#Loras Tyrell x reader

[snow-blower]

Kinkmas day 29 is out now!! Working on day 30!!

[dipperscavern]

idk if you would write but i would love to see in ur style a tyrell!reader x robb. imagine being the winter rose? omg living the biggest dream by being a beauty of the seven realms, having tales of ur beauty passed on, and then being betrothed to robb as a mean of house tyrell to guarantee their safety, but still, theres no northern or southern who can resist the tyrell beauty and robb is one of them

nana.. this ask did things to me. i love this idea smsmsm & thank u for sending it in !!

tyrell beauty was never anything that could be denied — by friend or by foe.

you & your twin sister, margaery, were the greatest testimonies to that. while margaery was no doubt beautiful, tales of your beauty had spread throughout the seven kingdoms. singers, poets, servants & kings alike had all heard and contributed to the spread of the tale of the tyrell rose — not only beautiful in physical aspects, but a gorgeous personality to match.

you & margaerys older brother, loras, was also rumored for his looks. safe to say, you three were widely known.. the beauties of house tyrell.

even the north, cold and harsh as it was, was not exempt from hearing the tales of you & your siblings beauty. jokes and speculations had long passed around winterfell, only increasing tenfold when hearing about house tyrell’s rumored interest in forming an allegiance with the north. when bran, rickon, & arya stepped into the castle, covered in dirt & almost soaking wet from that days ministrations, jory only sighed seeing them, ushering them to baths with a mutter of-

“the beauties of winterfell…”

robb only laughed at the teases he heard about you & your siblings, but sometimes found his thoughts wandering to you. his mind often drifting to think about the tyrell rose, absurd childlike questions, that he should’ve pushed away as quickly as they entered his mind. do the tales do your beauty justice? what are you like in person? are you warm? would you like him? what would you think of the north?

he focused on training, doing as he was told & preparing to become lord of winterfell one day, although he couldn’t stop the fleeting thoughts about you that arose every once in a while. a child’s dream, he thought.

so you can imagine his surprise when his father & mother sat him down, telling him of the alliance house tyrell wanted to make with house stark..

through marriage.

robb felt like he was dreaming. the beauty of the seven kingdoms, betrothed to him? he could barely keep the smile off his face, wanting to not only improve stature to his house, but do his duty as a husband. excitement pooled in his gut, as theon clasped his hands on robb’s shoulders at dinner, congratulating him. theon’s hands waved in the air, saying something about-

“the beauty and the beast..”

any other night he would’ve gotten a shove to the ground, but robb only threw him a playful smile. even theon’s relentless teasing couldn’t ruin this for him. if he was to be lord of winterfell one day, he’d need a strong woman by his side — he dreamed of a relationship like his mother and fathers, and he prayed in the godswood to the old gods that night, that they would guide your union as man and wife.

in the days leading up to your arrival at winterfell, countless preparations were made. the tyrell host was large, and all of the starks had done their parts to prepare to receive it. you were to stay in winterfell for a week before the wedding, and your family would leave shortly after. you had handmaidens and a few select soldiers to stay with you at winterfell, and you could visit high garden anytime you wanted in the near future. you asked your grandmother if she would visit you in winterfell again after the wedding, but she only put a hand over your own & said it would take the Father himself to drag her back to that “frozen wasteland”.

the day you arrive, robb thinks he’s might jump out of his skin, he’s so nervous. still, he puts on a brave face for his & his families sake, wanting to be everything you need and more.

you, margaery, and the queen of thornes are riding in the wheelhouse, while ser loras is in front of it, mounted on a white mare. his armor glints in the sunlight, doing wonders to illuminate his face. he’s handsome, robb can admit, and that only makes his curiosity increase about you & your sister. & once you both step out of the wheelhouse, robb feels his heart skip as many beats as it can without killing him.

a few of your cousins step out first, giggly as they curtsy to the starks and stand respectively to the side. margaery is next, gorgeous auburn hair & a button nose, a flattering dress with the tyrell colors proudly on display, and a sweet smile to accompany it all. she curtsy’s as well, standing more in front of the wheelhouse, as loras dismounts and moves to stand next to her.

when you step out of the wheelhouse, robb’s breath hitches. his body forgets every single instinct he’s ever had, & he has to remind himself to breathe, as to not kill himself. you’re beautiful. stunning. a sight for sore eyes. he doesn’t think there’s any word in the common tongue that can be used to describe your beauty without downplaying it. it seems like nobody can tear their eyes off of you, your aura doing wonders to brighten the damp atmosphere.

you curtsy to them all, along with a smile he wishes would never leave your face. robb can’t tear his eyes from you, even when you move to offer your hand to the queen of thornes as she steps out. you meet robb’s gaze in the moment everyones attention is not on you. the corner of his mouth tilts up in a smirk as he winks at you. you only tilt your head, brows lightly furrowing as you smile at him. your gaze falls to the floor as blush rises to your cheeks, retracting your hand from your grandmothers and smoothing out your gown.

pleasantries are exchanged, you and robb stealing glances to each other every so often. lady olenna & a few of your cousins go with ned stark & lady catelyn, moving to discuss the wedding, among other things. you take robb’s arm as he escorts you, margaery, and loras to where you’ll be staying at. robb drinks in every moment with you.

you’re gorgeous, soft, & warm. you have a kind heart, a love for the arts and children, and you’re very kind. your shy nature bubbles away as you grow more comfortable in each others presence.

that night, a great feast is held. everyone of the starklings is made to be in attendance, and robb prays that arya can keep her withering resolve just a little bit longer. you’re sat beside him, softly laughing at a remark ned had made. robb’s heart warms at the sight of you & his father getting along, but is quickly forgotten when he sees arya dash away & out of the hall. guards are sent after her, and robb bites back a smile at her daring antics.

he’s snapped out of his thoughts as your hand clasps his bicep, his head turns towards you as you lean into speak in his ear.

“forgive me, i must be excused. i’ll return shortly.” you say, a reassuring smile making its way onto your face as you get up. robb only nods, sighing in an attempt to soothe his frayed nerves.

it’s a few minutes later when the queen of thornes sits next to him, striking up light conversation. judging his character, no doubt. at the end of it she nods her head in approval, asking him to please find her granddaughter — wherever she’s run off to. robb stands up with an-

“of course, my lady.”

moving to follow the direction you went in. it takes him outside, and he looks around, before his gaze settles on you & a small form behind you, a guard approaching in front of you. robb was lucky to be in earshot of you.

“pardon, my lady, we’re looking for arya underfoot, ned starks daughter. ‘bout yay high, brown of hair. have you seen ‘er ‘round?”

you were stood beside a pillar, one arm behind your back as you discreetly pressed arya further behind you. one shift of your form & arya would be revealed, dragged back to the festivities she had just escaped from. robb watched you from afar, careful not to give away your position — but close enough to hear & see your response. curiosity spread through him as he and the guard both awaited your answer.

your brows furrowed in faux confusion, looking at the guard with a soft expression.

“i must confess, i haven’t seen her. brown of hair, you said?”

the guard swallowed, nodding as he eyed you up & down. you smiled sweetly at him.

“i will be sure to keep an eye out, ser…?”

you slightly raised your brows, and the guard quickly gave you his name. you repeated it to him, and the guard nodded, smiling.

“would you be so kind to escort me back to the festivities? a castle like this.. it’s so easy to get lost.”

the guard quickly agreed, not being able to resist you, & robb is enamored, having witnessed the tyrell charm firsthand. what happens next seals the deal for robb.

as you move to take the guards arm, you spot loras patrolling, his path sending him to pass on the other side of the pillar that you’re at. the eye contact between you both is minimal, and robb almost misses your eyes slightly widen & the small nod of his head. with one swift move, you’re grasping the guards bicep & using your other hand to gently push arya to your older brother, as he outstretches his hand just enough for arya to get the hint. as you walk off, loras has one hand on aryas shoulder, ushering her off with a wink — & robb watches the smile grow on aryas face as she slips away.

yeah, he thinks. you’re perfect.

his winter rose.

sorry if this was too long or not what you were envisioning, but i had sm fun writing this !! tyrell supremacy

[lady-arcane]

The Daughter of Littlefinger { 1 }

________________________________________

"They call me Baelish’s girl. A whisper behind silk fans, a name spoken with knowing smirks and hushed amusement, as if I am some pet my father keeps in his pocket, trained to play his games. But I am not a pet. Nor a pawn. Nor a fool. I am something else entirely—though, if I were wise, I would not admit to what."

_________________________________________

I was born in a brothel, though no one in court would ever say it aloud.

They would whisper it, of course, behind painted fans and smirks, in the same breath that they called me Baelish’s girl. Not quite a lady, not quite a bastard, something between a shadow and a secret.

My mother was a whore. She had hair like autumn and eyes like the first bloom of spring—Catelyn Stark’s ghost in a cheaper dress. She was beautiful in the way that made men reckless, and that, I suppose, was her first and final mistake.

I do not remember much of her. A voice, soft and humming. A hand, cool against my forehead. The way she smelled—lavender and something warm, something fading. When I try too hard to summon her, she dissolves into candlelight and smoke.

She died when I was four.

No one ever told me how. Some said illness, some said an accident, some said a jealous man who did not take kindly to her affections being divided. Maybe it was all of them. Maybe it was none. I used to think that if I asked my father, he would tell me, but I never did.

And perhaps that is the truest thing about us—our relationship was built not on what was said, but on what we both refused to say.

-----

Petyr Baelish took me in, but he did not raise me.

No, I think I raised myself.

I learned early that silence was my strongest armor. That men would mistake beauty for softness, that kindness was only currency, that power was not about strength, but about knowing which strings to pull and when.

I watched my father, listened to him, memorized the way he twisted words into something sweet and sharp all at once. I learned when he lied and when he only made people think he was lying. I learned that truth is a weapon like any other.

And I loved him, in my own way.

How could I not?

He was the one who took me from the filth of that brothel, who dressed me in silk, who gave me a name that people whispered with something like fear. I could have been nothing. I could have been dead.

Instead, I was here. In the capital. In the court. In the game.

-----

The first lesson my father ever taught me was this: Power is an illusion, and the best illusions are the ones people choose to believe.

He told me this when I was seven, sitting across from me at a table too grand for two people alone. His fingers toyed with the stem of his wine cup, a casual gesture, but I knew better than to think my father’s hands ever moved without purpose.

"Tell me, Rowan," he had asked, voice soft, almost amused, "do you know why men follow kings?"

I had hesitated, uncertain. Because they must? Because the king commands them? Because that is how the world works?

But even then, I had understood that my father rarely asked questions to hear simple answers. So I did what any good daughter of Petyr Baelish would do.

I smiled and said, "Because they choose to."

He had leaned back, his expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, he had nodded. "Smart girl."

I had known then that I had pleased him.

But what I did not know—what I could not know—was how much that lesson would shape me.

-----

Court life was a performance, and I was a fast learner.

At first, I was merely the little shadow at my father’s side. A girl with clever eyes and a too-sweet smile, always listening, always watching.

The lords dismissed me. The ladies pitied me. But Myrcella Baratheon found me interesting.

It was not a friendship in the way of stories— no promises of forever—but I was her lady-in-waiting, and she was the closest thing to a true friend I could afford.

She looked up to me, I think. She liked how I carried myself, how I never shrank away.

I exist in the spaces between. A girl who listens more than she speaks, who watches more than she acts. I am careful. Cautious. A shadow in silk.

And yet, I am not invisible.

She calls me her dearest friend, her wisest lady-in-waiting, though she is far too young to understand what wisdom truly costs. She clings to my arm and tells me her dreams, her hopes, her childish fears. I listen. I nod. I smile when required.

“You’re not afraid of anything,” she once told me.

And I smiled, because I had already learned that fear was not something you showed. It was something you used.

-----

Joffrey liked me too, in his own way.

Or perhaps he just liked that I was never foolish enough to cower before him. I knew how to speak to him. Knew when to flatter, when to feign laughter, when to let him think he had won.

He once asked me if I was loyal to him.

“Of course, Your Grace.”

It was the only answer he wanted.

But later, when I was alone, I thought of my father and all the times I had asked myself the same question.

Was I loyal?

To whom?

my father?

To myself, I decided. That would have to be enough.

-----

People think power is won in battle, in blood, in steel.

But I knew better.

Power was a whisper in the right ear. A secret traded at the right time. A name spoken in the right room.

It was knowing when to smile and when to strike.

And I was my father’s daughter, after all.

Even if I was trying, so desperately, not to be.

—End of Chapter One—

-----

Greetings, Dreamers and Readers ✨🌸

So, here it is—chapter one of Life and Lies of Lady Rowan Baelish. Honestly, writing this introduction felt like stepping straight into the viper’s nest that is Westeros. Rowan’s childhood, her mother’s death, and her first real taste of court life—this chapter lays the groundwork for everything she’ll become.

I wanted it to feel real, not just as an origin story but as a reflection of how survival shapes people differently. Do you think it captures that? Does it need more? Less? Let me know your thoughts—I’d love to hear what you all think.

---

Comment, ask questions, or just scream about the chaos to come. I’m here for all of it lol.

✨ Bye and take care, Hope you all have a good day ✨

[blumenflowergelb]

Love and Soulmates (1/2)

• Well, this day is as good as any other to be a ten name days old, Yn thought. He was sitting on his bed, staring and wondering what he had done to get this. If he was honest with himself, it was theoretically a good thing. However reality was often disappointing. He was in his ten years old body but with his seventeen years old mind. Of course, his actual age does not seem a lot but he was through a lot of shit; from escaping to Bravos to fighting while the Second Long Night to seeing the First Dawn. A journey which he did not wish to relive again. But as always the gods did not care about what a mere human thought. And Yn was sure that the Gods were behind it; even if he didn’t know which one.

• He didn’t know how long he spent lamenting about his life but a knocking on his door brought him out of his slump. It was his sweet sister, Margeary Tyrell. She came inside and begann to talk and talk, her voice cutting through Yn thoughts. She endlessly chatted mostly with herself, however she was not bothered. It was expected from the simpleton. Yes, Yn was a quit strange. He was always different from his siblings, he truly did not like anybody touching him, loud voices and things that were not in order. His fascination with reptiles outright creeped people out; even his oldest brother Willas. But after he fell down a tree and hit his head, he became worse. Loud voices, spinning around or tunes that were monotone left him feel weird. This feeling became so bad that he saw spots and often passed out. Obviously this was something which left him cut out of the better part of society. He did not have friends and even his brothers did not engage with him. Although it was probably because he despised fighting and horses. Fighting made his head spin and horses stank and their fur made him itchy. Nevertheless Margaery adored him. When they were younger Yn allowed her to changed him into women clothes and play tea party. As they got older they did not do this anymore but Margaery still spent a lot of time with Yn.

• The never ending chat of Margaery was a thing that Yn inwardly enjoyed. This was something that he had missed. After years the hurt of losing his family became manageable but it never truly disappeared. And seeing her alive and well was something that left Yn a bitter taste on his tounge. He was happy but he wasn’t. It was hard to explain; Yn was overjoyed to have a chance to change everything but on the other side he had lost people he cared about. Sansa with her fiery hair and face made out of ice, Arya and Rickon, the true wolf out of the Starks, and obviously Jon. Yn loved him. His red eyes and white hair did not make him afraid; only intimated. Yn loved the days where they sat next to each other, listening to the people around them talk and sing and boast. The Free Folk has never lost their hearts even after losing so many. They were the strongest, no matter what the others thought. Even the Long Night did not make the people of Westeros nice to them. Most still sneered and spat on them. But in Yn minds they were wrong. The Free Folk was the first place where the people didn’t care if he talked until he did his share of hunting and doing his chores. And he always did. Especially because of Jon. After Yn came back hunting he always smiled at Yn like he brought him the stars. The memory which always made him slightly blush and smile, now made him frown and his heart ache. Jon didn’t know him. Nobody did.

• This did not escape Margaerys‘ sight. However she interpreted the long face of Yn as a fear of what was going to happen. She was excited, especially because her brother was seen as an outsider. This was his chance to find the one who would love and take care of him for ever. She hoped that the woman was going to be very beautiful and very very good-hearted. She crawled closer to Yn and slowly caressed his cheeks. Whenever she looked at him she felt an overwhelming love. She truly loved her brother.

