in, let’s grab our share, fellas!”

Luffy grinned. “I could go for a feast like that.” His eyes sparkled with mischief.

“We could steal it...” I suggested, feeling a hint of excitement rise within me.

“The food’s safe to eat; it’s from the Paradise Farm, even the water is good,” Okiku said, still unsure about the sudden shift in plans.

Luffy clenched his fists, a vein popping in his forehead. “Why is it only for them?!”

“Zoro, Y/N! Can you two handle that?” Luffy pointed at the food vault carriage.

“Yup!” Zoro and I both answered in unison, already on the move.

“I’ll save Tama,” Luffy declared.

Okiku, shocked, couldn’t hide her surprise. “What? You’re stealing the food now?”

Zoro flashed her a grin. “Sorry, short notice. But we’re stealing the food and running.”

Okiku stammered, still processing. “What? Just like that?”

“Yup,” I said, cracking a grin as I whistled for my noble steed. The horse galloped back toward me, and I mounted him with practiced ease. “Alright, boy, you ready for an adventure?”

Zoro chuckled. “He’s probably going to be pissed, but it beats smashing his face in.”

I nodded, a glint of mischief in my eyes. “I wish we could.”

Luffy and Zoro cracked their necks in unison, the tension building. I stretched my hands, cracking my knuckles, and circled my wrists, readying for action. “Alright, we’ve had a lot of chat. This next part’s going to be fun, for me at least,” Holdem sneered.

He raised his voice, commanding his men. “Capture one, but you can kill the rest! Make sure it’s bloody—show them no mercy!”

The samurai charged toward us, swords gleaming in the sunlight. Just as Okiku reached for her sword, Holdem’s voice rang out like a crack of thunder. “Don’t even think about it, or the brat gets hurt!”

Zoro acted immediately, slashing through the mob of samurai with ease, his blade cutting a clean opening in their ranks.

“Unbelievable,” Okiku gasped, eyes wide.

I couldn’t help but grin. “I know, isn’t he amazing?”

My horse neighed in agreement as if sharing my admiration.

At the same time, Luffy saw his chance. With lightning speed, he delivered a devastating punch to the lion’s face, sending it reeling and freeing Tama from its grasp. Luffy caught her mid-air, his face determined.

“Yes!” I exclaimed, relief flooding through me.

Zoro’s blade flashed again, creating another opening amidst the chaos. Taking the opportunity, I spurred my horse forward. “Let’s go, boy!” I shouted, speeding toward the food supplies. “Thanks for the opening, partner!” I called back to Zoro with a wink.

A voice shouted from the fray. “Keep them away! They’re after the food supply!” It was the horse woman, her tone frantic.

I smirked, ready to press forward, but then I caught sight of something that made my blood boil—a samurai holding Okiku at knife point, a gloating grin on his face.

“God damn it, not this again,” I muttered, pulling the reins to a halt.

Turning my horse sharply, I rode back toward the scene.

The samurai sneered. “Put those swords down, now, or the girl gets it!”

I spoke softly to my horse. “Boy, I’m going to need you to keep the pace steady for me, okay?”

Zoro’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword, his sharp gaze locked on the man. He began lowering his blade, but I wasn’t about to let this play out.

“Now, don’t move while I beat you to death!” the man barked, his knife edging closer to Okiku’s neck.

I clenched my fists, the fury in my chest burning like a wildfire. Letting go of the reins, I surged forward with the speed of a thunderbolt. My right fist connected squarely with the man’s face, the force of the punch sending him flying and crashing into the dirt.

He groaned, barely conscious. “I’m getting real tired of these stunts,” I muttered, shaking out my hand.

Okiku looked at me with wide eyes, nodding quickly as I urged her. “Okiku, get on the horse.”

She obeyed without question, and I turned to look at Zoro with a smirk. “I’ve missed this.”

Zoro widened his eyes, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. He quickly looked away, but not before I caught it.

One of the samurai gaped in shock. “She just knocked him out with a punch…”

Another samurai chimed in, disbelief dripping from his tone. “She’s a woman! How can she?!”

Hearing that, I clenched my right hand, red electricity crackling around it like a storm. My lips curled into a dangerous grin. “I’m a woman, huh? Can’t knock out a man, huh?”

I began descending the steps, each footfall leaving behind an electrical bolt that sparked and fizzled ominously. “Want to test that theory with me?”

Before I could act further, Zoro stepped in. With one swift motion, his blade slashed the ground beneath the samurai, causing them to lose their footing and tumble to the ground in a heap.

I groaned dramatically, throwing my arms in the air. “Man! I was just getting to the good part!”

Zoro smirked smugly, sheathing his sword. “We’ve got bigger issues, princess. I suggest you let me handle things. Be a good girl for me.”

My jaw dropped, utterly stunned by his audacity. “Oh, you have got to be kid—”

Before I could finish, my horse neighed and nudged me onto its back with a swift motion, almost like it was telling me to save my breath.

Komachiyo came barreling toward us, ready for action. Zoro quickly jumped onto the giant food vault, motioning for Komachiyo to hurry. “Hey, dog! Get over here quick!”

Komachiyo responded, sprinting full speed toward us as Zoro called out again. “Take us straight out of town!”

Okiku hopped onto Komachiyo, taking hold of the reins and guiding both the dog and the food vault with determination. I slid off my horse, giving it a gentle pat on the neck.

“You were so good back there, boy,” I said softly, pulling an apple from the pile and handing it to him. The horse neighed appreciatively, crunching into the apple with gusto.

Zoro glanced back at me as we began our escape, a smirk tugging at his lips. Zoro glanced back at me, smirking slightly, then turned his attention to the growing commotion. “Tch, nice going, Luffy. They’re going to love that,” he said sarcastically.

“Well, too late now,” I said with a shrug. “At least Tama is safe.”

Luffy, riding atop the horse-lady, Horselina, was quickly catching up to us with Tama. I tilted my head as I watched them. “Well, that’s a first.”

“Hey! Zoro! Y/N!” Luffy yelled as they drew closer. “Now, jump, Horselina!”

Horselina obeyed, leaping to our position. Tama slid off her back and immediately ran to hug me.

“Big sis!” she exclaimed, wrapping her small arms around me.

I knelt to meet her, holding her close. “Tama, thank goodness you’re okay.” My relief turned to anger as I noticed a small bruise on her cheek. “Bastards,” I muttered under my breath, my fists clenching.

Luffy grabbed a giant piece of meat from the stash, but of course, began choking on it moments later.

“See? This is what happens when you take bites that big!” I scolded, shaking my head.

As if ignoring me completely, Luffy suddenly jumped up. “We’re missing something important!” he yelled before bolting off in the other direction.

I placed Tama back on the ground, watching as she walked over to Horselina and handed her a carrot. The horse neighed appreciatively, munching away.

“If you don’t want to get hit, then get out of the way!” Zoro yelled at some bystanders who were blocking the path.

I sighed, leaning on the edge of the food stash. “Welp… that’s one way of saying it.”

Tama giggled at Zoro’s bluntness, but before I could respond, a familiar voice rang out from the chaos.

“What the hell just happened?!”

Turning toward the sound, I saw none other than Law making his way toward Zoro. I held back a grin, deciding to let the scene play out.

“Well, if it isn’t old Traffy!” Zoro teased, grinning as Law stormed up to him.

Without hesitation, Law grabbed the front of Zoro’s kimono, pulling him close.

“He’s annoyed,” I whispered to Tama.

She stifled a giggle, whispering back, “He sounds mad, big sis.”

“Don’t worry,” I replied with a wink. “In a few minutes, you’ll witness a special technique in becoming a bewitching ninja.”

Her eyes sparkled with excitement as Law continued his tirade.

“Damn it, Zoro!” he snapped. “Not only are you the most wanted person in the country, but Jack’s on to you too! What the hell happened to the promise you made about keeping a low profile?!”

Zoro shrugged nonchalantly. “Sorry about that.”

Law was fuming. “And another thing—what happened to being a ronin in the Flower Capital? You were supposed to blend in!”

Zoro smirked, almost smug. “It’s not like I had much of a choice. I ran into Y/N and Luffy, so…”

“Causing trouble already? They just got here!” Law hissed, rubbing his temples in frustration. He turned his attention elsewhere, his gaze landing on the Headliner and Tama.

“Why is there a Headliner on board?!” Law demanded.

“Luffy showed up with her and the kid,” Zoro replied casually.

Law narrowed his eyes at me, clearly not recognizing me in this setting. “And who is this person next to the girl? Straw Hats are always causing trouble.”

I smirked to myself. “Yup, he doesn’t recognize me either,” I thought.

Zoro leaned back, his grin widening. “You mean you don’t know who she is?”

Taking my cue, I stood up straight and turned to face them both.

“You know, for someone who’s dubbed the Surgeon of Death and supposedly the brains behind everything, I can’t believe you didn’t recognize me.”

Law’s eyes widened as realization struck. His expression was priceless.

“I mean, granted, it has been a while since you saw me, but surely you haven’t forgotten me, have you?” I said, smirking as I stepped forward.

Law, stunned, dropped his blade. Without hesitation, he activated his Room technique, shambled Zoro next to Tama, and me directly in front of him.

“What the—?” Zoro muttered, looking around in confusion.

Law’s sharp gaze locked onto me, but it drifted down to my neck. “Where’s the half necklace I gave you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, tinged with hurt.

I froze, swallowing the lump in my throat. His half of the necklace was still visible on his neck, glinting in the light.

“I... I... I’m sorry,” I stammered, the guilt eating away at me. “I was drugged when I was dealing with my arranged marriage, and it was taken from me. By the time I woke up, I was lying in bed, my clothes had been changed, and the necklace was gone.”

Law’s brows furrowed, and I pressed on, my voice faltering.

“I’m sorry, Law. I know how much it meant to you... especially after you rescued it back in Dressrosa. I just...” My voice trailed off as the words failed me.

Without a word, Law stepped closer and pulled me into his arms, pressing his face into the crook of my neck.

“You think I give a crap about material things?” he murmured against my skin. His voice was low, rough with emotion. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to come back... for you to be back with me again.”

I blinked, stunned, as his hands gripped me tightly, almost as if he feared I might vanish. His lips brushed my neck softly, and he kissed the skin over and over, each one making my heart race.

“What happened to your hair?” he asked suddenly, his voice gentler now. His fingers brushed a strand of my transformed hair. “The color... the cut... it’s different. Why?”

I hesitated, about to answer, when Zoro’s voice broke through the moment.

“Easy, Traffy! She’s injured!” Zoro barked, a hint of jealousy lacing his tone.

I turned my head toward Zoro, raising an eyebrow. “Who told you I was injured, Zo?” I teased lightly.

Zoro froze, his face stiffening. “You were injured?! Where?” Law’s voice cut in, his concern immediate.

I sighed, knowing there was no avoiding it now. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually... when we have a moment.”

Law’s hands gripped my shoulders, his intense gaze searching my face. “What happened?”

“To tell you the truth, I haven’t been feeling great,” I admitted, looking up at him. “My head’s been pounding a lot. I asked Chopper, and he thinks it might just be bruising from a fight. But... I wanted a second opinion. From you.”

Law’s eyes darkened with worry, his grip tightening slightly. Before he could say anything else, I placed my hands over his and offered a small smile.

“But we can talk about that later,” I said gently, pulling him into a hug. His body stiffened for a moment before relaxing against me, his arms wrapping securely around my waist.

“I’m just really glad to see you again.”

His grip tightened as though he feared I’d disappear. I leaned closer, resting my head on his shoulder before whispering into his ear, my lips brushing against the shell.

“Besides,” I teased softly, my voice barely audible to anyone but him, “this might give us some alone time... who knows? I may have forgotten a few things you did back in Dressrosa.”

His breath hitched, and I smirked, sliding my fingers to the back of his neck. I lightly scratched the sensitive skin there, drawing a low groan from his lips.

“Y/N...” he murmured, his tone a mix of warning and something else entirely, his grip on my waist firming.

Law exhaled sharply, brushing his hand through his hair as he composed himself. His expression turned serious as his gaze shifted to Tama. “Where’s Strawhat?” he asked, his tone a little sharper than necessary.

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms in mock annoyance. “Hey, Law. You’d better watch that tone, or I won’t let you anywhere near me.” I pointed toward Tama protectively. “And for the record, anyone who’s mean to Tama has to go through me first.”

Tama giggled behind me, clearly amused by the exchange.

Law sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fine, fine. I just want answers.”

Tama peeked out from behind me. “Big Brother Luffy left, but he said he’d be right back! I think he forgot something!”

Law muttered something unintelligible under his breath before focusing his attention back on me.

I turned to Tama with a warm smile. “Hey, Tama, let’s feed Horsalina and my horse while we wait. How’s that sound?”

Tama’s face lit up. “Yes, Big Sis!”

I looked over at Zoro, who was leaning lazily against a post, his arms crossed. “Wanna come with us, Zo? You could use some bonding time with the horses.”

Zoro opened his mouth to retort, but my horse snorted loudly, glaring at him with what I could only describe as deliberate sass. Zoro froze for a moment, blinking in confusion, before narrowing his eyes.

“What’s with that horse?” he grumbled. I laughed. “Oh, come on, Zo. The horse is harmless. Look at him!”

As if to prove my point, the horse neighed enthusiastically and licked my face, leaving me with a slobbery mess.

Zoro scoffed. “Harmless, huh? That thing’s plotting something, I swear.”

“Yeah, plotting to lick you next!” I teased, wiping my face with my sleeve.

Soon enough, we reached Okobore Town. As we stepped off the ship barrage, the townspeople erupted into cheers and joyful cries, overwhelmed with gratitude for the fresh food and fruit.

“Oh wow! Everyone is so happy!” Tama said, her face lighting up at the sight.

But the moment of peace was short-lived.

“Hold up! Hey, you! Get your filthy hands off our food, you bunch of riffraff!” barked one of Kaido’s subordinates, glaring at the villagers.

I sighed, crossing my arms. “They just don’t learn, do they?”

Another subordinate, a man with bat-like features, stepped forward with a sneer. “You think just because some—”

Before he could finish, I kissed my right pointer and middle fingers, conjuring a crackling electric arrow. With a swift motion, I pulled it back and fired, striking him square in the chest. The electricity sent him collapsing to the ground in shock.

“That’s for aiming an arrow at me earlier,” I said coolly, lowering my hand.

Two more men stepped forward—one with floppy bunny ears and the other sporting a snake coiled around his torso.

“And who the hell are you two supposed to be?” I asked, raising an unimpressed brow.

The snake man hissed angrily. “You fool! There’ll be consequences for this!”

I smirked, unfazed, just as a loud thud sounded behind me. Turning, I saw Luffy landing with a massive tub of water, crushing all three of the subordinates beneath its weight.

“Nice one, Captain!” I called out with a laugh.

Luffy grinned and puffed out his chest. “The water’s clean too!” he declared, earning cheers from the townspeople.

“The name’s Luffytaro!” he shouted, pointing at me. “And that there is Oy/n! If anyone asks, tell them we helped ya!”

I scratched the back of my head, chuckling at his enthusiasm, as the townspeople shouted their thanks. Tama ran off to grab some food while Law stepped closer, his expression a mix of exasperation and irritation.

“Traffy! It’s been a while!” Luffy greeted him with his usual energy.

Law frowned. “What you just did is considered rebellion against Wano.”

His sharp gaze shifted to me. “And you, Princess, always doing something reckless.”

I shrugged, taking a bite of the apple Tama handed me. “He had it coming for shooting an arrow at me.”

Luffy knelt beside Tama. “This is payback for the rice bowl you made us. Don’t worry, there’ll be more.”

He stood and bounded toward the ship barrage, his eyes gleaming. “MEAT!”

I laughed, watching him go. “Well, no one can stand in his way when it comes to meat.”

As the villagers continued gathering food and bringing it to their homes, I sighed contentedly, resting a hand on my horse’s neck. “Now that’s more like it.”

The horse began to whine, clearly unhappy about my leaving.

“My, I’ve never seen him so needy,” Otsuru said with a soft chuckle.

I leaned closer to the horse, stroking its mane gently. “Don’t worry, boy. I want you to stay safe, okay? I promise I’ll be back.”

An idea popped into my head, and I turned to Luffy with a grin. “Captain! Can I get a horse for the ship?”

Luffy grinned back. “A HORSE? On the Sunny?! That sounds awesome! Do it, y/n!”

I let out a cheer. “Yay!” Turning to Otsuru, I gestured to the horse, who nuzzled me affectionately. “Otsuru, is it alright with you if your horse comes with me? You know, after I settle a few things.”

Otsuru chuckled warmly, her kind eyes twinkling. “That horse has taken quite the liking to you. I think he’s made up his mind already. Take good care of him.”

I smiled, giving the horse a scratch behind the ears. “Hear that, boy? Looks like we’re crewmates now!”

The horse neighed in what I could only assume was approval, stamping his hoof as if to seal the deal. Luffy clapped his hands together.

“We’re gonna have the coolest ship ever! A HORSE on the Sunny!”

“Don’t let Franky hear you say that. He’ll start designing a horse cannon or something,” I teased, making both of us laugh. Turning back to the horse, I stroked his mane gently. “I’ll come back for you, boy, I promise. But until then, please stay safe and protect Otsuru. And Otsuru, if I forget, remind me, okay?” I said with a warm smile.

Otsuru chuckled softly. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

“Never knew you liked horses,” Zoro commented, his tone casual.

I turned to him, my smile fading slightly. “It… reminds me of him…” I didn’t need to say more, and Zoro nodded in understanding, his expression softening.

Luffy, meanwhile, turned to Tama, his eyes burning with determination. “I swear, by the time we leave Wano, it’ll be a place where you can eat anything you want.”

Zoro crossed his arms, shooting a glance at both Luffy and me. “What a pain. You two really screwed up. Those guys are gonna be up our asses, so be ready.”

“Yeah, let’s try to stay out of trouble, you guys. Good point, agreed, right Y/N?” Luffy said, acting as if I’d done the most damage.

“He’s talking to you!” Law cut in sharply, his voice filled with exasperation. “The point still stands, though. Follow me. We’ll head to the ruins on top of Oden’s castle—it’s on those mountains.” He pointed ahead.

A few minutes passed, and Tama was perched atop Horsalina, holding an apple. “I think I’m ready to go now,” she said. “Thanks again!”

“Good. Now protect her, Horsalina,” Luffy instructed.

“That’s still not my name!” Speed retorted with an annoyed huff. “My name is Speed, and I am a proud Headliner of the Beast Pirates.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I said with a shrug.

Tama beamed. “You guys are the best! I’ve never had such good food in my life!”

Her words made my eyes water. “I’m so emotional,” I sniffled, trying to hold back tears.

Just then, Tama and Speed left, and Zoro yelled out, “Let’s pack it up. Come on, Luffy!”

The townspeople waved us off. “Luffytaro and Oy/n, thank you so much!”

I wiped at my eyes, my emotions getting the better of me again. “I need a moment. Gosh, I’m so soft,” I muttered, sniffling as I waved goodbye.

As we climbed onto Komachiyo, I called out, “Bye, guys! Take care of each other!”

“We did good work today,” Luffy said, laughing.

“It was still robbery, though,” Okiku chimed in.

“We still did a good thing,” I replied, nodding in agreement.

