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pastanest · 1 year

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Jon Snow x she/her!reader

A/N: after an eternity away, I have returned with a gift. this took my entire heart and soul, and a month of my life, to write, so I truly hope you enjoy it!! ♡

warning: events up to Battle Of The Bastards referenced. also, it’s 8.5k words long 😳

part two can be found here

Yours - Part One

It was Maester Lewin that found you that day, stumbling on weak little legs that could barely hold your weight, through a thunderous storm towards the gates of Winterfell. He ran to you, nothing more than a helpless child that crumbled into his arms, your tattered clothes soaked through by the rain, wet fists balled at your face as you coughed and hacked into them. In truth, you do not remember much from that day, but you have heard every account from each member of the family that took you in.

While Lady Catelyn Stark always said she heard your coughs before she saw you, her motherly instincts bringing her to feet as she ran to meet Maester Lewin the moment he carried you through the doors of the castle, Lord Eddard Stark always first recounted the expressions on his children’s faces. Neither Bran nor Rickon were born by that time, and Arya was just a baby, but Sansa was just old enough to recall how sickly and thin you looked - a charming memory, you’d roll your eyes and tell her when she chose to bring up such details. Robb and Theon both held slightly different recollections, with Robb worrying that you carried some kind of sickness that his mother would catch by being close to you and Theon simply recalling that you were a girl around his age and that being his main thought at the time, but both always mentioned one particular detail: the eyes of the third boy in the room, locked onto you from the moment you entered the room until you were carried out of it.

They say that Jon Snow’s gaze was fixed on every door of every room he entered for the rest of that day, as though waiting for someone to walk through and deliver some news of you. Even teases from his brothers could not distract him.

Once, on a rare occasion when you were alone with Robb because Theon was not shadowing him, he told you something in confidence, not wanting his dear brother to be teased for something nobody else knew that he had done. Supposedly, for the three nights that you spent unconscious or so delirious that you could not tell the difference between your sleeping and waking moments, Jon Snow would tiptoe past your bedroom door and check in on you. If the door was closed, he would not disturb you by opening it, simply stand there and listen through the door until he heard your labored breathing and felt assured of your safety for the night. If he heard you cough, he would run to report it to Maester Lewin immediately. On the occasions that the door was open when he passed it, though, he would stop to peer around the frame, seeing your face so exhausted even when sleeping, and felt something strange blooming in his chest, so strong he would find himself pressing his palm to his chest through his shirt to check that his heart was still there. Robb caught him doing this, but never told him, and you didn’t tell Jon that you knew of his check-ins until many years later.

Lady Catelyn Stark was in your room the majority of the time if Maester Lewin was not there, ensuring you were safe and breathing well. Having not long birthed her second daughter, she felt a strong maternal instinct over you and your worrisome state, unable to stop herself from picturing her own daughters in your place and wondering where your mother was, why she was not the one that was worrying over you, and if she couldn’t be, Lady Catelyn would do so in her place without question. One motherless child in the castle was enough, and she had no reason to hold the resentment to you that she held to the little boy that was so enchanted by you, even then.

Once you had recovered enough to sit up and hold a conversation, Lord and Lady Stark pressed you with gentle questions on who you were, where you had come from, who your parents were, and why you had arrived at Winterfell. Unfortunately, you were too young to remember many details, only knowing your own name and your parents by ‘Mother’ and ‘Father’, only knowing the place you had come from as “south of here” and only knowing you were in Winterfell because they had just told you that. Your parents had simply told you to “head north” when the fire had started in your village, that was the most detail you could recount of your arrival. The Stark parents understood enough from your vague explanation to suggest that you did not have a home of your own to return to, and upon sending riders south, found the rubble and ash left behind from a village not two day’s walk from Winterfell - such a travel for one so young had been what ailed you. They debated amongst themselves what to do with you, whether to send you to a township with an orphanage and wondering if that would be the place for you. Over the days of you regaining your strength, the Stark children became your fast friends, slowly trickling into your room one at a time to introduce themselves and immediately trying to impress you, as children do.

The Lord and Lady of Winterfell found it endlessly amusing, discovering Theon and Robb in your room practicing sword fights with broomsticks, making you laugh and applaud their display, which you thought then to be magnificent. Sansa, though younger than you, enjoyed sitting beside you on your bed and talking about her favorite stories of princesses and princes of old, which you listened to like it was your duty, having never heard the tales that highborn children were raised on and finding them fascinating. In turn, you told her of your favorite fairytales, most of which involved giants. Naturally, Sansa told you giants did not really exist, but when you asked her how she could know that, she sat back, stumped, and you grinned at her, continuing to tell her all of your favorite stories of giants, direwolves and white bears.

What truly set your permanent residence in stone was one fateful night, when Eddard Stark had been kept late in the hall, discussing important plans with the Lords of other northern houses. He had no intention of stopping when nearing the doorway to what had become your bedroom, until he heard a quiet laugh that he did not often hear. Lord Stark’s footsteps stopped just before the open door, never wanting to eavesdrop on his children, but needing to be sure.

“All of you are Lords here, then? You, your brother and Theon?” Your question was an innocent one, and at the delay in your conversation partner’s response, Ned’s heart sank.

“My brother is, and Theon could be, I s’pose, but not me. I’m just a bastard.” Little Jon Snow answered you, sounding defeated.

“Oh…why?”

“Lady Stark is not my mother.” Jon explained, and you gasped.

“She’s not mine either, does that make me a bastard, too? We can be bastards together!” You sounded so excited at the prospect that Ned had to muffle his own laughter behind his hand.

The same laugh that had stopped him in his tracks reached his ears again, your complete lack of judgment towards Jon’s status putting him at ease.

“No, because Lord Stark is not your father, but he is mine.” The young boy clarified.

“Oh…well, can we be friends still? Even if I’ve not got a title like you have?” You asked, voice so hopeful, making Jon chuckle again, with rosy cheeks that you couldn’t see under the dim candlelight by your bed.

“Aye, if you don’t mind being friends with a bastard.”

And you answered without hesitation. “I’d love to be, you seem like a wonderful friend!”

Nodding to himself, Lord Eddard Stark turned and walked the long way around to his chambers, so as to not disturb the conversation between you and his son. The moment he stepped through the door to his chambers, Lady Catelyn smiled warmly at him, and his lips were already parting to speak the conclusion he had come to the second he’d heard the laugh you brought to his boy.

“I think she should stay with us.”

With your fate decided, you were officially taken under the wing of the Stark family. While you lived amongst them and played with the Stark children like a highborn friend of theirs would, you did not ever want to overstep, knowing they were leagues above you in status and not wanting anyone to assume your status incorrectly by association. So, upon being granted permission to stay with them, you asked in a small voice if you could be their maid; that was the only position that you knew by name because Sansa had mentioned it to you. Thinking it both hilarious and very endearing that you, a child, were offering yourself as a maid to the family, Lord and Lady Stark agreed to this, and asked their existing maids to train you when you wanted, but not to be at all strict on you. Still, you took your role as seriously as you could at that age, learning to fold clothes and prepare beds for the Stark children. Going into Jon’s room was always your favorite, because even if he was not sitting in there as he often was, there were pieces of him everywhere. Pages of parchment with scribbles of writing and doodles on them, battered wooden swords and shields that poked out from beneath his bed. You liked crawling up to the window and peering down at the castle courtyard from there, knowing that is where you were most likely to see him.

“Lord Jon! Guess where I am!” You’d call in a singsong voice, waving down at him.

He’d laugh, waving back at you. “I don’t need to guess, I can see you there! When will you be free from your duties?”

And you’d grin cheekily. “Soon, but if you made your bed yourself, I’d be done a lot quicker!”

It was a running joke between the two of you, because Jon Snow had made his bed every morning since learning of your position as maid, never wanting to appear as untidy to you or giving you further work to do on his account, but you’d insist he never, ever made his bed and it was such a chore for you to always do it for him.

The first couple of years that you spent at Winterfell were peaceful ones, spent adjusting to your new life and the family dynamic that you had slotted into, at your new best friend’s side. After that second year, Jon Snow came down with a terrible case of the pox, and you were terrified, seeing him the same way he had seen you when you had first arrived, weak and most often unconscious, in his bed. Strangely, Lady Catelyn did not leave his side that first night, which you thought to be odd considering the hatred you had come to understand she harbored towards him - very unfairly, you thought, and frequently told Jon the same. Of course, you knew that she did not leave the room because when you had asked Maester Lewin of Jon’s condition and he had said “If he makes it through the night, he’ll live”, you dragged your mattress from your bed and down the hallway, to the floor beside Jon’s and refused to move, insisting you would never forgive a soul that attempted to remove you from his side. Naturally, you did not sleep that night, your ears finely tuned to every ragged breath, cough and whimper that passed Jon’s lips, and it seemed Catelyn’s were that night, too.

Only when the sun rose did you leave Jon’s side to run to Maester Lewin, fist pounding on the door of his chambers to wake him and have him check on your dearest friend. You had apologized for disturbing the castle’s Maester afterwards, but were too panicked to consider his sleep schedule at the time. Once he had evaluated Jon’s health, he confirmed to you and the rest of the family that he would, in fact, make it through, which seemingly allowed Lady Catelyn to leave the room. You, however, only left briefly to borrow a book from the castle library before returning to Jon’s room to sit at the foot of his bed, with the large book of fairytales in your lap. As soon as you were told you were allowed to stay with the Starks, Lady Catelyn began teaching you how to read and write, two skills that you thought yourself very lucky to have mastered by the time Jon Snow was fighting his war with pox. For the rest of the day, you did not move from the foot of his bed, and you read story after story aloud, hoping that somewhere in the land he was traversing within his tangled, sleeping mind, he could hear you tell tales of long Winters passed and the creatures that roamed the lands throughout them.

It was only sometime later that Jon admitted to you he had awoken an hour before he decided to open his eyes, because he was so enjoying you reading to him.

When his eyes did flutter open, though, you all but flung yourself at him with a cry of his name, more relieved than you had ever felt in your entire life thus far. Through chuckles and coughs, Jon thanked you a thousand times and assured you he was fine a thousand more. For the next ten minutes, you would not let go of him as you rambled about how worried you’d been, how much you’d missed him, how you swore to never take him for granted ever again. And you kept that promise, the two of you becoming inseparable from then on.