• Before Yn could blink he was spirited to his grandmother. Usually she was sitting outside with his mother and ten other girls. They all talked and Olenna crooked out her offensive opinions. Well usually. Today however was not usual. She sat still, facing the beautiful garden of Highgarden but only her son was there. As Yn arrived he only heard snippets of ‘money’, ‘cost’ and weirdly ‘fated’. Once he was standing before them, his grandmother shut his father up with a quick wave and smiled at Yn. He was not stupid, he knew that there was something wrong. His grandmother never smiled at him; she tried to conserve with him as little as she could. He was held in a higher regard than his cousins but it was clear that he was her least favourite. Nonetheless now she was smiling at him. Not only she was looking kind but she even ordered his favourite food, lemon cakes. At this Sansa flashed in Yn‘s mind. They shared a love for lemon cakes and every time they fought over the last piece. But his grandmother’s speech left his memory quickly fade away and fear replaced it. She talked about his ten and one nameday next day and a fated mark, the Will of the Seven, soulmates, the cost of his wedding and which people are going to be invited. Mace tried to talk but whenever he opened his mouth Olenna hushed him. Once she was done she stood up, kissed Yn‘s cheek and ordered her twin guards to her. But before she left Yn and Mace alone she turned around and sent a glare towards her son, telling him that it was time. This left Yn dreading whatever was coming.

• The awkward silence was not broken until Mace sighed, took a lemon cake and begann to eat. After some humming he was done and leaned back on his chair, hand folded over his stomach. He begann to humm some more and sighed again. Once Yn heard the famous sentence ‘ You know son, there are things which a man must tell their son.’ he knew he was done. But before he could stand up his father took an other lemon cake, quickly ate that and looked deeply in Yn‘s eyes. The conservation which followed was one of the most mortifying thing Yn has ever experienced. Not even seeing hundreds of dead people could make him as sick as this. His father talked and talked about girls and boys and their differences down there. Than he went over talking about babies, which then led him to gush about how damm cute all his children were. This was followed by him talking about weddings and ceremonien and the most important: bedding. At this point Yn has given up. He was less than a day in this world and he was given The Talk. And he couldn’t even tell his father that he knew! Well not much about women but more about men. And well not men but about Jon. He was the first and last person Yn has ever been intimate with. This confirmed Yn that he was a indeed a pillow bitter but he could hardly tell his father about that.

• One thing that was new to Yn were the soulmates. He was sure that they didn’t have that. After thinking long about what it meant, Yn decided that he was not in the same world in which he spent majority of his life. And that soulmates were cool. Almost everybody had them, from the lowest to the highest person on earth. Only men and women without a mark could become a maester, septon/ septa or priest. The marks were seen as godly and everybody had to obey to them. Breaking apart a bond like that was seen as a grave mistake and death was the punishment for who tried to break it apart. The good thing about the soulmark was the way it appeared. There were marks that displayed a picture of all kinds, some were words; some sentences. They were marks that only appeared when the soulmates touched or looked at each other. Some lost the colour of their sights and could only seen any kind of colour once they looked in each other’s eyes. Some had compasses that showed where their other was located, some had quotes that matched, others had half their hair the colour of their soulmate’s. This manifested once they had their ten and one nameday. And Yn had his the next day.

• He didn’t care about his birthday. It passed in a frenzy and once he was sent to his chambers to wait and sleep, he was in ecstasy. He wanted to stay up the whole night but the maester told him that he had to sleep so that the Will of the Gods would fulfill in secret. No human was allowed to see the manifestation. Still Yn could barely sleep. He was trembling with fear and excitement. He wanted a soulmate but was affraid to get one. The idea of not having one left him feeling devastated so he didn’t think about it. He wanted Jon but was affraid of who he was now. He wanted and wanted but was affraid of so many things until he fell asleep. Dawn was barely coming when Yn felt a horrible burning on his left wrist. It left him gasping and crying but the manifestation was done. He got a compass pointing towards the North. It was golden but elegant and had a quote around the compass saying, ‘Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle’. And if you looked closely there were six direwolf, each different, running around and playfighting. It was perfect, Yn whispered to himself with tears escaping his eyes.

• The second he left his room he was jumped on by Margaery. She led him to the dinning room to break their fast while talking and talking. One minute she wanted to see the mark, the next minute she didn’t until they were with the whole family. They quickly arrived and his family was immediately on Yn. Once they saw the compass and closely inspected it, they all fell silent until Margaery laughed. Better said she cried while laughing and gave a big hug to Yn. While they hugged, Mace begann to plan a letter for Ned Stark. Even for him was clear that his son was meant for one of wolf blood.

• Olenna slowly fanned herself. It was hot for her age; she was not as young and agile as she once was. Undertaking such a big journey to Winterfell from Highgarden had affected her health negatively. Regardless, she was sure that she would crawl to Winterfell if it must be. She would never pass such an opportunity. And she was needed to talk to his grandsons future father-in-law. She was throughly thinking about all the possibilities that their journey could mean and what she had to do for the better of her house. Such an union between great houses was not seen since decades, especially between a fourth son and a bastard. Olenna was sure that it was the bastard that was the soulmate of her simpleton but kind hearted grandson. If not then why did Lady Catelyn not boast about one of her children being the soulmate of a Tyrell? She was after all a Tully, a very proud house, Olenna thought. The marriage could mean a lot for the Tyrells. A lot of good and bad. Olenna could only hope that if the bastard was the one then her little spies were not wrong about his father’s affection. Nobody needed an alliance with a bastard that held no power. She even entertained the idea of overthrowing the bastard brother‘s but quickly desposed of it. The Starks were too loyal. And the compass showed enough. Six direwolfs playing. This could only mean one thing. Her inner discussion was stoped once a loud knock was heard. She opened the side pannel and looked at one of her twin guards. She burrowed her eyebrows after she heard her foolish grandson riding out to meet his future beloved.

• Winterfell was as big as ever, Yn decided. It certainly looked better than the last time he saw it. It was huge and dark. But it was warm; and that is what mattered. He knew that the walls were warm with spring water and that the halls were always kept warm. He couldn’t wait to bath and bask in the memory of Winterfell and their occupants. And to see Jon again. As excited he was, he was as fearful. He was sure that Jon and him were meant to be together, but still. It was weird and new and they were so young. Jon was not older than ten and three, an age which Yn has never seen him. The worst thing was the people he traveled with. Lord Stark has invited hundred of people of the North and South and thousands came. The North wanted to see House Stark marry as a rich House as the Tyrells and the South wished to see House Stark and the North. This journey and wedding meant a lot of new alliances and weddings for the Realm. Even the King has journeyed to the North, but Yn was sure that he wasn’t there for the wedding. Not truly. It was Ned he was there for. Saddly Jon Arryn was not able to attend since he did not want to leave the rest of the Realm behind. What surprised Yn was that the Martells sent Oberyn Martell and his paramour as guests. It meant that they were planning something. Or they were simply affraid that the Reach allied with the North that can give them enough timber for a new war.

• Yn felt butterflies fighting in his stomach. He was so nervous that even Garlan commented on his suddenly disappearing horse riding abilities. To this Renly begann to joke around about riding what else and instead of shutting him down Garlan laughed with him. If Yn wasn’t as nervous he would have told them already off. Shortly before they arrived Willas slowed them down and talked about whom Yn had to greet firstly and what to do. Even the common courtesies flew over Yn’s head. He hoped that he would not make a fool of himself because if he did he would die. Maybe the rumour of him being a simpleton would minder the embarrassment but Yn did not want to make a fool out of Jon. While Yn was deep in his thoughts they arrived at the gates. Everybody sat straighter and rode inside the castle.

• Yn was sure that he was going to die. His compass was going crazy, the pointer spinning around, meaning that his soulmate was very close. And he was. The first thing he saw was Jon and the first thing he did was blushing. He felt his face light on fire and he was sure that everybody saw that. He was so embarrassed that he didn’t even look at the Starks. The worst was when he almost feel down his horse and if not for Loras he would have facepalmed the earth. He saw Loras trying to hide his chuckle but as always he couldn’t. This made Yn face more redder, his ears were so hot that he wanted to just jump in the next snow pile. And than he had to walk to the Starks and greet each of them. Ned Stark was an imposing man, and even bigger when you were only ten and two namedays old. His eyes hid a certain amusement and he kindly greeted Yn. Lady Catelyn was even kinder and hoped that their visit went well. The next person was Robb. He was cute but Yn understood why he was made King so early on. He looked like his ladymother but his eyes shone like his fathers. However the next person took Yn‘s breath away. He went redder than he thought to be possible and shyly held out his right hand. There was hope in Jon‘s beautiful dark grey eyes, but it was replaced with uncertainty once they touched each other hands. It was clear that he expected something more from the contact but was greatly disappointed. Yn moved on, after he saw this, and greated the girls and Bran with enthusiasm. Rickon was not there, but Yn knew that it must be because he was still a babe. After they were done with the greetings and talking, Lady Catelyn sent servant go show each if them a room, while excusing the lack of grand food. She told them that they expected them to arrive the next day and could only offer them a humble feast. Yn obviously had to make himself more foolish and told the lady that they came early because he was excited. At this even Willas had a hard time not laughing and while they walked away Yn had to hit him with his elbow to shut up. Once they were out of hearing range, his brothers recreated everything and Renly instead of helping, laughed with them. Yn was mortified enough to not even say goodbye to them and he just shut his door. His chamber was very big and beautifully filled with furs and other animal skins but Yn couldn’t appreciate it. Without a second he jumped on his bed and hid his face in a soft pillow. He was so flustered, especially seeing Jon‘s face fall, that he decided to never move again. Well until a servant brought him warm water. After he cleaned himself and spent an embarrassingly long time to decide what to wear, he went out to look for his brothers and Renly. Then they went to the feast. After Yn saw what was set in the table he thought that if this was not seen by Lady Catelyn as grand than what was grandiose? For being in the North, where every grain mattered, it was rich. He knew that for Renly and even Loras, as vain and proud they were, this would not seem to be anything big;but for Yn it was. He saw firsthandedly what people ate in the Winter.

• The food was good, the conservation was firstly awkward but the Garlan and Renly begann to talk and it was good again. Yn didn’t speak but nobody seemed to mind. Robb openly stared at him, even when Jon discreetly poked him, and Arya and Bran were so captured by Garlan telling them stories of his training that they barely ate. Sansa spent her time looking at Loras and Renly. Willas was entertaining Lady Catelyn and Lord Stark listened to everything and only said something if it was necessary. Jon sometimes looked up from his food only go meet Yn‘s eyes, who then averted his gaze and once even let his fork fall. Everybody was kind enough to not say anything but Yn only became more flustered. After they were done Yn felt Jon‘s gaze follow him and he thanked the Gods for not making him trip. They did not converse on the way to their rooms and Yn again thanked the Gods for not making his brothers make fun of him. After that he quickly readied himself for bed and after Willas came in to say good night he walked around his new room. They were bear and elk furs and Yn was sure that the skin belonged to a boar. The tapestries were beautifully done and Yn could not marvel enough. While he tried to remember from whom he the story of the tapestry knew, Jon came in his room. Yn turned around and greeted him only for Jon to not move. Yn did not move either, so they looked at each other, assessing everything about the other. Yn felt his knees getting weaker the longer he spent looking at Jon. He was truly beautiful and breathtaking. After some more silence Jon moved towards Yn and held his right hand out. Yn held his hand out too and once they touched Jon frowned, but did not ask. He left his hand fall in disappointment but before he could speak Yn touched his arm with his left. The burn was strong but once it ebbed away both felt an overwhelming sensation of love and adoration. Yn cradled their hand together and pulled Jon to himself. Jon slowly caressed Yn‘s face, as if he was something valuable and then leaned to his face. The small kiss they shared made Yn‘s heart fly higher than a bird and left him feeling like he could burst to flames. It was perfect and even after Jon left, Yn couldn’t help but replay their kiss again and again.

[chic-beyond-the-wall-oc-acct]

Game of Thrones OC, Lacie Tyrell, daughter of Mace Tyrell and Alerie Tyrell

[the-fiction-witch]

Angel

Media - Game Of Thrones Character - Ser Loras Tyrell Couple - Loras X Reader Reader - Anastasia Rating - 18 + torture / hard ons/ Stockholm syndrome a lil bit/ bjs Word Count - 3214

Writers notes - Loras (in the cannon of the show at least the book is a little more ehh on the topic) is gay, he does still walk with ladies, court, gives out flowers and smiles and even accepts betrothals 'unhappily' but you know he doesn't like kick up too much about it other than the obvious reasons. So for plot's sake here we're gonna make him Biseuxal or at very least just kinda Stockholmed a little due to the plot and situation. Hope that helps! 

Loras had been locked in the cells below the sept of Baelor for months now. Members of the faith militant would come down daily to attempt to make him confess and when he didn't he'd be beaten. Every three days he'd be given a single cup of water and once a week he was given cold watery leak soup the bare minimum to keep him breathing, even if he was deathly pale and skinny, his bruises from weeks ago had yet to heal. Loras was almost convinced he would die in this cell without every seeing his family or the outside world again.

He heard footsteps down the stone halls and he shivered with fear backing himself into a corner terrified of who could be down here to torment him once more. But as usual the cell door opened but he didn't see one of the faith millitant, he saw a septa girl. In the usual heavy bulky robes that covered all but her hands and face, she walked in and shut the door behind her,

"Ser Loras?" She whispered,

Loras looked up in surprise. "Y-yes" he whispered

The septa knelt down next to him and he found himself staring at her likely because she was the first girl he’d seen since his arrest. She slowly pulled back her thick dress slightly revealing she has snuck in food. Warm tea, a flask of honey mead, a slab of bacon, a loaf of bread and some apples.

Loras’ eyes lit up, he could smell the heavenly aroma as she placed the feast before him. The food nearly brought tears to his eyes, he was hesitant fearing some sort of trick that if he took it that meant he was greedy and sinful and thus he’d be beaten even worse but he was so hungry he couldn’t help himself, "How...how did you get this?" He whispered, gently reaching for one of the apples,

"The town market. Eat." She whispered,

Loras picked up the apple and nearly wept at its softness. His stomach had been so vacant for so long but he took a small bite, almost as if scared that he was dreaming and these beautiful septa were merely a cruel illusion to torture him but here he thought she was some angel sent to save him. The apple was sweet and he wolfed the first down greedily. He then picked up the slice of bacon taking a large bite of the sweetness of the cured meat making a tear roll down his cheek,

"Make sure to hide it. I don't know what they will do to you if they find it." She whispered,

after several moments of gorging himself and nearly finishing the flask of mead, Loras nodded and hid the rest of the feast behind a loose rock on the wall.

"I will bring more tomorrow. In the mean time try and rest. I promise I'll be back for you," she cooed softly kissing his temple before she fixed her clothes, left his cell and disappeared into the darkness.

Loras sat there, staring at the spot where she'd disappeared for a long while, as if waiting to make sure she was gone. He then reached his hand up and touched the spot where she had kissed him. A lump formed in his throat, overwhelmed by her kindness and the promise of her returning soon.

Days passed, and Loras would find his mind wandering back to that beautiful Septa who had snuck him food, and comforted him. He would spend hours imagining what she might bring him hidden below her robes, his mind then began to wonder what she looked like beneath the heavy robe she wore, and then chastised himself for thinking such lustful thoughts when he was wasting away in a cell but he knew it was only his vacant mind trying to fill itself with anything he could think of.

In the dark of night, he found his cell open once more and she returned to him, Loras almost fell to his knees when she appeared in the doorway. He was beginning to worry if she'd actually return, and now here she was again. He got to his feet and stood before her.

She rushed inside shutting the door and smiling, "Are you alright?" She cooed worrying over a new cut he had been given in the time between her visits,

"I'm fine" he reassured her. He wanted to reach out and touch her. He had to force himself not to and instead sat back down on the cold ground

"you poor thing" she cooed, she ripped some fabric from her dress and cleaned his cut once it was clean and softly kissed just below it,

Loras tried not to shiver as she tended to his cut. Her hands were so soft and delicate. When she kissed him gently below the cut he exhaled sharply. He ached to pull her into him. To feel her soft body against his. He looked up at her with a burning in his eyes, "Please…What is your name?" He asked quietly

"Anastasia." She smiled, "here I brought as much as I could" she explained unpacking all the food she snuck in, this time she'd managed bacon, apples, bread, smoked fish, oranges, cheese and a large bottle of mead,

Loras had never wanted to kiss someone so badly. Her name alone, which was beautiful, only made her more alluring to him. He watched as she unpacked the feast she'd brought him and his mouth watered as she kept pulling out more food, "What are you risking by helping me like this?" he asked quietly

"do not worry over me." she smiled.

Loras felt his eyes drawn to her beautiful smile. She was like an angel sent to deliver him in his darkest hour. How had a lowly septa, who he had never even seen before, somehow become his salvation? "You're not just a septa. Are you?" he asked, gently. His sharp eyes studying her face in the soft candlelight

"I am not." She admitted, "but that's our little secret," she whispered,

Loras chuckled softly. She was a mystery and he liked it even more. He shifted on the floor and reached out to her, gently grabbing her hand. He looked up into her beautiful eyes "And what happens," he asked, his voice lowering "if someone finds out our little secret?"