Law’s voice broke through the moment. “Well, do you want to explain why you’re tagging along, too?” His tone was firm as he glanced at Okiku. “Do you trust her?” he asked Luffy.

“Of course!” Luffy answered confidently.

“Nah, I think she’s hiding something,” Zoro interjected, his tone sharp.

“Would you quit that? No need to plant seeds of doubt,” I scolded, shooting him a glare.

“Yeah, yeah, Princess,” Zoro muttered with a smirk.

A yawn escaped me as exhaustion crept in. Zoro noticed, his expression softening slightly. “Want me to hold you?” he offered casually.

I nodded, leaning toward him, but just as he was about to wrap his arms around me, Law moved swiftly, switching positions with Zoro. Before I knew it, I was lying against Law’s chest instead, his arms securely holding me.

Zoro blinked in surprise before scoffing, muttering under his breath. “Seriously, this guy...”

Law glanced down at me, his lips quirking into the faintest smirk. “You looked more comfortable here anyway,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

I groaned lightly, too tired to protest, and closed my eyes for a moment, letting the steady rhythm of Komachiyo's steps lull me into relaxation.

“Once we get to Wano, we’ll meet some allies and set a few things in motion. You’re going to meet the ghosts of Wano,” Law said, his tone calm but tinged with something serious.

I stirred slightly, about to lift my head, but Law’s hand gently pressed it back down. “Take a rest, princess. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

His voice was soothing, and I found myself nodding drowsily, the weight of the day finally pulling me under.

.Minutes passed, and I felt a light shake.

“Princess... wake up... we’re here,” a familiar voice said softly.

“Five more minutes, please,” I mumbled, instinctively pulling the person closer.

“I got this,” another familiar voice chimed in.

Before I could process what was happening, I felt something wrap around me and pull me into the air with startling speed.

“What the—?” I yelped as I realized it was Luffy’s arms.

“Luffy!” I yelled, glaring at him.

“Good morning!” he laughed, spinning me down quickly and setting me on the ground with a grin.

“Damn it,” I muttered, adjusting my headband and placing it back securely in the middle.

Looking around, I frowned as the landscape before us came into view. The supposed "castle" looked far from regal.

“You said it was a castle!” Luffy complained.

“I said ruins,” Law corrected dryly.

Scanning the group, I noticed someone was missing. “Hey, where’s Zoro?”

“He went to take care of something,” Luffy answered nonchalantly.

I crossed my arms, pouting. “Man, and he didn’t wake me up?! He better not be fighting without us.”

“It’s this way. Follow me,” Law instructed, leading the group toward the ruins.

As we walked, Okiku suddenly stopped, her eyes filling with tears.

“Kiku, what’s wrong?” I asked, concern lacing my voice.

Luffy chimed in, shrugging. “Maybe she went to check up on Zoro.”

“You’re right. Maybe,” I agreed, though her sudden departure still left a gnawing feeling in my chest.

We continued up the path to the ruins, the eerie silence making the whole area feel unsettling.

“This whole place is kind of creepy,” Luffy commented, looking around with wide eyes.

Something caught my attention. “What are those?” I pointed at a series of stones ahead.

“Kozuki Oden?” Luffy read aloud, squinting at the engravings.

“You should take a look at the other tombstones,” Law said, his voice heavy with meaning.

Luffy and I exchanged glances before stepping closer to inspect the others.

“Momonosuke?” I whispered, the name hitting me like a punch to the chest.

Law nodded grimly. “Belongs to that brat. Hard to believe, huh?”

Luffy frowned. “Huh? Are you joking, Traffy?”

But the look on Law’s face left no room for humor.

“He’s not the only one, you know,” Law continued, gesturing toward the other stones.

“Raizo, Kanjuro, Kin’emon,” Luffy murmured, reading the names.

A sinking feeling settled in my stomach. “Luffy...”

Luffy scratched his head. “Oh yeah, that just reminded me. We haven’t been able to get in touch with them, huh?”

“Don’t tell me...” Luffy’s voice wavered slightly as realization dawned on him.

My chest tightened as I struggled to steady my breathing. “Captain... I think I’m going into a panic attack...” I stammered, clutching my chest. “This really isn’t helping my fragile state right now.”

“Are they dead?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, the words thick with fear.

Law’s expression remained serious. “He’s been gone for a while. Maybe he’ll appear in the dead of night,” he said cryptically.

My knees felt weak, and I grasped for something solid to hold on to. “Oh god...” I whispered, closing my eyes and trying to calm my rapid breathing.

“Spit it out, Traffy! Or is there something you’re hiding!” Luffy’s voice was insistent, almost angry, but laced with worry. My breathing was sporadic.

“Y/N!” Luffy yelled, his tone more urgent now. “Hang in there, breathe with me, okay? In, out, in, out!”

“Damn, Zoro left at a bad time,” Luffy continued, his gaze scanning the surroundings anxiously. Just then, we turned to hear someone groaning from inside the ruins.

“Ah!” Both Luffy and I screamed.

A weak voice came from the shadows. “Salutations,” it croaked. “I’ve had a violent case of the runts. Although, I am still alive, Sir Luffy.”

“Lady Y/N!” Kinemon’s voice was weak but relieved as he saw me, tears of exhaustion in his eyes. “You changed your look, and WHAT IS THIS ATTIRE?!” he exclaimed, glancing at my outfit.

“Well, it’s a long story with the hair style and hair color, but the attire was picked out by me, back in my closet, on the ship,” I explained, laughing despite my nervousness. “This isn’t Wano attire, princess!” Kinemon’s tone was stern.

“Can we do without the titles?” I said, smiling. “Hey, it’s good to see you, Kinemon.”

“You ass! Why didn’t you tell us Kinemon was okay?!” I yelled at Law. “Yeah, you made it sound like he died?!” Luffy added, frustration evident in his voice.

“Where’d you get that impression?” Law replied, slightly defensive. “I swear to god!” I groaned out in frustration.

“Master Kin!” Okiku rushed to Kinemon, her eyes red with worry. They began to talk about Momo and why Kinemon hadn’t informed her about him being here.

“So, Momo is alive too!” Luffy exclaimed, surprise in his voice. “Wait, those two know each other?”

“I’m afraid so,” I said, tilting my head thoughtfully.

Just then, I felt a pair of hands snake around my waist, pulling me closer. “I’m sorry, I made you get scared,” Law whispered, his voice low and apologetic.

“Let go, Traffy,” I said, my tone firm. But he didn’t release me.

“Come on, princess,” Law insisted, his voice gentle.

“I said let go,” I repeated, my tone a bit sharper this time, but he didn’t back off.

“Kiku, how did you become acquainted with Sir Luffy and his companions?” said Kinemon as Okiku was curious as she looked at us.

“Oh, where do I begin!” Kinemon chuckled, scratching his head. “They are allies. I’ve recruited them for battle, Sir Luffy, Lady Y/N, and Sir Law.”

“Hey Luffy!” Momo’s voice cracked with excitement as he spotted us. “Is it really you?!” he yelled, running toward us with a wide grin.

“Y/N!” Momo’s expression softened into a gentle, relieved smile as he reached me. “Momo!” I responded, tears stinging my eyes as he nuzzled into my chest.

Law gave Momo a warning look, his brows furrowing. “Knock it off!” he said, but Momo didn’t seem to heed the warning.

“Mind your manners,” Momo retorted playfully, not backing down.

“Luffy, I have you know I was practicing techniques with my sword!” Momo puffed up proudly, brandishing a wooden sword and showing off a series of moves he had been perfecting.

“Wow, look at you!” I said, smiling at Momo’s enthusiasm. “We’re just waiting on my crew,” Luffy replied.

“For real!” I exclaimed, excitement bubbling up inside me. “Hey!” A familiar voice called out to Luffy, drawing our attention.

Soon, Chopper and Carrot ran toward me, their faces a mix of relief and joy.

“Y/N!” Chopper cried, launching himself at me and tackling me to the ground.

“Owww, you guys, watch the head,” I winced as Carrot’s exuberant hug nearly knocked the breath out of me. “I missed you!” Chopper’s voice cracked with emotion.

“Aww, I missed you too!” I laughed, hugging him back.

“What a sight to see!” Brook waved as he approached. “Y/N! You’re not dead!” he called out, his voice laced with relief.

I laughed, shaking my head. “Nope, I’m very much alive!”

“Hey guys!” Nami’s voice cut through the chatter as she stepped forward, waving excitedly.

Just then, I felt a pair of familiar arms wrap around me from behind. “Sanji! Ohh, how are you?!” I said, my voice cracking slightly with emotion as I wrapped my arms around him. Sanji’s grip tightened around me, his relief palpable. “Ohh dear ocean, thank you for bringing back my princess, alive and well!” he exclaimed, his voice trembling with emotion.

He stepped back slightly, his eyes roving over my new outfit with a mix of surprise and admiration. A wide smile spread across his face as he took in the details. “Oh, dear, you’ve changed again,” he murmured, his voice a soft, almost breathless whisper.

I nodded and smiled. “Yeah, since I dove into the bottom of the sea to get back Luffy, I didn’t want to go into Wano with an outfit that revealed way too much.” I teased, earning a playful grin from Luffy.

“What took you so long?” Luffy grinned. “Because we were busy looking at your body at the bottom of the sea!” Sanji yelled, causing me to blush.

“Not only that! I wanted to make sure Y/N was alive and well!” he continued, his voice firm as he looked me over.

As I turned to see Sanji holding his dress shirt, shirtless and just in his trousers, I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger. “Sanji, gotta say, you shirtless, it’s a sight to see indeed. I’ve never seen it like this, and those muscles...” I trailed off, entranced by the sight. “What are you talking about princess, of course you’ve…” said Sanji, but stopped himself. “No, I haven’t, Sanji. Maybe you’re confusing me with someone else,” I teased. Sanji however had a look on his face that said he wanted to say more but held back.

Sanji’s gaze then softened as he sniffed the air around me, his face tightening in concern. “Hey! What’s the…” I began, “Why the hell do you smell like mosshead and Law!” Sanji pointed accusingly. “Where’s Mosshead! Don’t think I forgot he’s getting an ass-kicking for what he’s done!”

“And you!” he pointed at Law. “Why the hell does she smell like you?”

Law’s smirk widened. “Relax, cook. Not like I minded sharing a little warmth with Y/N,” he said, his voice playful and challenging.

“Yohoho! Well, Y/N, it looks like you’ve been a busy woman,” Brook chuckled, his tone teasing.

My eyes widened at the double meaning, and I shot a warning look at Brook. “Now, Brook,” I said, a hint of amusement in my voice.

“You’ve rejoined your crew, Sir Sanji. Welcome back,” Kinemon said warmly. “Yeah! Sorry to make you worry,” Sanji replied sheepishly.

“Master Kin!” Kiku exclaimed, clearly relieved to see him.

Sanji’s eyes softened as he looked at Kiku, his affection clear. “Oh my goodness! What do we have here? Tell me about yourself!” he said, his voice full of heart eyes as he buttoned up his shirt once more.

I shook my head with a soft chuckle. “Typical.”

Just then, Law appeared next to me, holding out a small white box. “I have something I want to give you, actually,” he said, his voice soft.

I took the box, feeling a mix of anticipation and excitement. As I opened it, I gasped. “Oh my gosh,” I said, pulling out a heart-shaped necklace, one large heart and a smaller gold heart beside it.

“And I also got you a pair of earrings,” Law added, his tone almost hesitant.

“Bepo helped with picking the earrings,” he continued with a small smile.

I clasped the earrings in place, feeling the delicate weight of them. “It’s beautiful,” I said, looking up at Law with genuine gratitude.

“And there’s a small note inside also…” Law said, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness.

I could see the nervousness in his eyes, and it made my heart ache a little. I carefully opened the tiny note, unfolding it with trembling fingers. The paper was simple but held so much meaning. Inside was a delicate, handwritten note that read:

“To the one who brings light to my world. No matter the darkness, you’re always there for me. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. You are my safe harbor. With you, every storm feels like a calm sea. Love, Law.”

My eyes welled up with tears, and I looked at him, pouting. “This is so sweet,” I said, my voice choked with emotion as I hugged Law. He hugged back, smirking slightly at my reaction.

Just then, Sanji appeared in a jealous rage. “Law! Hands off Y/N!” he shouted. “I know what you’re trying to do! You’re trying to steal my princess from me! I’m not giving up on her!” Sanji’s voice was full of defiance as he glared at Law.

I sighed, feeling caught between the two of them as they continued to bicker. Brook appeared with a glass of tea, his bony fingers gripping the rim. “Your highness,” he said, offering me a small smirk as I rolled my eyes playfully.

“Those two really don’t know when to let go, huh?” I said, sipping my tea. “Yohohoho! When it comes to you, my dear, your suitors are fighting for your attention. You’re dubbed the most desirable woman in the New World, or have you forgotten?” Brook’s voice was teasing, but there was a glimmer of seriousness in his tone.

“I know, the paper said it,” I replied, smiling and sipping my tea.

“I see Law gifted you a necklace,” Brook observed, his fingers wrapping around the glass. “That man really does have a soft spot for you. Zoro, when he hears this, is going to be in a rage.” Brook’s voice trailed off as he glanced down into his tea.

“Like Nami said, I’m a free woman, and I’ll do as I please,” I said with a smirk, raising my glass. Brook chuckled softly, taking a sip of his tea. “Oh, Nami’s right about that,” he agreed with a knowing nod. “But you’re something special, Y/N. And it seems like every time they see you, they can’t help but get all protective.” His voice held a hint of amusement and admiration.

I chuckled as I said, “What can I say, all’s fair in love and war,” laughing along with Luffy who joined in the mirth around us. Just then, a pair of familiar voices could be heard approaching.

“Captain!” yelled Penguin and Shachi as they ran towards Law. Law greeted them with a casual “Oh, it’s you two.”

“Penguin, Shachi!” I called out, handing Brook the cup for a moment. “How are you guys?” I asked as I ran into them and hugged them.

“Captain, we aren’t doing anything, hands are not on her,” they both said, looking at me with slightly flushed faces.

“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.

“Well, Captain, Law can be a bit territorial when it comes to you, princess,” Penguin admitted, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. “And when you were away dealing with that whole arranged marriage crap, he wasn’t himself…” Shachi trailed off.

“Yeah, he was more moody,” Penguin added.

“Hey! Where’s Bepo?” I asked, concerned.

“Bepo’s in the forest,” Shachi replied, “He got the runs.”

“Aww, poor guy,” I said sympathetically as Brook called my name to come back. “I’ll see you guys around,” I said as I made my way back to Brook.

As we entered the castle ruins, Law held up an apple. “Strawhat, let’s head inside and talk. We’ve been stealing from the farms; there’s fresh food to eat.”

“You’re the ones who did that!” Luffy and I exclaimed together.

Kinemon nodded, pointing out the broken wood and fallen debris. “The castle ruins shall be repurposed as our headquarters,” he said. “Just be careful where you step.”

Luffy chuckled as he looked around. “Man, this place is junky…”

As I was about to sit down on the broken floor, Sanji immediately scooped me up and settled me on his lap. “Nope, you’re staying right here,” he said, his voice firm.

“But I can sit on the floor…”

“And risk you injuring your head more? Nope,” Sanji replied, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

I nodded thoughtfully. “Hmmm, you’re maybe right.”

Law’s glare towards Sanji didn’t go unnoticed, but Sanji just stuck his tongue out at him playfully.

Kinemon apologized for the condition of the place. “My apologies, everyone,” he said, surveying the damage.

As I reached for an apple, Sanji snatched it up first and handed it to me. “Thank you, Sanji,” I said with a smile.

Sanji’s eyes softened, a dreamy look settling in them as he gazed at me. “Anything for you, princess,” he replied, his voice a little breathless.

45 notes · View notes

symbologic · 1 year ago

Text

Will Zoro leave Luffy after they achieve their dreams? Not likely

Saying Zoro's gonna voluntarily leave Luffy at the end of OP so he can "live his own life" (i.e. get married, open a dojo, hang out in bars) is so wild to me. That's like saying Luffy's gonna give up adventuring so he can sit around and gorge himself on meat

First of all, it ignores that Zoro genuinely enjoys traveling with Luffy. Luffy (who's always getting into trouble) gives Zoro the chance to be his best self. And Zoro (who very much wants to be his best self) will always seize that chance with both hands

Second, both characters are like...the poster children of wanting to have their cake and eat it too. If you're Luffy or Zoro, you rarely need to make either/or choices. That's what makes them unique. It's why they've both got conqueror's haki! Basically: If Zoro wants to drink until he blacks out? If he wants to nap all day? Hell, if he wants to get lost in a paper bag?? He is like a big cat. He will do what he wants, wherever he is. He doesn't need to leave Luffy to get those things LOL

Third, Luffy's made it clear the Pirate King needs no less than the Greatest Swordsman by his side. Why would that suddenly stop once they've both achieved their dreams? Is Luffy going to quit being Pirate King? Why would he? Luffy wants to be the most free in the world, so he can live the life he wants...with the people he wants to live it with

In other words, Luffy isn't letting Zoro go without a fight — not unless Luffy genuinely feels he's no longer the type of man Zoro would want to travel with. And wouldn't that be the worst ending for both of them?

#monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #one piece #text post #my meta #zolu #tho just kind of??#keep seeing this take on different platforms and I simply do not understand where it comes from #Whyyyyy would Zoro or Luffy want anything else #when they WORK SO HARD to keep everything they need right beside them?#imo it's very telling that Luffy's response to someone potentially getting married is:#“Great! They can bring their spouse on board!”#I imagine he'd feel the same about children or anything else his crew may want.#Nobody needs to go their separate ways to “live their lives”; not unless the characters' priorities fundamentally change #which happens of course; because people change and that's okay too #AT THE SAME TIME it's so hard to imagine this for characters like Luffy and Zoro #who unapologetically live life on their own terms #are very open about what they want as soon as we meet them #and have ONLY gotten to where they're at because they refuse to make compromises about those things.

304 notes · View notes

fictitious-grail-war · 4 months ago

Text

Welcome, prospecting Masters, to the Fictitious Holy Grail War. This Grail War is a little different from a Normal Grail War, because no regular Heroic Spirits can be summoned. Instead, you can summon characters of fiction, and bring them to life, whether they be from books, video games, or movies.

The rules are fairly simple. You can submit potential Servants into the askbox, and I, the overseer, will decide whether they qualify or not. OCs are allowed, but only if I am given enough information. There is already at least one potential Servant per class marked with a * chosen by yours truly. Once I think we have enough, the summoned will be decided via polls.