It became common knowledge within the walls of Winterfell that wherever you were, Jon Snow would not be far, and vice versa. While Theon Greyjoy was Robb’s shadow, you were Jon’s companion, his other half, his partner in crime. You were the more mischievous of the two of you, and when Arya was old enough, she followed in your footsteps to become your secret accomplice. Due to the circumstance of your arrival, Lady Catelyn had a softness in her heart for you, for seeing you happy, and even she could not deny that you were at your happiest when you were with Jon Snow. Lord Eddard thought what was blossoming between the two of you to be the loveliest thing, and was proud of the involvement he had in your residence at Winterfell to continue such a bond. He, himself, was very fond of you and the happiness you brought the son that had been disadvantaged since his birth. Though he did not like to plan too far ahead, he hoped that someday, Jon may request his father’s advice on asking for your hand.

And as the two of you grew up together, Ned Stark only became more confident in his hopes for his son’s happiness. In the eyes of others, you would only ever dare intertwine your pinky fingers and cast longing smiles at each other, but that was enough for Lord Stark to know what was becoming of the two of you. In the privacy of your own space, or the godswood, you were free to hold hands, hold each other completely, and even share the occasional chaste kiss if the moment called for it.

The first of those kisses had been on your fourteenth nameday, when Jon had led you to the godswood and presented you with a bouquet of flowers that he had picked himself, tied together with a black cord necklace that had a silver sword charm hanging from it, that he had asked the blacksmith to assist him in making for you. It was a little crooked as a result of Jon’s shaking hands when welding it, but you only thought that made it more personable, proof of the fact he had been the one to make it for you, which only made it mean all the more to you. Untying the bouquet, you held it in your hands and turned your back to Jon, allowing him to bring the necklace around your front and clasp it at the back of your neck. The smile on your face when you spun on your heel was like nothing he’d ever seen, the tears in your eyes reflecting the light of the sun as it streamed through the leaves of the weirwood tree. Seeing the necklace he had made and gifted to you actually hanging from your neck for the first time was an experience like no other, and it continued to take his breath away every time he saw you wearing it thereafter, the pride with which you wore it never failing to give him butterflies. And every time you caught him staring at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the sword charm, he was brought back to the godswood, under the weirwood tree, when you had wrapped your arms around his neck, holding the bouquet of flowers behind his head and gifting him with the first kiss he had ever received from anyone.

But no matter how proudly you smiled whenever you were at his side, no matter how many times you bit the heads off of any that dared call him a bastard in your presence, no matter the countless nights spent reassuring him that you had never thought of him as lesser for his namesake, Jon Snow could never believe himself to be good enough for you.

Lord Eddard Stark had hoped that when his son approached him not long after his sixteenth nameday, the time had come for him to bestow the fatherly advice of how to ask for a lady’s hand. It was only when Jon asked about the Night’s Watch that Lord Stark understood he had been sorely mistaken, and as Jon had never explicitly disclosed his feelings for you to his father, he did not think it was his place to ask his son if he was certain he wanted to leave you behind in taking such an oath. And when Jon shared his future plan with you, you did not feel it was your place to selfishly question why he would consider leaving you, when you knew such a position would bring him the feeling of honoring his father, something he had sought after all his life. And so, no opposition to Jon Snow’s future was presented, and your days together were numbered.

You had not taken Jon for granted since the day he had awoken from pox, but after he confessed his intention to join the Night’s Watch, you were more determined than ever to show him each and everyday just how much he meant to you. There was no ulterior motive to your actions, you wanted him to feel loved and appreciated in a way that only you could, for as long as you could. Some part of you did hope that perhaps your love for him would be enough to change his mind, but that did not motivate your actions, it was not an achievable goal in your mind, you were not foolish enough to believe you could accomplish the impossible. So, you began writing him letters and leaving them in places only he would find them. Posting them under the door to his bedroom, hiding them under his pillow, in the pockets of his jackets; and you would never tell him when you had written another, simply waited for him to find it, write his reply, and hide it for you, too. A constant and secret subtext to your every conversation that neither of you ever outwardly addressed, but in those letters, you laid your souls bare. Confined in written words, you were safe to dream of a future that could never be, to decide where you would live together, the colors you’d choose for the interior of your cottage, the horse rides you’d go on, the meals you’d cook together, the children you may have. All of it was safely locked away, for your eyes only, almost like the two of you could live that life through the rolls of parchment and then carry on your real lives satisfied by such fallacies.

The sentiments in your letters would often reduce Jon Snow to tears when he read them in the solitude of his own chambers, wishing more than anything that he could give you such a life, cursing the Gods for forcing that kind of love to be so far out of his reach. He appreciated every word, rereading them countless times until he would fall asleep with the pages still clutched in his hands, dreaming of the life he could never have.

Beyond that, everyday was met with beaming smiles between the two of you, both putting off the inevitable and pretending that the countdown of an unknown number of days was not looming over your heads with every sunrise and sunset you saw together. You would ride horses and hunt together, walk through the godswood hand in hand, spend hours on end in each other’s bedrooms, sitting beside each other on either of your beds to talk about anything and everything, to flirt until both of your faces were too hot to make eye contact anymore. And when Jon returned from the ritualistic event of beheading a deserter of the Night’s Watch with a white direwolf pup in his arms, you could not have squealed louder if you tried. The way that you cooed over that little creature, cradled it in your arms and spoke to him as though he could understand every word, made Jon’s heart sing further songs for a future he’d wish for over anything else, with as many animals as you would like if you would melt over them like you did Ghost.

After that, though, your lives seemed to pick up to a pace that neither of you liked. The death of King Robert’s hand led him to Winterfell, requesting Lord Eddard Stark replace his departed hand and join him in King’s Landing, and that in itself was a horrific enough turn of events. As the Stark’s maid by role, you would be best suited to serve Sansa and Arya, accompanying that half of the Stark family to King’s Landing and leaving Lady Catelyn and all of the boys, including Jon Snow, behind. But, of course, that was not the worst of it. Benjen Stark, as First Ranger of the Night’s Watch, was sent to Winterfell to appeal to the King for more men and resources, and the moment you saw Jon talking to him, you knew that your worst fear had come true at long last.

Everything passed in a blur after that, to this day you cannot recall how much time passed between the dread hitting you at seeing Jon talking to Benjen, and the hollow pit that formed in you seeing Jon preparing his horse for his departure to the Wall. For the first time since meeting him, your steps towards him were nervous, hesitant, and you hated yourself for it. If this was the last time you were to see him for Gods knew how long, you should have run to him, taken every second you could in an act of pure greed. But the closer you were, the more real it became, the more it hurt to face the fact that he was leaving, for good.

Hearing your heavy footsteps, Jon turned to face you, his face falling as he read the devastation in your eyes, clear as water.

“Oh, (Y/N).” Not caring for the public opinion then, he pulled you into his arms, wrapping his cloak around you to hide the two of you away in a little pocket of the world where you were safe to just exist together, one last time.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make your leave any more difficult. But I will miss you more than any words I write to you will be able to express.” You confessed, pouring your heart out to him because it was the last chance you had.

Jon’s arms tightened around you. “I know, and I will miss you just as much, if not more.”

Pulling away from him just enough to see his face, you took a deep breath. “I love you, Jon Snow.”

For a moment, shock flickered in his eyes, before he settled into a soft, warm smile, because he knew, you both did. “I love you too, (Y/N), and it’ll pass. We’ll live. Promise me, you’ll go out there and live.”

You nodded frantically, because if all you could give him in your last moments together was your word, you were going to give it to him. “I promise.”

A teasing smirk reached his face then, attempting to lift your spirits. “I don't doubt you’ll have men falling at your feet the second you reach King’s Landing.”

Rolling your eyes, you playfully slapped his chest through his clothes. “Don’t take the piss, you know none of them will ever compare to you, you just wanted to hear me say it for the hundredth time!”

Jon chuckled at that, always enjoying when you spoke the common tongue in the midst of the more formal vocabulary you’d been given since arriving at Winterfell, and shrugging at your insinuation. “Perhaps I did, but you know there are no women at the Wall, so you will forever be the only one for me, forgive me for wanting to hear you say I’ll be yours in the same way one more time.”

Smiling with him then, you took another deep breath and stepped away from him, holding his hands. “Well, if you get cold feet when you’re about to take your oath and decide you would like to reconsider the whole ‘taking no wife’ aspect, you’ll know where to find me.”

At that, Jon squeezed your hands and released a hearty laugh. “Aye, and if any man mistreats you, send me a raven and I’ll get him ordered to the Wall somehow to sort him out.”

Before Jon could mount his horse, he faltered, eyes darting from yours to your lips before deciding that if it was his last chance to do so, he was not going to deny himself the bliss that was you. Taking your face in his hands, he kissed you more passionately than he ever had before, your knees nearly buckling beneath you and your head spinning as he did, gripping his wrists to hold him there.

By the time you parted from each other and Jon mounted his horse, you were both panting with dazed smiles on your faces.

“I’ll always be yours, you know, no matter what.” He swore to you.

“And I will always be yours. Dream of me, Jon Snow.” You asked of him, and he grinned at you.

“Each and every night, I swear it, by the old Gods and the new.”

And then, he was gone. Riding through the gates of Winterfell for the last time, not daring to look back at you because if he did, he knew he would see you collapse to your knees as you sobbed. He could feel the weight of that in his heart without needing to see it, and that was temptation enough to nearly turn back. If he looked at you then, he would never be able to leave.

Thinking back, that should have been what told Jon Snow that he never should have left. And it would not be long before he wished he never had.

His journey to the wall passed in a painful blur, feeling every inch of new distance that separated him from you, further than he had ever gone without you since the day you arrived at the gates and made Winterfell his home. Jon felt a chain tugging at his heart as it resisted moving any further from you with every step he and his horse took, every word he spoke with his traveling companions of his new life that would not include you. He was ready, he was so certain of it, but soon enough he realized that everything he would do for the rest of his life would have you at the heart of it. Every foe he fought, every task he took on, his first thought would be that in some distant way, he could have just saved you from something, and that was the only victory he truly felt.

Upon entering the snow covered courtyard of Castle Black to begin his new life, an older man in a black fur cloak greeted him and the group of men that had arrived with him.