"They'll execute me. Likely trial you and either execute you or force you though a walk of shame and send you to the wall."

Loras felt a shudder go down his spine. She was risking her life for his. For a knight she had never met. He swallowed hard, his fingers wrapping gently around her hand that he still held on his own. "Why are you doing this for me?" he asked quietly, gently squeezing her hand

"my reasons are... Complicated. But I promise you they are true. Have faith I will return I promise," she smiled resting her hands on his cheeks. She tried to move away at first but she kissed his lips in a tender and beautiful kiss before she pulled back and once more disappeared into the night,

Loras' body reacted even before she'd moved away from him. He grabbed her wrists to keep her from leaving. Suddenly, he needed to feel her against him. He pulled her roughly to him, into his lap. "I need-" he started to say, before giving in to the lust burning in his mind. He crashed his lips into hers in a kiss, desperate to taste the sweetness of her mouth His arms held her in place as he kissed her deeply. He'd been without human touch for so long he practically devoured her, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. Loras was already growing hard beneath his pants merely from the human contact and he had to force himself to pull back from the kiss, "Don't leave." he muttered, resting his forehead against hers

"I do not want to but I must... I promise I'll be back soon"

Loras tightened his arms around her waist, holding her to him. He had never been so drawn to a woman before and he'd be damned if he was going to let her, his salvation, go so soon. Loras buried his face in her neck, leaving a line of kisses down the slope of her throat "You promise you'll return?" he asked, his lips brushing against her skin,

"I promise" she cooed kissing his softly "anything you want me to bring you I'll do my best?"

Lorash thought for a moment. He wanted so much from her. Her touch, her kisses, her body. But the first thing that came to his mind was a luxury he'd had at home and was desperate for now, "A bath" he muttered against her neck, leaving another kiss just below her ear

she giggled "I'm not sure I can smuggle a bath under my dress"

He chuckled softly in response, his lips still nuzzling and kissing the skin of her neck. Loras wrapped his hands around her and moved them behind her back. The feel of her soft body against him was so delicious, he felt like he was about to explode "You could bring me you, instead" he whispered, letting his lips ghost against her ear

"of course I will" she smiled

He held her to him, wanting to just bask in the feel of her body. His mind kept drifting to what she would look like beneath all that fabric and to how her skin would feel. Loras inhaled the scent of her, his nose buried in her clothes, "How I wish I could take you right here in this cell" he whispered, his voice heavy with lust

"soon I promise" she cooed kissing him once more before she had to leave rushing away down the hall

Loras let out a soft whimper of disappointment as she pulled away from him. He hadn't felt this much need for a woman ever in his life, he’d only ever put on a smile of a front for women and found his pleasure in the men of court but this woman, his angel. She'd left him hard and aching for her body to be against his again. Loras exhaled, frustrated, and sat in the quiet of the cell. He began to count the days till she returned.

The days went by slowly, and Loras found his mind wandering back to the Septa all too often. He couldn't shake the memory of her body in his lap, the feeling of her lips against his, the taste of her neck against his lips. With nothing left to do, he would lie on the cold floor and imagine what he would do to her the next time she came to him,

One night the door opened again and Anastasia snuck herself inside,

Loras had been staring at the door, his heart racing. He was growing desperate. The days had felt endless since he'd last had her in his arms. He got to his feet, and in a couple of steps had closed the small distance between them and grabbed her around the waist "By the gods, I've missed you" he whispered, his fingers digging into her hips

"as have I." She smiled, she unpacked some food and drinks for him a small but well balanced feast

He was almost tempted to forget the food and just push her down on the floor, to take her then and there. But he was starving and the feast looked delicious. He grabbed a slice of the hot meat pie and groaned in pleasure. "You have no idea what I would do to you if we weren't stuck in this cell" he muttered as he chewed

"I'm well aware." She nodded "hopefully you shouldn't be for much longer... I'm working on a plan hopefully I should be able to get you out of here."

Loras perked up at her words. He put the meat pie down and stepped in front of her. He reached for her hands, lacing his fingers with hers. With a pleading look in his eyes, he held her hands in his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing her knuckles "You can get me out of here? How?"

"The high sparrow is arranging the queen regents walk of shame. All the faith millitant will be out in the streets and the city will be packed with people. We should be able to sneak out"

Loras was suddenly filled with a mixture of relief and hope. He held her hands tighter, not wanting to let her go, for fear she would disappear "Where will we go?" he asked, his mind already racing with ideas of escape, of finally being able to hold her the way he wanted to

"I plan to hire a cabin on a ship taking passage to pentos. I wish I could take you to highgarden but the faith and high sparrow have their claws all over westeros."

Loras found himself grinning at the idea. Freedom. No more cold cells, no more beatings. He could go wherever he wanted and with a beautiful woman by his side. He pulled her close to him, his arms circling her waist. His hands caressed the curve of her hips before resting on the small of her back "When can we leave?"

"soon I promise" she cooed "I know it's hard but you must be patient"

He knew she was right, and that they would have to be smart about this. Loras swallowed his impatience and focused on her eyes, and on her soft body pressed up against his. He sighed, knowing he needed to wait a while longer "It's going to be hard to wait" he muttered, his hands sliding down to rest on her hips,

she softly Giggled and smiled pulling him into a kiss,

Loras melted at the feeling of her lips on his again. He'd been desperate since the last time they kissed. His fingers gripped at her hips, pulling her harder into him. He nipped at her bottom lip as he deepened the kiss, his tongue pressing into her mouth

His hands moved down to her backside and he gripped at it, wanting to press her closer against him. He'd been aching for her body to be pressed against his own since she'd been gone. Loras pressed his tongue deeper into her mouth, letting out a low growl. He'd been thinking of this every night and now here she was, in his arms again

she gently pulls back and peppered kisses down his neck "I know it must be torture for you to wait... But, I can atleast help to... Tied you over" she whispered before she moved to kneel on the dirty cell floor and pepper kisses on his stomach

His spine tingled as she moved down his neck and the sound of her voice sent a shiver over his body. He tilted his head back, giving her better access to his skin, and inhaled a deep breath when her lips moved to his stomach "Gods, yes. Anything. I need you so badly"

she was gentle and careful knowing he'd be bruised and cut from his beatings but she made sure to be slow and careful as she unlaced his britches

Loras looked down to meet her eyes. She was so careful and attentive to all the small injuries he had on his body. He knew she was being caring and sweet, as she always was, but he couldn't help but ache for her to be rough with him. He held the breath in his chest "I need you, please" he panted breathlessly

she Nodded and moved closer starting her work

Loras had to put his hands on the wall behind him to hold himself up. Every time her lips met his skin, it sent a shiver down his spine. He groaned and gasped and panted. His mind couldn't focus Her hands were so soft and gentle on his body as she worked, and his body and mind almost couldn't take it

She worked gently and sweetly her hands and mouth in an intricate dance to make sure he was happy. She was taking her time, with sweet kisses and gentle moans and caresses that made him want to scream with need. His hands tangled in her hair, his back pressed against the wall, holding him up. His mind was completely overwhelmed with her. Everything she did made his body ache for more

He was struggling to hold in the words that were desperate to escape his lips. He needed her, his body desperately aching for more. Loras managed to speak in a trembling voice "More, please, I need more" he begged, his fingers gripping her hair in his hands

she Nodded and became even more attentive,

The added attention was quickly driving him crazy. Loras bit hard into his bottom lip to try and stop himself from making too much noise. He was panting and gasping, desperate for her to go harder. He dug his fingers into her hair and let out a deep exhale, a sharp shiver running down his spine. Loras threw his head back against the wall. She was making him so close, so fast. Every inch of his body was aching for her. He held onto her hair, and in a gasping whisper, he managed to say her name "Anastasia I'm... I'm" he panted He fought to keep his eyes open, his vision hazy from need. Loras was about to tip over the end, his body desperately seeking release.

she continues without even a moment of hesitation Egar to help him feel satisfied after so long

With a half choking gasp, Loras' release washed over him. He shuddered as the pleasure rushed through him. It was as if a dam had broken, all his tension finally being released over her. Loras slumped down,

she slowed and made sure he was alright cleaning up and helping him to lay on the stone bed "there now you rest I'll be back soon I promise"

Loras was panting and shaking, his body and mind still buzzing with pleasure. He was barely able to look her in the eyes as she helped him settle down on the cold stone. Through the hazy bliss of his release, he was still desperate to have her body against his and he reached for her with shaking hands "Stay. Please"

"I wish I could, but it won't be long I promise"

Loras knew she was right, as much as he didn't like it. He reluctantly let go of her, his hands falling back down to his side. He was completely spent, and he just wanted to hold her in his arms as he fell asleep, but he had to wait a little longer. He exhaled, letting his body relax as much as it could against the hard floor.

She kissed his cheek and then once more disappeared into the night leaving him like a desperate puppy awaiting her return. 

[countrymusiclover]

31 - The Stag King

Part 32

The Last Velaryon

Tag list @rise-my-angel @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @1not-today-satan1

Chezney’s pov

The road in front of me seemed to be mirring together and I couldn’t count how many moons it had been since we had left the camp heading onward to meet the youngest Baratheon brother Renly. Swinging my legs that hung on either side of the horse saddle I was seated on I eyed Lady Stark who was riding beside me. “You’ve been rather quiet, Lady Stark.”

“I haven’t had anything important to speak about, Lady Ally.” She responded with a stern voice.

I turned my head slightly to meet her gaze. “I’m not a lady. My mother was a handmaiden to my best friend's mother until she died in her birthing bed. After that my mother took it upon herself to raise me and my best friend regardless of our different stature.”

“You’re mother sounds like a much better woman than I myself was.” Lady Stark mumbled under her breath, still staring at the road ahead of us.

Biting my lip I could feel there was something she wasn’t telling me and so I reluctantly pressed on to know more. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, my lady.”

“Years ago one of the boys came down with the Pocks. Maester Lewin said if he made it through the night he’d live. But it would be a very long night. So I sat with him all through the darkness, listening to his ragged little breaths, his coughing, his whimpering.” Lady Stark began speaking tugging the reins of her horse so he’d walk slowly allowing us to have a better conversation with one another.

I assumed she was thinking about her eldest Robb yet nonetheless the question came from my lips. “Which boy was this?”

“Jon Snow.” She simply replied.

Thinking for a moment I didn’t recall much of the man she had named. I didn’t remember seeing him at the kings feast so long ago. I only can recall his features from when Haelesa was telling me about him the morning we were leaving on the Kingsroad. “He’s the one who was going to serve in the Night's Watch right. The one with black curly hair.”

She softly nodded her head yes finally sparing me a glance before continuing her story. “When my husband brought that baby home from the war I couldn’t bare to look at him. I didn’t want to see those brown strangers eyes staring off at me. So I prayed to the Gods to take him away, make him die. He got the Pocks. And I knew I was the worst woman who ever lived. A murder. I’d condemned this poor innocent child to a horrible death all because I was jealous of his mother - a woman he didn’t even know.”

“So what happened after that?” I asked her, feeling my eyes tearing up at the thought.

Lady Stark whipped away some fallen tears. “I prayed to all Seven Gods. Let the boy live, let him live and I’ll love him. I’ll be a mother to him. I’ll beg my husband to give him a true name, to call him Stark and be done with it. To make him one of us.”

“Then it must have worked since Haelesa told me that she had talked with Robb about him before we headed to Kings Landing.”

“He did live but…” She trailed off looking at her hands for a brief moment of time. “I couldn’t keep my promise. And everything that’s happened since then, all this horror that has come to my family. It’s all because I couldn’t love a motherless child.”

Biting my lip I ran my fingers through my hair just letting the sounds of nature surround us for a few long minutes. I always assumed that my mother was just like all mothers who would take in other children that weren't their own. Except I was wrong, not every mother was like her. “If that’s how you feel about Jon, how exactly do you feel about my best friend being married to your son if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I must admit, Lady Ally-“

Putting a hand over my heart I cut her off shortly. “Please just call me Chezney, Lady Stark.”

“I’ll do my best to remember your request.” She clicked her tongue meeting my soft gaze with her grey eyes. “I didn’t care much for her because of who she was betrothed to, the Kingslayer.”

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear I muttered back. “She didn't wish to marry Jaime Lannister either. I'm just sorry we've made this war an added stress by her falling for your son.”

“It's not that I don't want him to be happy. It's just - I found a way to love the man I was wed off to when I was your age. But I suppose I must remember not everyone was raised to be like Ned was.”

My horse paused to a stop allowing me to touch her hand closest to mine. “You raised your son well from what I've seen. He truly cares for my best friend.”

“That warms my heart as a mother. Would you take some advice from a widowed noble woman, Chezney?”

I simply responded. “Of course, my lady.”

“Renly Baratheon is very much like his elder Robert was. From what I’ve heard throughout the years he is very arrogant and cares about his outward appearance. Given the fact that we are here to represent my son and your friend I’d be mindful of your words. Keep our strategies to yourself but come off as very welcoming too.”

“Thank you, Lady Stark. I appreciate the advice.” I sent her a soft smile.

Lady Stark reached for my hand intertwining my fingers with hers, sending me a weak smile that crossed her lips when she spoke back. “Call me Catelyn. We are family after all since you and your friend are more like sisters than anything else.”

“We’re nearing the Baratheon camp, my ladies. Follow my lead. I’ll escort you inside the camp.” Brienne suddenly rode up beside me grabbing our attention before riding forward on her horse. Kicking my horse in the stomach I followed her tail with Catelyn following after me.

Entering the camp walls the three of us dismounted our horses being greeted by a knight with a Baratheon sigil on his chest plate. “My ladies, I am here to escort you to his grace.”

“Lead the way then, Ser Knight.” I nodded my head towards the knight when he turned on his heels and walked for a good time till we stopped at a crowd gathered around two people sitting on separate wooden throne chairs. The knight stepped into the middle of the circle once the crowd had separated and allowed us to walk forward. “Your grace, I have the honor to bring you Lady Catelyn Stark and Chezney Ally, sent an envoy by her son Robb, Lord of Winterfell.”

“Lord of Winterfell and King in the North.” Catelyn corrected the man’s introduction of us.

The man I knew had to be Renly Baratheon spoke first. “Lady Catelyn, I’m pleased to see you. May I present my wife Lady Margaery of House Tyrell.” He sat in his chair wearing golden armor and a golden crown sat upon his head which was in contrast to his Raven black hair.

“You are very welcome here, Lady Stark. I'm so sorry for your loss.” Margarey responded with a weak expression. The woman had light brown hair and was wearing a light blue gown.

Catelyn nodded in thanks. “You are most kind.”

“My Lady, I swear to you I will see the Lannisters answer for your husband's murder. When I take King's Landing, I'll bring you Joffrey's head.” Renly’s words of clear arrogance made all the men in his army to cheer loudly.

Catelyn clasped her hands together in front of the two nobles. “It will be enough to know that justice was done, My Lord.”

“Forgive me for asking but what noble house do you belong to Lady Chezney. I must admit I am not familiar with House Ally.” Renly’s wife shifted her gaze over to me seeing I was silently almost standing behind the Northern woman.

I bowed my head addressing the two before me with the best quick curtsy I could but I nearly stumbled over my own two feet. I blushed hearing some laughs behind me when I had regained my balance. “My lord, my lady. I must confess I am born of noble blood. My mother was a lady- in- waiting for my best friend and Robb Stark’s wife Haelesa Velaryon. Uh - oh I’m sorry - forgive me I’m not used to the noble addressing of lords and ladies.”

“There's no need for that. You and Lady Stark are honored guests.” Renly sent the two of us a genuine grin not bothered by the fact that I couldn’t do a proper curtsy.

Margaery’s brother suddenly questioned the former Lady of Winterfell. “Has your son marched against Tywin Lannister yet?”

“I do not sit on my son's war councils. And if I did, I would not share his strategies with you.” Catelyn snapped back slightly, not turning around to address the young lord's question.

Loras Tyrell growled back, finding her response insulting. “If Robb Stark wants a pact with us, he should come himself, not hide behind his mother's skirts.”

“My son is fighting a war, not playing at one.” I lightly smirked at her sharp response.

Renly rose from his chair coming down the steps to loop his arm with hers. He glanced over his shoulder calling to his wife and I. “Don't worry, My Lady. Our war is just beginning. Dear wife, show Lady Chezney around the camp would you.”

“Of course, my King.” The girl picked up her skirts coming down to meet me. She dropped the fabric of her dress offering me her hand with a kind grin. “Shall we walk to my tent, Chezney.”

Placing my hand in hers I prayed that we could make a good arrangement with these people to win the war. “I shall follow you, Lady Margaery.”