Saber : Closed

Link* (The Legend of Zelda Breath of the Wild)

Meta Knight* (Kirby and The Forgotten Land)

Jaime Lannister (A Song of Ice and Fire)

Satsuki Kiryuin (Kill la Kill)

King Arthur (Sonic and The Black Knight)

Archer : Closed

Doom Slayer* (Doom Eternal)

Grand Moff Tarkin (Star Wars)

E-123 Omega (Sonic Heroes)

Mami Tomoe (Madoka Magica)

Garrus Vakarian (Mass Effect)

Lancer : Closed

Ephraim* (Fire Emblem the Sacred Stones)

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd (Fire Emblem Three Houses)

Rei Ayanami (Neon Genesis Evangelion)

Ruby Rose (RWBY)

Undyne (Undertale)

Caster : Closed

Gandalf the Grey* (The Lord of the Rings)

Arvis (Fire Emblem Genealogy of the Holy War)

Cure Macaron (KiraKira PreCure)

Iono (Pokemon Scarlet and Violet)

Multi Nanairo (Beyblade X)

Rider : Closed

John Hammond* (Jurassic Park)

Sigurd (Fire Emblem Genealogy of the Holy War)

Aegon the Conqueror (A Song of Ice and Fire)

Chloe Bourgeois (Miraculous)

Green Goblin (Marvel)

Assassin : Closed

Altair* (Assassin’s Creed)

Po* (Kung Fu Panda)

Ghostface (Scream)

Noble Six (Halo Reach)

Joseph Joestar (JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 2)

Berserker : Closed

Uzi* (Murder Drones)

Adam Taurus (RWBY)

Chaos (Sonic Adventure)

Ryuko Matoi (Kill la Kill)

Katsuki Bakugou (MHA)

Ruler : Closed

Professor Layton* (Professor Layton)

All Might (MHA)

Grand Admiral Thrawn (Star Wars)

Judge Dredd (Judge Dread)

Histoire (Hyperdimension Neptunia)

Lelouch Vi Britania (Code Geass)

Joke Servants :

Steam Gardener (Super Mario Odyssey)

Lancer (Deltarune) as a Lancer

#fictitious holy grail war #fate series #holy grail war

29 notes · View notes

visenyaism · 10 months ago

Note

im reading fab for the first time. have not read past the first asoiaf book also have only seen like 6 eps of hotd. fab just appealed to me as a history person and i was Engrossed for the beginning. seriously entranced by this fake history. but im losing steam now that im at the dance. maybe its because i already have an idea of it from the tv show but i found the conqueror/maegor/the adventures of jayhairys brood to be much more interesting than the dance civil war so far. rhaenyra is not doing it for me and i think aemond is the opposite of whatever a blorbo is. a hate blorbo.

you want good dynastic succession war you go open up a clash of kings let me tell you that much

#book aemond is so fucking funny #asoiaf

68 notes · View notes

ewanmitchelll · 2 years ago

Text

Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (X): Long Live.

Imagine you are transported to the past… instants before the legendary battle between Aemond and his uncle Daemon Targaryen occurs. What will you do? Part I.

Warnings: drama, angst, smut—fluff; loosely based on “Outlander”.

Warnings 2: alternative universe concerning the end of “GOT”’s season 8 where Daenerys lives and Jon Snow never killed her, with a more modern take.

Warnings 3: long post.

***

• Current days.

With the war coming to an end and the recent coronation of Queen Daenerys, your life has finally returned to what it used to be… before the threat of the Others, when you were forced to flee from Winterfell to go down South and live with your uncle and aunt all the whilst the rest of your family decided to move to Sunspear, in Dorne.

You start a new life at King’s Landing, taking a course at the Westerosi University, making new friends and even finding a few dates for yourself.

“We should definitely head to Aegon’s Hill”, your friend Margaery says. “There’s a very mystical place, abandoned after the Usurper fell”, she adds in reference to Cersei Lannister’s death by treason.

You hesitate, but what’s there to lose? Security has been restored thanks to the joint efforts of Queen Daenerys and her King Consort, Jaehaerys II after years of civil war plus the madness coming from the north.

“We should celebrate there”, another friend named Lyna adds.

And that is how it all begins. But who could tell what was going to happen?

In the first hours of the morning next you, already dressed in red, black stripes pants and a white, winter like blouse, get your fundamental things in your backpack with an adventure feeling you cannot get rid off.

“And here we go”, you mumble to yourself after getting some coffee.

You hear the sound of a “beeeee”, and you know it’s Margery on the car. You wave a quick goodbye from your aunt and uncle before dropping into it.

“Don’t get yourself too late at home!”, you hear your aunt yelling over her shoulder.

You laugh quietly before yelling back:

“When have I ever failed you?”

And so you are driven all the way to Aegon’s hill, singing a random song seconded by your girl friends.

“I feel so excited about going there”, you, usually the quiet one, find yourself chatty this morning. Is the coffee the cause of it? Maybe. “I was reading about it and rumour has it there are a few enchantments surrounding the stone blocks that remain still.”

“You can’t honestly believe this shit”, Lyna reclines back the backseat and gives you a look. “It’s all mythical. Stories tell us that that hill received the Conqueror’s name because that was where he flew with the great Balerion.”

“But before his arrival there used to be the spot of ancient religions that turned such spot one very meaningful for their practices and all. Aegon himself kept it, aware of its importance”, you honestly don’t know what’s with you, but part of you likes the mysterious aura that place has.

“There is also a legend dated from the days of the Blackfyre rebellion that if you are not careful enough you can be tossed into the past”, says Margaery.

“How past that is, one wonders”, Lyna muses, eventually taking in the idea.

“That depends. The three eyed crow could tell… but it’s been said the man was killed by the Night King.”

You tilt your head as if pondering what the girls are talking about.

“I still can’t believe he died during the war”, you muse out loud.

“He sacrificed for the realm. Apparently he always knew that.”

No one dares to say anything. The Great War is still a sensitive topic to many and your group isn’t an exception to it. Eventually, however, you manage to get to the hill.

It’s large and surrounded by very ancient stones indeed. The beauty in its mysticism makes all the more alluring to you. Something so captivating calls you and, distracted, as if you have been hypnotized, you attend it.

In baby steps you walk, ignoring the bubbling of your friends. A soft hymn, as if played by a harp, is heard.

“Do you hear this, girls?”, you turn at them, missing the mist that rises from nowhere.

But they seem unable to hear you. You try to reach them, especially when the sound of an earthquake scares the hell out of you. You grip tightly the stone, or try to, but it’s when everything spins and you scream.

When your friends turn at you, you are no longer there.

***

• Days of War

I said remember this moment in the back of my mind. The time we stood with our shaking hands. The crowds in stands went wild…

A thunder scratches through the black clouds, roaring it violently. It only announces bad omens. Men paint the soil with their blood in red all the whilst dragons rip skies in cursed fighting.

As it starts to rain, Aemond Targaryen prepares to fight his bitter enemy, confident that he will bring victory to his side. Rhaenyra has been suffering with many losses, betrayals, no one believes her cause anymore.

Dressed in dark green leather, he doesn’t mind the rain that soaks his long silver hair. A twisted, evil smirk is seen as he rests his hand over his sword sheath.

“And here we go, Vhagar”, he mumbles when climbing Aegon’s hill where his dragon, the legendary beast that followed Balerion and Meraxes in the conquest of Westeros many moons ago, awaits.

But it’s precisely when seeing Vhagar agitated and spitting fire that has Aemond startled. What could be the cause of its state? He is ready to run to it when he sees… you.

A scared woman in what he judges to be in her mid 20’s has just tumbled before him. Dressing in strange clothes, your hair is soaked and you shake. You are bloody scared, he can tell, and in other circumstances he’d shoo you away.

However, you not only possess strange objects he’d never seen, but something else that captures his attention. And when you see who’s the man that stands right before you… you remember your history lessons.

And you scream.

Right before you pass out.

“What the fuck?”, Aemond breathes heavily, wide eyed gazing at you. Part of him tells to leave you there, but another cannot. Curiosity takes the best so he forgets the battle for now and carries you with him. “Vhagar, it appears we are delaying the freaking encounter this day. For now.”

Not in the best of the moods, he is, however, intrigued by you. As he flies with you to his secretive spot—away from Alys, he keeps it in mind—, he wonders about your whereabouts and why you dress such unusual clothing. And what’s this object you carry behind your back? A product of witchcraft perhaps?

He narrows his eyes, suspiciously so. But in the midst of this long term war, one thing is for sure: you have brought him back the inquisitiveness that he’s long lost…

***

When you open your eyes, it takes you a few minutes to realize where you are… and when realizing that your clothes are changed, you are forced to acknowledge that whatever happened the day before was not a dream.

You begin to panic when you see your surroundings. You are in a large, comfortable bed with lamb skin made blankets over your frame. The furniture is not as modern as the one your aunt has in her household.

You swallow hard, scanning still your eyes s modest desk, and a simple window. All of this makes you miss the discreet presence of Lord Aemond, who’d been watching you from the side of the chamber you haven’t noticed yet.

“I wonder the cause behind your astonishment”, his husky voice breaks the silence in such a powerful way that you nearly jump out of the bed, which makes the prince amused.

Never before had you stood a royal before, even if this man is not the kindest of his station. You force yourself to remember your history lessons and behave in the most natural way possible.

Therefore you stand and dip into what you judge a careful curtsy. Aemond’s eyebrows are raised, arms folded. But he is no fool.

“You are not from here”, he continues. “Who are you? A very weird spy sent by my dear sister to distract me?”

In other circumstances you’d have laughed out loud. But you are too frightened to do that. Aemond sees you are shaking, a clear sign of fear.

“Well? Has the cat eaten your tongue, my lady?”, he sighs heavily, not the most patient of men.

“I… No, lord. I am not”, never before you’ve been thankful for learning the ways of nobility, aware few of the etiquette has altered in the course of centuries. “I… I am not your sister’s partisan.”

Aemond can tell you speak the truth, but he approaches you, shortening the distance between you two. Then he shows you your backpack and all the things there are still inside.

“What are these then? Are you a witch, lady? Has my sister bought you so you could use such witchcraft against us, against me?”

Part of you finds ridiculous how this is going. Another is trying not to laugh at the face of danger. The reasonable self there is still in you prevails by masking your sentiments, reminding that you need to conquer this man’s trust if you want to go back home.

“If I tell you, lord, you will not believe me”, you opt for the truth. If the prince has long decided to burn you, then what does it matter?

Aemond is surprised by the moment you lift your eyes. Something about your gaze shakes his heart, as if bringing the tempest within. He ignores the shiver that now runs over his spine.

“Try me”, he commmands you to.

“I must have your word that you shall not burn me.”

The prince side smirks at you.

“Do I have the reputation of slaying ladies or sending them to death? Believe me, my lady, my mistress has been associated with dark magic and here I stand.”

Without thinking twice, though, the following words roll out of your tongue:

“But you are renowned as the kinslayer. That speaks for itself.” It’s only then you know you’ve angered the prince. Shit. “I’m sorry, lord.”

“You are my prisoner”, Aemond snaps back at you. “Bear in mind you need my favour if you have any love for your life.”

Your eyes are puddled with tears. Once too proud, you slide to your knees and beg him for your life.

“Lord, I’ve been a victim of witchcraft. I’ve been casted here, that is the truth and only truth. I come from the future and there is where I belong. I’ve never meant to stay in your way. I beg you to spare me, we have no cause for otherwise.”

Aemond’s good eye is slightly wide. He can tell, being a good observer, that you are not lying even if his reason cannot conceive it. On the other hand, what surprises him more is the way you are begging him. He’d taken you as a proud woman. The scene now disconcerts him.

“I must depart. I am needed and…”

You know you should not meddle in the past, aware of the consequences. This is a bad reputed prince, the chronicles helped making you dislike him greatly. However, you depend on him in going back to Aegon’s Hill. Therefore…

“Don’t go. You will die.”

Aemond’s eyebrows raise epically.

“What? Listen to me, young lady. Whomever you may be, sent by my sister or not, you shall better hold your tongue.”

Oh this couldn’t go any worse, could it? You sigh heavily.

“And then what? I need you, lord, to find my way back home. If you die today, I’ll be stuck in here for good.”

“Perhaps then I should have left you to Alys.”

“No!”, something about your cry scares the untamed prince. “Lord, please. I…”

A moment of silence. Neither could believe in what is going right before their eyes. You, stuck in the middle of another war; him, in the presence of what he judges to be a product of witchcraft.

“How should I address my lady?” Aemond opts to begin again.

And when you soften, so does he.

“Y/N, lord.”

“Y/N, I am Aemond Targaryen. Looks like there’s so much to catch on…”

To change the fate of Westeros, he stays.

***

The night you danced like you knew our lives would never be the same. You held your head like a hero on a history book page. It was the end of a decade, but the start of an age.

Aemond’s good eye studies you as you eat like you haven’t been fed for ages. Your hair is still hanging lose behind your back and you are still wearing a pair of delicate earrings he’d never seen before, but all else makes you look like a woman of his own times.

“So the enchantments of Aegon’s Hill are true”, he muses, breaking the silence as he takes a sip of his wine.

“They are, lord.”

“But never heard of a case where they had… succeeded, in fact.” He tilts his head. “What proof can you give me you are actually from there?”

“My objects aren’t proof enough?”

This silences the prince for now.

“I do not think wise to meddle in these events”, you say in turn. “Lord knows what that’d be like for my own days.”

Aemond is intrigued as he watches you pale. Then curiosity knocks his pride out.

“What’s like? The future?”

You wonder if you should tell him. As if he reads you, Aemond adds:

“Eventually I die. I am not asking you how. But your days, lady, I want to know. How better are they from mine?”

Sadness sparks behind your y/c eyes, a sight that inspires sympathy on him.

“Worse, I dare say. I was first raised in a long civil war. And then… another came, worse still. I really have no words to put it.”

“I cannot conceive a war worst than civil war”, says Aemond. “But another civil war bled Westeros?”

“Yes”, you try not to speak too much.

“Fuck”, Aemond grumbles under his breath. “All of this… for nothing?”

Not knowing what to say, you choose silence. And not knowing how to react, Aemond breathes in frustration. He decides to leave you.

And you end up that evening alone. But early next morning, Aemond, too intrigued with your presence to remember to fight his enemies, paces anxiously around the castle. He must know, he needs to know. And when waiting becomes unbearable, you show up.

Dressed in a blue velvet gown, you look properly like a lady of these times even though you cannot mask well your discomfort. Aemond’s own thoughts disappear before the sight of you, feeling so lost, so… out of place.

“My lady”, he doesn’t admit how taken aback he is by your beauty. “I pray you have slept better this night.”

“Not really, I’m afraid”, and your red eyes are a clear sign of how you actually spent your night. Aemond frowns at that, preoccupied. “I shall make my mission taking you home… after the battle that awaits me.”

You should not care, but you feel disconcerted by his presence. The way he looks at you says all.

“I cannot convince you otherwise”, you sigh. “Can you at least leave me at Aegon’s Hill, though?”

A request that defies your sanity, you know well. One that poses your boldly despair very clear. But you are now a survivor struggling to live in such a strange world.

However, Aemond is not willing to let go easily of you. Inspired by mixed feelings, he says:

“You are my prisoner now, remember? I shall keep your secret”, he approaches you slow, shortening the distance between the two of you. “Just tell me how to beat my uncle, how to win this war.”

“Oh Lords”, you find support in the wall. “What kind of question is that? In one moment you…”

“Just tell me!”, Aemond cuts you, rather impatiently.

“I cannot! Lord, if I do, the world I know my disappear.”

He realizes the dilemma you are. Confused by all of this mess, Aemond hesitates.

“Just stay here until I come back.”

Without waiting for any response, there he leaves you, but not to fight Daemon Targaryen. Not now. And you weep because this is all you can do for now.

***

You try to leave the castle, disguised as a peasant, but your plan comes to fail when Aemond comes back and from above, he spots a strange figure running through the woods.

Now here you are, a prisoner again. This time the prince is in a better mood.

“You are really trying to get away of me. In other circumstances, I’d be mad at you for this bluntness”, he muses, offering you wine as you sit in front of the fireplace.

You shoot him a glare, not saying anything.

“What am I to you but a toy so you can play?” Desperation hits a different tone and before you know you burst into tears, swiping away his mug smirk.

After a while, Aemond comes to his senses. He reluctantly takes your hand and when both of you see fingers intertwining, a different heat seems to rise.

“I lament profoundly to cause you pain, lady Y/N”, says he. “But this is who I am. Shouldn’t you know that?”

“I believed in other men’s judgement where you are concerned, but now…”

“Now what?”, he asks, somewhat anxious.

“Now I know in the hard way we should be better than be led by prejudices.”

Aemond leans back in his chair, thoughtful. You realize he doesn’t let go of your hand.

“Wise words, lady Y/N.” And then he muses. “I died, didn’t I? We lost this war, didn’t we?”

You avoid his gaze, opting for silence. But your silence screams unspoken words that reach the Prince’s heart. And he sighs, in between melancholy and resignation.

***

The following days you are not entitled as the lord Aemond’s prisoner any longer. Showing some colours in the horizon, hope stands as he presents you as the illegitimate daughter of some nobleman loyal to the green house who’d been deceased in the previous battles.

With a more convincing background, you are better instructed by maids of his trust in the manners of the times. Soon, you are offered a place to serve Queen Helaena.

It’s when you remember that droll tragedy.

“Oh no!”

Aemond raises his eye at you.

“What makes you deny this privilege any lady would kill to earn?”

You blush.

“I mean to say…”, you struggle with words, “I am unfit for such a position.”

“Allow me to disagree with you”, Aemond smiles and suddenly the view pleases your heart very much. “There shall be a ball on behalf of my sister’s birthday this weekend.”

“Will we dance?”, you blurt it out before you realize.

Aemond’s cheeks go pink at your spontaneity.

“Dance, you say”, he muses thoughtfully. “I am no dancer, my lady.”

“We are performers in life. Therefore anyone can be a dancer.”

“Quite a wit you possess”, says he in reluctant admittance. “Very well. If it pleases my lady…”

One smile is enough to turn tables.

“It does.”

And a new fate is sealed.

***

“It doesn’t feel like you are an outsider”, so mumbles Aemond to you alone as you two dance amidst courtiers.

It’s a sweet melody, cheerful somewhat in its beat, certainly bringing many presents a smile on their faces. The Dowager Queen looks pleased and delighted, entertained by her twins. One look at them and you are remembered by the upcoming events.

Oh, the burden of knowing too much. You swallow the bitter thought as you dance with the rogue prince. Earlier the Queen, who had welcomed you in the merriest of the moods, had said no one but a traveler could bring a man as her brother to dance. Her remark, not taken seriously by many, did manage to leave you uncomfortable. After all, you forgot that she had the Targaryen ability of possessing dreams.

“How come?”, you inquire, and it doesn’t take long before your gaze meets his.

He doesn’t strike you as the villain.

“You fit here just fine”, Aemond whispers in response.

As you twirl, hands barely touching his, you feel you are about to fall right into the trap.

“Do you think so?” And then you flash him a mischievous smirk. “Who’d ever thought we could get along?”

“Who, indeed?”

And then the dance comes to an end. Aemond takes your hand and bows, as you curtsy. But when he presses his lips against your skin, your heart races.

It appears you found your hero, after all.

***

Long live the walls we crashed through, how the kingdom lights shined just for me and you. I was screaming, "Long live all the magic we made” and bring on all the pretenders. One day we will be remembered…

It’s late night. Aemond’s thoughts are only on the strange woman who was tossed out of time and space to go straight to the core of the civil war that will be known in posterity as dance of dragons.

He’s been so captivated that he’s long forsaken Mistress Rivers and his obsession in defeating his sworn enemy, his own uncle Daemon Targaryen. Therefore he decides to go after you. Covered by the shadows of night with only the guidance of faint candlelights, he soon finds your bedchambers.

There is hesitation at first. His own thoughts are confused, his heart hammers in silent agony. There is half hope, half atonement in his heart beat.