“Which of you is Jon Snow?”

He very nearly missed the question, too in awe of the sheer size of the Wall and wondering what the world would look like from the very top - being able to picture your amazed expression upon seeing it, as clear as day - but immediately concluding that everything he could see in the direction he came from would serve as nothing more than a reminder of you, not to him. To him, you were the world and more.

“I am Jon Snow.” He answered, clearing his throat and stepping forward.

Reaching into his cloak, the older man handed him an envelope. “Never have I seen a raven arrive before the boy that the letter in its beak was addressed to.”

Jon’s cheeks flushed pink, turning the letter over in his hands and knowing from the way his name was written on the front that it had come from you. Quietly thanking the man he did not know to be the Lord Commander at the time, he tucked the envelope in his own cloak to conceal it, and did not have the time to read it until he had retired to his quarters for the night and had to squint to read the words with candlelight.

“My dear Jon,

I watched until I couldn’t see you anymore, and then came straight here. I hope to not write too much, so that maybe this letter is sent in good time and arrives at the Wall before you do. We are leaving for King’s Landing soon; I will be grateful to no longer be in a room that exists solely as a reminder of you, like everything else here, but I fear that even in a place I have never been, I will find pieces of you.

Please, let me know that you arrived at the Wall safely, and tell me of your first day. Are the men treating you kindly?

I hope to see you in my dreams, I’ll be searching for you there.

Until we meet again.

Yours,

(Y/N).”

Quite suddenly, Jon found that he no longer cared for his own exhaustion at all. He rose from his bed and marched out of his chambers, heart set on a mission. If you had gone to the effort of writing to him quickly enough for it to reach him on his arrival, he would be damned if he did not reciprocate such a gesture.

And so, when you arrived at King’s Landing, Lord Varys approached you with an envelope decorated with handwriting that you recognised immediately. The smile that overtook your face that had been missing ever since Jon’s departure, returned in grandeur, informing Arya, Sansa and Lord Eddard Stark that both you and they all knew exactly who had sent a raven to you. Even Lord Varys, ever the perceiver, smiled at your excitement.

Without delay, you tore the envelope open, eyes scanning over your beloved’s words with fervor. By the end of the first sentence, your vision was blurred by your own tears, but you were determined to blink them away in order to read and memorize Jon’s every written word.

“My Lady (Y/N),

Your letter arrived as intended, before I had even reached the wall. Thank you for sending such a precious thing, I have folded it and will keep it in a pocket over my heart for the rest of my days, I swear it. To carry a piece of you with me is the greatest comfort in this new place.

The Wall is bigger than any can say, I hope someday you are able to visit and see it for yourself, but I understand if a short lived reunion would be too painful.

I hope that King’s Landing brings you countless new sights, instead of constant reminders of our past, though I can speak to the fact that everything here reminds me of you, despite you having never set foot further north than home.

My time here has been a good challenge so far. I have begun training with the other men; in truth, I think you could take on any one of them.

I have not yet spent my first night here - I am writing to you with the same urgency with which you wrote me, but I am certain that I will see you in my dreams this night and every night thereafter, as promised.

I am not certain I will be able to reply to your letters often, but please, do not stop sending them. I will treasure each and every one. Please, tell me of King’s Landing, of the things you do there, of the adventures you have with Arya, and send my love to her and my father, as well.

Now, I’ll race to sleep to see you again.

Yours,

Jon x”

By the end of his letter, your bottom lip was trembling and the tears you had been blinking away were cascading down your cheeks. Chuckling quietly, Lord Stark wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“Come now, (Y/N), I doubt this was the reaction he wanted!”

Sniffling, you nod at him. “You’re right.” Looking to Varys with determination in your eyes, you composed yourself as much as you could. “Please, can you take me to the ravens so I can write back?”

Sharing a glance with the Warden of the North, Lord Varys nodded. “Of course, my dear, follow me.”

Walking away from the family that had taken care of you for many years, you ascended the tallest tower of King’s Landing to find a raven sitting in a window, with a desk holding quills, jars of ink and rolls of parchment in the center of the room. Little did you know then, that would be the room you spent more time in than anywhere else during your stay at King’s Landing.

You would send letter after letter, starting at sending one a week, then one a month, then one every other, not wanting to bombard Jon Snow with correspondence when he was yet to respond to the very first letter you had sent from that tower. In between helping out in the kitchens to continue your role as the Stark’s maid, spending time practicing sword fighting with Arya and gossipping with Sansa, you would sit in that tower and wait. Most nights, that is where you slept, the last sight of each day being the stars that you stared up at from the window and hoped with everything in you, Jon could see them, too.

Though it pained your heart to wait day after day and receive no word from him, your fondness for Jon Snow did not dare waver. Some part of you knew that he was still alive, that he was alright, because you firmly believed that if he wasn’t, you would feel it, even from so far away.

Lord Eddard Stark’s heart ached for you when every eve, you would arrive at the door to the hand’s chambers with the same question, the same glimmering hope in your eyes and voice as you asked it, and he would have to let you down as gently as he could, each and everyday.

“I’m afraid there’s been no word from him as yet, (Y/N), but I’m sure he is just too busy with his duties.”

You would nod, because of course, that had to be the truth. It was not possible for you to even consider the notion that Jon did not want to hear from you, he had pleaded with you to keep sending letters, so you would, until he told you not to.

“The farmer’s boy that came to the kitchens today has some affection for you.” Sansa had said to you when you had joined her in her chambers after supper, smiling in the hopes that it would encourage you to do the same.

Instead, you barely even met her eyes, your tone showing little to no interest in the eyes she had seemingly spotted a boy giving you when she had visited you in the kitchens, that you neglected to notice.

“Does he?” Your tone made your disinterest clear, your focus on your duties as you made your friend’s bed, the act second nature by that time.

Sansa rolled her eyes and took your hands, bringing you over to sit down beside her on her bed. “Of course! How could you not see it?”

At that, you shrugged sheepishly, knowing the answer as well as she did. “There’s only one I’ll ever wish to see such things from, m’Lady.”

A common girl at heart, you had never been one to address the Starks informally.

“Why is it that you cannot let him go?” Sansa asked you then, her voice pained for you, seeing you pine for her brother in such a way.

“He is gone, I know that to be true, m’Lady, but…it seems my heart doesn’t know the same.” You offered her a small smile, the most you could muster at the time, and Sansa sighed.

After that, she sought other means of cheering up. The two of you tried on every dress she had in her ornate wardrobe and danced around the room to music that was not playing, pretending you were fanciful Lords and Ladies at some grand ball.

Once Sansa had fallen asleep, you had tiptoed back to the tower, pinning every hope you had on the thought that while you had allowed yourself to have some fun, there may then be a raven waiting for you. But upon reaching the top of the tower, you saw the window was empty, not a feather in sight.

And unfortunately, after that day, the events of King’s Landing meant that you only had more and more letters to send Jon.

To see the man that all but raised you, beheaded in front of a crowd that hurled abuse at him for confessing a crime he did not commit, was not something that you even had time to process. There was not a moment to grieve when you had to ensure Sansa’s safety, because you were the only one left to do so. Arya was gone, you didn’t know where, but you hoped that she had escaped safely and was living an adventure of her own.

And later, the news of Robb and Lady Catelyn’s brutal murders while in the slippery hands of Walder Frey. Again, you were unable to think of yourself, and could only be with Sansa while she suffered and mourned the loss of her entire family, as she knew it.

You only allowed yourself fleeting instances to grieve, to feel the anxiety of it all, and those moments were all safely concealed in your letters to Jon that continued to go unanswered. They began to serve you more as a journal than correspondence awaiting a reply, and you found solace in the fact that your words and worries and pains were going to Jon, because they were safe with him. The knowledge of him holding all of your secrets and still, in some way, being there for you in receiving them, was the only comfort you had.

When Lord Petyr Baelish, someone you believed to be a worm of a man from the second you were introduced, came for Sansa, you were the only person she trusted enough to stay at her side. In fact, she completely refused to be parted from you, and Baelish agreed to rescue you, too, because he thought of you as nothing more than a maid and a means to earn points with Sansa.

As much as you advised where you could, Baelish was never far enough away for you to be completely honest with Sansa about him or his antics, he made certain of that. While you could not protect her with regards to getting her away from him, you thought you could at least protect her in whatever schemes he manipulated her into.

Regrettably, that led you back to the place you had called home, except it was in ruin when compared to your last memory of it. Having first been overtaken by Theon Greyjoy, which was the greatest personal betrayal you had ever felt, it had since been infested with the Boltons. The act of marrying Sansa to Ramsay Bolton - who you desperately wished you could refer to as Snow in your own head to mentally scorn him, if such a namesake didn’t have a place in your heart that forbade you - was outright barbaric, in your opinion. You could tell the man he was from the sight of Theon, or Reek, as he was newly named. But again, you were not given a moment alone with Sansa to dissuade her.

Still, you did everything you could and stayed at her side at every waking moment. That was, until her wedding night. While on the way to her chambers to meet her before the event, one of Ramsay’s henchmen that you had thought was just walking past you, grabbed you and slammed your head into a wall, knocking you unconscious.

At her wedding, Sansa had scanned every face in the crowd, searching for you desperately. It did not take her long to conclude that you were not there, and that thought alone told her that everything was wrong.

You awoke in darkness, unable to determine how long you had been unconscious for, but found one of your wrists chained to the back wooden leg of a bed, that was seemingly bolted to the stone ground that you were sprawled out on. The throbbing in your head quickly reminded you of what had happened and you fought to break free from your chains, to get to Sansa, save her, give your life for hers if the situation called for it, but it was fruitless.

Only when you sat back against the wall, breathing heavily and crying tears of frustration, did the door open. There stood Ramsay Bolton, with a grim smile that you could only see in the light of the candle that he held to his face.

“Welcome home, maid.”

Having been stuck in a similar mindset to you, barred from processing his own emotions in the place of his duties, Jon Snow had, too, reached a point of no return, in more ways than one. He had read many of your letters to begin with, but as the months passed, he was given more and more responsibilities, more tasks that took more time, and journeys beyond the wall. As a result, Jon simply did not have a moment to sit down and devote to you, outside of his dreams. While he had tried to read your letters as and when they arrived, before he knew it, there was a pile of envelopes forming, all of which addressed to him, and he could not bring himself to read anymore. The more he heard of his family’s passing, he knew that you would be sharing your grief with him, and that was a weight he was not ready to bare, having not yet confronted his own.