[maximusblack-hp]

Loras Tyrell x OC Male

Technically an Self-insert

He knows which universe he’s in, from his last life he remembers pirating the three-season shows and having to look away from the screen every other second due to his confusion about what he was seeing. As if he knew he shouldn’t be watching for his age.

He was supposed to be killed as an infant but instead, he was safe by his only uncle. Turns out he wasn’t the only reincarnated but so was his half-brother Jon Snow known now as Jaehaerys III Targaryen. Then there is also his uncle Viserys III Targaryen and his aunt Daenerys Targaryen. His aunt is technically the third of her name but apparently, it only counts if the person before you was a ruler. There has never been a female Targaryen ruler so therefore she is considered the first of her name.

The four of them are reincarnated and they have this theory it’s due to their Targaryen blood. It’s not that far of a stretch after all Targaryen can command dragons, walk through fire, and have visions of future or past events.

All of them seem to be immune to fire but Viserys is the only one who feels pain from it and sensitivity to light. He and Daenerys have visions but Daenerys focuses on the past while his focus is on the future. Jaehaerys has a mental link to all of them. He’s practically the medical version of a phone call.

Viserys who is the oldest among them whether in this life or the last will never stop being flabbergasted on how long it took for them to realize they all had past life memories. Maybe it's an old age superiority complex Aegon doesn’t really know. Though Aegon and Daenerys died very young in their last life so they don’t really feel that deep connection to the past like Viserys and Jaehaerys are.

Aegon has this theory that their memories aren’t due to their Targaryen blood but due to their connection with the world they’re in. In one way or another, they recognize this world from one source of media to another from their worlds.

In Daenerys’ World, it was a cartoon for kids about dragons and royalty. In his world, it was a three-volume novel with a three-season show about Dothraki and Sullied fighting against the hierarchy. Though really it was just a premise for NSFW content instead of any actual real plot.

In Jaehaerys’ world, it was a comic about ice monster zombies that could only be killed by fire from a dragon fire. And due to the Targaryens being extinct the nation as a whole was screwed. There were even plans in the making to adapt it into a post-apocalyptic movie of what happens to the ancestors of the main characters' kids in the comics who manage to get over the seas.

Then there is Viserys’ world, the one with the most complex version of the story. When Aegon first asked Viserys about it he got a 10-hour rant about how much it sucked and that he hated it except for the Dothraki and Dragons. Although Viserys seems to hate this world he is oddly very passionate about, with his so-called ‘hate.’ Then again there is a very thin line between love and hate.

Aegon is just happy that the craziness of this world seems to be in a calm trance. Though he knows it won’t last for long but he’s content. He is to be crowned soon by his uncle, no longer needing to hide his true identity or the person he loves.

Everyone knows that Lores is his lover and future spouse and there is nothing they can do. It’s nothing new among Targaryens and it doesn’t matter as long as there is a blood heir. Which shouldn’t be a problem for him since apparently his cousin Rhaegal was birthed by Viserys. The number of secrets among the Targaryen bloodline will never cease to amaze them.

It might take a while before he and Loras have children, if anything it’s shocking it hasn’t happened yet. From how often they fucked like bunnies in the heat but then again he needs to bottom for it to happen. Ageon is willing to do it but it will take a while for him to get Loras to agree since his lover loves Bottoms and never thought of them ever doing it the other way around.

Sighing, Aegon turns around to snuggle Loras’ body under him while giving a kiss to Loras' bruised nape from all the love mites on it. It’s too early for him to worry about other events he’ll deal with later. And not on his own for he no longer needs to hide who he is whether be it his identity or who he beds.

[cdragons]

No Hope - Robb Stark x Lady-in-Waiting!Reader

Summary: You ended it. It killed you to do so, but you had to do it. Soon, it won't matter anyway - you were set to travel with Lord Stark and Lady Sansa as her lady-in-waiting to King's Landing. It's not as if you two will ever meet again. How wrong you were...

Warning(s): Hard Dom Robb, OC is cold, Robb is dark AND delulu, Canon divergence, hard smut, slight BDSM, KIng's Landing criminal justice system, etc.

Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY DIPPY!!! I know I'm three days late, and I swear I meant to finish this on your actual birthday, but I ended up overwriting, and then I had to be at the DMV for about 7 hours and then had to pack up my house yesterday 🫠. ANYWAY, thank you so much for being such an amazing friend! It really has been such an honor to see how much you, your writing, and your blog have grown! Here's to another year of friendship and great writing!

The siege against King’s Landing was a success, resulting in an overwhelming victory for Stannis’ campaign as the new King of the Seven Kingdoms.

House Lannister, despite the arrival of reinforcements from House Tyrell, led by Ser Loras, was no more. While it was a clever ruse on House Tyrell’s part, neither house would have expected men from the Riverlands to join Stannis in his fight, resulting in an overwhelming victory. As a result, the futures of two of the ancient Seven Great Houses of Westeros now rest in the hands of a new ruler—King Stannis of House Baratheon, a figure whose emergence will undoubtedly shape the course of Westeros.

Despite being a wheelhouse dozens of miles away from King’s Landing at this point, the shouts and cheers of Stannis’ men rang clear in your ears. Inside were three young women transported to the Westerlands—to Robb Stark, the Young Wolf and King of the newly independent North.

The thought of seeing him again after the way the two of you left things off made the ride all the more unpleasant.

You remained silent and softly stroked your lady’s head as she rested her head on your lap. Tried as she could to stay lucid and awake, but it seemed that the stress and terror from being trapped as King Joffery’s former betrothed before being sold to his dwarf of an uncle had taken its toll. As she slept, you took in her features and noted the changes from the child you knew in Winterfell to the young woman trapped in King’s Landing. Her gorgeous red Tully hair lost some of its splendorous luster, appearing more matted and unkempt than you had ever seen it after years of being in Lady Sansa’s lady-in-waiting. Despite being in the South for over a year, her ivory skin seemed to pale until it was translucent. While the court believed her pale fairness to result from her Northern birth, only you and Shay knew that it was from Sansa’s inability to stomach more than a few meager bites off her plate during her mealtimes.

“The circles under her eyes have darkened further,” you thought as Sansa gripped your skirt – tightly clenching her fist as if she were a small child still terrified of the dark. “She’s grown too thin – she’s barely improved since I’ve returned by her side.”

It terrified you when Shae, who took your place as her handmaiden, informed you that her mood had improved tremendously since Lord Tyrion’s success in releasing you as a wedding gift to his new wife. Knowing that Sansa, to which your previous liege lord entrusted her care to you, was in such a state for months broke your heart. The bright and cheerful smiles you adored had become so rare since you returned to her side. But you hoped that due to recent events, your red-haired wolf would soon smile as brightly with all the more radiance as she did as a child.

“Do you think Lord Tyrion will be alright?”

You looked up to see Shae sitting across from you on the other side of the carriage. Her expression, while usually impassive and unreadable, was fraught with unease about the uncertainty of the future—hers and her lover’s.

“Stannis Baratheon is not one who shows mercy,” you answered truthfully. “It is likely that he will face the same fate as his nephew, as well as his sister and father.”

Perhaps your tone was too blunt, judging by the slight flinch Shay gave when you referred to Joffery Lannister. But, it would not help anyone, much less her, if you spoke anything less than the truth – that was what Ned Stark taught you since you were a child, and it was by that faith you would remain steadfast no matter what. She deserved nothing less than the truth; it was what you owed her. After all, from what Sansa spoke to you, she helped protect her however she could when you were not by her side.

And for that, you were most grateful.

“However,” you continued, “perhaps Lord Varys will vouch for him. The Master of Whispers holds Lord Tyrion in high regard, and out of all his family, your lover is admittedly the best of them. If nothing else, maybe he’ll pledge loyalty to Stannis and convince Tommen to do the same.”

 She grew flustered, “He is not…we are not–”

“You will not find judgment from me,” you assured her with a bitter chuckle. You looked down at Sansa, her sleeping figure sparking a twinge of guilt in your heart. “Believe me, I am the last one to preach about the sins of an affair between a lord and his servant.”

It was a joyful reunion between mother and child. Before the wheelhouse fully stopped, Sansa flung open the doors and leaped out, racing into her mother's arms. Lady Stark was just as eager to hold her daughter – forgetting all forms of propriety and etiquette when she picked up her skirts to run. Both were a mess of wide smiles and joyful tears, and you don’t believe you’ve ever seen Lady Stark act so young. Seeing the two embrace – one who lost a husband and two sons and the other who lost a father and two brothers –made for such a beautiful scene that it made you weep in relief.

“I did it, my lord,” you silently prayed out, “I’ve kept my promise.”

You swore you felt your liege's gratitude by the gentle breeze that blew through the field. But unfortunately, the joy you felt would only further load the weight of the shackles of your guilt and self-loathing that refused to release you. Even if someone as good and honorable as Ned Stark could find it in his heart to forgive you – you couldn’t help but feel you don’t deserve his forgiveness.

…No…you knew you didn’t deserve it, and knowing that made the shackles heavier than you’ve ever felt.

Sansa was absent since Lady Catelyn insisted that her daughter remain by her side for the night. Shae accompanied her, and you remained alone as you lay on the cot set for you. A squire announced himself before entering the tent the men had set up for you and Shae. He called out your name and informed you that you were expected to wait in His Grace’s tent.

“His Grace requested a moment with you,” he explained, “he wishes to thank you for your service and loyalty to Princess Sansa.”

“Well, you can tell ‘His Grace’ that he can thank me here,” you scoffed. “Because I’m not fucking moving.”

You dismissed the young man without a second thought. Seriously? Did he genuinely expect you to come so quickly to him? Honestly, the nerve of that man.

It was not long before the squire returned.

“H-his Grace insists that you meet him,” he stammered.

The poor boy looked terrified, like a little puppy caught by its master for doing something it wasn’t supposed to. Seeing his discomfort was almost adorable – it nearly made you smile.

“And I insist that he let me rest,” you raised your brow and cocked your head to the side. “Or is he, in fact, ordering me to meet him? Ahh, and after such a long journey – honestly, he acts so spoiled sometimes, such a typical highborn born with everything.”

“Please, my lady,” he pleaded.

You impassively stared at the poor fellow briefly. His cheeks were flushed bright red underneath the dirt and grime, and his eyes looked close to crying. Gods, Robb – what in the Seven Hells kind of tongue lashing did you give the poor boy? Surely, he wasn’t so desperate to see you, especially considering how the two of you left things off.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I suppose I could spare him a moment. But it won’t be before I’ve had a bath – I’ve already called for hot water; it won’t be long.”

“Oh, thank you, my lady,” he sighed in relief. “His Grace will be most grateful to see you once he is finished speaking with his council in the war tent.”

Fuckin’ son of a–

You swore you felt a vein on your forehead pop. Did that idiot really summon you to his tent while he was in a council meeting?

The walk from your tent to Robb’s was a battle in itself - your mind dreaded what your heart longed for.

You had just finished your bath and changed into a simple linen dress (plain but clean) when you decided you kept His Majesty waiting long enough (two hours, give or take). You were just about to enter when a particularly irritatingly slow clap stopped you in your tracks. There was only one person who could bring out your ire in such a short amount of time. You turned around to see Theon Greyjoy – standing and smirking like the arrogant bitch you fought and played with since you were just a girl.

“Well, aren’t you a vision?” he smirked. “Makes you wonder how the men of King’s Landing kept their hands to themselves when they saw you.”

“Wouldn’t know,” you wryly replied, “after all, I spent most of my time there in a dark, damp cell. I barely had enough food and water to survive, let alone to be a vision.”

Although Theon still joked and teased like he always had, you could see the war had taken its toll on him. He grew thinner. His body had lost weight, and his muscles appeared leaner and more taut. His shaggy curls were more closely trimmed and no longer tickled his shoulders. But his eyes—how they looked so haunted and tired—made your heartbreak.

“He’s missed you,” he whispered. There was no need to state a name – you both knew who he was referring to.

“He got married,” you replied while looking away. To a Frey, no less.

“She's dead, and he never loved her.”

“That makes it better?”

“It does when you were the one who broke his heart,” he retorted.

You sharply turned back, “That is not–”

Light poured out of the tent behind you as the front flap opened. You heard your name being called out in that tone that always made your knees buckle—revering and filled with longing with an undertone of authority. It beckoned you to look at him, and when you did, you swore you felt your heart leap into your throat by him.

“You’re late,” he grunted.

Robb Stark, with his crystalline blue eyes not once looking away from you, shifted to the side and let you in. His gaze moved to Theon and narrowed when he noticed the lack of distance between the two of you. Saying nothing, you silently bowed your head before heading inside the warm tent. However, you remained close enough to hear the brief exchange between the Greyjoy and Stark. But after being away from Robb for so long, you couldn’t focus on any words between the two men.

Taking a deep breath, your body tingled as you took the familiar notes of fine leather and freshly burned smoke. You glanced at his bed and longed to lie in its furs without the hindrance of clothes. Your mouth watered at the idea of wrapping yourself in them. The idea of pressing your nose against the furs made your center throb and grow wet, as the idea of the scent of his hot sweat mixed with his musk trapped in those hides was almost too much to bear.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you nearly missed Robb calling out your name. You responded by regaining your composure as quickly as possible so as not to betray any lustful thoughts swimming in your mind.

“What did you and Theon talk about?” he bluntly asked, standing impassively as you remained silent.

“Was the journey smooth?” he tried again. Nothing.

“I hope my men–”

“Idle prattle doesn’t suit you,” you tiredly sighed. “Just tell me whatever you waited so long for, and then I can return to my tent and finally rest.”

Robb clenched his fists and stared at the ground. How cruel, how unfair – one word from you, just hearing your voice, struck every word on his tongue dead. War made him lax. He, of all people, should know how you could drive good men to insanity.

Yes – it felt like he was going mad.

He looked up from the ground and wanted to weep. There you stood – looking as beautiful as a fresh layer of snow and just as cold. It took everything in him not to reach out and pull you close. He wanted to feel your body close to his, to revel in the softness of your hidden warmth. He wanted to go back to Winterfell – to simpler times with his father and brothers alive and laughing, to when Jon was by his side and his brother and best friend, and to when you would look at him like he was your world.

How you used to look at him – how he still looked at you.

Robb tried to start a conversation to loosen the tense atmosphere, but it was clear you weren’t having it. You even cut him off on his third attempt. Your voice was so cold that it burned him like ice. He wasn’t even sure if you were looking at him or just at a corner of the tent so you could maintain that cold, domineering façade you had perfected since childhood. It was obvious to him that you were trying to goad him into losing his temper – giving you the perfect excuse to leave and ignore him again.

Why else had you sent his squire back to him after he requested your presence to wait for him at his tent? Furthermore, why else did you make him wait two hours for your bath?

“I wish to thank you for your loyalty towards my sister during her time as the Lannisters’ hostage,” Robb calmly said, keeping his voice steady but firm. “You acted bravely.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I acted as anyone else would have in my position. My loyalty to your sister and family is not something to be admired or coveted.”

“That’s not true,” Robb argued. “Your loyalty to my family is nothing short of admirable. It’s only right that–”

“Robb.”

It was infuriating how regal you looked, carrying the air of a queen.

“My loyalty will always belong to House Stark, that’s true – but,” you stared deep into his gaze, “all I cared about in that damp, rotting cell, where I was given barely enough water and food to survive, was whether my lady was well.”

Please stop it.

“I didn’t endure because my lady was a Stark,” you continued, “I endured because it was Sansa.”

He couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Is it only for Sansa that you’ve suffered?” he rasped in anger.

This wasn’t good; he just got you back. If he doesn’t properly utilize this chance, you’ll be gone from him forever. He knew you’d never leave Sansa’s side. Your loyalty to her, even when she still acted like the spoiled little princess of the North, drew him to you. As the eldest daughter, Sansa was the one closest to their mother. However, as the second eldest child, it also meant that she had to understand she could not always have their parents’ attention. Before Jeyne Poole, before Septa Mordane – you were Sansa’s first and constant companion. You were someone whose loyalty ran deep and remained unwavering in the worst times.

He collected himself enough to apologize for his outburst when your voice returned – regal and imposing, cold and distant.

“Not just Sansa,” you stated. “…I also made a promise to Lord Stark.”

Something in him snapped. Robb considered himself a good man, an honorable man. One whose father instilled lessons of honor and duty in him since he was old enough to walk. A father who he missed, whose absence was painful. But hearing you speak of him, of his father, it was like a bucket of ice water was poured over him, and it awoke a bitter memory he had long forgotten.