Nevertheless, he came too far to stop now. So he knocks at long last.

There is no answer at first. And then…

“My lord Aemond”, you are surprised to find him on the other side of the door. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Despite the admonishment in your words, he can tell there is amusement in your eyes.

“Aye. But I couldn’t find myself able to sleep. And neither could you.”

A faint blush paints your cheeks, earning him his typical smirk.

“I wonder if the same thought has been the cause of our restless nights”, he begins, eyeing you up and down, much to your discomfort.

Dressed in your long white nightgown with your hair down in your back, you look as ethereal as your background. There is beauty, but there is also something unknown in your aura. There is a connection between you two.

And you, on the other hand, are more than familiar with the rules of those days you are now inserted. However, are you able to resist this man?

You wait, though. Maybe you’ve figured this out in the wrong way?

“Your silence mortifies me, lady”, Aemond sighs impatiently. “Is this not evidence enough of how I came to love you?”

Your eyes go wide and you almost drop the candle you’ve been holding.

“Aemond… I am hardly the most appropriate woman for you.”

“Titles and lands are nothing for me”, he responds anxiously.

It’s when he takes your free hand into his, locking fingers at last. To feel his warm skin against yours, colder by comparison, gives goosebumps and small shocks as a result. You fear that you are about to lose your control.

“Aemond…”

He steps forward, saying nothing until he closes the door behind him and puts the candle somewhere safe. Only then he holds you against him and finally kisses you like you’ve never been kissed.

And indeed you have never experienced the firm grasp of a man, the decisions of one confident who knows what he wants. You could have never imagined that one of the kind exists and could desire you this much.

Worse perhaps is to discover how long you’ve been dreaming about this. As his lips clash into yours, your morals die unheard. You let him reclaim you, shuddering under his intense grip, his burning touch.

Before you could do anything, though, Aemond lies you on your bed, lifting your skirts to your waist and then…

“Oh, Lord!”, you whimper out loud. “Aemond…!”

This is certainly the best experience you’ve had. And so easily your legs get heavy, that heat comes down your belly and you… burn.

You want to pull him over you, but the messy prince flashes you a side smirk, dropping by your side.

“Do you honestly believe I shall deflower my lady in a most ungallant manner?”, he chuckles as he watches you frown in frustration.

You raise your eyebrows. You hesitate in whether telling him about your previous experiences. Unwise it may be to be honest, but worse is to ignore your conscience’s voice.

“My prince, as much as I appreciate your kindness and respect to me…”

He furrows his eyebrows.

“In my days these matters have changed significantly”, and then you are quick to add. “It doesn’t mean I’ve had plenty of others, though.”

You give up justifying yourself when you watch Aemond struggle with comprehending your point. Eventually, however, he cedes the battle and says:

“I am not an example of morality, I suppose. Even so I stand what I said.”

Your face lightens up.

“You cannot honestly mean…”

“…that I intend to espouse you?”, Aemond scoffs. “Of course I do. It’s a better way to protect you, by the way. These are trying times, my lady.”

That being said, you cuddle onto him, forgetting completely there is a bloody civil war outside and that you are not studying the period anymore, but living it at its fullest.

***

It is often remarked how to achieve peace one must be prepared for war. And in war, few are familiar with good sense.

Whatever are your thoughts about it, your first taste of tragedy comes in the form of revenge. You are just going back from a stroll outdoors at the gardens when screams get at you.

As you rush to the indoors, you are prevented by Aemond.

“You should be better left out of this. Let me resolve it.”

“No”, you protest. “Aemond, I…”

But he isn’t listening. He leaves you there, as if you are a ghost haunting the castle. Your eyes start to get teary as you realize what part all of this is about.

You cover your ears as the screams continue endlessly, echoing in a kind of pain that you’ve been familiar once. The sounds awake old traumas, opening wounds long thought to be healed.

You can’t stay in there. Useless you feel, therefore you motion outdoors. All you do is walk. Perhaps this is the better time to go to Aegon’s Hill. You want to go home, you don’t want to spend any more time there…

However, once you do, you are prevented from doing so by Aemond. The rogue prince, paled with angst, is perplexed at the thought of you gone. Despaired, he comes after you, thankfully not needing to reach Vhagar for that purpose.

“I cannot stay here”, you tell him, body shaking in evident signs of trauma. “Please, take me home.”

“Y/N…”

“Please! I don’t belong here, Aemond!”

“Yes, you do. You belong with me”, he cups your cheeks and then reading your eyes, he denudes your soul, almost if by chance he has a glimpse of the future through you. “Whatever happened there… and whatever happened here are not who you are. Listen to me, Y/N. It’s you and I against the world. I am honestly sorry these are the circumstances we are now in, but we must be brave.”

There are so many words but none leaves your mouth. Aemond embraces you, rocking you in his arms.

“You already knew what was going to happen”, he is not asking a question. “But this is not the reaction one might’ve expected. You are also a survivor… of war. Bloody seven hells, Y/N. I’m very sorry, my lady.”

You melt in his embrace, sobbing as the nightmare of leaving everything behind in the midst of panic and fear strikes you again. You’ve never seen yourself as a survivor, until now.

“Come inside”, he asks you gently. “Don’t go now. Please.”

Never before he was seen vulnerable, but then again so are you. It had been a while since your wounds were so crudely open, left to bleed in such a painful manner. You’d think you overcame it, but not entirely as you’d like to believe.

Here you are, however, comforted by this character whom you were taught to hate all thanks to the chroniclers that registered his bad deeds. Although he may have done such, and you won’t find excuse for his bad reputation, he’s so much more than that, than words written by thirds.

He’s your prince. He’s your hero and you shall not think anymore of it.

***

After these dark days are gone, sun rises in paradise again. Aemond invites you to fly Vhagar with him.

The decision comes after Rhaenyra and her husband Daemon are put off the show for now. The greens hold victory for now, and even you forget the upcoming events.

“I cannot fly her!”, you shake at the thought. “Do you want to see me dead?”

Aemond laughs heartily and the sound of it melts your heart and soothes your mind. He twirls you around him before holding you against his chest.

“Do you trust in me so little that I’d let you slip so easily?”

You giggle.

“I am just not a brave woman you might expect me to be”, so you say, drowning in that good purple eye.

“Oh, dearest. You are a lot braver than you’d judge.”

Saying so, he kisses you on the lips, and you save his taste as you gladly return it.

I said remember this feeling. I passed the pictures around of all the years that we stood there on the sidelines wishing for right now. We are the kings and the queens. You traded your baseball cap for a crown

You cast him a long loving glance as the prince holds your hand, giving you side smirk before leading the way to Vhagar. This ancient beast, a companion to the Westerosi conquest two other Valyrian dragons, seems to read you the moment your gazes meet.

A sight too frightening to behold, one you’ve seen before the moment you were tossed in this time and space. You recollect the fear that shook your bones and froze your reason and this seems to happen again.

“Don’t be afraid. She knows you are with me”, says Aemond in a nonchalant manner.

You nod your head, but Aemond feels your body shaking. He gently pulls you against him and in a matter of seconds you are suddenly mounting that legendary creature.

“Holy cow!”, you scream.

The silver haired prince laughs quietly, before whispering the words in Valyrian to Vhagar start to fly.

“Calm down, love. Don’t be fearful, it’s worse if you do.”

“I am no dragon rider, Aemond”, you snap at him, eyes going wide as Vhagar begins to rise higher, flying in an incredible speed—fast enough according to your judgement and lack of experience where dragons are concerned, not entirely fast when comparing Vhagar to younger dragons like Caraxes, for example.

But all Aemond does is laugh away your fears. He takes your hands, holding them as he shows he’s commanding the situation. Despite your fears, the adrenaline comes at it and so suddenly you are flying higher than getting an airplane to Dorne.

“AEMOND!”

The silver haired finds adorable the way you trust him, holding onto him as if your life depends on him. But he knows you are overcoming a fear of heights and this only grows his admiration of you.

Eventually though, as if Vhagar is sensing your fear, she slows down and only then she settles in a pace that doesn’t fight you. It’s when you risk patting her back, stroking your delicate fingers over the asperity of the creature’s skin.

“Remember this feeling”, he whispers in your ear. “This is what freedom is like. This is what it means to never let anyone hold the reins of your life.”

“I see the lights of Westeros shining for us”, you don’t even know what you are thinking, but these words seem to make sense for you.

“They are”, Aemond spots the fire pits in towers where orange flames wipe away the fog that instaure that evening. “But you shine the brighter, my dear.”

You blush violently at his words. Never before you felt so loved and understood. Slightly turning your head, and locking gazes with him, you tell this silver haired prince open words regarding your heart.

“I love you, Aemond. Truthfully, I do. I only shine brighter because of you.”

His wide gaze shows no emotion, perhaps skeptical about the genuine feeling you put in them. But Aemond knows you are sincere and this moves him more than he admits.

Locking his arms around you, he kisses you before saying:

“I love you.”

And this is enough for you.

***

You are married in secrecy to a man whom history despises being the kinslayed. His vices are listed perpetually in dust parchments, used as propaganda to disperse any honesty there might’ve colored the shades of the green party that ruled Westeros for a short period of time.

But you see his virtues that no chronicler bothered to see and those overcome the former in a colorful prism of human being.

Daeron Targaryen, his younger brother, is the only witness of the ceremony.

“Welcome to the family, my lady Y/N. In other circumstances, this would be a merry and most favorable occasion.”

“My brother, this matters little. I appreciate the warm wishes, though, and I bet better days are about to come.”

Aemond is pleased to see how well you and his family get along. When one lives history, easily it is to forget it. And so it goes.

When you are taken to his privy chambers, who’d think this was when history is about to change?

“You look so beautiful. Astonishingly so.”

“You make sparks fly”, you smile at him, taken by handsomeness, hands stroking his long silver hair before holding his face. “I adore you, my prince.”

It starts slowly. Your tongue pairs perfectly with his, in one same passionate rhythm. Only then impatience rises when the heat begins to burn.

Your hands start to undress him, automatically moving down to his leather pants.

“Let me show you my devotion”, you break the kiss to whisper in his ear.

Aemond hisses under his breath, eyes closed as he already reacts to your caresses. Your lips leave traces of warm kisses from his neck to his shoulders, going down to his belly and then… you kneel to say your prayers.

But he is now devouring you like a hungry man, starving for your soul. His lips on your nipples do wonderfulness. You roll your eyes, moaning softly as your hands play with his hair.

When his skillful fingers find way to your core, you know you are lost. Aemond smirks at how loud you can be, this arousing him further.

“Hmm, my darling”, he raises to meet your mouth, clashing it in a fervent kiss, therefore muffling your lustful cries.

And right as you come undone, he doesn’t wait any longer. Sliding right inside you, you open your eyes, somewhat pleasantly surprised by his intensity.

“Aemond!”

He could not tell whether you are moaning or complaining.

“Yes?”, he groans as starts to move inside you.

“You… are… so… fucking good!”

The prince laughs at your cursing.

“My lady, watch your tongue”, says he in such a malicious way that you feel you could come undone right now.

“Aemond, you devil”, you whimper, legs locked as you begin to move as one.

He smiles down at you, holding your hands above your head. As you kiss, you meet a heavenly bliss.

***

War, however, comes back in unsafe and soundly steps. You, merged in domestic happiness, allowed yourself to forget that in great delights await greater sorrows.

Thirty days after your marriage, to your surprise you find yourself conceived. You want to tell him in the ways your prince likes: flying Vhagar. By now you and this ancient beast have somehow gotten used to each other’s presence.

“May we fly together this evening, husband?”, you ask him, trying not to sound too eager.

Aemond somehow senses you are different. But he cannot tell what exactly is.

“For someone who feared Vhagar, you’ve become quite a dragonrider.”

This day you are breaking fast with your husband’s family, now pleasantly aware of your secret matrimony, notwithstanding Ser Otto’s initial disapproval.

You giggle quietly.

“That is what marrying to you means, is it not?”

Aemond laughs quietly.

“Why, my darling, I could never refuse you anything.”

“Just be mindful you two”, muses the Dowager Queen Alicent, distracted. “It’s cloudy today.”

***

May these memories break our fall. Will you take a moment? Promise me this. That you'll stand by me forever. But if, God forbid, fate should step in and force us into a goodbye, if you have children someday when they point to the pictures. Please tell them my name. Tell them how the crowds went wild. Tell them how I hope they shine…

How could you know what was about to happen then? You are excited to share the news, believing this is the best scenario you could’ve pictured.

Dressed in proper robes, you follow Aemond excitedly and when greeting Aemond with your characteristically sweetness, he snorts and says:

“Who could’ve known we’d come to this? You turned my dragon war in domesticated dog, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes at his teasing.

“Don’t be silly, Aemond. She needs love and caring like every animal”, you smile. “As well as respect.”

“I wonder at times if you are real.”

You turn your head slightly at him as you two prepare to ride.

“Why wouldn’t I be, my love? You are my husband, or am I mistaken? Have you been with Mistress Rivers ag…”

He interrupts you by kissing you passionately. And right there Vhagar roars through the air. You feel as if you’ve been electrified. And the look in your face awakes the best of him.

“I love you, woman.”

But every happiness dies when skies grow darker and Vhagar’s roar sounds different. Aemond frowns his eyebrows.

“Shit. There’s something wrong”, he is quickly alert.

You, focused in telling him about your state, begin to grow afflicted when remembering that that battle between him and Daemon Targaryen didn’t happen the way it should.

You interfered.

Fuck.

“Aemond, honey…”

Wind blows colder, it announces storm. He begins to drive Vhagar lower, flying higher as darkness sweeps away the last rays of light. You try not to panic, but by the looks on your prince, you are promptly a victim to it.

“I’ve ruined everything. I shouldn’t be here. I messed all.”

“Don’t say that”, Aemond doesn’t have a clue of what you are trying to say, but he is already familiar with your background to prevent your insecurity to meddle in it. “You have been the best thing to happen to me…”

Before you have the time to answer him, a different roar echoes through the thundering clouds.

You know where it comes from. You know the one behind him.

And you are at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

“Aemond!”

“Nothing will happen to you, this I swear”, but then he adds, without looking at you. “If, however, something happens to me…”

“Don’t!”

He continues as if you hadn’t protested.

“…never forget how you turned me into a better man. I am unworthy of the Seven Heavens, but I tasted a bit of sacred forgiveness when you loved me. You redeemed me of my sins, my lady, even when I was a miserable. Move on as you should. But never forget me. Or us.”

“Aemond!”, you cry because you remember the result of this battle, and worse is now the effect of his words. “I love you!”

There is so much to be said, but you cannot. Time steals you from him. As Aemond and Daemon faces each other, the prince tries to find a way to save you.

However, no dragon flees from battle. But because Caraxes is faster, it soon attacks Vhagar. It’s right here that, above Aegon’s hill, every shadow eclipses the sun.

It’s right here that in midst of it all, you fall. It happens too fast. Aemond is trying to fly away, but Vhagar doesn’t obey him again. It soon responds Daemon’s Caraxes offense with another.

But when Vhagar gets bitten in the neck, the ancient dragon loses balance for a moment and right here a storm wind knocks you out.

Aemond screams, trying to save you, but you refuse to be saved. You are still in tears, judging to see him attacked by Daemon when the spells of time engulf you.

‘These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die like fire and powder…’

To be continue…

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #house targaryen #prince Aemond Targaryen #lord Aemond Targaryen #lord Aemond #aemond targaryen smut #taylor swift #speak now (taylor’s version)#long live

84 notes · View notes

countrymusiclover · 1 year ago

Text

24 - When Dragons Flew to War

Part 25

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tags- just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

Amethyst leaped down from the rocky ledge with me riding on her back. My silver hair tied back in a simple braid with me wearing a tunic and trousers rather than dealing with a ridiculous gown. Flying above the vast sea water I had never felt more free being up here. She released a cry diving down to the fleet of ships we had at our command. “I think this is one of the few times I’ve seen you this happy.”

“For once in my life I am truly free. Free from King's Landing, free from fake identities, free from Cersei and anyone else who wishes me dead. If I’m being honest I’ve never felt so alive.”

Jaime caught my body in his arms once I had slid down her lowered wing. “I’m happy to see you like this.”

“Where are the twins?” Glancing around the moving ship I didn’t see them running around like they normally had been the first couple of weeks since we had left Dragonstone. Nothing but the vast and open see ahead of us.

Amethyst leaped up off her back legs and shot up to the clear skies with me and Jaime not being able to resist not watching her fly. “I put them down for a nap. I can’t keep an eye on you and them at the same time.”

“You know I can take care of myself. Besides, she won’t hurt me while I'm on her back.”

He moved his left hand down resting against my growing stomach. “I’m not worried about you so much but our future little heir.”

“Stop you’re worrying, my lion. Although I would suggest choosing a different word then calling the baby future little heir. The men that sailed with us are loyal to my sister. We don’t want her thinking we are the enemy.”

Jaime tucked some hair behind my ear that had fallen from my braid. “I think you’ve made it very clear that you have no intention of taking the Iron Throne.”

“I don't see the need in conquering the Seven Kingdoms when there's so much land that hasn't been explored outside of Westeros.”

My husband squeezed me by the waist. “Hmm then it appears you need a different name than Princess of the Seven kingdoms.”

“What would you suggest?” Draping my arms over his shoulders he wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Princess Vaella Lannister, First of her name, Lady of Casterly Rock, and adventurer of the Summer Sea and Sothoryos.”

Kissing him shortly, footsteps approached us. “I love it.”

“My lord, my lady. The children were playing with this earlier. I assumed you would want it back with you.” A guard held up a knife and I noticed the writing engraved on it, quickly taking it from his hand.

“Thank you.”

Jaime raised a brow. “I already gave you a knife as a precaution. Why do you need another one?”

“This isn't an ordinary knife. It belongs to Aegon the Conqueror. He engraved his dream on it. Rhaegar secretly slipped it into my protection before he left to fight. It's strictly only known by the heirs of the Iron Throne.” Sliding the blade back inside my right boot I buttoned the hise hold bag strapped to my boot.

Jaime smirked down at me, holding the side of my face. “Your brother may have thought you would be heir one day, you never know.” I smiled thinking Rhaegar may have always seen me as a Queen.

Rhaegar had been buried away in the library inside the Red Keep. He had always been a bookworm from the day he learned how to read. So I knew where to find him on rainy days where no one was likely to disturb him. Pushing the double doors open hearing them creak loudly seeing him sitting down at the first table. “Brother, what book do you have your head buried in this time around?”

“Aegon the Conqueror.” He waved me over with his freehand pulling me up my own wooden chair. “Come, come, this is what father always told me about before his episodes began.”

Lifting my head up from the book pages I asked him not ever being told the story. “What does it say about Aegon the Conqueror?”

“Aegon foresaw the end of the world of men. Tis to begin with a terrible winter gusting out of the distant North. Aegon saw absolute darkness riding on those winds. And whatever dwells within will destroy the world of the living. When the great winter comes, all of Westeros must stand against it.” Eyeing my brother I was curious about the knife he had drawn from inside his belt on his trousers. “Before Aegon's death the last of the Valyrian pyromancers hid his song in the steel.”

He handed me the knife where I muttered the written word under my breath. “From my blood comes the Prince that was promised. And his will be the Song of Ice and Fire.”