As well as that, the responsibilities Jon had been given and the things he had accomplished during his time at the wall had led to the majority of men, including the Maester, to vote in favor of him becoming the Lord Commander - a position he had never imagined were possible for someone like him. And his first thought on being granted such an honor was to tell you, it truly was, but without having read or replied to any of your letters since the very first, he thought it would be a disservice to the time you had given to him. One day, he would tell himself each and every night, one day he would sit down and read each and every one, and he would send you the longest letter you’ve ever seen, that would take 10 ravens to deliver to you.

But despite the continued chaos of his life at the Wall, Jon had noticed that no letters had arrived for him in some time. The last one you had sent had been from Winterfell, he knew that based on the sigil the envelope was sealed with, but he also knew that his home was under the control of the Boltons, who were not to be trusted based on the vultures they had been in claiming his home.

Still, there was only time for him to worry about such things in between everything else. The wildlings he needed to save, the white walkers he needed to save them from, the fate of the rest of the world as he knew it, and how Samwell Tarley would fare as a father to his adoptive son, were amongst the most prominent of Jon’s thoughts.

It was only upon saving the wildlings and doing what he thought was right - what he knew you would agree was the right thing to do - he was murdered in an act of mutiny from the men of the Night’s Watch, and a boy. Death was what allowed Jon Snow to regain some perspective. Once awoken from what should have been an infinite sleep, the red witch had approached him and asked what he had seen once life had faded from him.

“Nothing.” Jon had said, and he was not deceiving her.

It was true, he did not see a thing once the world faded around him. Everything disappeared into a great abyss, endless darkness, and he felt he was in an awful dream. That was, until he heard your voice, calling his name. Just a whisper at first, but it grew in volume, in urgency, until you were crying for him and with a gasp, his spirit returned to his wounded body.

And the moment he had opened his eyes, he knew what he had to do. First, he had to punish those who had betrayed him and retire from his watch, having served his duty ‘til death, as his oath intended. As soon as he was free of such responsibility, he disappeared to his chambers and took the box of envelopes, all addressed to him, and sitting on his bed, he read through each and every one.

Jon Snow had never felt worse, or cried more, in his life. Reading of your sorrows and hardships, the pain you had felt in his absence and in your grief, how desperately you pleaded to receive word from him, of his safety. Even through his tears, though, you managed to make him laugh. Sometimes just a quiet chuckle, but the tales you told and memories you recalled were enough to bring hearty laughs from him as he wiped his eyes. By the time he reached your final letter, his face ached and his heart was heavier than it had ever been.

“Jon,

I do not know how long I will have to write this, so I will keep this brief. Sansa is not safe here. I will do all I can to assist her in her escape, but it will not be easy.

If I can get her out of here, I will send her to the Wall, to you. She will tell you everything.

I miss you with every waking and sleeping moment, knowing you will not be there when I open my eyes again. I hope to see you again, but in truth, returning here has resulted in seeing you in places that you have been, but no longer are. Please do not worry, I am not losing my mind, but my eyes are playing cruel tricks on my heart in such a familiar place, where I have seen you everywhere, more times than I can count.

Please take care of Sansa, and yourself.

Yours, always.

(Y/N) x”

All of a sudden, Jon Snow wished he had not so quickly resigned his position as Lord Commander. Had he not, he would order every man to Winterfell to rescue his sister and you, who you had not spared a single thought to in your own escape plan for Sansa.

That was the moment he heard it, commotion at the gates of Castle Black. Regardless of no longer being the Lord Commander, he felt a responsibility to see to the arrival of whomever it may be. And like a miracle sent by the letters he had taken far too long to read, his sister was stood in the courtyard, with a knightly woman and her squire. The sight lifted Jon’s heavy heart beyond comprehension as he tentatively approached his sister, who had been a girl the last time he’d seen her and was now a woman, but when her face fell and she launched herself into his arms, he could not resist the sense of dread for what was to come; finding out the reason behind your absence from their party.

Not wanting to address the dark cloud that loomed over him until Sansa was settled, he sat with her in his chambers with a warm fire crackling at her feet and a bowl of hot stew in her hands. The two of them reminisced on the lives they missed terribly that were lost to time, and Jon knew either of them could only go so long before-

“Where will you go?” Sansa asked him with worried eyes.

“Where will we go.” Jon corrected her. “If I don’t watch over you, Father’s ghost’ll come back and murder me.”

And with a gentle smile, Sansa finally spoke your name. “And if you don’t rescue (Y/N), both Mother and Father’s ghosts will haunt you until the end of your days.”

He smiled back at her, a wave of relief washing over him like nothing he had ever known, because he knew you were alive. By no means were you safe or happy, but as long as you were alive, Jon Snow could fix the rest. And he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, he would. Even if doing so killed him a second time.

———————

taglist: @otteropera @neymarjrrwife @oliviabelova

#jon snow #jon snow x reader #jon snow image #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #x reader #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons

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in-my-feels-probably · 11 months

Text

Presenting…My Top 10 Fics

alright, this is a little self indulgent, BUT—here’s a list of my top 10 favorite fics i’ve ever written. i’ve written a lot of shitty work, and some semi shitty work, but i occasionally write something i’m proud of, and these are it!

thank you so much to anyone who has supported my work, especially these fics :)

—

and now, in no particular order:

1. Enchanted - Nikolai Lantsov

2. Feeling - Sirius Black

3. Good Fortune - Carmen Berzatto

4. Holding Onto a Mirrorball - Nikolai Lantsov

5. Sweet Creature - Rhaenyra Targaryen

6. You and Me - Jon Snow

7. Paper Rings - Sirius Black

8. Doomsday - Aemond Targaryen

9. Home - Sirius Black

10. Muña - Alicent Hightower

—

idk if this what y’all consider my best work, but hopefully you enjoyed these fics. i think they’re all decent lol, some more than others. “feeling” is probably my favorite!

ALSO! my requests are still open! here’s the list of characters i’m currently writing for, please send any ideas you have in :)

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ewanmitchelll · 9 months

Text

Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (X): Long Live.

Imagine you are transported to the past… instants before the legendary battle between Aemond and his uncle Daemon Targaryen occurs. What will you do? Part I.

Warnings: drama, angst, smut—fluff; loosely based on “Outlander”.

Warnings 2: alternative universe concerning the end of “GOT”’s season 8 where Daenerys lives and Jon Snow never killed her, with a more modern take.

Warnings 3: long post.

***

• Current days.

With the war coming to an end and the recent coronation of Queen Daenerys, your life has finally returned to what it used to be… before the threat of the Others, when you were forced to flee from Winterfell to go down South and live with your uncle and aunt all the whilst the rest of your family decided to move to Sunspear, in Dorne.

You start a new life at King’s Landing, taking a course at the Westerosi University, making new friends and even finding a few dates for yourself.

“We should definitely head to Aegon’s Hill”, your friend Margaery says. “There’s a very mystical place, abandoned after the Usurper fell”, she adds in reference to Cersei Lannister’s death by treason.

You hesitate, but what’s there to lose? Security has been restored thanks to the joint efforts of Queen Daenerys and her King Consort, Jaehaerys II after years of civil war plus the madness coming from the north.

“We should celebrate there”, another friend named Lyna adds.

And that is how it all begins. But who could tell what was going to happen?

In the first hours of the morning next you, already dressed in red, black stripes pants and a white, winter like blouse, get your fundamental things in your backpack with an adventure feeling you cannot get rid off.

“And here we go”, you mumble to yourself after getting some coffee.

You hear the sound of a “beeeee”, and you know it’s Margery on the car. You wave a quick goodbye from your aunt and uncle before dropping into it.

“Don’t get yourself too late at home!”, you hear your aunt yelling over her shoulder.

You laugh quietly before yelling back:

“When have I ever failed you?”

And so you are driven all the way to Aegon’s hill, singing a random song seconded by your girl friends.

“I feel so excited about going there”, you, usually the quiet one, find yourself chatty this morning. Is the coffee the cause of it? Maybe. “I was reading about it and rumour has it there are a few enchantments surrounding the stone blocks that remain still.”

“You can’t honestly believe this shit”, Lyna reclines back the backseat and gives you a look. “It’s all mythical. Stories tell us that that hill received the Conqueror’s name because that was where he flew with the great Balerion.”

“But before his arrival there used to be the spot of ancient religions that turned such spot one very meaningful for their practices and all. Aegon himself kept it, aware of its importance”, you honestly don’t know what’s with you, but part of you likes the mysterious aura that place has.

“There is also a legend dated from the days of the Blackfyre rebellion that if you are not careful enough you can be tossed into the past”, says Margaery.

“How past that is, one wonders”, Lyna muses, eventually taking in the idea.

“That depends. The three eyed crow could tell… but it’s been said the man was killed by the Night King.”

You tilt your head as if pondering what the girls are talking about.

“I still can’t believe he died during the war”, you muse out loud.

“He sacrificed for the realm. Apparently he always knew that.”

No one dares to say anything. The Great War is still a sensitive topic to many and your group isn’t an exception to it. Eventually, however, you manage to get to the hill.

It’s large and surrounded by very ancient stones indeed. The beauty in its mysticism makes all the more alluring to you. Something so captivating calls you and, distracted, as if you have been hypnotized, you attend it.

In baby steps you walk, ignoring the bubbling of your friends. A soft hymn, as if played by a harp, is heard.

“Do you hear this, girls?”, you turn at them, missing the mist that rises from nowhere.

But they seem unable to hear you. You try to reach them, especially when the sound of an earthquake scares the hell out of you. You grip tightly the stone, or try to, but it’s when everything spins and you scream.

When your friends turn at you, you are no longer there.

***

• Days of War

I said remember this moment in the back of my mind. The time we stood with our shaking hands. The crowds in stands went wild…

A thunder scratches through the black clouds, roaring it violently. It only announces bad omens. Men paint the soil with their blood in red all the whilst dragons rip skies in cursed fighting.

As it starts to rain, Aemond Targaryen prepares to fight his bitter enemy, confident that he will bring victory to his side. Rhaenyra has been suffering with many losses, betrayals, no one believes her cause anymore.