“Is it true?” Robb demanded unannounced after storming into his father’s private study. His father sat at his desk, appearing as tired and weary as the day of his departure from home to the vicious South treads closer with each passing day. Ned set down his quill and sighed deeply. He knew it would not be long before Robb would come in to demand an explanation. He supposed that, as his boy’s father, he owed his eldest son that much… if for not his own sake, then for the sake of closure. “…What may you be referring to, Robb?” he asked, despite already knowing what this was about. Robb furiously shook his head, “Do not pretend with me, Father. Did you or did you not plant the idea of a future engagement between her and me as treason against you?” “…Before I answer that,” Ned began carefully, not wanting to upset his son further, “am I to understand that when you mean ‘her,’ you are referring to a particular lady-in-waiting favored by your sister?” It frightened Ned how quickly Robb’s anger was snuffed out. He whispered your name with reverence and veneration fit for the Maiden. But just as soon as his heir’s fury went away, it came back at a speed and quantity tenfold. Ned could see it in his eyes. Robb may have inherited his Tully mother’s eyes, but the cold storm raging in them could only belong to one whose blood belongs to the Old Gods of the North. “Sansa requested her to accompany us while she learns to be Prince Joffrey's future queen,” Ned explained. “Robb… your sisters need people they can trust – now more than ever with Bran’s accident.” “And she’s agreed to this?” Robb interrogated. “You expect me to believe that?” “Yes,” Ned solemnly nodded, “because it was brought up to me by her…”

Robb didn’t believe it then, and he still didn’t believe it now. He refused to entertain the idea of you, of all people, who would propose to his father that you leave him. You, who Robb loved with a love more fervent and true than any fanciful tale sung by the bards in Southern courts. You, who listened to all of Robb’s deepest fears and worries since you and him were still small children. You, who whispered promises of love and devotion to Robb night after night since he first warmed your bed.

You, who cried tears of joy when he secretly proposed to you underneath the blood-red leaves and snow-painted branches of the weirwood tree, swearing his love to you before the Old Gods and New.

…No…no, no, no—it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be…but what other explanation was left?

“Robb…?” your voice gently called out to him. “If that’s all you wish to say to me… then I must be heading back to my–”

He walked forward and tightly grasped your arms, making you unable to escape. Robb felt your feeble attempts to pry his fingers off with your delicate hands. But it was to no avail.

“Why…?” Robb rasped, letting out all the pain and longing he had been keeping locked inside since you dissolved you and his affair. “Why did you leave? …Why did you leave me?”

“Damn you,” you thought. “Damn you, Robb Stark.”

It was pathetic… how easily this man broke down your walls. One word… one word from him was enough to make you want to surrender everything.  

“I…I-I… only did what I thought was best,” you stammered. “For us…and for you…”

Robb scoffed because why wouldn’t he?

“For me…?” he rhetorically repeated. “Leaving me – no, abandoning me… that was for my benefit? Do you really expect me to believe that?”

You shook your head, “Belief is secondary to truth,” you explained. “And I am telling you the truth. I’ve never lied to you.”

“Right, of course – that’s why you ran off to King’s Landing with my sister,” Robb raged. “Yes, certainly that for my well-being. You, being paraded and courted by knights and nobles with their pretty words and fine silks – what a relief to know that you endured all that for me…”

Oh, this son of a – gods, how could one man be so beautiful, yet so infuriating?!

“Did you ever love me?” he asked, his voice a little rough from choking back tears. “Was it ever real? Any of it? Or was it all a lie?”

“I believe I told you I was expected to wake your sister for her early celebration…” you looked out the window, “…right now…? It would seem…?” It was the morning of Sansa’s eleventh birthday. Lady Stark planned to surprise her daughter with a splendid spread of leek pottage, freshly baked bread, slices of smoked meat, and a cup of sweet Dornish wine. She entrusted the duty of waking the little princess of the day to you, Sansa’s most entrusted companion. It was expected that you would take the role. After all, everyone in the castle knew what an absolute nightmare Lord Stark’s eldest daughter was in the early mornings. …But…it would seem that Lord Stark’s eldest son and heir did not understand the gravity of your role today…considering he remained insistent that you spend your morning with him… in his bed… without any clothes on your person. While usually, you’d be much more cross at his insistence… you couldn’t deny how delicious it felt waking up in his arms after a night of gloriously intense lovemaking. And the way he further convinced you by tracing feather-light kisses down your neck and collarbone was downright sinful. “I believe…” he momentarily nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, causing you to softly shriek and giggle. “…I told you never to speak of my sister or any member of my family while in bed with me.” His lips trailed further down to the valley of your breasts. “Stay here…with me…and let’s forget the world this morning.” Gods, it’d be so easy to give in …to remain hidden from the world within the arms of your beloved…but life was hardly so easy. “You know I – can’t…!” you sharply gasped at the feel of his lips around your teat. You pitifully whined his name. “Robb, please…” “Shhh—careful, my love,” he huskily whispered, “unless you want all of Winterfell to know how even one of its coldest women is powerless against her wolf…” You held his chin to press a soft kiss against his lips. Gazing into his deep pools of sapphire, you knew this was the only man you could ever give your heart to. “My wolf…” you corrected, “and only mine…” “Yours…” Robb agreed as the two of you got lost in each other all over again.

Instinct and fury blinded rationality and composure as a sharp crack rang within the tent as your palm made contact with Robb’s cheek. Hot tears spilled from your eyes as the wet trails streamed down your cheeks.

“Fuck you, Robb…” you grit out.

Did he not think you haven’t craved him and his love as much, if not more, since your separation? Was he so obtusely… thick in the skull to think that you hadn’t cursed yourself for plunging you both into the cruel depths of a life without the other? Had he not realized that what saved you from falling into despair… from the moment you were thrown into the Red Keep’s dungeons… was your sweet memories of him?

You angrily swiped away your tears on the back of your hand before shoving him aside so you could make your way out of the tent. You couldn’t stand to be so close to him, not anymore, not when it cut you so deeply.

What was the point? Of being so close to one when they cannot have the other?

But it seemed your king did not agree with your sentiments as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back toward him. Your chest collided against his, and you felt the hard planes of his muscles and wanted to sink to your knees while stripping him of all barriers that blocked his glorious body.

Robb growled as he felt the tremulous rhythm of your beating heart, effectively giving away all your true feelings and desires toward him – the same he felt to you.

“You’re a cruel woman…” he growled as he forced you to look into his deep, blue eyes by holding your chin, “but you’re my woman.”

Without another word, he seized you by the arm and threw you onto his bed. He tore off his tunic before gripping your ankles with both hands and forcing them wide open before he forcefully pulled your body to the end of the bed. Not wasting another moment, he clutched the neckline of your nightdress and tore it open, leaving you exposed and defenseless against him. You felt the peaks of your breasts harden against the cold air and tried to cover them with your arms, but Robb slapped your hands away and pinned your hands above your head.

“And I’ll make sure you learn your place by the time I’m done with you…”

Time meant nothing inside that tent. The only things that mattered were Robb Stark, young King of the North and recently widowed, and you, his precious whore he loved so dearly. It could have been an hour, it could have been five –you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that your former lover was currently cementing his claim on you as his bitch-in-heat by making you cum twice with his fingers and thrice more from his cock.

“You *huff* …really…expe- fuck…!” The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, interrupted by the squelch of your juices mixed with his as he moved in and out of you. He loudly groaned when he felt your walls clamp down on his still-hard shaft. “Fuck – how are you still so fucking tight…?”

You didn’t answer him; you couldn’t – at least not with words. Each of Robb’s thrusts hit that spot inside you that made you lose all sense of logic and rational thought. All you could offer was broken garbles and moans of your ecstasy as your insatiable wolf continued to feast on your pleasure. And this only seemed to further incense Robb into driving himself deeper inside you, as if he had not already caused you to peak three times since he first pushed into you. Your vision became blurry as your eyes crossed, but he brought you back by delivering a hard slap against your bottom, the stinging pain quickly shifting to ebbing pleasure.

“Well?” he tauntingly jeered, thoroughly enjoying your sharp tongue could only be quieted by him fucking you dumb. “I expect an answer…!”

“Ah-ah-ah – FUCK…!” you cried out after he delivered another harsh slap on your bottom’s other cheek, making you sharply gasp and continue to slather your drool and tears into his bed’s furs. “I don’t know…!”

Robb cruelly smirked, “Don’t know…?” He grabbed the front of your neck and pulled you until your sensitive back was pressed flush against his hard chest. “Don’t lie to me… you know… don’t pretend that you don’t – but do you want me to tell anyway?”

Fervently nodding, you felt him grin as his hot breath panted against your neck, causing goosebumps to prick across your skin covered in bite marks.

“It’s because…” Robb quickened his pace from rough to erratic as your mind nearly blanks from feeling more and more of him hitting the entrance to your womb, “we both know that cunt belonging to such a cold whore like yourself…could only be thawed with cock like mine and only mine.”

The war changed him. The Robb you knew and loved would never dream of speaking to you in such a filthy and vulgar manner. Before, your Robb always made love to you sweetly with the gentlest touches, and as far as you could tell and feel, he was gone. In his place was a wolf with a voracious appetite who could only seem satisfied with your humiliation from his rough squeezes and unforgiving pace. The evidence was plain to see by how he littered your body with purple love bites down your neck, red bite marks over your breasts and inner thighs, and deep indents of his nails from gripping your hips too hard and too long.

And the worst part of it? You loved it. Every bit of his ministrations was a piece of heaven. If this were torture, then you would only crave pain for the rest of your existence. Everything hurts so good, from the way his thick, throbbing cock stretches your walls to the way his rough, calloused hands manhandle your body with his bruising grip. You weren’t sure if there was anything left of you that Robb didn’t already possess. Your eyes glazed over the veins in his arms bulge as you barely register the rasped grunts and growls leaving his lips. If you looked down, you were sure to see the outline of his cock bulging from inside you as he continued to split you open.

He stilled for a moment and whispered in your ear as you cried out your frustration and begged him not to stop.

“I’m going to cum in you,” he rasped with perverse glee, “and afterward, I’m going to make sure my seed takes root in your womb.” He pushed your face down to the furs and forced your hips to meet his thrusts without mercy. “You tried to… escape your fate by leaving. Well, *huff* let me tell you right now… that’s never going to happen – I’ll lock you… in the tallest tower in Winterfell and chain you to the bed if I have to…”

One of his hands left your hips and went below you as his fingers deftly sought out the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs that was your clit. You tried to protest, not sure if your body could take even more pleasure, but all that came out was a warbled cry as he pressed down and circled your bud. The overstimulation was proving to be too much as your body started shaking. You felt a cord tightening more and more until it just *snapped*, and you screamed out your release as your entire body trembled.

Robb refused to let up his pace, and he continued to thrust in and out of you as you felt him stiffen and – gods, how did he get even bigger? Before he released his seed inside you, he bottomed out – making sure that there was nothing of him that was not inside your sopping cunt. Your vision went white as he let out a loud and powerful groan from his release, and you could feel his hot seed painting your inner walls with his essence.

His peak seemed to drain him of all his energy as he gathered you in his arms without pulling out and resolved himself to finally rest. His sweaty forehead rested against your shoulder as he panted. Between each labored breath, he planted a kiss across your shoulders – your body still twitching from the intensity it endured as you, too, tried to catch your breath.

All was silent until you found yourself speaking, “…There was no hope, was there…?”

Robb lifted his upper body on one arm to hover over you. You repeated your question, to which he gave you a relaxed smile and tucked a stray piece of hair stuck to your temple behind your ear.

“No, love…” he confirmed. “But you must have known that from the beginning…I would have never let you go.”

…How does one respond to that?

You tried to search for the answer in his eyes, but all you saw was love… love, and madness. It was always there inside him; you’ve known that from the beginning… only you were blinded by his beauty and your love for him. But your lord knew the truth; he saw that obsessive love from the start; after all, Robb was his son. He warned you, but you didn’t listen. It wasn’t until you saw him beat a poor knight bloody and broken on the ice-covered ground – all because you made the mistake of smiling at him.

That’s why you ended your secret engagement. You had hoped that time and distance would ebb away the insanity flowing in his blood, or perhaps he would find someone else and eventually forget you – whichever came first.

But that was a fool’s dream; you knew that now.

Wordlessly, you nodded, to which Robb gently pressed his lips to yours, just as he had back in Winterfell. With each second, you began to respond more and more to the kiss. You wrapped your arms over his neck as his lips trailed down your next again, and you felt your sore body humming for more despite its sensitivity. Your fingers gripped his unruly, dark auburn curls as a tear trailed your cheek.

Forgive me, my lord…I’ve failed.

But you know you were secretly glad of it. After all, how could you not be? Life was growing inside you at that very moment.

Tagging: @dipperscavern, @ethereal-athalia, @axelsagewrites, @rise-my-angel, @anewpersonthatexists, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @lenasdmns, @justmymindandstuff, @aoi-targaryen, @vyctorya, @metalblindbitch, @h34rts-4uu, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @sylasthegrim

[visenyaism]

feastdance dashboard simulator

💋queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

it’s so sick that people keep criticizing queen cersei as if she’s not the first female ruler of westeros??? literally elevating bastards and women to her small council is super fucking progressive as is creating the precedent of dismissing unfit kingsguard??

🪨dragonstoner Follow

aren’t all of her children literally bastards born of incest

💋 queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

oh so now you’re going to listen to stannis baratheon, known misogynist, kinslayer, fornicator, team green supporter, and homophobe, huh.

🦑pykedyke

okay guys i know there’s no “perfect candidate” but you have to vote in the kingsmoot anyways not voting is how someone like e****n g*****y wins and literally anyone is better than him. suck it up and row to the polls

🦈reaveherihardlyknowher

ohhhh not this “vote your crew no matter who” “blue lips man bad” bullshit again. fuck off idgaf which godless man sits the seastone chair i’m not voting for asha shes literally a neoliberal

🦷 lastoftheegiants

first i had to give up my rights and then i had to give up my gods just to not get killed by fucking wights but i literally cannot believe the nights watch made me give up my strap as part of the treasure ransom. shit was expensive it was IVORY. i hate southerners so much i hope the lord commander dies

🌪️kinslayerr

DO NOT COME TO THE RIVERLANDS

🍓silverspurs Follow

why

🌪️kinslayerr

there’s riverlands here

🧜‍♂️theythemderly

freys

🌾maidencool

my cousin got eaten by rats in harrenhal

🐎brackennation Follow

dumb cunts wearing raven feather cloaks strutting around who think they’re better than you but they’re not better than you

🌟sevenstar

i saw a guy get killed and then just stand back up and start fighting again because his friend kissed him on the mouth down here once

🦌whitehart

giant feral pack of 60 wolves running around

🍓silverspurs Follow

ok understandable have a nice day

🫧bastardwaters

i hate the fucking sparrows can we be normal for five minutes or can we just not have shit in the crownlands

☠️real-stormlands-patriot Follow

ITS LORD COMMANDOVER #RIPBOZO

🐦‍⬛mormonts-raven-bot Follow

CORN! DEATH! CORN!

(CAW! I follow members of the Night's Watch to remind them of their oaths!)

🦷 lastoftheegiants

????

🍋floriansjonquil

Loras Tyrell x Queen of Love and Beauty!Reader Imagines

Keep Reading

🪻maidens-smile Follow

girl this is notttttt the time he literally just fucking died at dragonstone?

💎oathkeeper

should’ve stanned jaime #LORASFELLOFF

💐flowerknight

one kill yourself jaime lannister is an honorless kingslaying turncloak two i heard loras tyrell was literally fine?

👊fleabottomtop

lord davos seaworth, the class traitor from the stannis baratheon administration, is a nasty little thottie and just died from making it clap in white harbor

🌅girlheir

this tower fucking sucks.

🌅girlheir

i’m just like rhaenyra targaryen for real

🌅girlheir

🐀ratcook5000 Follow

people meat tastes good asf when you don’t have a wench in your ear saying it violates guest right

🐺threeeyedwolf

🍒ladylance

need that targ girl in mereen to get those lizards over here and liberate this website by any means necessary cause what the fuck is going on

[snow-blower]

So…

Could you put your Loras Tyrell bit on janitor..?🥺

Please pook us gays are hungry 😫🙏

I absolutely can!! Not sure what was wrong with j.ai whilst making this but took awhile to show up on my page lmfao

https://janitorai.com/profiles/c4aeff01-fc0f-42ae-8cd9-49e1e9a67989_profile-of-3-lisia-ow-o

[tricksh0t]

★ helping hand (Hamburger Helper)

☾ jaime lannister x m reader

𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ dw about the hamburger helper its a joke

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 2.14k words

cw: handjob, frotting, spit, sub Jaime, dubcon, swearing

Jaime is stressed. Actually, Jaime Lannister is stressed, because all his troubles seem to stem from his house duties.

Jaime knew that his father, Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King, seasoned army commander, war winner, and expert at giving disappointed looks was likely to strip him of his titles and send him back to Casterly Rock to continue the family line if he so much as made a single mistake, even going as far as taking back his words of disowning him, now that his little brother, Tyrion, was a very persecuted criminal. A breeding mare, he would be, because as much as Jaime hates to think about it, he is a one-handed knight who lost his sword hand.