“Vae, I shouldn’t be doing this since this has been passed down from heir to heir. But I’m giving it to you in case something happens to me since you are the oldest in line after me.” Rhaegar placed his hand over mine still holding the knife.

Shaking my head, I attempted to push the blade back into his hands. “Rhae, I can’t accept it then. It’s only between the heirs of the realm.”

“I want someone else to help me figure out the prophecy. You know father’s condition nowadays ....please Vae.” He begged me with those purple dragon eyes we shared.

Placing the dagger in his hands I put my hands on top of his vowing to my elder brother. “I vow to help you figure out this knife prophecy.”

“You might just be the very first Queen of the Seven Kingdoms one day.” Rhaegar sent me a proud smile back, I wouldn’t become obsessed with it like he was. But at least back then we were a team on a mission.

In the many weeks that had passed we were getting closer to the land of Sothoryos. The uncharted land across the Summer Sea. Strolling across the ship now wearing a simple red dress that wasn’t too tight around my waist I leaned over the side of the boat watching the different fish swim in the waters below. “There you are, my dragon. What's troubling you. You're trembling.” Jaime’s familiar hand touched my lower back

Glancing at him I met his gaze. “I got to thinking about something my brother and I read in Targaryen history. The notes of when dragons flew to war.”

“Meaning what exactly?”

Closing my eyes I sucked in a breath wrapping my freehand around my ring necklace. “When they flew to war everything burned.”

“You shouldn’t be the one worrying about dragons going to war. There's only four left in the world after all. We only need to worry about making it to that shoreline.” Jaime points his index finger out in front of us, where we could see some sight of land off in the distance.

Laying my head against his chest I closed my eyes briefly letting my worries fade until I swore I could hear a faint screeching sound above our heads. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what, Vaella?” He asked me.

Taking a step forward I tucked my hair behind my ear trying to get a better listen. It for sure wasn’t Amethyst because she was laying asleep in the back of the boat deck. “That noise. It sounded like a - a whistle.” The second the word left my mouth, something dove down and hit the top part of our ship where the whole boat rocked and everything fell in different directions onto the deck.

“Vaella!” Jaime shouted at me before he fell onto his back and I banged my head against the side of the boat railing. He scrambled to his feet, genre helping me up by my forearm. “Are you okay. Are you hurt? Fetch the Maester!”

Lowering my hand from my forehead I pushed through the small headache that was coming on. “I'm alright.” Gently pushing him away I ran to the tip front of the boat, leaning up on my toes hearing the same noise another time.

“What was that?” He asked me looking around the empty waters.

Squinting my eyes the skies were empty for a short period before something dove down and flew barely above the water. A long tail swung down and large swings flapping where it was clear what type of creature it was before me. “It's another dragon….hell it's a island of dragons.” Jaime stood behind me seeing multiple dragons flying around the land with small buildings coming into view.

23 notes · View notes

ducktoonsfanart · 1 year ago

Text

Donald Duck as Napoleon Bonaparte, Scrooge McDuck as Gaius Julius Caesar and Louie Duck (Quack Pack) as Alexander the Great - Conquerors - Real Ducks in History - History in Duckverse

I've always wanted to do a special project called Duckverse in History and my plan is to draw my favorite characters as redraws from famous works of art as well as famous historical figures. And since history is my favorite science, and my favorite field, I definitely wanted to do something related to it and related to one of my favorite historical characters. Since I don't want to complicate the situation, I will gradually publish a drawing related to that historical figure from time to time. I started this last year for Duckvember only to finish at the end of last month.

The first drawing is a redraw from Jacques Louis David's famous early 19th century artwork depicting Napoleon Bonaparte crossing the Alps in 1800 before the Battle of Marengo. Napoleon Bonaparte was the most famous French military leader, general, consul and emperor who waged war with all of Europe at the time and managed to subjugate it in its entirety except for the Ottoman Empire, Russia and Great Britain. He is from Corsica, but he left a lot for France and proved that France is not worth messing with easily. He also gave many reforms and his Civil Code which spread throughout Europe and brought order in France after the French Revolution. Napoleon's nature is very similar to Donald Duck and I drew Donald as Napoleon since he was created for that role and I drew him riding his horse Marengo in my own style, but in a realistic way and that Donald has five fingers.

The second drawing is a redraw of a statue made by Nicolas Coustou at the end of the 17th century for the decoration of Versailles, which depicts the greatest Roman, Gaius Julius Caesar. Although he was not an emperor, certainly many presented him, but he was a dictator, consul, general, writer, historian, engineer, constructor, and a great military leader who changed the Roman Republic into an almost Roman Empire. His fights against the Gauls, as well as the conflict with Pompey and his love with Cleopatra, are known, but he also changed a lot in Rome and was extremely rich. And he lived during the first century BC. That's why I drew Scrooge McDuck as Gaius Julius Caesar since Scrooge is a great leader and he also strived for fame and fortune and to be remembered in the future and he plays the role of the best Roman. Behind it are the Colosseum (built a century after him), the aqueduct (then irrigation) and the Pantheon (built two centuries after him), as well as a Roman temple that symbolizes Rome at that time, as well as the roads themselves. In addition, Topolino (Italian comics) are showed Scrooge as Caesar two or three times so that's where my inspiration came from.

The third drawing shows Louie Duck (the Quack Pack version, not the Ducktales reboot) shows Alexander the Great, another brilliant conqueror from the fourth century BC and I drew it as a redraw from the mosaic of Alexander the Great from the battle of Issus in which he confronts the Persian king Darius III from Pompeii, probably from the first century BC. Alexander the Great was the son of Philip II and the king of Macedonia who united Greece and fought against Persia and managed to conquer an entire empire in his twenties. He traveled through the Persian Empire and reached India and wanted to continue, but his soldiers did not want to continue, so he returned to Babylon, his new capital. He certainly changed the world at that time and introduced a new culture, called Hellenism, as a combination of ancient Greek culture and the culture of the Ancient East and ancient India. I drew Louie as Alexander because as a young man he is a great adventurer and rides his black horse Bucephalus and is eager for extremes, yet unlike Alexander, Louie shows a bit of his shyness, but is still brave enough to take on new challenges. I also added a helmet as worn by Alexander III in his time. Behind Louie are the pyramids from Egypt, the Ishtar Gate from Babylon and the imperial palace from Persepolis where the Persian rulers lived and it actually shows the lands that Alexander the Great conquered.

I certainly hope you like these drawings and these ideas and that these characters have such historical roles. Of course, Duckverse in history I combine mostly everything related to Duckverse (Donald Duck comics, OG Ducktales, Three Caballeros, Darkwing Duck and Quack Pack) and it's mostly my version and my idea. By all means if you like this and support these ideas, feel free to like and reblog this, but please don't use these same ideas without mentioning me and without my permission. Thank you!

39 notes · View notes

rise-my-angel · 2 years ago

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

28 - The Clash of Three Kings

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 16.9k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, mentions of past character death, descriptions of gore and violence, smut, oral (m receiving), p in v, slight exhibitionism kink

Notes: No crazy revelations occured right at the end of the last chapter right? Nah, I'm sure everything is fine and dandy as always. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

The sun was shining so abnormally bright it verged on painful to look at, but through the harsh squinting you persisted through the brush. A strange overcoming of determination within your veins the closer you got washed over you, the memory of what came before having you go faster as you traversed the terrain towards the mouth of the mine.

Hardly what would normally be called a mine, it was more a series of tunnels which as soon as were accessed deep enough, housed a shining variety of a kind of rock little spoken of by any except for you on this very island. Surrounded by life of the once Targaryean dynasty it was impossible to avoid their impacts left on Dragonstone. Their mark left on the castles with fire, dragons, and three hundred years of using this place as a second spot to rule over away from the capitol.

You scarcely ever had a reason to use such aspects of that childhood home. To you, it was not a terrifying island that one homed the infamous dragon riders and conquerors. But an isolating home that left you with no real friends to speak of, a big and vast castle home that made hiding away too easy. The terrain of jagged cliffs and curtain hangs that lead from impenetrable shore rocks as a shield from the outside world leading deep into the woods that homed the volcano of Dragonmont. Yet to you, it wasn’t that which you spent time in.

It was the curiosity of tunnels underground and in caves and mines which sparked your attention. You had no friends nor siblings, and little lived near the castle that were not other adults or children just too old to want to play with a five year old. So you explored, and that was how you found the tunnels, and in those tunnels, you learned the trickier the climb down, the more you found. One day, you had tossed a torch far down the middle of a shaft to see how far it went, and as it thudded against the bottom you saw shining rocks that looked like crystals that had you learn to climb all alone to find out what they were.

You liked exploring the mines as a girl with no friends and nothing to do, but now as you approached one of those very tunnels, it was not the adventure you sought.

It was the very shining crystal like rocks that were spoken to be an answer to a freezing horror far beyond the North.

The four of you were deep into the woods surrounding the outer borders of Dragonmont, coming close enough that looking high in the sky your neck would crane up with a squint to see the increasingly warm air was also thick and heavy in your lungs due to the smoke smoothly simmering from the very top. It had done so since you were born, you hardly noticed it despite Theon, Ryk and Tormund glancing at the other with questioning gazes at how little it winded you.

Many of the entrances were not easily accessible. Dragonglass had never once been mentioned in the books of Westerosi history to be of any importance, so it all sat underground as a natural deposit the realm cared not to trade. The only times it was whispered such tunnels were used was in the very beginning of it’s existence which mattered. The Doom of Valyria had survived none but the family named Targaryean, and with them as they fled brought with them both dragons and dragon eggs.

Deep underground found by none were rumoured to be hatcheries that sat so hot under the volcano that it was the only place they could be born, their dragons. The volcano ran deep under the depths of the water and so it couldn’t be as simply as that, but also no such thing had been found. Once they took over the lands by force and death, their dragons were instead bred from which they could use them the most, and the Dragonpit of King’s Landing was created. The space of the island and how little could be grown or harvested there, it made no sense to you to think raising such terrors of the sky could be sustainable.

Most of Dragonstone’s biggest import were harvested crops, grain, vegetables and freshly kept livestock to feed with. It was a place built to terrify, but it seemed the Targaryeans had begun their dynasty of unsustainabiity so early that a lifeless rock of heat and brimstone was seen as a place to raise such creatures. If their eggs hatched under the grounds of Dragonmont, you could only think how foolish it was to do so. Whatever tunnels which existed once, were no more then crawling spaces that would terrify the untrained, and certainly not to drag eggs in to hatch and hope they survive.

Coming up to a jagged formation of stones sat against a rolling cliff side, you had been the first to get off your horse. Tying it to a tree without a word to your three companions as you begun to walk around the area with narrowed, squinting eyes to seek out signs that this was one of the spots you left behind.

“What are we looking for exactly?”

Tormund had called out to you, but you scarcely heard. It had to be here somewhere, you thought. A set of feet all walked over to where you looked at the stones, as they looked with a raised eyebrow and confused expressions. Only it took not much longer for it to come to your vision, a small carving at the very edge of a stone had you crouch down by it, and without a second word begun to pull the heavy rock out. Tossing it with heave down to the side, and there one sat.

All three men came to your side glancing into the darkness as you somewhat tried to see in, only to lean back out, gesturing to Theon to grab you the bag by your horse. Tossing some of it to he and Tormund from what was inside, “Should be something in there to make a torch of.”

As you somewhat climbed partially into the smaller entrance, body half inside with one gloved hand braced at the top as you looked around the sight. It was too dark for any to see properly once deep enough, but you knew these tunnels so much it was like it had been lit up already.

Turning back, you reached out as Theon handed you the lit torch and finally all watched you lean back under and half inside to see, and then the faintest of a grin fell over your lips. Moving the rest of the way in, you had not waited for the three to follow as you walked along the top surface, torch high as you continued along, lighting up small loose torches that had sat untouched the years between this visit and the last in here, having left them yourself when still exploring.

“Not exactly what I imagined when you said there was a shit ton of it.”

Looking back partially towards Theon with a raised eyebrow before your face fell flat. Picking up one of the torches you handed it to him while adding to its fire, as Tormund kept the area lit with another.

Walking up to the edge you leaned close and tossed the lit flame down, gesturing for them with a nod to peak themselves. As the flames landed down far at the bottom of the cavern, there was a twinkling glow around it that flashed up to your eyes in some spots. Tormund’s eyes were wide and a tinge of impressed as his voice muttered out, “Better start climbing then.”

There were rings dug deep into the stone along the drop down, places as it to slide a torch within to see as multiple climbing digs were embedded along as well. “Some of these I put in when I was still a girl, be sure to check they are stable before stepping down onto any.”

Tormund himself eyed Ryk climbing next to him with a condescending grin plastered, “Hear that, Longspear? We got no way of carrying you back up, means if you fall, best try and die when you do it.”

Rolling your eyes with a tinge of playful, you and Theon flickered your glances with amusement as you all made your way down. This one, was far easier. The rocks more forgiving of any tools, there was light and no need to keep so quiet as your time could be taken all of your own choosing. Each descend far enough, you and Ryk at each end would stay back to move your only two sources of fire down to each new metal hold you both would stake into the cave wall, intending later that very day to fill them all with proper lighting along with the rest of your work.

You had intended to do this first part alone, simply getting here and making any sources of light to see a path but you had been seen awake far too early for any soul by Tormund. He had noticed the distance in your eyes that spoke of something he realized had no clues given to him over it, and your only admission that there was just much to think about that made you struggle to sleep was begged to be dropped.

So he woke Ryk, or moreso, dragged him out of sleep with force and rumbled to him about not sitting around on his ass. Theon didn’t sleep well either, but he never did anymore. So when he had found you by where one of the guards guided him to the kitchens in the confusing halls, he had come across you gathering water. “You’re up way too early.” He had jested.

You rose an eyebrow at him, before nodding at his own person with a flat, “So what are you doing here then?” Unlike Tormund, you knew Theon could see something had not just woken you up, but something had kept you up and for how alert your eyes were, you were awake since before the sun dawned over the sea. You had mentioned getting an early start on the tunnels, and that sorted that out.

Telling you to not leave before he could grab what he, himself needed. Not asking if he could help or join and you didn’t even think about it. A strange little trio of climbers was this group turning out to become. And luckily for you, two of them were dynamic enough to speak most of the silence, and Theon had found it easier over time to converse more like a normal person and spoke for you on the climb down the cave wall.

But there was something in your eyes that Theon didn’t know, and it was odd to him at this point between the pair of you that he found something he had no clue how to read between your stoic expressions.

He also, were he to be honest much later on, wished he knew before hand that when he would wake up some hours after you all took off, Jon would have not a single clue where you had gone all day. He would’ve at least requested a guard inform him rather then let the King in the North be blindsided by it, but once you were focused heavily on something, you tended to forget many details of the world around you.

But as all four reached the bottom of the cavern, Theon and Tormund stood by the other and only when the torch light beside both of them from Ryk and yourself came to light up more of the sight, did the visions around come into view of the reality. The walls grew darker as the lower it had become and around the four of you was a shine.

The walls were high and paths off shooting from high up and low down, but everywhere were darker spots of stone that weren’t quite fitting with the rest. In large chunks deeply framing the cave walls with twists and turns and edges that spiked out with jagged amounts it all sat around looking far more dark and otherworldly then even the black stone made of the castle above. Looking all around each of you walked the bottom, you handing up the torch in your hand and snatching up the one laying at the bottom still flaming away. Stabbing another metal loop into a chunk of normal rock you hung it up on another wall, each man around you with a quiet in their eyes.

Your head turned high, and the reflective glass like rock stared back as if hiding another world in it’s depths below the dark and heavy air of the lands. None heard your breathless whisper and none needed to, you could feel the necklace sitting against your chest and that was all you needed. “I told you I’d take you down here one day.” Her bright eyes were clear as day as you could almost smile imagining Shireen by your side with wonder as she looked around the ethereal cavern.

“So, what now?”

Your body turning back to the three men as Tormund glanced to you. Chest rising and falling heavy with a deep inhale and subsequent exhale, you pulled out a bag attached close to your side and tossed it to him while your other hand pulled out rope hiding along under the back of your cloak. “We start digging paths around the tunnels.”

Ryk glanced up curiously, “How many tunnels lead into here?”

Shrugging you knew of many but lost count of many others. “More then I’ve ever explored. This isn’t the only one either, there are caches all around the island that don’t even lead into the other. But this was the biggest one to start with that I know my way around well enough.”

There was no more reason to stand around in awe, you all had a long day ahead of you.

The fact that few seemed to even question where you were didn’t sit well with him. Those all working in the castle of Dragonstone seemed to find nothing out of the ordinary that you had not appeared anywhere within the walls or the grounds.

It didn’t quite feel good, waking up that morning to find not only were you not still laying in bed with him, but then Jon couldn’t seem to find you anywhere and once more he was keeping down a panic of something he was trying very hard to keep to himself. It was in his eyes though, and as he finally came across Stannis he was fairly certain he did a poor job of hiding it. His rough, low tones did not make the matter any less subtle to the keen eyed Baratheon.

Both stood near the other by the giant table, what seemed to be the room used most from the Baratheons as the meeting hall, the very top room of the main Stone Drum tower. Carved and painted to look just like Westeros from Dorne to the Wall, Jon had been there first. A guard escorting him to where he was told Stannis would like to meet with him having not a clue yet where things in this confusing mess of a castle were. Running his hand along the surface with narrowed eyes before coming to the end of the table.

Some feet behind him was the splashes of the sea and morning sun shining onto the surface, lighting up where Dorne had been placed by the edge. Only moments before, his curiosity had him picking up a wooden figurine that had been dropped close to the Prince’s Pass. A wooden dragon figure had been cracked and split down the middle as the other lay alone whereas everything else on the board was placed with careful precision.

“I don’t need them to believe me, but as long as we’re here I’d rather give them the chance to help instead of sitting in the dungeons as prisoners.”

He and Stannis disagreed on bringing Aegon and Jon Connington up from their cells to discuss any terms of peace. “You are optimistic, too much so. You asked of them for cooperation and they forced your men to the shores to fight, why would they change their attitudes now?”

Jon however, felt not the grudge or anger many expected of his enemies but instead an understanding in his eyes were bright as he willed the man across from him to listen. “If Aegon wants to leave, fight other battles for the Iron Throne then he can leave. But they won’t stop at coming for us, they’ll come for them as well too. At least give me the chance to explain that.” Stannis looked doubtful, and Jon’s tone was a bit lighter if quieter as he leaned forward. “He could be a useful ally.”

The rigidness that responded however was unconvinced. “If he’s his father’s son the only use he would be is rotting in a dungeon as far from any crown as possible.” Jon only challenging him on if he wasn’t, and Stannis looked almost through him for a moment to think. “I would very much doubt he is any different, but you are right. We can give he and Lord Connington that chance.”

Nodding, in agreement, Stannis gestured to his own men to bring Lord Connington up. Seeing Jon’s questioning gaze he simply explained, “He will be the easier starting point. There is something of bad blood between Baratheons and Targaryeans, after all.”

He hadn’t had as much of a look at Aegon as he had Connington, but Jon still couldn’t help but try and envision the man he came here in claimant of. How similar were father and son, and how much of those similarities would prove to be foreboding once more? His voice barley above a whisper as his fingers dug into the table where he kept himself braced against. “What was he like?” Stannis looked to him with a flat expression save for a raised eyebrow, “Rhaegar Targaryean? Everyone talks about what the Mad King was like, but..”