Dressed in dark green leather, he doesn’t mind the rain that soaks his long silver hair. A twisted, evil smirk is seen as he rests his hand over his sword sheath.

“And here we go, Vhagar”, he mumbles when climbing Aegon’s hill where his dragon, the legendary beast that followed Balerion and Meraxes in the conquest of Westeros many moons ago, awaits.

But it’s precisely when seeing Vhagar agitated and spitting fire that has Aemond startled. What could be the cause of its state? He is ready to run to it when he sees… you.

A scared woman in what he judges to be in her mid 20’s has just tumbled before him. Dressing in strange clothes, your hair is soaked and you shake. You are bloody scared, he can tell, and in other circumstances he’d shoo you away.

However, you not only possess strange objects he’d never seen, but something else that captures his attention. And when you see who’s the man that stands right before you… you remember your history lessons.

And you scream.

Right before you pass out.

“What the fuck?”, Aemond breathes heavily, wide eyed gazing at you. Part of him tells to leave you there, but another cannot. Curiosity takes the best so he forgets the battle for now and carries you with him. “Vhagar, it appears we are delaying the freaking encounter this day. For now.”

Not in the best of the moods, he is, however, intrigued by you. As he flies with you to his secretive spot—away from Alys, he keeps it in mind—, he wonders about your whereabouts and why you dress such unusual clothing. And what’s this object you carry behind your back? A product of witchcraft perhaps?

He narrows his eyes, suspiciously so. But in the midst of this long term war, one thing is for sure: you have brought him back the inquisitiveness that he’s long lost…

***

When you open your eyes, it takes you a few minutes to realize where you are… and when realizing that your clothes are changed, you are forced to acknowledge that whatever happened the day before was not a dream.

You begin to panic when you see your surroundings. You are in a large, comfortable bed with lamb skin made blankets over your frame. The furniture is not as modern as the one your aunt has in her household.

You swallow hard, scanning still your eyes s modest desk, and a simple window. All of this makes you miss the discreet presence of Lord Aemond, who’d been watching you from the side of the chamber you haven’t noticed yet.

“I wonder the cause behind your astonishment”, his husky voice breaks the silence in such a powerful way that you nearly jump out of the bed, which makes the prince amused.

Never before had you stood a royal before, even if this man is not the kindest of his station. You force yourself to remember your history lessons and behave in the most natural way possible.

Therefore you stand and dip into what you judge a careful curtsy. Aemond’s eyebrows are raised, arms folded. But he is no fool.

“You are not from here”, he continues. “Who are you? A very weird spy sent by my dear sister to distract me?”

In other circumstances you’d have laughed out loud. But you are too frightened to do that. Aemond sees you are shaking, a clear sign of fear.

“Well? Has the cat eaten your tongue, my lady?”, he sighs heavily, not the most patient of men.

“I… No, lord. I am not”, never before you’ve been thankful for learning the ways of nobility, aware few of the etiquette has altered in the course of centuries. “I… I am not your sister’s partisan.”

Aemond can tell you speak the truth, but he approaches you, shortening the distance between you two. Then he shows you your backpack and all the things there are still inside.

“What are these then? Are you a witch, lady? Has my sister bought you so you could use such witchcraft against us, against me?”

Part of you finds ridiculous how this is going. Another is trying not to laugh at the face of danger. The reasonable self there is still in you prevails by masking your sentiments, reminding that you need to conquer this man’s trust if you want to go back home.

“If I tell you, lord, you will not believe me”, you opt for the truth. If the prince has long decided to burn you, then what does it matter?

Aemond is surprised by the moment you lift your eyes. Something about your gaze shakes his heart, as if bringing the tempest within. He ignores the shiver that now runs over his spine.

“Try me”, he commmands you to.

“I must have your word that you shall not burn me.”

The prince side smirks at you.

“Do I have the reputation of slaying ladies or sending them to death? Believe me, my lady, my mistress has been associated with dark magic and here I stand.”

Without thinking twice, though, the following words roll out of your tongue:

“But you are renowned as the kinslayer. That speaks for itself.” It’s only then you know you’ve angered the prince. Shit. “I’m sorry, lord.”

“You are my prisoner”, Aemond snaps back at you. “Bear in mind you need my favour if you have any love for your life.”

Your eyes are puddled with tears. Once too proud, you slide to your knees and beg him for your life.

“Lord, I’ve been a victim of witchcraft. I’ve been casted here, that is the truth and only truth. I come from the future and there is where I belong. I’ve never meant to stay in your way. I beg you to spare me, we have no cause for otherwise.”

Aemond’s good eye is slightly wide. He can tell, being a good observer, that you are not lying even if his reason cannot conceive it. On the other hand, what surprises him more is the way you are begging him. He’d taken you as a proud woman. The scene now disconcerts him.

“I must depart. I am needed and…”

You know you should not meddle in the past, aware of the consequences. This is a bad reputed prince, the chronicles helped making you dislike him greatly. However, you depend on him in going back to Aegon’s Hill. Therefore…

“Don’t go. You will die.”

Aemond’s eyebrows raise epically.

“What? Listen to me, young lady. Whomever you may be, sent by my sister or not, you shall better hold your tongue.”

Oh this couldn’t go any worse, could it? You sigh heavily.

“And then what? I need you, lord, to find my way back home. If you die today, I’ll be stuck in here for good.”

“Perhaps then I should have left you to Alys.”

“No!”, something about your cry scares the untamed prince. “Lord, please. I…”

A moment of silence. Neither could believe in what is going right before their eyes. You, stuck in the middle of another war; him, in the presence of what he judges to be a product of witchcraft.

“How should I address my lady?” Aemond opts to begin again.

And when you soften, so does he.

“Y/N, lord.”

“Y/N, I am Aemond Targaryen. Looks like there’s so much to catch on…”

To change the fate of Westeros, he stays.

***

The night you danced like you knew our lives would never be the same. You held your head like a hero on a history book page. It was the end of a decade, but the start of an age.

Aemond’s good eye studies you as you eat like you haven’t been fed for ages. Your hair is still hanging lose behind your back and you are still wearing a pair of delicate earrings he’d never seen before, but all else makes you look like a woman of his own times.

“So the enchantments of Aegon’s Hill are true”, he muses, breaking the silence as he takes a sip of his wine.

“They are, lord.”

“But never heard of a case where they had… succeeded, in fact.” He tilts his head. “What proof can you give me you are actually from there?”

“My objects aren’t proof enough?”

This silences the prince for now.

“I do not think wise to meddle in these events”, you say in turn. “Lord knows what that’d be like for my own days.”

Aemond is intrigued as he watches you pale. Then curiosity knocks his pride out.

“What’s like? The future?”

You wonder if you should tell him. As if he reads you, Aemond adds:

“Eventually I die. I am not asking you how. But your days, lady, I want to know. How better are they from mine?”

Sadness sparks behind your y/c eyes, a sight that inspires sympathy on him.

“Worse, I dare say. I was first raised in a long civil war. And then… another came, worse still. I really have no words to put it.”

“I cannot conceive a war worst than civil war”, says Aemond. “But another civil war bled Westeros?”

“Yes”, you try not to speak too much.

“Fuck”, Aemond grumbles under his breath. “All of this… for nothing?”

Not knowing what to say, you choose silence. And not knowing how to react, Aemond breathes in frustration. He decides to leave you.

And you end up that evening alone. But early next morning, Aemond, too intrigued with your presence to remember to fight his enemies, paces anxiously around the castle. He must know, he needs to know. And when waiting becomes unbearable, you show up.

Dressed in a blue velvet gown, you look properly like a lady of these times even though you cannot mask well your discomfort. Aemond’s own thoughts disappear before the sight of you, feeling so lost, so… out of place.

“My lady”, he doesn’t admit how taken aback he is by your beauty. “I pray you have slept better this night.”

“Not really, I’m afraid”, and your red eyes are a clear sign of how you actually spent your night. Aemond frowns at that, preoccupied. “I shall make my mission taking you home… after the battle that awaits me.”

You should not care, but you feel disconcerted by his presence. The way he looks at you says all.

“I cannot convince you otherwise”, you sigh. “Can you at least leave me at Aegon’s Hill, though?”

A request that defies your sanity, you know well. One that poses your boldly despair very clear. But you are now a survivor struggling to live in such a strange world.

However, Aemond is not willing to let go easily of you. Inspired by mixed feelings, he says:

“You are my prisoner now, remember? I shall keep your secret”, he approaches you slow, shortening the distance between the two of you. “Just tell me how to beat my uncle, how to win this war.”

“Oh Lords”, you find support in the wall. “What kind of question is that? In one moment you…”

“Just tell me!”, Aemond cuts you, rather impatiently.

“I cannot! Lord, if I do, the world I know my disappear.”

He realizes the dilemma you are. Confused by all of this mess, Aemond hesitates.

“Just stay here until I come back.”

Without waiting for any response, there he leaves you, but not to fight Daemon Targaryen. Not now. And you weep because this is all you can do for now.

***

You try to leave the castle, disguised as a peasant, but your plan comes to fail when Aemond comes back and from above, he spots a strange figure running through the woods.

Now here you are, a prisoner again. This time the prince is in a better mood.

“You are really trying to get away of me. In other circumstances, I’d be mad at you for this bluntness”, he muses, offering you wine as you sit in front of the fireplace.

You shoot him a glare, not saying anything.

“What am I to you but a toy so you can play?” Desperation hits a different tone and before you know you burst into tears, swiping away his mug smirk.

After a while, Aemond comes to his senses. He reluctantly takes your hand and when both of you see fingers intertwining, a different heat seems to rise.

“I lament profoundly to cause you pain, lady Y/N”, says he. “But this is who I am. Shouldn’t you know that?”

“I believed in other men’s judgement where you are concerned, but now…”

“Now what?”, he asks, somewhat anxious.

“Now I know in the hard way we should be better than be led by prejudices.”

Aemond leans back in his chair, thoughtful. You realize he doesn’t let go of your hand.

“Wise words, lady Y/N.” And then he muses. “I died, didn’t I? We lost this war, didn’t we?”

You avoid his gaze, opting for silence. But your silence screams unspoken words that reach the Prince’s heart. And he sighs, in between melancholy and resignation.