If there's something he has, it's his cock, and it works; but he can't say it stands proud anymore, because his secret sister-wife Cersei denies him so much as a hand and he is nothing but blisteringly loyal to her.

So here he is, sexually, emotionally and physically frustrated, without his usual duties to fulfill like flaunting his sword.

The only thing that's not Lannister about his troubles is actually Tyrell, or rather, the cocky knight his new to-be-in-laws have brought with them from Hightower to become part of the King's Guard, you.

Already, you think yourself a God not to be fucked with, the second coming of Ser Meryn Trant, not for the asshole's skill but for his arrogance and blatant discourtesy.

What you have over Ser Meryn is actual skill as a swordsman, something you are right to be proud of, if you weren't so arrogant about it. Then there's your looks.

The Tyrells and Hightower love to be pretty. Margaery is a good match for his son already, despite what Cersei says, she is pretty on the outside as well as the inside. Loras, the Knight of the Flowers, is a popular bachelor, even though he has apparent, different tastes, he knows how to use his looks to fool a girl for his house duty. Olenna, though old, still decorates herself with the finest dresses and jewelry, almost as if it is second nature to her.

Naturally, you must be pretty too. You're not a Hightower kind of pretty, though, you're handsome, more rugged, scarred. You wear the Tyrell colors, their embroidery, their style, and yet you remain in Jaime's eye different.

It's too bad you're an asshole. He might've been good friends with you.

Jaime doesn't know why he's thinking about you while he's doing this. Initially, he'd just screwed his eyes shut to try to empty his mind and think of better things.

He tries to drift his attention towards what he usually likes, another's soft hands he's proud to have kept soft; long, flowing, and wavy blonde hair, emerald green eyes; but then he finds himself thinking of you again.

Rough hands that might just feel good on him, short hair, narrowed, mocking eyes, and another mocking smile to accompany them. Then muscles beneath armor, then muscles beneath nothing, then sweat and that sword hand wrapped around your sword and then imaginatively, wrapped around his cock.

And it's getting him off.

Imagining the hand he's got around him is yours is a filthy, guilty pleasure he'll never admit to, but it only helps that it's his left hand, because it feels foreign.

"Need a hand?"

Jaime jumps. His eyes snap open and he flings his hand away, only to sloppily pull up the sheets of his bed to cover himself decently.

"Just what are you doing here?" He asks, because he knows you've heard of knocking.

Evidently, you spy on the fact he hasn't gone soft. You continue taking steps forward. "I asked you a question first."

Jaime steels his dignity to speak next, "Jerking off is a one-handed thing, I'm afraid."

"Not going to take my so very kind offer?" You only stop nearing when you get to the edge of his bed.

You look down on him like you're in some position of power over him, even though he has all levels of seniority on you, because that is how you are. Cocky and arrogant and self-entitled.

Jaime sits up, but you push him back down, placing a hand on the unlaced front of his sleeping tunic, on his chest. His weak flesh hand comes up to fight yours, clutching at your wrist. His gold-plated, heavy hand is useless, and thus though he may not surrender, he cannot push you away.

You suddenly place your other hand beside his head, making him jump pathetically, but he is unable to go elsewhere as you lean down to whisper, "Let's not pretend that you do not fancy me, Kingslayer."

Your hand plays the part of a seductress, pushing his tunic loose around the top to caress at his hairless, toned chest. A warm touch, and he was right: a rough one too, the pads of your fingers are calloused.

"You swore an oath when you joined the King's Guard."

"You did too."

Jaime clicks his tongue at your audacity, looking up at you with narrowed eyes. You only return a smirk, that damned smirk, audacious and playful.

And then the seductress trails a path down the line between his pecs, down his sternum and abdomen, slipping below the covers to do so.

Jaime doesn't fight this time, in fact he lets go of your hand, and you can tell it's because he wants it.

His narrowed eyes change expressions, from an angry glare into a look that tells you he's watching you.

They only narrow further when you lift his tunic to trail your fingers not around his cock like you know he wants it, but down his happy trail. You take your sweet time swirling the short, thick hairs around your fingers in circles, thumbing at the end of the trail and the beginning of the tactile, trimmed bush. You switch from your whole hand to two fingers, tracing down the messy, crooked trail until you're almost at the base of his length.

Jaime is about to complain about how you edge right around it, but then you're suddenly grasping the base in one full hand.

He gasps.

Rough, is his first thought. Rough because of how tough the palm of your hand is, calloused and worked, and rough because you spare him no mercy in how tight you grip him.

"Softer, ass–" Your eyes silence him, that smirk again, you're in control of his pleasure. Jaime sighs, "please."

The pleasure lighting up in your gaze brings him no pleasure, not until you move your hand and, "Shit."

He tries to keep stoic, biting his lip to keep his mouth closed. It's a fight in it of itself, one he can fight. Though he has lost his swordsmanship, he has not lost the discipline and endurance that come with it.

However, the simple motion of your hand makes him want to roll his eyes back, even though you're barely doing him any good.

Already an electric shock fires through his body. His left hand feels foreign, yes, but it is slow and the fog of pleasure forming in his mind would make it sloppy. Your hand is perfect; actually foreign, big and motivated.

Jaime hasn't been the best swordsman in Westeros in a long time, and so he finds that he is losing his patience. The sexual frustration and this very moment are evidence of it, because he finds pleasure in all of it.

When your face leaves his view, it makes his eyes refocus. He looks down at you as you lean over his cock and not take it in your mouth, but let your spit drool over it.

"Fuck."

It's a sight, the new asshole of the Red Keep pleasuring him willingly, eagerly at that.

You spread the drool over his length evenly, but then only pay attention to his tip, thumb pressing against the slit and swirling.

His hand finds the back of your neck, an outward, sudden thing through the fog of pleasure and unmediated strength. "Don't make this impersonal, at least."

"If you can sit a while, darling."

Jaime rolls his eyes, but sits back and waits.

He's seen your body before, your boundless muscles and scarce scars, but of course he hasn't seen your cock.

You don't make a show for it, but his anticipation only makes things feel slower as he watches you undress. Just the faulds and scale groin guard, and then your pants and underwear, and the wait is much too long.

He reaches out to help, but you push his hand back against the headboard roughly. Jaime scoffs, and you only laugh in turn.

"Asshole."

You take your time, and Jaime takes his to watch. He bites his lip at the sight of your V line, but he focuses more on your hairy happy trail, lets his eyes follow it down the more you expose.

Your cock slaps your abdomen when you finally free it, and Jaime has to bite back an exclamation when he sees it.

He hadn't noticed, but precum had been dripping down his length as he watched. You press the tip of your cock against it, against his, collecting and spreading the pre around the both of you.

Jaime groans.

"Is it personal now?"

"Uh-huh." Jaime huffs breathlessly, eyes glued to what you're doing to him.

You straddle his legs and slowly press your cocks together lengthwise. He has no time to dwell on the size difference, before you're wrapping your hand around the both of you at the same time.

Jaime's breaths grow to match the pace of your hand, slow for now. His eyes close.

"Jaime."

"Hm?" Lazily, they open once more, only to widen when you part his lips and keep them open with your thumb at the corner of his lip.

Drool gathers at the bottom of his mouth forcibly, and he can't do much about it, not until you tell him to spit into your hand.

With his mind truly lost now, he obeys, and you soon spit into the same hand and use the mix to continue jerking the two of you off.

It's disgusting, a mix of your spit and his that will soon be accompanied by both of your seeds.

There's a wet squelch each time your hand reaches the top again, and that's disgusting too.

It's disgusting, but a part of him feels like he's missed this. A foreign hand, a sexual partner, pleasure like he's never had before, and he could only ever want more.

It's disgusting, but it's so fucking good.

Jaime's hips buck into your hand, wanting more and only more.

You're not selfish, either. The attention you pay to his cock makes it swell all the harder. It's almost as if you're servicing him, and only him.

When you add more spit into the mess, right on the tip of his cock, he yelps. His hand reaches for your wrist, and yet it does nothing to stop you.

He can't stop the moans from spilling from his mouth anymore, a steady "uh uh uh".

The coil in the pit of his stomach turns and turns, coiling and making him clench his stomach. He's close, so very close.

More pre weeps from the tip of his cock, and you swirl your finger around the tip, spreading it around.

Jaime's eyes focus once more on the movement. He winces, "Please."

But you're an asshole and he's forgotten that.

You wrap your hand around the both of you weakly, languidly dragging it up and down your cocks. It's not enough for him, not after how mind-blowing you were, not while he knows how mind-blowing you could be.

In a spurt of determination, Jaime's hand wraps right around yours.

No longer weak, his left hand guides the movement again, rough and fast that has his reactive hips bucking in tandem too.

You're very clearly amused but he does nothing about it.

No, he's in control now, doesn't need you.

Jaime chases after his pleasure, as he deems he rightfully deserves. He uses your hand like a vessel, a puppet, just to get off.

Hips bucking, pre and spit squelching, tip swollen red; it's instinctual, animalistic, the way he chases to snap the coil in his stomach with no regard for his energy.

When Jaime finishes, it's his first in a long time, and it has his entire body going limp.

His cum washes over the both of your lengths, but he's already got his eyes closed when it does. He doesn't know when you finish, only that it's later.

"Do I get a thank you?"

Jaime opens his eyes and looks at your now clothed body, then at his cock. His spit, your spit, his cum, yours. His nose turns up.

"No."

[lady-arcane]

A Pawn or a Player? { 3 }

_________________________________________

"Do you know what the most dangerous piece on the board is?

A pawn that refuses to stay one."

_________________________________________

Petyr Baelish never told me I was shaped.

He didn’t have to.

The thing about growing up in the shadow of a man like him is that you begin to understand silence better than words. You learn the meaning of a glance, the weight of a pause, the way power curls itself around a room like smoke, barely visible but impossible to ignore.

I was ten the first time he let me sit beside him while he played cyvasse against a visiting merchant.

It was not a lesson, not officially. Petyr never wasted time on things so direct.

But when the game was over and the merchant had left, my father turned to me and asked, as if it were nothing, “Did you see how I won?”

I hesitated. “You trapped his dragon.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “No, sweetling. I let him believe he was winning. Until he wasn’t.”

---

I learned quickly after that.

Petyr never told me to watch. But I did.

I watched the way he spoke to lords, all soft smiles and careful charm. I watched the way he moved through a room, unassuming yet ever-present. I watched the way people underestimated him, the way they dismissed him as nothing more than a minor lord with a sharp tongue and sharper ambition.

I watched the way he let them.

And I watched the way he won.

---

The first time I played cyvasse against him, I lost.

I was eleven, and I had thought myself clever. I moved my pieces with confidence, mirroring the strategy I had seen him use before.

He beat me in seven moves.

“Why? I asked, frowning at the board. “I did everything right.”

His fingers traced the edge of a pawn, thoughtful. “Did you?”

I looked again.

And then I saw it—the mistake. The opening I had left without realizing it.

The moment I had lost, before I even knew the game was over.

Petyr smiled, reaching out to smooth a hand over my hair, his touch as light as his voice. “You learn quickly, Rowan. But so do your enemies.”

---

I did not trust my father.

I respected him. I studied him.

But trust? No.

Petyr Baelish was not a man who inspired trust. He inspired awe, perhaps. Caution. Admiration, in the way one might admire a well-forged blade.

But never trust.

And he knew it.

Which was why, I think, he never asked me to.

---

I let him shape me. But only so far.

I let him teach me how to speak, how to smile, how to make a man believe I was harmless even as I unraveled his secrets.

But I also watched.

I watched him as much as he watched me.

Because if he was making me into a tool, then I needed to know what kind.

A dagger is not the same as a key. A shield is not the same as a lockpick.

And I did not intend to be used blindly.

-----

“You are too clever for your own good,” he told me once, when I was twelve.

I only smiled. “I wonder where I got it from.”

He laughed at that, shaking his head.

But he did not answer.

Because he knew.

And so did I.

—End of Chapter Three—

_____________________________

Greetings, Dreamers and Readers ✨🌸

This chapter focuses heavily on Rowan and Petyr’s dynamic—the push and pull of power, trust, and manipulation between them. She plays the role he expects, but beneath it, she’s always watching, always learning. It’s a complicated relationship, built on something that resembles loyalty but is laced with too much calculation to be love.

I wanted to explore that tension—how much of her father’s influence she accepts, how much she resents, and how much she quietly resists.

---

Let me know what you think! Does their relationship feel as layered as I intended? Feel free to comment, share your thoughts, or ask any questions about Rowan!

✨Bye and take care, hope you all have a good day ✨

[blumenflowergelb]

From one to three

Loras Tyrell x male!omega!reader x Renly Baratheon

• They were friends for always. Loras couldn’t even remember a time before Yn since he was always there. When Loras had to go to squire at Storms End Yn went with him. After arriving and dealing with Renly for a few months both of them turned to like the lordling. Their never discussed their mutual likes but knew of it and when the time came they went to Renlys bed together. The three of them wished for a life where they could spend days together without anybody interrupting.

• Everything changed when Yn presented as an omega. Loras was still unpresented but Renly wasn’t (surprisingly he was an Alpha) and they mated accidentally.

• It wasn’t ment to happen but Renly was the first person that came inside Yn room and they just kind of stumbled in the bed and Renly bit Yn.

• After the realisation of what had happened Loras felt closed off the relationship and got jealous. Yn tried to mend their relationship but ultimately Renly had to step in.

• The few years they spent together was like paradise until Ned Stark came in Kings Landing and he, as well as Robert, have died.

• The Rebellion broke out and everything became a blur. Renly wanted to become a King and had the whole Reach backing him up. Stannis wanted to be the King since he was the lawful heir. Robb Stark was the new King of the North, Baelon Greyjoy was a King too and of course the Lannisters with Joffrey.

• At the worst time ever Yn heat came. They were at the camp with thousands alphas and betas, so Renly couldn’t leave him alone but had to since he was the King.Loras helped as much as he could but in the end Renly had to step up. Yn didn’t let him out for two days and the whole camp was talking. Everybody knew that they were mated but since Renly married Margaery they thought that the bond had been broken. It wasn’t and the ladies and servant were talking about whores and omegas every single time Yn was close to them. Of course, Renly was patted in the back and every knight congratulated him.

• After the tourney and meeting with Lady Catelyn, who had a clear dislike towards Yn , they got the news that Stannis begann a siege at Storms End and they went back to the castle. Lady Brienne, dubbed as Brienne the Beauty, always pestered around Renly and became his first woman Kingsguard. Yn had no issue with her but Loras didn’t like her.

• While Renly and Stannis parlored both Loras and Yn spent their time together. Usually their would be some funny business going on but Loras feared the camp hearing them and „dishonor“ his alpha Kings omega. Yn only laughed but didn’t press on and they just simply talked, mostly about how they coped with Renly being in Margaerys bed. When Loras asked Yn if he wanted children Yn was unsure what to say. The older he was, the more he ached for a child but he knew that it would be impossible. Even if he would be with a child, the child would never get anything and would be pushed down the line of succession. His children would get a better treatment than bastards, that was for sure, but Renly was already married and would definitely get Margaery with a child. Even if Renly didn’t like children. But the idea of a child of his own brought Yn joy. He didn’t know if it was because his instincts or because he geniualy wanted a baby but the need for it was there and it was very very intense.

• This was however something he couldn’t voice out. Loras made it very clear that he would not want any children ( they weren’t even mated ) and Renly only because it was his obligation. So he simply said „no“.

• After Renly came back everybody was readying for the war. Loras was outside the tent with the other guards, Renly and Yn inside the tent. Brienne helped Renly with his armor,under the watchful eyes of Yn ,while Lady Catelyn talked. When a cold wind came Yn turned around to get something warm and chuckled agt Renlys „ Cold.“ comment. The last thing he heard was Briennes cry and felt an intense burning on his nape, than he passed out.

• When he awoke he was sitting on a horse. Well it was more like he was bound on the horse. He tried to shallow his panic but it didn’t work since a man, a knight after Yn really looked , gave him water. He begann explaining what has happened, the death of Renly, the lords who have stayed or went with Stannis and that they were currently on the Roseroad. After Yn only nodded the man seemed surprised. It was silent for hours, the deep ache keeping Yn from speaking. His hearth felt heavy with a big hole in it, his bitemark burned and Yn was sure that it had already blackened.