He was once more envious of your families ability to remain so steady and unaffected by anything, when Jon could hear his fathers voice telling stories of his Uncle, his Grandfather. The ones he would never meet and how it was their deaths that started the war. Or how he struggled to ever bring up his sister, Jon’s Aunt, the one whose kidnapping was the catalyst for the war to have come. Those pains never really went away for his father, and truthfully, the entire family as well.

Now the only remaining child of Eddard Stark and not even the one called Stark in name, and yet all that pain fell onto Jon’s shoulders. It felt odd to think.

“It differs depending on who you ask. Most who served under him would think of him as charming and brave.” Somehow Jon thought to himself, he doubted that. “If you asked my brother Robert, he would have told you he was a monster. An abomination that some twenty four years later still made him just as angry as he did when he was alive.”

Jon’s eyes were far away, a glazed over distance trying to reconcile such drastic ends. “And you?” A hum of question leaving Stannis’s throat. “What would you say about him?”

It wasn’t however a casual feeling which sat in Stannis’s eyes even though he tried to portray it in his even tone. “It is as I said. There is bad blood between House Targaryean and Baratheon, and that bad blood did not end with Robert. You seem very willing to cooperate with the boy, and his father has wronged your family more then my own.”

He could be angry, but he also knew that wasn’t where his anger lay. It wasn’t trapped within vessels of a past he would never know, it was in the present he needed to protect. “If he isn’t anything like Rhaegar, I want to give him a chance to prove it.”

It was difficult to read, but it seemed as if a bit of pride sat behind Stannis’s eyes. “You are a more forgiving man then most.”

Jon only felt his knuckles strain against the flexing pressure he leaned against them with. “No, I’m not. But I am patient enough to give him the benefit of the doubt first.” Not to which he would say it out loud, but he was glad he never saw the fight between Aegon and you. He wasn’t so sure he would have that same patience had he seen the dragon against you as such.

He had asked enough people in the castle, he didn’t need to come off as over protective in front of your own father by asking where you were, but it itched inside Jon’s chest not to do so anyways. He couldn’t let himself spiral, not to obsess over the fear that every single dark, and perverse thought which came pouring out of his mouth the night before had chased you away. You had responded more eager then what his heart could handle. He couldn’t stand there and let himself lose control over it, not now.

Not in front of what was about to be a meeting full of no doubt awkward discussions of the North, as he knew he was the only firm source between he and Stannis to portray the extend to which this issue was not the North’s alone.

But it still lingered in fear as the two of them waited. Had he said something in such raw honesty that in some way over stepped your marriage to Robb? Had he simply been too vulgar with you? Or worse, too rough? Not a single spec of the world existed that night other then the two of you entangled together in front of the fire, but perhaps in the light of morning it was too much for you to look back on.

Maybe Jon thought, he needed to ease up with you. That perhaps it was his intensity which scares you.

It was a blessing which none here cared about keeping up proper appearances. Deep underground was boiling enough without the amount of movement you all were doing, coating you in sweat, grime, and occasionally blood if you weren’t careful enough. Most of the day was spent either climbing along the walls, or on your stomach or back pulling through tight tunnels to map out in detail.

The open spaces only grew to be more vast. A dark glass like stone that shined black as if it were reflecting right off of the night sky, and sat all around in crystal like formations along the walls as if growing on there. You wondered how much it would shine and glow were the sun to open up inside of these walls.

Not every rock was made of Dragonglass, but it was painted so heavily along the walls you felt utterly surrounded by it, despite the heat however every touch to your skin was cool.

Currently, you were perched on a small tunnel space, trying to carve out the simple rock against the walls so it was easier for one to crawl though, knowing it opened up from what the flames hinted at was a vast cavern which you suspected led to much more. Not too far from you was Theon, digging supports into the walls making climbing much easier then the free kind you all had to do to get to this point.

Somewhere off in nearby tunnels you could hear the muffled bickering of Tormund and Ryk as any chuckling or laughter boomed off the walls and echoed all up to the surface.

“How do you know so much about all of this?” Turning your head down and to the side from where you had been reaching up, you almost coughed as you accidentally let some of the gravel fall too close to your face. Raising your eyebrow with a grimace, Theon gestured around him. “Dragonglass, how’d you know this was all here in the first place?”

Hands dropping down to the stone below, you glanced up to where you could see the circling of torches finally having lit the cave up to see without issue, the licking flames all fading in brightness the closer to the surface and further the black dragonglass faded into merely dark stone. Dropping your gaze back to him only briefly as you returned to your task. Voice a bit far away even in there. “I used to explore these tunnels often as a girl. There wasn’t much else to do on Dragonstone and I didn’t have any friends, so I started working my way through these tunnels.”

You had missed something a bit sad behind Theon’s eyes, but it was there in his softer tone. “So you spent your days crawling and climbing through mines hoping to what? Find something special?”

Huffing a laugh, you winced trying to knock out a more difficult stone in the way which was attached to the edge of dragonglass, a very difficult kind of rock to cut through with the tools at hand. “Those in the villages say that the Targaryeans built rooms in here, places to hatch their dragon eggs near the heat of the volcano, lit by never ending fires and wooden pathways which long rotted to the ground. I only ever found more cave, no dragons, no magical rooms. Just rock and tight spaces.”

“You believe that? That something special made their dragons hatch here?”

You huffed another strained laugh, not even looking at him. “Not for a second. Most of them were born in Kings Landing during their dynasty. No great fire, no volcano, just a dragonpit to hatch their eggs in. If Dragonstone was so special, they would have been breeding them here far before Valyria fell.”

You were beginning to regret keeping your skin of water so close to the ground, squinting down to decide if the path was worth it before ultimately deciding to just endure. Theon had begun working away at the stones and spikes once more, speaking through the hammering. “Would have loved to see one, though.”

“No, you wouldn’t have.” His head whipped over to you, but you shrugged before turning away again as you elaborated. “Robert destroyed most of what the Targaryeans had left, but under the Red Keep in their own tunnels there is still a massive dragon skull. Must have thought it too big, or it was an artifact and so he hid it away. But it was huge, could stand up in it’s mouth and still not reach top to bottom.” Grimacing as you tore off finally a more difficult piece, you sighed out. Dropping your arms to look at Theon properly. “If you ask me, something that big flying around breathing fire? We’re better off them all being dead.”

“You really think so?”

Instead of the amusement he expected, there was nothing but a darker glint behind your eyes as you saw fire. Wildfire exploding before you in bright greens that had men screaming and clawing at their own burning skin, and that was nothing compared to what it was said dragonfire could do. “Dragons don’t plant trees. They don’t create, they don’t build. They destroy. Creatures like that, have no place in the kind of world people like us are trying to fight for.”

Your voice was rough, a gritting that grated against you throat like sand as you begged for water and a soothing honey to warm it down as you continued, finding Theon’s eyes properly. “Dragons only know death and destruction, and as soon as they were gone, Targaryeans had nothing left to trick us into thinking they were special. They aren’t special for being able to ride dragons. Nothing is special about controlling a creature whose only purpose is to destroy.”

Your mind floating off to a thought you had come down here so early in the morning to avoid. A thud came from one of the higher tunnels, Tormund making his way out and calling your attention over. “How many places do you have shit stashed around this place?” A scattering of old tools now sitting in an ever growing pile.

You almost found it in you to laugh, “I was down here all alone most times. I wanted to make sure I always had tools and ropes in case I ran into issue with what I climbed down with.”

Tormund shook his head in his own amusement. “If I wasn’t sure Snow would skewer me in my sleep for it, I’d have told these other two to piss off hours ago, pretty crow.”

If Theon was posed to defend you, it was almost nice for him to see how easily you laughed and how relaxed you responded with no hesitation or fear of any real intent behind the words. “The day is young yet, Tormund.”

The manner in which Jon Connington was looking at him, continued to make him feel a slight bit on edge. Glancing up on multiple occasions with a squinting gaze that bordered on something like curiosity or leaning towards judgment. All three men at least were able to stay calm and steady during the course of their discussions, but it seemed that the Southerners continue to have no reason to believe in the things whispered beyond the wall.

“I’m not the one who needs convincing. You’ve taken the island for yourselves, I can’t stop you from doing whatever you want here nor have you given me a reason to care. But if Aegon doesn’t agree to it, then that’s where this all ends.”

Trying to be reasonable was more difficult then Jon initially imagined. Connington and Stannis seemed to be the pair at odds as long as it was the two of them in the room. One firm in his dedication to his King, the other a stubborn King himself motivated by harsh belief. They wanted to make this once more about the Iron Throne as if that was what mattered and Jon could feel the frustration in his veins rising.

Glancing up at Ser Davos, both men shared a glance with the mutual understanding that they were all getting nowhere. Cutting into Stannis’s response, Jon raised his voice over to overpower the whole room instead. “Lord Connington, I was the one who wrote to him. I asked for peace, to stay here together beacuse what I’m fighting for has nothing to do with the Iron Throne. None of this had to happen this way, we could have all stood here and talked this out yesterday but it was Aegon who forced us to fight.”

Connington’s eyes narrowed slightly, a strange wonder still behind them that was beginning to make Jon wish Ghost was with him. Commonly whatever intentions were behind someone’s eyes if Jon didn’t catch it, and you weren’t here to catch it, then Ghost would. But as he spoke, he peeled his eyes from Jon to look once more at Stannis. “Yet you failed to mention the ally at your side was also a King fighting for that same throne. Doesn’t sound like the peaceful course of action to me.”

Not wavering once, Jon had no care for the insinuation. “I don’t speak for Stannis Baratheon. He joined this fight of his own choice, not mine. And this is his home your men invaded.”

“And I suppose then it has nothing to do with it also being your wife’s girlhood home either.” His tone was doubtful and sharp but it clearly took both Jon, Davos, and Stannis back for a moment.

Stannis glanced quickly towards him, but Jon had to keep whatever he thought that look meant internalized. “All that meant is that she and Stannis know this castle, this land. We knew whatever fight there was, would be short if we had two of them who knew this castle in more detail then you or I ever could.” If Jon simply didn’t address it then he didn’t have to fight off the echos in his head from coming to consume him in fear of it being a step too far.

“Marry me, let me take you home and marry me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Gods help him, Jon was so deep inside of you when that came clawing out of his mouth. He wasn’t supposed to pressure you into that, didn’t want you to assume he wished to replace Robb. But you had felt so good around him, and he had been pounding into you so roughly at that point he was barley in control of what he was saying. Nearly anything could’ve come out of his mouth.

Jon at least considered himself lucky that the worst, most lewd and unhinged parts of those thoughts still remained locked away in his head like a caged animal. If he scared you from his arms last night, he dared not think what giving into those desires entirely would terrify you of.

Connington didn’t look convinced, but he also didn’t argue back on that point. Taking a moment to think before his eyes remained on the table at first. “This is not an agreement to work together,” eyes flickering back up between the two men. “But should Aegon decide he finds utility in this..cause of yours, then I would be willing to broker an arrangement with my men to be of some assistance. Only, if Aegon agrees though. Otherwise we are going to have a problem on our hands.”

Nodding to Stannis very subtly, the man himself moved to speak to a pair of his guards as Jon and Connington looked at the other. Your name slipped from the laters mouth, “May I ask why she did not attend this meeting? Seems odd for a Queen not to be present for such a matter.”

Luck found more on it’s way to Jon’s side as Stannis's tone was flat, smooth and without a hesitation. “She had other duties which needed attending too.”

Whatever hints of an intensity reminding Conning so heavily of Rhaegar, were no longer shining clear in his eyes. And he felt uncomfortable with the fact that he felt relieved at such a sight.

Jon Connington could see without any doubt however, that Aegon was in some of the worst of spirits as he accompanied guard to get him. Eyes narrowed and angry that struggled to let up even when one came into sight of the other. Standing up quickly, he approached the iron bars in an instant. “Are you alright?”

He was taken back. Not the question he was expecting from Aegon, his head jolting back a little bit before shaking his head. “I’m fine, been through far worse then this. Are you alright?” Putting more emphasis towards his own fairing.

Aegon swallowed harshly, shrugging one shoulder even though his voice was as rough as gravel. “Good as any humiliated prisoner can be. Suppose all the men out there had a good laugh at my loss.”

Connington’s eyes felt a bit, tinted something washed over with a sorrow as he stepped forward. “Listen to me- Aegon.” His voice growing louder with no room for question. Not a way a man speaks to a King, but rather like a father to a son, and both parties didn’t speak of how they both felt it. “You’ve trained your whole life to be a leader, but you aren’t a soldier. You’ve never fought in a battle before last night, and you were up against an opponent who spent three years fighting in a war. No one, on their side or ours thinks that’s funny.”

For a moment he almost sounded like the child Young Griff used to be, muttering and not quite looking him in the eye as he crossed his arms over his chest. “How am I supposed to convince my people to see me as their King, if I was beaten by a girl the first battle I was in? Would my men follow me now knowing I couldn’t even lead one charge to victory?”

Stepping towards the bars more, Connington rested one gloved hand on the it, wrapping around the iron and dropping his tone, hoping to catch Aegon’s eye. “And I was the one who surrendered to protect you. Yet they still are listening to me just fine. Every good leader fails before he succeeds, and you have only just started. This does not dictate your future, only right now.”

Aegon nodded, and the quiet sat between them for a moment before quietly speaking up once more, “May I ask why you are walking free and I’m still locked away?”

“I’ve spoken to our new hosts.” Aegon raised a half unamused eyebrow, catching back only a glimpse of a smirk on one side of Connington's face. “Jon Snow and Stannis Baratheon have something they would like to propose. A deal of sort, for peace. I want you to hear them out, what they have to say sounds extraordinary but the choice will be up to you.”

As the guards opened the cell door, he spoke louder and this time there was no mistakening the playful but stern tone which most only heard from that of a parent “Aegon, this time when I tell you to follow your first instinct, make sure it’s actually yours. I’m asking you, I’m not asking Rhaegar.”

Only seen by the guards down in those dungeons, as the door opened, both men found the other in a hug that felt far too much like father and son for whose actual son Aegon was supposed to go back being.

If Jon were being entirely honest, this was the ugliest room he had seen by far on Dragonstone. To which judging by the look he shared with Ser Davos beside him, he was not the only one who thought so. The room was wide, tall ceilings above and much of nothing around. Only a large space of grey and black stone as it led up to a small set of stairs and what seemed to be the ruling seat of whoever was lording over the island.

Many years ago, back when you had come to Winterfell after moving with your father to Kings Landing long term, he had asked you if the Iron Throne was as immense and threatening as the stories all spoke of it. He remembered so vividly the flat expression on your face and how utterly monotone you had said it. “It might be the ugliest chair I have ever seen in my life.”

It was spoken to be high in the air and full of swords and spikes melted from those won in Aegon the Conquerors invasion. Many steps to reach just the seat as it loomed over all in the Red Keep. You hadn’t described much of what it truly looked like, but you ensured him it was as disappointing as it was ugly.

The seat at the front of the Great Hall, was the ugly chair Jon always imagined. A window behind it shaped like the face of a dragon and the seat covering much of it was a jagged formation of black stone that had but one flat surface smoothed out into it to sit on. It was almost a bewildered amusement at how different this place was then Winterfell.

There wasn’t even a singular, elaborate seat for lords like this. In Winterfell, the main hall was just a hall, every table, bench and chair looked all the same and there were seats enough where his father would sit that had many other beside him for council as well. This wasn’t suited for that, only for demand and control. Hard too, imagining either you or Stannis even sitting on that chair to do anything.

Much of Dragonstone Jon found, felt like it was created by a people who saw themselves as gods and the more he looked the less he liked any of it. But the final judgment seemed to be lurking around the corner waiting to be brought up.

Stannis coming to join, there was a lack of calm which was the last as they waited before. Ser Davos looked between both men, before glancing to his own attire. “I’m starting to think I’m not wearing nearly enough armour for this. Are we bracing for a fight or a meeting?”

Jon’s voice almost echoed in the vast space of the room. “If he’s willing to listen to what we have to say, there’ll be no need for another fight.”

“Not as if the boy would win.” Jon and Davos both turned to look at Stannis, who only held a glint which almost showed a hint of pride in his eyes.

At least someone was proud of you for that, Jon thought. He certainly wasn’t. Once more the thought crossing through his mind of how little he understood how it was Robb handled it. Every new mark or cut you got in combat only made Jon that much more on edge about having you anywhere near a fight.

He should be proud, and deep inside of him was, how you had gotten yourself this far. But he couldn’t see passed a vision of you soaked in blood. Jon deliberately avoided putting any pressure on your ribs last night, and the sight of the blues and purples Aegon clearly had hammered into you. Aegon was lucky Jon had a far better handle on his temper then he once did.

In a way, all three King’s seemed to stand as opposites. Aegon with a rich and ornate dark armour painted black with a bold red of a three headed dragon draped across the chest plate dramatically, his hair longer like Jon’s, but flat and dyed a stand out blue. He also reached much closer to Stannis’s taller stature. But he was hesitant, something light in his eyes that shined a bold blue matching his hair. He looked like a King but his eyes more like an unsure boy.

Jon on the other hand, knew he looked not much like a King. His armour no more extravagant then any Northerner fighting by his side, only his own House shown just by the small sigil of two direwolves facing one another carved to blend into a small middle of his chest plate. In contrast Jons longer black curls were tied all the way back as matched the grey so dark in his eyes it would appear black in the right light. He stood shorter then Aegon, but with the weight of a leader on his shoulders that the others could see radiated something of authority. That, and Aegon had no sword of his own at this point, while the white wolf pommel of Longclaw sat proud at Jon’s side.

Stannis however, blended into the room. Greys and Blacks in his wardrobe much like what you dressed in the times of war he know knew you in, and were he to stand still he might have disappeared into the walls, and Jon was fairly certain was intentional. If Jon stood as the opposite of what Aegon presented himself as, Stannis stood apart from the flash of what the Targaryeans showed off with.

And Jon knew, Stannis was exactly where you got that habit from too.

The men accompanying them introduced Aegon as he had approached almost as if meant to intimidate with it’s enormity. “I present his grace, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Aegon of the House Targaryean, the sixth of his name.”

It felt like posturing, standing with men of the Golden Company at his back like guard dogs. The only one who stood on the other side of the parties, was Ser Davos. He and Jon shared a look almost speaking silently in a confused question of were they supposed to return the gesture?

Davos, without the decorum of what had just been presented, and if perhaps, just a bit of purposeful simplicity rather then any dramatics. “This is Jon Snow, King in the North. And-”

Aegon interrupted, his voice which sounded more sure and confident then which was spoken of in his eyes directing his attention first to Stannis. “Stannis Baratheon. The King who now stands in my way of the Iron Throne. I have heard much about you, some good, much bad. For someone claiming to be King it seems you are not much known as a popular man.”

If that was a slight, Stannis budged not even part of an inch in care. His voice stern and cold as it was any time he was commanding the room. “Being well liked alone does not make you a King. It only makes you a fool enough to believe that is all it takes to succeed as one. My brother Renly was popular, stood against me and as soon as he passed, all of his bannerman came to my side and have been as loyal since. I do not need my men to like me, to trust me to lead them.”