***

The following days you are not entitled as the lord Aemond’s prisoner any longer. Showing some colours in the horizon, hope stands as he presents you as the illegitimate daughter of some nobleman loyal to the green house who’d been deceased in the previous battles.

With a more convincing background, you are better instructed by maids of his trust in the manners of the times. Soon, you are offered a place to serve Queen Helaena.

It’s when you remember that droll tragedy.

“Oh no!”

Aemond raises his eye at you.

“What makes you deny this privilege any lady would kill to earn?”

You blush.

“I mean to say…”, you struggle with words, “I am unfit for such a position.”

“Allow me to disagree with you”, Aemond smiles and suddenly the view pleases your heart very much. “There shall be a ball on behalf of my sister’s birthday this weekend.”

“Will we dance?”, you blurt it out before you realize.

Aemond’s cheeks go pink at your spontaneity.

“Dance, you say”, he muses thoughtfully. “I am no dancer, my lady.”

“We are performers in life. Therefore anyone can be a dancer.”

“Quite a wit you possess”, says he in reluctant admittance. “Very well. If it pleases my lady…”

One smile is enough to turn tables.

“It does.”

And a new fate is sealed.

***

“It doesn’t feel like you are an outsider”, so mumbles Aemond to you alone as you two dance amidst courtiers.

It’s a sweet melody, cheerful somewhat in its beat, certainly bringing many presents a smile on their faces. The Dowager Queen looks pleased and delighted, entertained by her twins. One look at them and you are remembered by the upcoming events.

Oh, the burden of knowing too much. You swallow the bitter thought as you dance with the rogue prince. Earlier the Queen, who had welcomed you in the merriest of the moods, had said no one but a traveler could bring a man as her brother to dance. Her remark, not taken seriously by many, did manage to leave you uncomfortable. After all, you forgot that she had the Targaryen ability of possessing dreams.

“How come?”, you inquire, and it doesn’t take long before your gaze meets his.

He doesn’t strike you as the villain.

“You fit here just fine”, Aemond whispers in response.

As you twirl, hands barely touching his, you feel you are about to fall right into the trap.

“Do you think so?” And then you flash him a mischievous smirk. “Who’d ever thought we could get along?”

“Who, indeed?”

And then the dance comes to an end. Aemond takes your hand and bows, as you curtsy. But when he presses his lips against your skin, your heart races.

It appears you found your hero, after all.

***

Long live the walls we crashed through, how the kingdom lights shined just for me and you. I was screaming, "Long live all the magic we made” and bring on all the pretenders. One day we will be remembered…

It’s late night. Aemond’s thoughts are only on the strange woman who was tossed out of time and space to go straight to the core of the civil war that will be known in posterity as dance of dragons.

He’s been so captivated that he’s long forsaken Mistress Rivers and his obsession in defeating his sworn enemy, his own uncle Daemon Targaryen. Therefore he decides to go after you. Covered by the shadows of night with only the guidance of faint candlelights, he soon finds your bedchambers.

There is hesitation at first. His own thoughts are confused, his heart hammers in silent agony. There is half hope, half atonement in his heart beat.

Nevertheless, he came too far to stop now. So he knocks at long last.

There is no answer at first. And then…

“My lord Aemond”, you are surprised to find him on the other side of the door. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Despite the admonishment in your words, he can tell there is amusement in your eyes.

“Aye. But I couldn’t find myself able to sleep. And neither could you.”

A faint blush paints your cheeks, earning him his typical smirk.

“I wonder if the same thought has been the cause of our restless nights”, he begins, eyeing you up and down, much to your discomfort.

Dressed in your long white nightgown with your hair down in your back, you look as ethereal as your background. There is beauty, but there is also something unknown in your aura. There is a connection between you two.

And you, on the other hand, are more than familiar with the rules of those days you are now inserted. However, are you able to resist this man?

You wait, though. Maybe you’ve figured this out in the wrong way?

“Your silence mortifies me, lady”, Aemond sighs impatiently. “Is this not evidence enough of how I came to love you?”

Your eyes go wide and you almost drop the candle you’ve been holding.

“Aemond… I am hardly the most appropriate woman for you.”

“Titles and lands are nothing for me”, he responds anxiously.

It’s when he takes your free hand into his, locking fingers at last. To feel his warm skin against yours, colder by comparison, gives goosebumps and small shocks as a result. You fear that you are about to lose your control.

“Aemond…”

He steps forward, saying nothing until he closes the door behind him and puts the candle somewhere safe. Only then he holds you against him and finally kisses you like you’ve never been kissed.

And indeed you have never experienced the firm grasp of a man, the decisions of one confident who knows what he wants. You could have never imagined that one of the kind exists and could desire you this much.

Worse perhaps is to discover how long you’ve been dreaming about this. As his lips clash into yours, your morals die unheard. You let him reclaim you, shuddering under his intense grip, his burning touch.

Before you could do anything, though, Aemond lies you on your bed, lifting your skirts to your waist and then…

“Oh, Lord!”, you whimper out loud. “Aemond…!”

This is certainly the best experience you’ve had. And so easily your legs get heavy, that heat comes down your belly and you… burn.

You want to pull him over you, but the messy prince flashes you a side smirk, dropping by your side.

“Do you honestly believe I shall deflower my lady in a most ungallant manner?”, he chuckles as he watches you frown in frustration.

You raise your eyebrows. You hesitate in whether telling him about your previous experiences. Unwise it may be to be honest, but worse is to ignore your conscience’s voice.

“My prince, as much as I appreciate your kindness and respect to me…”

He furrows his eyebrows.

“In my days these matters have changed significantly”, and then you are quick to add. “It doesn’t mean I’ve had plenty of others, though.”

You give up justifying yourself when you watch Aemond struggle with comprehending your point. Eventually, however, he cedes the battle and says:

“I am not an example of morality, I suppose. Even so I stand what I said.”

Your face lightens up.

“You cannot honestly mean…”

“…that I intend to espouse you?”, Aemond scoffs. “Of course I do. It’s a better way to protect you, by the way. These are trying times, my lady.”

That being said, you cuddle onto him, forgetting completely there is a bloody civil war outside and that you are not studying the period anymore, but living it at its fullest.

***

It is often remarked how to achieve peace one must be prepared for war. And in war, few are familiar with good sense.

Whatever are your thoughts about it, your first taste of tragedy comes in the form of revenge. You are just going back from a stroll outdoors at the gardens when screams get at you.

As you rush to the indoors, you are prevented by Aemond.

“You should be better left out of this. Let me resolve it.”

“No”, you protest. “Aemond, I…”

But he isn’t listening. He leaves you there, as if you are a ghost haunting the castle. Your eyes start to get teary as you realize what part all of this is about.

You cover your ears as the screams continue endlessly, echoing in a kind of pain that you’ve been familiar once. The sounds awake old traumas, opening wounds long thought to be healed.

You can’t stay in there. Useless you feel, therefore you motion outdoors. All you do is walk. Perhaps this is the better time to go to Aegon’s Hill. You want to go home, you don’t want to spend any more time there…

However, once you do, you are prevented from doing so by Aemond. The rogue prince, paled with angst, is perplexed at the thought of you gone. Despaired, he comes after you, thankfully not needing to reach Vhagar for that purpose.

“I cannot stay here”, you tell him, body shaking in evident signs of trauma. “Please, take me home.”

“Y/N…”

“Please! I don’t belong here, Aemond!”

“Yes, you do. You belong with me”, he cups your cheeks and then reading your eyes, he denudes your soul, almost if by chance he has a glimpse of the future through you. “Whatever happened there… and whatever happened here are not who you are. Listen to me, Y/N. It’s you and I against the world. I am honestly sorry these are the circumstances we are now in, but we must be brave.”

There are so many words but none leaves your mouth. Aemond embraces you, rocking you in his arms.

“You already knew what was going to happen”, he is not asking a question. “But this is not the reaction one might’ve expected. You are also a survivor… of war. Bloody seven hells, Y/N. I’m very sorry, my lady.”

You melt in his embrace, sobbing as the nightmare of leaving everything behind in the midst of panic and fear strikes you again. You’ve never seen yourself as a survivor, until now.

“Come inside”, he asks you gently. “Don’t go now. Please.”

Never before he was seen vulnerable, but then again so are you. It had been a while since your wounds were so crudely open, left to bleed in such a painful manner. You’d think you overcame it, but not entirely as you’d like to believe.

Here you are, however, comforted by this character whom you were taught to hate all thanks to the chroniclers that registered his bad deeds. Although he may have done such, and you won’t find excuse for his bad reputation, he’s so much more than that, than words written by thirds.

He’s your prince. He’s your hero and you shall not think anymore of it.

***

After these dark days are gone, sun rises in paradise again. Aemond invites you to fly Vhagar with him.

The decision comes after Rhaenyra and her husband Daemon are put off the show for now. The greens hold victory for now, and even you forget the upcoming events.

“I cannot fly her!”, you shake at the thought. “Do you want to see me dead?”

Aemond laughs heartily and the sound of it melts your heart and soothes your mind. He twirls you around him before holding you against his chest.

“Do you trust in me so little that I’d let you slip so easily?”

You giggle.

“I am just not a brave woman you might expect me to be”, so you say, drowning in that good purple eye.

“Oh, dearest. You are a lot braver than you’d judge.”

Saying so, he kisses you on the lips, and you save his taste as you gladly return it.

I said remember this feeling. I passed the pictures around of all the years that we stood there on the sidelines wishing for right now. We are the kings and the queens. You traded your baseball cap for a crown

You cast him a long loving glance as the prince holds your hand, giving you side smirk before leading the way to Vhagar. This ancient beast, a companion to the Westerosi conquest two other Valyrian dragons, seems to read you the moment your gazes meet.

A sight too frightening to behold, one you’ve seen before the moment you were tossed in this time and space. You recollect the fear that shook your bones and froze your reason and this seems to happen again.

“Don’t be afraid. She knows you are with me”, says Aemond in a nonchalant manner.

You nod your head, but Aemond feels your body shaking. He gently pulls you against him and in a matter of seconds you are suddenly mounting that legendary creature.

“Holy cow!”, you scream.

The silver haired prince laughs quietly, before whispering the words in Valyrian to Vhagar start to fly.