• The bite marks were mutually made while a heat and/or rut of an alpha/omega. It could be willingly broken but the death of a partner left it blackened. The little veins around the bite would get black and the skin grey and blue. After sometime the mark would fade, not fully but it would fade almost entirely. The folktales tells of omegas going insane with grieve and killing themself and of alphas murdering everybody they could. The dangers were a little bit exaggerated but it wasn’t untrue. Most omegas and alphas died a few years after the death of their partner, unless their was a pup to bring up. Since Yn didn’t have one it was probably the reason that there were so many knights around him. However Loras wasn’t in sight and Yn couldn’t smell him.

• They spent a long time riding, than sleeping in the camp and than riding again. It was going on and on without something happening and Yn felt like he was inside a fever dream. He had many questions but no power to ask. The men were still very cautious and always asked for permission when he was unbound on the horse. After a few days they arrived at the camp.

• The camp was big and loud and it smelt awful. They were around Highgarden and Renlys host, while not as big as before, was everywhere. Yn expected them getting in the big tent, to see Loras or Margeary, but they went around the camp and stayed in the woods. Three men went away, the rest stayed. Yn was unbound from his horse and he was even allowed to walk around a little bit. After some time the men arrived with a stranger with the colors of Highgarden. While he talked Yn listened to the sound from the forest and his mind wandered far away. When he was asked something he nodded and smiled but didn’t say anything. The man looked concerned and after Yn still didn’t stay anything he nodded , went back to his horse and rode away. Yn looked after him for a while but then turned around and looked around the forest even more.

• The time passed with Yn waiting for something that he didn’t know. He did not talk or really listen to anybody. Some stranger came but only a maester stayed. One day the host begann to move around and went to the direction they came from. Yn looked but didn’t ask already guessed what was happening. The fact that Loras didn’t come and the host being here than moving ment that they were either way going to Kings Landing or Storms End.

• The moon turned around again and they were still in the forest. The men were getting angsty and Yn know that if something didn’t happen soon, they were going to do something. This happened around a fortnight after the host went away. Yn was sleeping when somebody touched his hair. He tensed up but didn’t dare to move, knowing what could happen. The hand went down to his face and caressed him. A voice from somewhere else said that the he should fuck the omega quicker or he will do it. An other voice, a louder one, was very angry and said something about mates and the Tyrells. Other voices talked too and they got louder and louder. The hand moved from his face to his throat and Yn felt his omega ready to pounce. When the hand moved even lower and grasped his chest Yn got up in a lightning speed and bit down his neck. The blood out of the man tasted coppery and very disgusting but he bit down again and again until his omega was sure that he was dead. When he stood up he saw everybody with a weapon in their hand. Yn stepped back and when he saw the first glance of an arrow he ran. The voices and smell of men and dog spured him on and he ran and ran and ran until only the voice of the woods were around him. The omega has taken control over his body. Ever since the mark went silent he felt like living in a dream without a way out. Loras wasn’t there and Renly was dead, eveybody he was in love with wasn’t there.

• He didn’t know how much time has passed or where he was.The omega retracted suddenly and it took some time for Yn to work out what was going on. He was in an old house, warm and comfortable, and he was not alone. There was a woman sitting on the floor skinning an animal, what was probably a rabbit, and when Yn moved around she turned to him.

• The woman was probably a witch. Yn spent three days with her and her weird rituals and even weirder disapperiances. After waking up she told him that she found him walking around and that he went willingly with her. Yn couldn’t care less at the moment about what has happened, only that the witch was a possible danger… The woman has given him something that helped him calm down, since their first few days were everything but calm and kind ,and every evening she went away and came back with more herbs. Sometimes Yn heard voices outside the house but he never went out.

• As time passed he noticed that he was big. Not that big but for somebody that was always lean and full of muscels , he was fat. But he know that it wasn’t fat but something else. So when the witch came back he asked. She only said yes and Yn already teared up. It was silent for the better part of an hour until she asked Yn if the babies should stay or go. Yn wasn’t stupid, he know what she meant by „go“, but the prospect of a child with Renly delighted him. If the child survived it could take Storms End as the rightful ruler. If it was from Renly. The issue was that while omegas could easily get pregnant by their mate they could get pregnant from somebody else as well, although the chances were smaller. So the baby could belong to Loras, they did it enough times, but Yn was unsure what to do. Their were too many ifs and probablys and the babe was not even born. Maybe it would look like him.

• The baby grow quickly and time had lost it’s meaning for Yn. The last month or so he spent abed sleeping or just laying since his pregnancy symptoms tenfolded. The weather worsened and the witch said that Winter was coming, not that Yn couldn’t see it. The leaves have fallen and it was chilly outside. Some nights even snow has fallen, although by the morning it disappeared. The month went by with them readying for the child and labor. The witch was very helpful, Yn acknowledged that even though he didn’t want to, her help was welcome. Then one day the labor begann.

• The labor was hell. It hurt from inside and later on the outside too, but giving up was not an option. It begann early in the morning and ended a day after with no life threatening complications for Yn and his babies. The twins. It wasn’t one baby but two. When Yn pushed the oldest out, his cry piercing through the air, he felt the labor pain again and pushed the second out, who was clearly smaller than the first. After crying in happiness over the cute babes and feeding them, Yn fell asleep only to be woken up to feed again. Trying to overcome his shock of having two babies and the fact that he had two small looking adults to take care of, he begann to help the woman. Yn learned what plants were poisonous, which herbs to use, how to notice them and most importantly how to treat certain sicknesses. When the twins got stronger and the nights colder the woman sent them to Kings Landing. At first Yn didn’t want to but after hearing the arguments of the witch he agreed. Loras had to know what happened and if Winter came Yn couldn’t leave without risking the children and himself. How the woman knew where Loras resided was beyond Yn but he didn’t dare to ask.

• So in a few day they packed up their belongings, food and some money the witch handed over. She even got them a horse and a sword, Yn lost his own, which Yn accepted thankfully. The twins were silent as if knowing their mothers emotions. The roads were dangerous and they met a lot of dangers but within a few weeks they arrived before Kings Landing gates.

• The next issue was how to meet Loras. At first when Yn heard that Highgarden became the Lannisters allyhe was hurt and didn’t even ask the woman anything about them for almost a whole moon. But slowly he had to accept the fact that because Mances ambitions, seeing his daughter on the throne, they had no other choice but to help the Lannisters. The fact that Loras became a Kingsguard warmed Yn hearth, the egoist side which didn’t want anybody near him. He didn’t like Joffrey, for he was a brat ,but hoped for Margaerys happiness.

• They went inside Kings Landing. Yn didn’t want to but staying outside the gates wouldn’t help him. So he bought a room for a week in a run down inn, the money not being enough for more. At least the innkeeper didn’t ask questions. The food was very expensive and Yn didn’t dear to got out a lot for the streets being too dangerous. The whole city smelt but since the war it had a sent of death too. Two days before Yn run out of money and without any progress a man clothed in fine wool came to his rooms. When Yn knocked he hid the children hoping them to stay silent and went to open the door. The man didn’t come in but handed over a piece of paper and left.

• The paper said that they, „probably Varys“ Yn thought after smelling the paper, will come in a day. After putting the twins to sleep he went down to eat. The innkeeper nodded and said that his room was paid for a week and went out of Yn way. The next day barely arrived when a slight knock awoke Yn. It was barely morning, the city was silent. After letting the guest in, who was Varys, and hearing him talk Yn wanted to cut his throat. But before he could do it one of the boys begann to cry and woke the other. While Yn tended to them Varys watched him. When the boys have fallen asleep, he stood up and only requested a cloth of Yn. Since it was intended for Loras, Yn carefully choose one of his finest shirt. Varys accepted the cloth and left with only saying that he will bring news. Yn went to bed hoping for the next day.

• Loras was walking with his grandmother, Olenna Tyrell the Queen of Thorns, when the spider stepped towards them. Varys talked with his grandmother but ignored Loras, which would have normaly made Loras angry but since the day Renly died and Highgarden marched to Kings Landing he couldn’t care. He couldn’t even bring himself to listen until Varys turned to him and invited himself to their walk. Olenna tried to dismiss him, without success. The moment they disappeared behind some strange looking bushes, meant to impress but had quit the different effect, Varys clasped his hand around Loras‘. His grandmother’s guards had already unsheathed their sword when Vary showed a cloth of green and gold into Loras hand. For a moment everything froze.

• The cloth smelled like him. Loras felt his alpha going into an overdrive and his whole body tensed, the memories hitting him like a brick. After Renlys death Yn passed out, the maesters said because of the bond breaking, and Loras had him bound to a horse with guards. While Yn was a grieving Omega he was still an unmated one. Of course Loras could have mated him but he felt ashamed to even think about it. Taking something this precious from Renly was unimaginable for him. But he still yearned for Yn. The yearning never stopped and when Loras got the raven saying that Yn disappeared, it intensified even more. He wanted to ride back and look under every tree,rock and nook but duty, and his houses guards, stopped him. He missed his ruts for more than a year but his alpha couldn’t put Yn behind him. The imagination of being with somebody other than Renly and Yn made him reel and when some Omega tried to solicit him, his alpha denied she with his whole being. The first rut he experienced after the battle made him weak and this weakness still lasted. Pyrcelle said that it was because of something else and not because of his rut but this didn’t change the fact that Loras was a ticking danger to everybody. Who knows when an alpha has enough and what he will do?

• So this one small cloth changed him. He wanted Yn like never before, not in a sexual but in a more romantic way. And the spider knew where he was. Loras stared at Varys and the spider just smiled at him saying that he will wait for him at night. Varys scurried away quickly leaving him and his grandmother alone. The guards stepped back at the hand signal of Olenna, while she stepped towards Loras. Her eyes were full of questions but Loras could only say ‚Yn‘. She paled and went on about the dangers. Still Loras couldn’t find it in himself to say agree with her and when the night came he went against the advices. While he waited, he smelled at the clothes marveling around his memories. He could still remember when he first kissed Yn and the first night they shared together. The first ride, the first swim, the first day at Storms End, the first time they saw Renly and the first time they went to his bed. Everything, the bad ,the good it came back and Loras almost cried at his emotions. He wanted Yn and now.

• When Varys finally came Loras was already spacing around his room. They didn’t say anything and Loras didn’t question where they were going, although he tried not to forget to mention to his grandmother the secret passages. They stopped at an old inn with questionable stench and went inside. Nobody looked at them and they just simply went up the stairs. Loras felt his knees getting softer, his breath quickening. One second he felt cold the next warm, the feeling intensifying. When the doof opened he could see a man, Yn his alpha cried out, standing with a sword in hand.

• Yn heard the steps and took out his sword. He didn’t trust Varys and his tricks so he was ready for everything. The twins were awake in their little bed, hid behind some sack and clothes so if their were any danger they wouldn’t be seen. But Yn paranoia went away when he saw Loras. Loras,who was a boy when he last seen him but a man now , stood in front him. Yn took a step but it was unneeded. Loras almost flew to him and took him in his arm. They stood their for a long long time, Varys disappeared, only basking in each other. No words were exchanged for neither needed them. However when Yn heard a small whimper he broke the hug and smiled at Loras. The smile made Loras even weaker than he thought possible, although he looked questioningly at Yn. He went to the end of the room and sat down. When Yn signaled him, he stepped toward the little bed smelling like sweet honey, babies his alpha commented. He feared to see what it was, but still he looked. And he melted. The babes were perfect. Both of them were awake, one with a familiar green eyes the other with brown. One had black hair dark like a raven and the other had little blond curls both sharing the same small noise. While none of them looked really like Yn they had something that reminded Loras of Yn. When he looked at Yn he saw him smiling, eyes full with warmth. He sat even a little prouder when Loras caressed one of the boys head and said that they were beautiful. Yn didn’t say anything and let Loras marvel at them.

• They spent a little more time with the babes basking in their sweet sent until Loras stood up and leaned down to kiss Yn. It was a kiss full of love and promises. Yn felt his cheeks getting red and when Loras stopped he went for one more kiss. They kissed and laughed together for the full night interrupted only by the babies but neither minded.

[catsteeth]

Sugar & Violence

Podrick Payne x reader 

+:✿ Chapter 4 ✿:+ : Loyalty

1-2-3-_-5

Summary: You’re a Mormont being held hostage by House Lannister.  You are acting now as the Handmaiden for Margery Tyrell, whom you’ve grown quite close with. But it seems that a squire has caught your attention as you have caught his. 

CW: afab reader, SMUT(ish), MDNI, teasing, grinding, minor character death, talk of pregnancy and contraceptives, insanely sweet fluff, mention of alcohol consumption, mention of NSFW themes.

Word Count: 2868

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As you and Margery walked, we discussed the night of passion you and Podrick had shared.

“Sounds like I was right about the tea.” She teased, she leaned into you and held onto your arm tighter “I’d say you love him.”

“I’d say I do, enough to stay here.” You said coldy, but gave her a small smile.

“Don’t be so selfless. You are giving him your life you know? You didn’t even give me that.” Margery did not understand how or why you would allow yourself to love a man so much that you’d allow yourself to remain captive. And she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a bit jealous.

“I know that well.” You nodded, you didn’t understand it yourself. But you knew you loved him enough to stay.

“He has some gift if it makes whores refuse money and you refuse freedom.” She jested, making you smile,

“I guess he does.” You held back a laugh.

“I am happy to have you stay.” She said as she rubbed your arm with her palm.

“I am happy to be with you.” You said, smiling back at her.

“Has he proposed to you?” 

You shook your head, and looked down “No, but he has talked about… being…”

“Oh please, you can talk about bedding him but not wedding him?” 

“Seems more intimate than fucking.” You said wincing slightly

“You’d be a good match.” She said warmly

“You’ve never heard us speak together,”

“No but if a man as common as he is has inspired such idiotic selflessness from one of the most willful women I know he must be good to you. In more ways than one.” You and her smiled at one another, you held her arm closer to you. “Come now, my grandmother wants us to pick a necklace for the wedding.” 

“You haven’t picked one yet?” You raised an eyebrow,

“I have, she hasn’t.” You both giggled,

Walking off you and Margery met Olena who was still unimpressed with the necklaces presented. 

However she was impressed with the Lady who came to talk with Margery. And you would be lying if you said you were not also. 

A large and strong woman, Brienne of Tarth. 

You’d heard stories and murmurs about her strength. She was able to best Loras, knocking him to the dirt. 

You were so taken with admiration you couldn’t wait to tell your most adored companion about it that night.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You walked into Podricks chambers late that night, just to be sure that he’d be there and not attending to his lord. 

He was sitting on his bed, only in his breeches and tunic, taking off his last boot. 

As you entered, you closed the door, leaning back against it. 

“Hello, there Ser Podrick Payne.” You said in a half serious seductive voice.

“Hello Lady Mormont,” He smiled at you, and you began to walk up to him, smiling ear to ear.  “You look happy.” He said, reaching his hands out to you. You took his hands, intertwining your fingers together as you stood between his thighs. 

“I’ve just met the most extraordinary knight-“ You began but saw his face change from delight to jealousy, “Oh don’t look like that it was a woman,” You said as you started wrapping his arms around you

“A woman knight?” He said confused, 

You wrapped your own arms around his neck, “okay maybe she wasn’t a knight but she was everything but.” 

“you seem quite taken by her.” He smiled up at you, his hands traveling up and down your back.

“You should see her. Nearly seven feet tall I would wager, I hear she fights better than all the men in this shit city. Stronger too… Maybe not as strong as the hound or the mountain but… strong.”  You spoke about her as if you’d just witnessed a wonder. You climbed on top of his lap, your legs on either side of him. “When I was a girl, I would have wanted to be like just her.”

“And what about now? What do you want to be like now?” He asked as you pushed him down onto his bed, still smiling. 

“Like this… I like my position now.” You smiled, running your fingers down his chest. “It’s quite comfortable.” You said leaning down kissing his lips.

“I like seeing you like this.” 

“On top of you?” You teased, raising an eyebrow

“Happy.” He smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear. “But yes, that too.” He kissed you once more, “What was this lady knight's name?”

“Why? I’ve spoken so highly of her, you wish to run away with her?” You jested as you kissed his neck.

He let out a small groan at the sensation, but held it in as you continued. “I wish to know the name of the ser lady who’s brought my lady such happiness.” He petted your hair as you continued to kiss his neck.

You stopped for a moment, looking at him lovingly, ‘my lady’... you thought. But unwilling to draw any attention to it, you answered him. “Brienne of Tarth.” 

“If she’s brought you such joy then she is worth every bit of praise.” He said kissing your neck and collarbone.

His hands roamed your body, caressing the sweet spots that he’d learned fairly quickly were your weaknesses as you learned his was his neck.

You let out a sweet breathless whimper as you caressed his face, pulling it away from your chest, and placing a kiss on his lips before you spoke “We mustn’t. But your hands are… as always quite inviting.” You smiled weakly

“I haven’t held you in some time.” 