Aegon looked him in the eye, and there was something held back in his tone that did not speak of the same command. “And once the people have seen the rightful heir return to claim his throne, I am certain we will see which one of us holds the true loyalty of the people.” Stannis barley raised an eyebrow and as Aegon turned his attention to Jon, he knew it was possible the steadfast in how unaffected Stannis was had shifted the air in the dragon to something less confident.

But that confidence did not leave Jon feeling the same. In fact, there was anger in what came out of the dragons mouth. “Now, forgive me, I have not been in Westeros for some years, but I could have sworn that the last King in the North was Torrhen Stark. Who bent the knee to my ancestor, Aegon, the first of his name.” Oh did Jon ever feel a rising heat in his veins begging to lash out. “In exchange for his life and the lives of the Northmen, Torrhen Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. Which if I am not mistaken, means forever.”

The last time he saw Robb was in the courtyards of Winterfell, a small smile on his face as they both stood younger and naive of the pain and blood to follow their separation.

“The next time I see you, you’ll be all in black.”

If he focused enough, Jon could still feel the last hug he ever shared with his brother, his closest companion his entire life. And he felt angry. He knew what Aegon was doing.

Jon’s voice was a deep, angry rasp with eyes flashing to match. “I wasn’t there, I couldn’t tell you what my ancestor did. But you and I both know of the King in the North before me, the one the North chose first was my brother. Robb Stark was the King they declared after three hundred years of your families neglect of my people.” Robb died for the North, and not for a second was Jon going to stand there and let this stranger insult his memory.

Aegon was playing a game though, a game which he knew too many lords and ladies of this country thought was the way to gain power, but Jon only grew more visibly angry this time as he spoke. “An oath is still an oath. You mean to break faith with House Targaryean-”

Jon’s voice this time, did echo through the room. Stepping forward as his own face twisted in an anger as he shut down whatever this was supposed to be. He was not a Stark in name, but his father had four sons, not three. He still had Stark in his blood. “Break faith? Your grandfather burned my grandfather alive, he burned my uncle alive. Your own father-” Not many had heard Jon both yell or speak with anger before and clearly Aegon was not prepared for it.

“Your family has been wronged by mine, I know this. But I am the last of my line.” Connington’s eyes narrowed, as he looked to Aegon but he ignored that look and pushed forward speaking to Jon.

Stannis however, did catch the look given and when both men caught the others gaze, there was something unsettled as Connington realized it. There was one other Targaryean, and if Stannis knew about her, then likely you did too. And Jon Connington did not feel good realizing how little Lord Varys had shared about these people to him beforehand.

Aegon continued, and Jon looked no less angry. If Aegon stood taller in height, Jon stood far taller in demeanour and was much more intimidating. “Our two houses were allies for centuries, and those were seen with peace and prosperity. A Targaryen sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North. I am The Last Dragon, Jon Snow. Honour the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee and I will name you Warden of the North, like your father-”

None noticed, but Ser Davos almost smirked. If purposely leaving Robb from his recounting of history was enough to make Jon this mad, then that final comment was the last of his patience. “I'm not standing here arguing about this. There’s no time for that, I don't time for any of this. I mean no offence, your grace, but I don’t know you.”

This time, it was Stannis’s turn to find the amusement. Never once in their disagreements did Jon Snow ever use “your grace” in a drawn out, mocking tone.

But he continued, stepping closer once more to Aegon as his eyes burned darker in black. “As far as I can see, your only claim to the throne rests entirely on your father and grandfather’s name, and my father fought to overthrow the Mad King. No amount of your empty apologies will make right what he did to my family. And certainly not what your father did to my aunt.”

The room was quiet. No one spoke for a moment after that. If there was room for sorry in Aerys Targaryean burning Jon’s grandfather and uncle alive, there was not a single solitary room for forgiveness for what Rhaegar had done to his aunt Lyanna.

Connington spoke after some quiet, Aegon and Jon not taking their eyes off the other the entire time as one brewed with a hesitant uncertainty and the other a deep, hardly contained anger. “King Stannis, I find it odd you are at this mans side. You hold to a claim to the Iron Throne through your brothers lineage, and yet how can you be the one true King of the Seven Kingdoms if you stand next to someone who has stolen the largest half of your Kingdom from you?”

It wasn’t Jon who saw Robb that time, it was Stannis. And the mistake he spent a very long year and a half regretting.

“I did not come here to fight, I came here to find any way to a truce...we have been dragged through the muck of your southern wars for far too long.”

He was calm though, and firm. “The North has been in open rebellion long before Jon Snow was King in the North. His brother Robb Stark claimed Northern independence first and I was ready to fight against him for it. Yet I am fighting at the side of his brother, the next King after him beacuse he has shown me that the true enemy lies far beyond that of King’s Landing.”

Aegon broke eye contact with Jon, and looked to Connington. So this was what he was to prepare himself to hear it seemed, but there was still enough spite from the past twenty four hours that something less then pleasant came rolling of his tongue instead of tucking it away, despite knowing he was better then petty insults. But it came out anyways. “And what does some bastard falsely calling himself King have any right to tell men like you or I what to do?”

You had always called him Snow in playful teasing, and always with a true affection. Focus on that, Jon told himself. Focus on how that never mattered to you, and you made it easier to feel like it shouldn’t matter to him. Don’t stoop to Aegon’s level he warned himself.

Ser Davos it seemed however, was the one who took up the mantle normally taken up by yourself in Jon’s honour. Defending him against leaving his image as nothing more then a bastard boy.

“I know little of your life, your grace, but allow me to shed some light on his if you are so unfamiliar. Jon Snow is the first to make allies between wildlings and Northmen. He was named Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. He was named King in the North. Not because of some blood or birthright. He has no birthright, beacuse he is a damn bastard. But all those hard sons of bitches you fought against chose him as their leader because they believe in him. His brother didn’t name him his heir for any rights or honour, he did it beacuse he believed in him as his brother, as just a man who does the right thing.”

It felt odd to Jon, hearing someone lay out their belief in him so blatantly, without prompt or question and he found little he could say to stop it. What would he say, he spent his entire life hearing people talk about him in the exact opposite manner, he had no idea how to take such praise.

“All those things we’ve told you about, Lord Connington? He faced those things. He fought those things for the good of his people. He risked everything, took a knife to the heart, gave his own life-”

Wide eyed and almost panicked did Jon turn to Davos and he stopped in a second. The air along the room suddenly turned strange as it was Jon, Davos, and Stannis all in a silent heavy air of something that seemed more serious then a story or rumour.

Jon Connington had told Lord Varys if this King really died then he could come to his shores like a man and show him his heart himself, but he didn’t ever actually expect this as a reaction to such a crazy story to come up.

But Jon took charge and swung the topic as far from what scars lay deep over his heart as possible. “I have seen things you would never imagine, your grace. Winter isn’t coming, it’s already here and if we keep standing here debating whose king of what, everyone we know will die before winter's over, if we don't defeat the enemy to the north.”

You had told him that day on Bear Island that leadership suited him, that his talk alone of the threats to the North were impressive and he hoped that was not just mere flattery. Aegon looked at him, a squint in his eye of curiosity instead of judgment. “And what is the enemy to the north exactly?”

Jon was blunt and no one on his side gave any remote hint of joke or a lack of seriousness. “The Others. They’re here. I’ve seen them, I’ve fought them and even killed one. And they are coming for us with an army of the dead and if we let them get passed the wall and we have no way to protect our own, the only thing that’ll be left to sit on the Iron Throne will be a frozen corpse, and all you’ll be ruling over is a graveyard.”

Aegon's voice was far away as it was breathless in nerves. “The Others have been dead for eight thousand years.”

Stannis was the one to respond, a tone just as heavy as Jon’s beside him. “They have been asleep for eight thousand years. Now they aren’t.”

His tone even, not quite skeptical but something that wasn’t convinced yet not dismissive either as he looked to Jon. “If your raven is to go by, I presume you think such an answer lays beneath the mines here on Dragonstone? What exactly is hiding under the rocks that has you believing it can beat these things?”

“We can destroy them by burning them, and we can destroy them with dragonglass. That’s what I came here for, not to challenge you on this claim or that claim.” The roughness in his tone was one which sent shivers down Aegon’s spine and a steadfast anger in Jon to force people to listen for once. “I’m not asking us to get along. I’m giving you the chance to help fight for the living, fight with us. The same thing is coming for every single person in this realm whether you believe me or not. This is an army that won’t leave the dead on the battlefield. They will just raise them back up to fight against us.”

It was quiet, and one last challenge was left on Aegon’s lips. “And you come to me with this story, and expect me to believe it without a shred of proof. If you want my help, Snow, maybe you shouldn't have come here with an army, and their damned family.” Aegons eyes meeting the dark and unblinking harshness of Stannis's.

Jon’s eyes narrowed. If he was to be so stubborn, he could always drag Aegon beyond the wall and let him look into the eyes of the Others himself. He was tired of this, tired of this nonsense. Of people looking at him and his people like they were crazy, only believing in scary bed side stories. Jon and Tormund lost a lot of good men, women, and children that day in Hardhome, and it had him clenching his jaw painfully that it felt as if these Southerners would have to force such a nightmare to happen to them to finally listen to him.

Only, just as the three men stared the other down did an echoing sound crackle through the hall. The great doors kept watch by guards on the outside slowly begun to crawl open as the sunlight peeked in properly across the darkness of the stones. But as all men in the room turned to realize who had walked in, only one found intention. After all, it was only the night before the fresh wounds on both their persons were placed there in that very same room.

The Great Hall stood as empty as it was tall save for a small group by the main steps of the Lord’s seat above. The easiest to spot was Aegon, the hair a bold blue as eyes to match looked over with a rough contempt as you begun to walk into the hall, as Aegon himself begun to descend the small set of steps to the same level as yourself.

Whatever quiet words were shared between the men behind him, it seemed the conclusion they came to was to once more let you and Aegon face off with one another. An anger in his eyes towards you matched yours to him.

You had no real weapon on you and from what you could see neither did he, but the sharp flash over both your eyes were cutting enough. Only the echo of footsteps was heard in the hall as you both met in the middle. Floods of fury and fire brewed between you both as there was nothing else in sight but the eyes of a son trying to seek the same control that tore down the family before him.

Breaking the silence first his voice was more quiet then you expected, keeping the echo away and fluttering only enough that you could be heard here and no more then whispers elsewhere. “The Queen in the North graces us with her presence. I am relieved you could take the time out of your busy day to discuss such important matters.”

Your face however, much like Stannis before you, moved none. A cold look shining from your eyes as a stern expression set itself in stone just before a glare. You hardly raised your tone above a slight whisper, dripping in a frustration at his tone. “It is no business of yours what I do with my time, in my home, Targaryean. I do not answer to you.”

“Who do you answer to, the King in the North? Or considering you were the one to attack me last night, perhaps he’s more merely your guard dog.” If he wanted to rile you up, someone should have informed Aegon that the only thing that could truly have you in such dire straits is the memory of a pale blue eyes attached to a slimy voice that coated your skin in more filth then you knew even now how to wash away.

Your eyes drifted across his person with only a barley noticeable narrowed of eyes before meeting his, nodding to his chest plate. “Am I the first to carve a dent into that?”

His jaw twitched in it’s clench, and a condescension rolled from his very aura. “Every great warrior has to start somewhere, doesn’t he?” You could feel the pulsing of the cut along your person he left, as you looked at him, and see once more the rage behind his eyes as he looked to you as nothing more then a monster to abolish from once you came.

“And yet the only ones the Seven Kingdoms ever speak of are your own kin. Strange how only greatness comes from you and none else ever get the chance to prove their worth.” Robb had spent three years winning a war of so many sides falling all onto his shoulders to burden, and he emerged as a great King and yet all any will speak of him is the tragedy stolen from his life. Aegon’s ancestors were all remembered for their victories, and yet your husband lay scattered across the Riverlands and none will remember what led him there in the first place.

Aegon almost smiled though, and you found yourself hating it. Perhaps you were finally understanding Robert so long after his death. “My family is the blood of Old Valyria. We were the great dragonriders who conquered these lands. We are destined for such fates by birthright, by blood-”

“Your dragons destroyed these lands.”

He seethed visibly, and you did in your blood and poured from your eyes that he caught himself. All eyes were on you, but enough feet were apart between that no danger was to intervene from but you felt them all the same and could not quell that feeling rising within your chest. And yet, your voice softened to something that he didn’t expect. Something genuine.

You knew the story too well, and were he true or not to such a claim, it was his family that were the forgotten ones of the rebellion. “I imagine it's difficult for you, being here. Being so close to Kings Landing. It was cruel, and vile what was done to your mother, and your sister too.” It was so well hidden to most not a soul would have caught a waver in his throat. “They didn’t deserve what happened to them, no one does.”

The breathless vitriol was not to blame, and you wouldn’t. “Yet your uncle did nothing to stop it.”

Robert Baratheon wept no tears and sung no songs for Elia Martell and Rhaenys Targaryean. He saw Elia as a dead Dornish woman to be forgotten, and Rhaenys as nothing but the offspring of what so many years alter was his mortal enemy, but you knew when to defend him and when not too. “Tywin Lannister did all that. Aerys Targaryean opened the gates and he sacked the city, his men did that to your family. Robert cared not about their remains but it was not his order to brutalize and dishonour them like animals. I know too well, no one deserves such fate.”

If Aegon saw anything in your eyes, he found no capability to bleed sympathy for it, nor did you expect any too. You wanted it to be not your life as well. “And yet you think my father deserved his. No one cared to provide justice for my mother and sister, but you demean me for wishing to find that very thing for my own father.”

You stared right through him. The question in your mind finally answered. Had Jon Connington ever admitted to Aegon that his father kidnapped Lyanna Stark? Had he admitted he raped her? No. The answer was no. There was not a world you could imagine someone finding a softness over the long deaths of a mother and sister he never knew, but idolized a father who committed such atrocities had he thought they were truth.

“That is what you think? That true justice is redeeming the image of Rhaegar Targaryean to the very people whose lives he ruined beyond repair?” He swallowed again, and you felt something choking your throat as your eyes refused to blink despite the sting. “That includes you, Aegon. He left you in that city too, under the control of a father he knew would not let your mother and you both leave.”

Aegon flushed, something uncomfortable in his own lungs scratching away at his defences. “That boy was not me. That was some tanner’s son from Pisswater Bend whose mother died giving birth. His father sold him to Lord Varys for a jug of ale, and Lord Varys gave that boy to my mother, and took me to safety.”

You didn’t blink, but you did feel for the sorrow to come. “And Rhaegar left you to die in that city with your mother and Rhaenys all the same. Tanner’s son or not, it was you he thought he was abandoning. And that’s the man you wish to be?” He swallowed and a redness almost poked through the colours behind his eyes as something bordering pity and empathy came into you and your voice. “I pray to the old gods and the new that you find it within yourself to become anyone but him. Dragons died for a reason, and it’s better we let it stay that way.”

Walking passed him, you brushed against his shoulder enough the material of your dark cloak ran across the overtly ornate design of his and Aegon didn’t turn to you in the slightest with any other word. You left early to think, and returned with that very thing shoved in your face to overwhelm the rest of it. All you could focus on to stay composed, was to wash off the grime of such a day, and start your work.

Maybe the rest would leave you alone until you wouldn’t break the second you were faced with that same wonder that stunned you the night before. There were no similarities when you looked at Aegon, but you found fear asking you of looking over to double check in case it was too obvious to ignore upon looking his way, but resisted such an urge. Not here, not in front of all these people.

You could feel Jon’s grey eyes following you the entire path as you left the Great Hall.

The path down to the level of the beaches was much faster this way. Many winding stairs were a steep but direct path down to the shores, the black stone leading into the dark rocks surrounding the landscape as only but small caverns and overhangs led to the sand surrounding out to the Narrow Sea.

The climate was much more forgiving as your back current sat against such large rocks that blocked the path and sights around as your hair blew in the winds along with the flowing skirt of your dress as if asking to carry you up and whisk you across the waters to lands unknown. But instead you sat in the quiet as evening sun had begun to set behind you, leaving the skies ahead in a beautiful golden yellow turning almost light shades of a pink.

Were you on the other side of the island, you would have held the object in your hand up to the setting sun, the books you had been scouring through spoke of dragonglass as being able to see the brightness in the sky without pain. Should you look up at it through what Maesters called obsidian. Instead it sat less shining or reflective in the shard twisted and turned in your hands. Your eyes narrowed slightly as you looked over it, trying to find any reason this was the thing which held answers to the realms foreboding danger.

The ones being in your home once more brought to you felt nothing but like burdens at the rate this past day had brought. Fire, death, bloodshed, memories of painful pasts trying to force their way onto those not responsible in the present and an overlooking thought which threatened to consume you should you let it toxify in your mind too much.

You only had a dream. You couldn't rely on that as truth.

It wasn’t until the sounds of footsteps gently approaching hit your ears did you register that you had been cruel. How would it have felt were it you? He had every right to be angry at you for it, but as he chose to settle on the sands with his back against the rock beside you there wasn’t anger which waved off him.

For a moment Jons eyes watched as yours did at the water, but not too long passed between until he gently opened his hand out to it. Silently you gave it to him, only then did the strength to look at him find you. Your eyes following as his brought up up to look closely at and yours continued that path to find his face.

A few smaller scratches sat across his cheek from what you could see at this angle, but all else as you looked at Jon did you find was the same thing you’d always seen looking at him. Nothing hiding inside but the man you love. And you felt more cruel yet a sighing relief at such a fact.

“Theon told me what you had been doing all day.”

You nodded before realizing he wasn’t actually looking to see it. Only leaning a bit closer so that you could feel his arm brush against yours as you spoke quiet by his side. “I have some assembling a number of men now, and come morning they will start on the mine we worked on today. The longer it takes us to start, the longer it takes us to get home.”

Jon ran his thumb over the flat end of the shard, eyes foggy as his voice was rasping at a distance trying to gently murmur your name, but you beat him to it with a heavier heart then you think he suspected. “I’m so sorry.”

Finally his eyes met yours, the grey in them washing over with something confused but also upsetting in a way. “Sorry? What would you have to be sorry for?”

Your own were already with a bit of a red sting, and your cracked throat wavered in speech. “Leaving you like that. After...after the night we had and then you wake up alone and I’m gone all day..it was a horrible thing to do. You would’ve never done it to me, I shouldn’t have done it to you.”

Jon put the shard of Dragonglass down without a second thought, turning to look at you more and it made you feel so much worse at the ease in which the hurt sat in his bright eyes. One of his hands coming up to run along the side of your face until reaching your cheek. “I only want you to tell me what I said or did that you didn’t like next time instead of avoiding me.” Your brows furrowed in confusion as he ran this thumb back and forth over the gentle skin. “Last night, I clearly did something to scare you off. Was I too rough?” He hesitated before swallowing harsh but he looked back into your much more stinging red eyes. “Was it what I said about marrying you?”

You hadn’t realized you were shaking your head until the motion was urgent, hand flying up to grasp at his and finding yourself pushing the fabric between his sleeve and glove to run your own thumb along his pulse. The other turning to face him more as you shifted more onto your calves, “No, it wasn’t you. You didn’t do or say anything wrong..I just..I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to wake you and later I just..”

“Got carried away?”