“Calm down, love. Don’t be fearful, it’s worse if you do.”

“I am no dragon rider, Aemond”, you snap at him, eyes going wide as Vhagar begins to rise higher, flying in an incredible speed—fast enough according to your judgement and lack of experience where dragons are concerned, not entirely fast when comparing Vhagar to younger dragons like Caraxes, for example.

But all Aemond does is laugh away your fears. He takes your hands, holding them as he shows he’s commanding the situation. Despite your fears, the adrenaline comes at it and so suddenly you are flying higher than getting an airplane to Dorne.

“AEMOND!”

The silver haired finds adorable the way you trust him, holding onto him as if your life depends on him. But he knows you are overcoming a fear of heights and this only grows his admiration of you.

Eventually though, as if Vhagar is sensing your fear, she slows down and only then she settles in a pace that doesn’t fight you. It’s when you risk patting her back, stroking your delicate fingers over the asperity of the creature’s skin.

“Remember this feeling”, he whispers in your ear. “This is what freedom is like. This is what it means to never let anyone hold the reins of your life.”

“I see the lights of Westeros shining for us”, you don’t even know what you are thinking, but these words seem to make sense for you.

“They are”, Aemond spots the fire pits in towers where orange flames wipe away the fog that instaure that evening. “But you shine the brighter, my dear.”

You blush violently at his words. Never before you felt so loved and understood. Slightly turning your head, and locking gazes with him, you tell this silver haired prince open words regarding your heart.

“I love you, Aemond. Truthfully, I do. I only shine brighter because of you.”

His wide gaze shows no emotion, perhaps skeptical about the genuine feeling you put in them. But Aemond knows you are sincere and this moves him more than he admits.

Locking his arms around you, he kisses you before saying:

“I love you.”

And this is enough for you.

***

You are married in secrecy to a man whom history despises being the kinslayed. His vices are listed perpetually in dust parchments, used as propaganda to disperse any honesty there might’ve colored the shades of the green party that ruled Westeros for a short period of time.

But you see his virtues that no chronicler bothered to see and those overcome the former in a colorful prism of human being.

Daeron Targaryen, his younger brother, is the only witness of the ceremony.

“Welcome to the family, my lady Y/N. In other circumstances, this would be a merry and most favorable occasion.”

“My brother, this matters little. I appreciate the warm wishes, though, and I bet better days are about to come.”

Aemond is pleased to see how well you and his family get along. When one lives history, easily it is to forget it. And so it goes.

When you are taken to his privy chambers, who’d think this was when history is about to change?

“You look so beautiful. Astonishingly so.”

“You make sparks fly”, you smile at him, taken by handsomeness, hands stroking his long silver hair before holding his face. “I adore you, my prince.”

It starts slowly. Your tongue pairs perfectly with his, in one same passionate rhythm. Only then impatience rises when the heat begins to burn.

Your hands start to undress him, automatically moving down to his leather pants.

“Let me show you my devotion”, you break the kiss to whisper in his ear.

Aemond hisses under his breath, eyes closed as he already reacts to your caresses. Your lips leave traces of warm kisses from his neck to his shoulders, going down to his belly and then… you kneel to say your prayers.

But he is now devouring you like a hungry man, starving for your soul. His lips on your nipples do wonderfulness. You roll your eyes, moaning softly as your hands play with his hair.

When his skillful fingers find way to your core, you know you are lost. Aemond smirks at how loud you can be, this arousing him further.

“Hmm, my darling”, he raises to meet your mouth, clashing it in a fervent kiss, therefore muffling your lustful cries.

And right as you come undone, he doesn’t wait any longer. Sliding right inside you, you open your eyes, somewhat pleasantly surprised by his intensity.

“Aemond!”

He could not tell whether you are moaning or complaining.

“Yes?”, he groans as starts to move inside you.

“You… are… so… fucking good!”

The prince laughs at your cursing.

“My lady, watch your tongue”, says he in such a malicious way that you feel you could come undone right now.

“Aemond, you devil”, you whimper, legs locked as you begin to move as one.

He smiles down at you, holding your hands above your head. As you kiss, you meet a heavenly bliss.

***

War, however, comes back in unsafe and soundly steps. You, merged in domestic happiness, allowed yourself to forget that in great delights await greater sorrows.

Thirty days after your marriage, to your surprise you find yourself conceived. You want to tell him in the ways your prince likes: flying Vhagar. By now you and this ancient beast have somehow gotten used to each other’s presence.

“May we fly together this evening, husband?”, you ask him, trying not to sound too eager.

Aemond somehow senses you are different. But he cannot tell what exactly is.

“For someone who feared Vhagar, you’ve become quite a dragonrider.”

This day you are breaking fast with your husband’s family, now pleasantly aware of your secret matrimony, notwithstanding Ser Otto’s initial disapproval.

You giggle quietly.

“That is what marrying to you means, is it not?”

Aemond laughs quietly.

“Why, my darling, I could never refuse you anything.”

“Just be mindful you two”, muses the Dowager Queen Alicent, distracted. “It’s cloudy today.”

***

May these memories break our fall. Will you take a moment? Promise me this. That you'll stand by me forever. But if, God forbid, fate should step in and force us into a goodbye, if you have children someday when they point to the pictures. Please tell them my name. Tell them how the crowds went wild. Tell them how I hope they shine…

How could you know what was about to happen then? You are excited to share the news, believing this is the best scenario you could’ve pictured.

Dressed in proper robes, you follow Aemond excitedly and when greeting Aemond with your characteristically sweetness, he snorts and says:

“Who could’ve known we’d come to this? You turned my dragon war in domesticated dog, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes at his teasing.

“Don’t be silly, Aemond. She needs love and caring like every animal”, you smile. “As well as respect.”

“I wonder at times if you are real.”

You turn your head slightly at him as you two prepare to ride.

“Why wouldn’t I be, my love? You are my husband, or am I mistaken? Have you been with Mistress Rivers ag…”

He interrupts you by kissing you passionately. And right there Vhagar roars through the air. You feel as if you’ve been electrified. And the look in your face awakes the best of him.

“I love you, woman.”

But every happiness dies when skies grow darker and Vhagar’s roar sounds different. Aemond frowns his eyebrows.

“Shit. There’s something wrong”, he is quickly alert.

You, focused in telling him about your state, begin to grow afflicted when remembering that that battle between him and Daemon Targaryen didn’t happen the way it should.

You interfered.

Fuck.

“Aemond, honey…”

Wind blows colder, it announces storm. He begins to drive Vhagar lower, flying higher as darkness sweeps away the last rays of light. You try not to panic, but by the looks on your prince, you are promptly a victim to it.

“I’ve ruined everything. I shouldn’t be here. I messed all.”

“Don’t say that”, Aemond doesn’t have a clue of what you are trying to say, but he is already familiar with your background to prevent your insecurity to meddle in it. “You have been the best thing to happen to me…”

Before you have the time to answer him, a different roar echoes through the thundering clouds.

You know where it comes from. You know the one behind him.

And you are at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

“Aemond!”

“Nothing will happen to you, this I swear”, but then he adds, without looking at you. “If, however, something happens to me…”

“Don’t!”

He continues as if you hadn’t protested.

“…never forget how you turned me into a better man. I am unworthy of the Seven Heavens, but I tasted a bit of sacred forgiveness when you loved me. You redeemed me of my sins, my lady, even when I was a miserable. Move on as you should. But never forget me. Or us.”

“Aemond!”, you cry because you remember the result of this battle, and worse is now the effect of his words. “I love you!”

There is so much to be said, but you cannot. Time steals you from him. As Aemond and Daemon faces each other, the prince tries to find a way to save you.

However, no dragon flees from battle. But because Caraxes is faster, it soon attacks Vhagar. It’s right here that, above Aegon’s hill, every shadow eclipses the sun.

It’s right here that in midst of it all, you fall. It happens too fast. Aemond is trying to fly away, but Vhagar doesn’t obey him again. It soon responds Daemon’s Caraxes offense with another.

But when Vhagar gets bitten in the neck, the ancient dragon loses balance for a moment and right here a storm wind knocks you out.

Aemond screams, trying to save you, but you refuse to be saved. You are still in tears, judging to see him attacked by Daemon when the spells of time engulf you.

‘These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die like fire and powder…’

To be continue…

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #house targaryen #prince Aemond Targaryen #lord Aemond Targaryen #lord Aemond #aemond targaryen smut #taylor swift #speak now (taylor’s version)#long live

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asoiafcanonjonsnow · 1 year

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📣 PRE-ANNOUNCEMENT POST: Join the Jon Snow Fortnight Event! 🐺🌹

📢 Calling all fans of Jon Snow! Prepare your keyboards and ready your creative spirits because an epic event is coming your way. We are thrilled to announce the Jon Snow Fortnight Event. Get ready to immerse yourself in the world of our beloved Lord Commander and his unforgettable journey.

📅 Clear your calendars from July 16th to July 31st, because we're about to embark on a full-on Jon Snow extravaganza! It's two weeks of non-stop celebration dedicated to everything and anything related to the one and only Jon Snow. Unleash your thoughts, theories, and fan creations about this iconic character who has stolen our hearts and given us endless chills (the good kind, of course). And guess what? We're kicking off this wild celebration with an artwork that will have you howling like a direwolf at the moon, courtesy of the immensely talented @imjustapoorwayfaringgeek!

🖌️ Feast your eyes on the masterpiece, folks! Jon Snow donning a party hat, looking like he's been through seven hells and back but still ready to party. And by his side, the trusty, fearsome Ghost, the fluffiest sidekick this side of Westeros. And who's causing mischief on his shoulder? None other than Mormont's raven, attempting to nibble on our esteemed Lord Commander's party hat (even though it's definitely not corn!). It's a visual feast that perfectly captures the essence of Jon's world—where duty, celebration, and the occasional feathered drama converge.

🌹 Look closely, my friends, and you'll spot the enchanting Winter Roses in Jon's grip, carefully procured and bestowed upon him by the dynamic duo of Sam and Satin. They serve as a testament to Jon's mysterious lineage, forging a connection to his enigmatic mother that echoes throughout the series.