“Not since your Lord's wedding night.” You lips teasingly grazed his own,

“How have you felt… since that night. I mean, you’ve not had any uhm-“ He stammered, but you knew what he meant.

“Margery gave me moon tea and I’ve had my blood. You don’t need to worry about unpleasantness.” You knew your quick answer and tone would have signaled that you were angry or annoyed but it was just how you spoke. Direct and to the point. 

“I didn’t mean to- I am sorry I just wanted to be sure. If we did it… create.. one it would be a-“ He stammered again,

“A bastard. I know this. Exactly the reason I drank the tea.” You tried to soften your tone this time as you ran your fingertips through his hair.

“But if we were- perhaps in different circumstances- we could have seen what would have come?” He said sweetly, you caressed his cheek before kissing him. 

“Sweet boy.” You said into his lips, kissing him deeper, “Mmm” you moaned out as his tongue found yours. You ran your fingernails against his neck, dragging them slightly making him groan. “I can’t, I’ve a wedding to ready Margery for.” You said sitting up, as you did you felt his stiffened cock pressing against your inner thigh, “Oh,” You looked down and saw the bulge straining against his breeches, “I’m sorry-” You squeeked 

He held your hand, “It’s alright, I enjoyed it. Truly, I missed you.” He said softly with a smile.

“Sweetest boy.” You said pressing a kiss into his hand.

“I shall see you at the wedding?”

“Naturally. You going to dance with me?” You asked teasingly, you took his hand and bit on his finger lightly. 

He smiled at your bite, “I’ll beg my Lord to let me if I must. Are you going to dance with any other men?” He asked somewhat in jest but also wanting to know.

“I’ll spit in their drinks if they even ask.” You assured him,

“You will?” He let out a dry chuckle,

“I will say that I am promised to a great and honorable knight.” You smiled, but he looked confused, “You, Podrick.” You clarified. 

He shook his head, “I’m not a knight,”

“You are.” You said earnestly, kissing his hand once more.

He smiled up at you, longingly “Are you sure you cannot stay longer?” 

“Oh you wish for me to stay?” You teased. Podrick nodded with the same smile as before, “I can’t stay long.”

“I don’t need long.” He said strangely confidently.

“Oh? And what would you do?” You asked, kissing his neck, you could feel him twitch under you.

“Many things.” He grunted out, 

“Like what, Podrick?” You loved teasing him like this, and he liked it too. “Anything you wanted.”

“You want me to tell you?” You asked sweetly and he nodded, “I want,” You kissed his lips softly, “your tongue,” you grazed his bottom lip with your own tongue, “Between my thighs.” you whispered into his lips. He groaned. “I want you to lick me while you fuck me with your fingers.” His hands roamed your sweet spots again, gripping them tighter. “I want to bite your neck right… here” You licked and bit at his neck, he bucked up into you involuntarily from the sensation. He moaned sweetly, “While I grind my cunt against your cock.” You began to roll your hips against his cock, “I want your hands to grip onto my breasts harshly when I finally push you inside me.” You sucked at the skin of his neck while you continued to roll your hips, “I want you to feel so good, you stop being so fucking sweet, and you pull my hair.” you bit at his neck slightly harder this time, “I want to feel your heat in my body when you finally melt.” You finally moved away from his neck and kissed his lips once more before pulling away. “You like it when I talk like that?” you asked softly and sweetly. 

“Y-yes,” He stammered, his cock was so hard it almost hurt.

“Good,” You said, hopping off of him, “Cause that’s all you're getting until this horrid wedding is over with.” You began walking towards the door,

“What?” Podrick asked as he sat up on his shoulders. 

You looked back him, “I like teasing you, makes you fuck harder.” You smiled mischievously, “I don’t enjoy your pain however,” You hiked up your skirts, pulling your small clothes down with it. “Here.” You handed him your dampened, small clothes, “Until tomorrow.” You said with a final kiss before leaving the room. 

“Gods…” He said into your small clothes, slumping back into the bed and shoving his hand into his breeches.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

The day was taxing. 

Margery’s hair, makeup, and dressing was a five woman job. The doll that you had the duty of dressing was no longer yours. 

You hoped that this marriage would be easy on her, hopefully Joffrey truly loved her enough not to harm her. You couldn’t guarantee that if he did you wouldn’t kill him. 

The only thing that relieved the stress was the guarantee that you’d be good and fucked by the end of the night. 

The entire wedding was extravagant… and exhausting. 

You stood behind Margaery and Joffrey as you held a pitcher of wine during the entire feast. That was until you noticed Podrick standing beside Lord Tyrion. He was staring at you with an adoring smile, which involuntarily evoked the same smile on your own face. Margaery looked back at you and noticed. She then dismissed you of your duties, allowing you to set down the wine on the table and walk to the side of the wedding floor. 

Podrick whispered something to Lord Tyrion who then dismissed him as well.

When Podrick approached you, you smiled. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help with your headache last night. My Lady demands much of my time, and my healing duties sometimes suffer for that.” You spoke in code just in case anyone near heard you. 

“Your gift helped.” He smirked at you, he leaned in a bit closer and whispered to you “You think this will be a happy union?” Looking over to Margaery and Joffrey. 

You nodded, “The King Joffrey inspires great emotion.” You said, sneeringly making Podrick hold back a laugh. 

“There has been far too much amusement,” Joffrey suddenly shouted, “A Royal wedding is not for amusement, but history. It is time we remember it! I give you the war of the five kings!” He said as a group of five dwarfs ran onto the wedding floor dressed as the five kings. 

“Gods…” You mumbled as you rubbed your temples. 

“My Lord says to pay them well afterwards.” Podrick whispered to you, 

“A decent compensation for humiliation.” You whispered back sarcastically.

As you continued to watch you felt an overwhelming sense of anger. If there was one thing that stayed with you from your upbringing as a Mormont it was loyalty. Loyalty to the North. You’d forgotten this wound, but seeing the Lannisters making a joke of it only opened it again. As you looked at the dwarf who played Robb you felt disgust when you realized what was on his head. “Is that… a direwolve’s head?” Podrick looked at you with sympathy.  “My aunt died in that war… I can’t watch this.” You said as you walked off, unable to bring yourself to continue it. 

As you walked on, you felt a hand grip your arm, as you turned around you realized it was not Podrick by a Guard, “Get your hand off me,” you spat at him

“You handled the wine tonight did you not?” He questioned, 

You tried to rip your arm away to no avail, “I served the Queen Margery. If she wished for wine she got it.” You said with venom, 

“No Queen anymore, Bear Bitch.” He said before dragging you off to be questioned for the poisoning of King Joffrey. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

It had been a day since you were confound to the confines of your chambers. Unable to be let out but you couldn’t complain. Tyrion was in the dungeon and you in your chamber. Margaery assured you, no one believed you had done it. However a Mormont holding the wine of a poisoned Lannister was not unnoticed. They needed you for questioning and if Tyrion somehow was able to prove his innocence, you would be called upon next. 

You laid on your bed, angry. You’d kicked away all the food they tried to give you. And spit in the face of every Guard that came into your chambers. 

When you heard your chamber door beginning to open you sat up and were about to shout at them to let you out when you noticed who it was. 

“Podrick,” “(Y/N)” You both said in unison as you both rushed to one another's arms.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he held your face examining you for any signs of harm “No one touched you did they?” His eyes piercing into yours

“No, no,�� You lied, but he couldn’t do anything about it so why upset him? “Margery says they’ll let me go soon enough. They seem content with it being Tyrion.” You said, trying to calm him, ”Was it?”

“No.” He shook his head, then looked down as if he were disappointed in himself for what he was about to say next, “Some man, I didn’t know his face, offered to knight me. Under the condition that I testify against Lord Tyrion.” He looked back at you

“Tell him you’ll do it.” You responded swiftly. You wanted him to take any chance he got to get out of this situation. 

“I already gave an answer, I said no.” He said, softly.

“Podrick, they’ve begun an investigation on Bronn have they not? They’ll find a reason to arrest him. They’ll do the same to you.” You held onto his face, you spoke directly trying to get him to see reason. 

“Lord Tyrion commanded me to leave the city.”

You nodded, “You should leave.” 

“But you-” He began but you interrupted him. 

“That isn’t a suggestion.” You shook your head, “This is goodbye.” You began to tear up but fought it hard. “See to your duties whatever was commanded of you, then leave. Go far, far north.” 

“Leave with me-” He asked desperately as he still held onto you, 

“They won’t let me go, Podrick. I never wanted to be here. I’m a hostage, and now a prisoner. I can’t have the same for you.” You said softly, shaking your head.

He began to tear up as well, a single tear pushing its way through and falling down his cheek, “What if the moon tea didn’t work, what if you need me-”

“Podrick, you’re running out of time. Leave.” You commanded him as your own tears began to fall. 

“I wanted to marry you.” He whispered, 

“Podrick…” You held him closer, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, “I’ll find a way out soon enough, but first you go.”

He kissed you once more deeply before he whispered, “I’ll find you.” He promised it. He embraced you tightly once more as he ran his nose down your neck, breathing in your scent one last time before he did as you commanded. 

As the chamber door closed, you slumped to the floor, and cried. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

NOTE:

I be blue balling yall. sowwy.

Xoxo,

Bambi

BELOVED TAGS: 

@ryn-away @boojaynaqueen @holierthancunt @symonedoesart

[fantasydreamland]

Gossip

margaery tyrell x fem reader

Summary: Margaery is now married to Renly Baratheon. There are whispers about him and another man but what happens when people begin to notice how close Margaery seems to be with her handmaiden.

Notes: 18+ ONLY!!!, wlw, smut, public x, fingering, oral (f), fluff, possible spoilers

x Based on a request x

word count: 1.7k

PART ONE

masterlist

taglist

“You look enchanting, my lovely rose.” You say as you help with the final touches of Margaerys wedding gown.

It was the day of her wedding to Renly Baratheon. Although they cared for and respected eachother, neither Margaery or Renly felt romantic feelings towards one another. They both had an unspoken understanding that they would allow eachother to privately explore wherever their hearts did lead. You knew about Renly and Loras, Margaerys brother. They attempt to conceal their affections for eachother but it was quite obvious to most and there were whispers about them among the court.

You had become that with Margaery. Your heart soared from the way she returned your affections, just as in love with you as you were her.

“Thank you, (y/n).” She gives a partially fake smile through the mirror.

“Dare I ask what’s wrong?” You say softly.

She sighs as she smooths her dress out in the mirror. “I think we both know the answer, love.” She says in her deep sarcastic tone, giving you a smirk afterward.

You let out a big sigh and nod as you continue to smooth out the fabric of her dress.

“It could be worse,” you say as her eyes meet yours in the mirror. “You are at least blessed enough to have a husband who would allow…” you give a shy smirk as you roll your eyes.

“My personal interests…” she finishes for you as she smirks and turns around so you’re face to face, so close her breath fanned over yours.

She gives you an all knowing look making your breath get caught in your throat. Her hand brushes your cheek as yours find home gently on her hips. “That is true. But I don’t believe any husband could contain me from you, my love.”

Before you could respond her lips are on yours, giving a long soft kiss. You part and gaze at eachother with a lustful look.

She gently pulls away and smooths her dress and hair. “Well… I suppose I should go get married now.”

She gives you a faint smile and you give a small curtesy in return before following her out of the room. The ceremony was quick and the feast was actually very enjoyable. Margaery and Renly sat together but they hardly looked at one another as Renly chatted the night away with Loras sitting beside him, and Margaery had her full attention on you standing off to the side by her. The lack of affection between the newly wedded couple did not go unnoticed.

At the end of the night you walk Margaery to her wedding chambers. As you turn the last corner through the empty hallways Margaery quickly pushes you against the wall and pulls you into an all consuming kiss. Your tongues vigorously clash together and you cup her cheeks as she holds you firmly by the waist, pushing her body against yours on the wall. The overly passionate kiss ends within a few seconds and you look at her with a surprised and heated look.

“I suppose I needed to get into the mood…” she says lowly with a smirk. She gives you a small nod goodbye before she enters her chambers alone.

**********

A few days had passed and things returned to some form of normal. Margaery and Renly slept in their own chambers again. Margaery gave you a small room close enough to her you could easily sneak away into her chambers most nights.

Although you shared most of your love secretly at night, Margaery loved to tease you with affection in semi public settings. It was also just hard to keep your hands off eachother through an entire day. You were completely enamoured with her so it just made it all the more thrilling for you both.

You knew there were whispers about Margaery and her handmaiden. That she is far more friendly with you than most usually are with their handmaidens. At first the idea of this bothered and embarrassed you but the more time spent with Margaery the less you cared what others thought. You were still both cautious enough to make sure these would remain rumours. However, the bashful smiles and light touches did not go unnoticed by others.

**********

Margaery had a late afternoon tea with her grandmother in the gardens. Most people had retired back inside. By the time they finished the only people who remained in the gardens was Margaery, her grandmother, and their handmaidens. She and her grandmother say goodnight with a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Lady Olenna,” you curtsy as she gives you a nod and returns to the castle leaving you and completely Margaery alone.

“Apologies, my love. I didn’t expect her to arrive so late for afternoon tea.” She apologies once her grandmother is completely out of sight.

“Do not worry, my lovely rose.” You take her hand in yours. “Any time spent with you is worth it.”

She smiles and lightly squeezes your hand. “Thank you, love.”

She looks around at the empty gardens and quiet courtyard as everyone on the grounds had gone inside while the sun was setting.

“It seems we have time alone right now…” she smirks and gives you an all knowing look.

Before you can object she pulls your body against hers and your noses brush as she hovers her lips over yours teasingly. You want to be logical in such a public place and pull away, but the way she clouds your mind makes you lean in. The kiss is gentle at first and quickly becomes heated and passionate.

She pulls away and leads you over to the stone bench just behind some flowers and nudges you down to sit. She gently positions herself on her knees in front of you and takes your face into her hand before kissing you again. As the kiss continues she starts to hike up your skirts.

“My love, please, not here…” you pull away and begin to protest.

She ignores your pleas as her lips move to your neck and she finishes hiking up your skirt enough that she could slip underneath. Before you even have time to comprehend what she is doing, her mouth is on you and you bite your lip hard trying to contain your moans.

Margaery continues to unravel you with her tongue as your cheeks burn up and you look around with in a panic, your vision blurred from pleasure. There was no one in sight, everyone had returned inside for the night but you still tried to stay alert as anyone who walked by this part of the garden would surely catch you. As you get closer to your peak you find it harder and harder to contain your screams.

“Oh gods… my rose, please. I cannot- I cannot stay quiet.” You pant.

Margaery ignores you and continues to relentlessly work her tongue on your most sensitive spot. She slowly inserts her fingers and that triggers you to see stars. You quickly cover your mouth as a final scream escapes you, even through your hand you were sure someone could have heard if they were in the area.

She comes out from under your dress and looks up at you with a huge smirk as you look down at her with flushed cheeks.

“That was far too dangerous, love.” You say, panting out of breath.

“What is life without a little risk?” She teases as she carefully stands up and dusts off her dress.

She reaches her hands out to help you stand as she pulls you up into a passionate kiss. Your hands move into her hair as she cups one of your cheeks, holding your waist tightly with the other hand. She moves her lips down to your neck harshly kissing your pale skin, no doubt leaving small marks. Before things can go any further you lightly push her away.

“The hour is getting late, my lovely rose.” You say with your fingers twisting a strand of her hair.

“You’re right, my love. Let’s head off to bed then.” She gives you her classic devilish smirk hinting that you were not finished with eachother yet. You spend the rest of the night tangled in the sheets together.

**********

The next morning Margaery went to enjoy breakfast with her grandmother in their favourite spot, the gardens. There were a few other ladies of the court at the table chatting away as you helped pour Margaery’s tea.

“I swear to you someone was getting intimate right here in the gardens last night!” One of the women suddenly said, causing you to overfill and spill the tea.

“I’m so sorry, my lady.” You say as you quickly gather cloths to clean up the small mess, cheeks burning red.

“That’s quite alright.” Margaery smiles at you and gently touches your arm for a moment.

The brief show of affection between you had the attention of all the women at the table. They passed questioning glances between eachother as you left the table to stand back over to the side.

“How would you even know such a thing? No one would be out here that late.” Another woman asks, resuming their conversation.

“Believe me, I know. By the sounds and moaning I could hear… it was obvious!” The first woman replied.

Your eyes meet Margaery’s as you both blush and quickly look away. Lady Olenna looks between the two of you and smirks to herself, knowing full well what’s transpired. She knew her granddaughter well, if the clear affections she has for you wasn’t already obvious, the small red marks on your neck were.

“Did you see who it was?” The other woman asks.

“No, but whoever they were they have quite the man to make them scream like that.” She smirks.

All the women start giggling at the joke and you and Margaery make guilty eye contact, laughing along.

PART ONE

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