You nodded, letting go of his wrist as your own dropped into your lap. A shy glint hiding behind your eyes that caught Jons attention much more. The truth was not far off, but there was a medium you needed to pull him too. “I didn’t mean to worry you, I’m so sorry.”

But Jon didn’t need anything else, he didn’t want an argument or a detailed answer or even for you to grovel. Instead choosing to pull you into his side, your head finding a home resting against his shoulder as you were leaned into him completely. One of your arms wrapping around his instead of letting him keep it across your back as the other rested along his forearm. Another quieter whisper from your lips passed the air against the wind and waves. “You were perfect, I’m sorry I made you worry you had done anything wrong. I promise it is the opposite.”

For a good moment it was quiet between the two of you, the world never allowing you such quiet moments together it felt like. Not ones you could enjoy so freely. Never would you have imagined sitting on the shores of Dragonstone with Jon, being free to cuddle into his side with no scare of being caught. It was hard to get used too, being allowed to be seen as his.

Jon was quiet when he finally spoke, “You don’t have too.” Your brows narrowed in question but didn’t move away from him. “Marry me, I mean. I shouldn’t have said it, I’m not trying to pressure you into it or..” His eyes closed for a moment and the weight was felt mutual between both of you. “I don’t want you thinking I’m trying to replace Robb.”

If his voice had rasped out quietly, your own whisper was breathless and somehow even quieter after a good minute passed in the winds. “I don’t love one of you more then the other. Robb will always be part of me, and there wasn’t a second I was with him where what we shared wasn’t pure. He deserved to be loved and I wanted to be that for him. But you deserve to be loved as well.”

Pulling his arm through the gentle hold you had, Jon properly wrapped an arm around you and tugged you right up into his side, your hands drifting across his front. One closer to his waist and the other drifting up and down where you both knew the scars sat. His voice a husk in your ear, “You can keep your name.” A hum left your throat as Jon turned to bury part of his face into your hair like a crutch of muffling support. “You took Robb’s name when you married him. You should keep that. There isn’t much honour in going from a Stark to a Snow.”

This time you pulled from him with something frustrated in your eyes, and a wide insecurity in his that was softer then he had any right being. But as you sat there, your heart begged and pleaded. He did everything for everyone else, and for once you weren’t going to let him deny something that he never thought he’d have. “I became a Stark when I married Robb, but marrying you means I’m marrying you. You’re a Snow, which would make me one. That’s all there is too it-”

He swallowed harshly, a tear in his voice from years of something he tried to bury. “I can’t ask you to do that. Or make you force that onto our children.” Shaking his head slightly, he fought between pulling away from you and burying his face in your neck but chose to stay quite still, looking out to the waving tides rippling gold across the waters. “I used to be so scared of getting you pregnant. Always fighting how much I wanted to know what being with you would be like, and how much I knew any child we accidentally had, would be a Snow. How much everyone would look down on you for it, hate me for ruining your honour. How much everyone would judge whatever son or daughter we had for what I did to you. That’s why I wasn’t ready that day, why I hesitated. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d be ruining my own child’s life just beacuse I wanted to be with his mother.”

That day was still vivid for both. You had found fear that was normal for woman, whatever gentle and innocent touches and pleasure you had explored together were nothing compared to the act itself of sex. You were too scared of it at the time, and you hated the idea of disappointing Jon beacuse of it.

“I had a lot other boys didn’t, but it didn’t change that being a bastard was lonely, and miserable. I thought, that's no life for a child. Would always think that whatever children you had deserved so much more.”

You had never really spoken about it, not so directly, but the panic in your veins of that moment and what you begged of Robb in that anxiety and hurt never left you. It never left you how much your desperation had scared him, and how much you both looked to the other with such love and hope when he assured you.

“Tell me we’ll love him, our son, tell me that we’ll both be here to love him.”

The way Robb pulled you into his arms, resting your face soothingly in his neck as his hand ran gently across your then smooth, healthy stomach with a son named Ned.

“We will love him, together. It’s not just you and me now. It’s us. All three of is, now and always.

Your own voice cracked and it caught Jon’s attention, the sting in his eyes whipping over to yours as you now were the one looking to the sea. “When I finally told Robb I was pregnant-”

“Finally?” You turned to him slightly and he pushed passed the water in your eyes to as, “You said when you finally told him. You kept it a secret?”

Nodding, you wiped at the tears. Fruitlessly knowing more would fall in their place. “We were deep in the Westlands, marching onto Harrenhal, Theon had betrayed us..Catelyn had went behind our backs and released Jaime Lannister,”

You continued on, but that was simply one more tidbit of a story Jon knew not a thing about. A memory that did come to him though, was the only time he’d ever spoken to him. At the time, he thought he was being mocked. Speaking to him like a boy who knew nothing of the world and that he was a fool for taking the black. But he also had mentioned you.

Telling him he hoped Jon had gotten a “Nice, good pretty eyeful of her while you still have the chance. Beyond the reach of the law once you swear your vows, right? Do one last dishonourable thing with such a pretty girl before you never can again.”

Turning to look intently at you, he did briefly feel shame thinking how beautiful you looked with tears running down your cheeks. Letting yourself express your heart so painfully when alone with him in ways you so rarely ever let yourself even feel. “I was so scared he was going to be mad. That I was adding one more thing onto his shoulders but then I told him..and for the first time in a very long time..I finally felt like home. I felt like I found something I truly wanted.”

But he knew, you didn’t just look shocked that day these visions collided at the same instance, you almost looked devastated. “All I could think of was, how much I didn’t want our child to ever grow up the way you were forced to. That no matter where we were or what our lives looked like, I wanted our son to have Robb and I there for him, to know he was always loved no matter what.” You inhaled shakily before finally coming to what was caught in your throat. “You never had to be called a Stark for me to love you, and me being a Snow, our children being a Snow doesn’t change that. We’ll love them together, and that’s what matters. Anyone else has a problem with their name, we could always throw them off the top of the wall.”

Jon actually laughed, a bright charming smile as he laughed deeply. You had been spending too much time with Tormund.

Turning your face by your cheek to look at him, you found one of your hands reaching to run gently along his facial hair at his jaw in return. Running his thumb along your cheek before his voice came out low but full but in a tint of playfulness, “Don’t imagine Stannis and Selyse are going to be very happy having their grandchild be called Snow.”

Leaning so your breathe would dance along his skin as you spoke, you moved the touch on his jaw to run light as a feather across his bottom lip with a breathy laugh. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’ve never done anything that’s made them happy before, no reason to start trying now.”

Jon shook his head, but was the one to pull you into a kiss first anyways. Cupping the back of your head as it almost instantly was more heated then the tears on your cheeks would ask for. Only pulling from your lips long enough to murmur against them with a chuckle, “We are a mess, aren’t we?” You breathily laughed into him back, letting him return right back to kissing you deep enough you had to settle your hands on his shoulders to keep from falling back.

Wrapping an arm around you, Jon beckoned you to stand up with him. Only giving perhaps half a second for you to keep steady on two feet before that arm moved to your hip, and his other hand slid to hold you partially by your jaw and neck as he pushed you into the rocks behind.

Crowding you in an instant his kiss deepened, already leaving you feeling breathless and lightheaded against him. His lips were always so utterly soft and yet they also were so rough with you, leaving a tingling against them as he bit at your bottom lip before kissing you deep once more. Your hands slid up his chest and wrapped gently behind his neck. His tongue gently running across your lips and yet as you went to grant him permission, Jon pulled back enough to bite your lip to pull a gasp.

Only sliding his tongue into your mouth as you did so, the hand on your neck tilting you up to surrender to him. Tongue brushing with yours and hand pulling your hip more as he pressed his hips into you. He swallowed the whine with a growl as you felt him harden beneath the layers. Jon pulled more and more whines into his mouth from you, kissing you rougher and deeper every instance after he would grind his covered cock into you harsher. The hand on your neck moving down, reaching to your other hip and almost shifting you both to be at his mercy.

Slightly now leaning over you against the rocks behind, your hips pressed into the front of his as he pulled back from your lips. Red and swollen as his eyes black scouring the bite marks he left against your own lips. Consuming you with his dark, unmoving eyes as he knew you were growing more wet under the simple layers of your dress. One hand pressed beside your head as he leaned in, his cock twitching against you as he grew harder and harder every rut.

His voice rasped deep and sultry as his eyes looked sharp and narrowed down at you, “Always loose my mind with I’m with you..” Leaning more so his lips brushed against yours but still stared you down, his strength alone enough you couldn’t move away from him if you tried. If the twitch of his cock spoke anything, he enjoyed that you looked almost on the air of intimidated, only able to breathlessly gaze up at him in a needy awe as you burned the more he grinded his hard, covered cock against you. “I get anywhere near you,” The hand on your hip grasped the skirt of your dress as you whimpered at the force and yanked it up almost exposing you entirely were Jon not right against you, “All I can think of is how I shouldn’t have any duties that aren’t burying my cock deep inside you.”

You knew Robb said things like that to be vulgar, to tease how weak it made you. But you shivered at the darkness in Jon’s eyes, and how he almost barely seemed to register he said anything. That all this only spilled out of his mouth not to rile you up, but beacuse it was so deep in his brain that it came out on instinct. It didn’t used to be this intense between you, but all your brain told you to do was submit.

Submit like a good mate and let your White Wolf do whatever he wanted, but there was something else still hiding in your mind. Something that knew he’d never ask for it again. He never asked in the first place, but you desperately wanted to give back. Make Jon feel good beacuse he deserved to.

So your hands at his chest gently pushed him back. Not enough to move him or to even give you much in the way of room. But enough to press a light kiss to his lips and a tender loving one on his neck as you whispered, letting your hands run down his chest. “I want to make you feel good first.”

His face twisted slightly as if not realizing what you meant as he rasped, “You always make me feel good, darling.” But that wasn’t what you meant, and Jon only grasped it as he muttered a very light, almost inaudible, “..fuck..” as you so gently and almost with a pure and innocent softness bright in your eyes, let him keep you pressed tight against the rocks as you dropped to your knees.

Jon swallowed harshly, closing his eyes for a moment before looking up to the sky as if pleading for mercy as you ran your hands so gently along his thighs and hips like a massage. Not moving at all to pull him out until he looked back down at you, that same plead silently asking you to get up for him but you stayed kneeled. “Jon,” His hand ran along the sides of your hair, “Please, will you let me make you feel good? Can I suck your cock?”

Inhaling deeply, Jon’s jaw clenching so tight he ran hand along your hair now cupping the back of your head, he seemed to not risk anything, saying nothing. Only nodding yes, as he raked along your hair as you so carefully moved. Only giving enough room to pull his cock out as it already sat hard, red and leaking cum. Gently, you licked almost like a kitten at the thickness along him, before running your tongue and lips down the length of his cock with as much gentle touch a you did everything else.

Something burned in your chest, desperate to just show him a pleasure he always deserves but so rarely ever let himself have. Slowly letting your tongue brush the length of his cock before licking his tip once more. Eyes sliding shut as you slowly took him into your mouth, a deep grunt trapped in his chest trying not to lose it. Ever so slowly, you let the saliva build up in your mouth as you took him inch by inch, your hands flexing as you held by his hips.

You almost had no choice but to take him deep, so little room was behind you including his hand in your hair. Jon was breathing heavily above you to keep collected and feeling like he wasn’t succeeding. A low hum in your throat vibrated against his cock, something that both overwhelmed your senses letting him slide deep into your mouth but truly didn’t want to stop.

Almost two thirds of the way, you begun to bob your head along him, sucking him as with each slide inside your mouth deep did Jon’s hand on your hair tighten. Not controlling your movements, but almost keeping himself grounded as his muscles tensed.

He was heavy on your tongue, and your jaw already aching from the stretch but you whined at the feeling of him deep enough that it once more tested your inner panic. Taking the rest of his cock until he reached the back of your throat, your nose pressed against the coarse hair around the base of him you slid almost all the way of his length before smoothly gliding back as deep. Each pull back on his cock you sucked him with your own need making your thighs ache to press together.

There was something about being with you that made Jon feel as if you continued to bring things out in him he never knew would rile him up this much. Being outside, one could come across the two of you, and see their fierce and headstrong Queen so willingly down on her knees before the King in the North. Something perverse in Jon almost found the idea of someone catching you two like this appealing. As if it made him feel ever more turned on, as if he dared anyone to catch you both, fighting the fantasy in his veins if someone did see.

You wouldn’t even know if someone was watching, not while you were soaking his cock deep in your warm mouth, and he wondered if you two were caught, would Jon even try and pull you off him?

Or would he let the possessive wolf inside him, force them to watch, knowing that seeing you so eagerly sucking Jon’s thick cock would be the closest any would or could ever get to having you for themselves. Jon knew if he were a worse man, he may have chained and gagged Ramsay and forced him to watch you give everything to Jon that the vile man tried taking violently from you.

Take you apart with every bit of sanity you had left until Jon’s touch was all which would keep you tethered to the earth. And only killing Ramsay once he finished watching Jon take for himself, everything that the man wrongly thought belonged to him.

If it were possible, the image of getting caught as Jon was slid so deep in your mouth, or just as he came heavily down your sweet, sensitive throat, made him almost throb harder.

He still was trying to stay quiet, couldn’t bury his grunts or growls in your kiss and all he could do was try and not to shove your head right back down to take his entire length. Gritting his teeth as his knuckles turned white gripping your hair, he felt himself clawing closer and closer to the end.

You felt his cock throbbing in your mouth, and you only felt both the desperate beg inside to give you a moment to breathe but also finding yourself more eager to help coax him to that end. Wanting him to feel good the way he always insisted doing for you instead.

Murmuring your name, Jon was trying to pull you off his cock and through a rough husking tone he hissed out as your mouth soaked him, “You- gods you really want me like this, you want me to spill down your throat?” Like he couldn’t comprehend why you would actually want to swallow his cum, the thick, warm seed that you had no logical way of explaining in the moment, that you desperately needed.

Only, just as Jon begun to call out your name, he throbbed inside your mouth and looked down at you with a clenched jaw breathing heavily. “You’re too good to me. So fucking good, my beautiful girl..you don’t have to do this..I just..fuck, I only need your cunt..”

But as you took him deeply, you felt him pull your head close to his hips, once again pressed right up against the dark hair around the base of his cock, and this time it was your whimper that did him in. A gentle hold on his hips and a tender moan around him had Jon shake. Spilling deep down your throat with a rasping growl of your name, his hand kept you pressed as deep as he could sink in your mouth but he almost massaged your hair, raking through it more gentle then he had any right being as he fed you all of his thick cock’s seed.

You moaned and the muffled gag of you trying to swallow all of him, feeling almost more worked up at how good it felt and how wet it made you, to feel him spill so deeply down your throat and into your stomach.

But he wasn’t done once he pulled you off, no, this time Jon yanked you up to your feet. Shoving you against the wall as he hovered over you, pulling the skirt of your dress up only enough to grasp hold of the thin fabric covering you from him.

In Jon’s mind he couldn’t hear or see the world around him, only you. And the feeling of your covering soaked did Jon hide his face in your neck. Biting and kissing roughly as he tore the fabric off of you, pressing you into the rocks more when you whined against him.

One hand moved under the flowing fabric to run his cock along your soaking wet entrance while the other cupped your cheek, pulling you into an urgent kiss. Jon sparing not much time before he sunk his cock as deep as he could. Using his hold to shove you more against the rock, keeping one of your legs bent up and wide as he never pulled any more then a few inches out of you.

Your insides twisted like a coiling metal ready to snap as Jon kissed you, your own hands unable to do anything but grasp at his shoulders. All but forcing your lips to part so he could slide his tongue in your mouth, Jon begun to thrust up into you, but this wasn’t the slow start he took his time with.

He kept a hand behind your head keeping you against the mercy of his kiss as the other kept you stretched wide for him as Jon pounded into you. Were the tides and waves not mixing with the covers of wind, someone might have heard the desperate sound of Jon moving to kiss down your neck. Not even with bites, just presses of lips as he felt his heart desperate to just have you close.

Cock pounding into you fast, and somewhat rough especially keeping you on a gasping, pleading edge of his name as the sensitivity of your walls were dragged along once more. Every time his cock was deep you felt no more breathe in your lungs. Hands urgently pulling his hair loose, Jon shifted you up more so you could bury your face between his hair and in his neck and holding onto him tightly with little more then moans.

He asked nothing of you, only holding you there as he fucked into your soaked cunt almost coating his cock even more with your own wetness that were he to have you alone in a room would have been a beautiful soaking sound each time his hips slapped into yours.

It looked like nothing more but a desperate, fast and rough fuck but Jon held you and you held him back burying the other to hide close. Jon holding your head close hiding in your hair as he felt you clench around him and only then did he pull back enough. Making you look at him as you were dangled on his cock asking to let you cum, Jon’s eyes less black and more of a needing grey as he whispered roughly and raspily to you, “It’s alright, darling, you can let go. I want you to cum for me, I promise, please cum for me..I need to feel you, I need you so much..”

Your head only nodded as something close to tears wanted to fall at how raw his voice mixed lust and a gentle need while his cock sped you towards an orgasm and as soon as you gasped, grasping his hair and pleading his name did he find his own end only seconds after your own orgasm snapped bright and flooding passionately within you. Clenching hard around him whimpering his name meekly.

Spilling deeply inside of you as you clenched and soaked his cock, he kept you on him the entire length sunk so deep inside you as he shook against you. Both burying your faces into the others neck and hair until you felt every last bit of his thick, warm cum spill deeply inside.

Breathing heavily against one another, Jon kissed you gently when you whimpered as he pulled out of your cunt. Your skirt dropping back down to cover you while you gently pulled away from him enough to cover him back up properly as well.

Still breathing heavily, your hands fell to his waist as Jon’s ran along your hair before tilting you up for a kiss. Not greedy or pushing, but an intimate kiss that spoke of love you had so long had to pretend never existed. Pulling away to press one against your forehead before resting against yours with his until he knew you were calming back down to earth.

His voice was strained and rough as he spoke quietly through a gentle laugh. “Seven hells..I don’t know what came over me, I'm sorry..” You laughed back more freely, a charming brightness in his eyes as you both laughed against one another much more innocently for the desperate fuck just seconds earlier.

You ran your hand through his hair, looking up to his bright grey eyes. “Why do I suspect you aren’t actually that sorry?”

His grin grew brighter, kissing you once more as he whispered playfully against your lips. “Probably beacuse I’m not.” Leaving another kiss to your lips, and then to your forehead as he tilted you down to leave it there, your hands pressed along his chest before he pulled you into his arms.

If Jon had decided he was sure about one thing, it was what he said after everything was settled the night before. Brewing moontea for you as he had you lay under the sheets to relax, knowing no matter what you claimed of feeling fine, he had gone more rough then he intended. Telling you almost casually, that he wasn’t getting you pregnant for the first time anywhere but his own bed in Winterfell.

He was however, as the two of you made your way back up to the castle, considering to what degree of uncomfortable a conversation would it be to go back to Maester Pylos so soon. There was no getting around that he was going to know that perhaps Jon had an appetite for you a bit more high and demanding then what the man was expecting on the first request for it.

Jon knew he felt eyes, but had no idea that there had been more then one pair, watching the entire time you had been passionately wrapped up in each other along the isolated shores of Dragonstone.

One pair of eyes that almost crawled like a spider, but the other was one that none could guess.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

140 notes · View notes