✨ This Fortnight Event will be a platform for discussions, fanfiction, artwork, edits, and anything and everything inspired by Jon Snow. Dive into his character, his relationships, and his journey from a Bastard of Winterfell to the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Let your creativity soar as you explore the depths of Jon Snow's story.

🌟 Watch this space because we will be revealing the full schedule of prompts planned for this momentous event. Spread the word, use the hashtag #JonSnowFortnightEvent2023 rally your fellow fans, and join us in celebrating the enigmatic 998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch!

#JonSnowFortnightEvent2023 #asoiafcanonjonsnow #Jon Snow #Book Jon Snow #Jon Snow Edit #canonjonsnow #GOTJonSnow #Announcement #ASOIAF #A Song Of Ice and Fire #Original Post #Winter Rose #Art #@imjustapoorwayfaringgeek #Game of Thrones #GOT

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snowxstormworld · 9 months

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JonerysWinterWonderland2023 - masterlist

Thanks so much to everyone who participated in Jonerys Winter Wonderland 2023! Despite the holiday season hubbub, you found time to celebrate our favorite couple Jon & Dany with your creativity, making the joyous season more festive for everyone.

And a HUGE shoutout to the #JONERYS fandom for supporting our artists by reading, reblogging, and commenting on their works. Here's to a Jonerys-filled 2024!

Below is the master list for #JonerysWinterWonderland2023:

Day 1 - Holiday Magic; All I want for Christmas/Yuletide/Winter Solstice is You (Naked) 🎄 🎁 I wanna be your end game moodboard by @jupiterix 🎁 Tis' the damn season by @miss-celestia13 🎁 Yuletide fanart by @tatticstudio55 🎁 Winter Solstice is You fanart by @tatticstudio55 🎁 Til the End of Time by @evax3 🎁 Born as a dragon and raised as a wolf by @rhaegarblackfire 🎁 like the olden days, happy golden days of yore by @girlwithakiwi 🎁 All I Want for Christmas is You moodboard by @youwerenevermine 🎁 The Second Chance Holiday Club by @buttertheflame 🎁 A Perfect Christmas by @littledancer9

Day 2 - There's no place like home for the holidays; A kinky Kris Kringle gift exchange🎄 🎁 Lover moodboard by @jupiterix 🎁 Secret Santa at the firm by @saltyd3 🎁 Wool to Brave the Seasons by @miss-celestia13 🎁 Annual Night's Watch Brewery Yankee Swap by Lemonzest111 🎁 A gift for Principal Targaryen by @rhaegarblackfire

Day 3 - Baby it's Cold Outside; Who needs Santa when you have me?🎄 🎁 King of My Heart moodboard by @jupiterix 🎁 Yours First - A Christmas Special by @libradoodle1 🎁 An unexpected rescue by @rhaegarblackfire

Day 4 - Kiss Me Under the Mistletoe; Ice & Fire; Naughty & Nice🎄 🎁 So It Goes moodboard by @jupiterix 🎁 A bride for the King in the North by @rhaegarblackfire 🎁 Love Story fan video by @axdragons

Day 5 - Cheers to the New Year; A sexy sleigh ride; free choice🎄 🎁 Meet me at Midnight moodboard by @jupiterix 🎁 Christmas Cookies fan edit by @libradoodle1 🎁 Enchanting Holidays by @saltyd3 🎁 Dashing through the Snow fic teaser by @magalidragon 🎁 ...Peace by @jellybeanficwriter 🎁 Fake it Till We Make It by @rone-of-house-targaryen 🎁 Happy New Year moodboard by @youwerenevermine

*credit goes to @youwerenevermine for the beautiful headers. We love your creative flair; thanks for always making us so extra!

#jonerys #joneryswinterwonderland2023 #snowxstormworld #jonerys fanfic #jonerys moodboard #jonerys fanart #jon x dany #jonerys fanfiction

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alaynasansa · 2 years

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Antis : Sansa and Jon are indifferent at best !!

Meanwhile, the books :

Sansa, two years older, drew the young prince, Joffrey Baratheon. He was twelve, younger than Jon or Robb, but taller than either, to Jon's vast dismay. Prince Joffrey had his sister's hair and his mother's deep green eyes. A thick tangle of blond curls dripped down past his golden choker and high velvet collar. Sansa looked radiant but Jon did not like Joffrey's pouty lips or the bored disdainful way he looked at Winterfell's Great Hall

Jon I — A Game of Thrones

He missed the girls too, even Sansa, who never called him anything but "my half brother" since she was old enough to understand what bastard meant

Jon III — A Game of Thrones

She had always imagined the Night's Watch to be men like Uncle Benjen. In the songs, they were called the black knights of the Wall. But this man had been crookbacked and hideous, and he looked as though he might have lice. If this was what the Night's Watch was truly like, she felt sorry for her bastard half brother, Jon

Sansa III — A Game of Thrones

"My lord, what of my sisters ? Arya and Sansa, they were with my father, do you know—"

Jon VII — A Game of Thrones

Jon did not remember standing or leaving the solar. The next he knew, he was descending the tower steps, thinking This is my father, my sisters, how can it be none of my concern

Jon VII — A Game of Thrones

The girls do not even have that much, he thought. Their wolves might have kept them safe, but Lady is dead and Nymeria's lost, they're all alone

Jon VII — A Game of Thrones

He curled his hand into a fist. Pain shot through his burned fingers. "What of my sisters ?"

Jon VIII — A Game of Thrones

So there is magic beyond the Wall, after all. He found himself thinking of his sisters, perhaps because he'd dreamed of them last night. Sansa would call this an enchantment, and tears would fill her eyes at the wonder of it, but Arya would run out laughing and shouting, wanting to touch it all

Jon III — A Clash of Kings

"That's pretty." He remembered Sansa telling him once that he should say that whenever a lady told him her name. He could not help the girl, but perhaps the courtesy would please her

Jon III — A Clash of Kings

She sang for mercy, for the living and the dead alike, for Bran and Rickon and Robb, for her sister Arya and her bastard brother Jon Snow, away off on the Wall

Sansa V — A Clash of Kings

Winterfell would go to Robb and then his sons, or to Bran or Rickon should Robb die childless. And after them came Sansa and Arya. Even to dream otherwise seemed disloyal, as if he were betraying them in his heart, wishing for their deaths. I never wanted this, he thought as he stood before the blue-eyed king and the red woman. I loved Robb, loved all of them... I never wanted any harm to come to any of them, but it did

Jon XI — A Storm of Swords

She had not thought of Jon in ages. He was only her half brother, but still... with Robb and Bran and Rickon dead, Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her. I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again

Alayne II — A Feast for Crows

"By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa"

Jon I — A Dance with Dragons

Jon said, "Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa"

Jon IV — A Dance with Dragons

He thought of Robb, with snowflakes melting in his hair. Kill the boy and let the man be born. He thought of Bran, clambering up a tower wall, agile as a monkey. Of Rickon's breathless laughter. Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird's nest

Jon XIII — A Dance with Dragons

#asoiaf #a game of thrones #agot #a clash of kings #acok #a storm of swords #asos #a feast for crows #affc #a dance with dragons #adwd #sansa stark #jon snow #canon content

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loganspuppyboy · 9 months

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my f/o list :D

ok so bolded means i’m uncomfortable sharing them but it is (probably) ok if we are mutuals/friends and if you have them as a platonic/familial f/o!!!

also it is a long ass list😭 i have a lot of love to give. alssooo group tag for all my kids is kiddos <3 bc im lazy and some f/os i feel rlly strong about and some are just for fun yk!!!

-lloyd garmadon from ninjago (it’s complicated but i love him dearly)

-michael afton from fnaf (romantic) tag: terchael <3

-henry emily from fnaf (parental figure/dad)

-espresso cookie from crk/cookie run (romantic) tag: esence <3

-jeremy fitzgerald from blueycapsules/fnaf (romantic) tag: jerence <3

-thoma from genshin impact (romantic) tag: teroma <3

-aether from genshin impact (romantic) tag: terraether <3

-sammy from my mind/oc (kid/familial)

-gregory from fnaf (kid/familial)

-charlie/charlotte emily from fnaf (sister/familial)

-maven calore from the red queen series (romantic)

-alex from stardew valley (romantic)

-christopher lightwood from the shadowhunter chronicles (platonic)

-princess peach from nintendo (platonic)

-peggy carter from marvel (romantic) tag: every girl has her rose <3

-daniel sousa from marvel’s agent carter (queerplatonic)

-logan howlett from marvel (romantic) tag: logence <3

-natasha romanoff from marvel (platonic)

-diana prince from dc (platonic, maybe romantic??)

-pepper potts from marvel (platonic)

-sam wilson from marvel (romantic) tag: tersam <3

-steve rogers from marvel (romantic) tag: red white and irish blue <3

-magnus bane from the shadowhunter chronicles (platonic)

-apple white from ever after high (queerplatonic) tag: whipped apples <3

-bruce wayne from dc (romantic) tag: batarangs pierced my heart <3

-clark kent from dc (queerplatonic) tag: 💙❤️

-simon lewis/lovelace from the shadowhunter chronicles (queerplatonic i think)

-sharon carter from marvel (platonic/shes my niece technically)

-damian wayne from dc (familial/kid)

-jason todd from dc (familial/kid)

-dick grayson from dc (familial/kid)

-cass(andra) cain from dc (familial/kid)

-barbara gordon from dc (familial/kid)

-steph(anie) brown from dc (familial/kid)

-tim drake from dc (familial/kid)

-duke thomas from dc (familial/kid)

-laura kinney from marvel (familial/kid)

-sue richards/storm from marvel (platonic)

-alfred pennyworth from dc (platonic)

-selina kyle from dc (platonic)

-gabrielle kinney from marvel (grandkid💔)

-patrick bateman from american psycho (romantic) tag: 🎧♥️

-terry mcginnis from batman beyond (familial/kid)

-harper row from dc (familial/kid)

-johnny cade from the outsiders (hes my nephew<3)

-darry curtis from the outsiders (romantic) (fine with sharing but not like. in canon ships yk)

-t’challa from marvel (platonic)

-sodapop curtis from the outsiders (basically my kid/familial)

-ponyboy curtis from the outsiders (basically kid/familial)

-coriolanus snow from the hunger games (romantic) tag: 🖤❄️

-luke fox from dc (platonic)

-lucius fox from dc (platonic)

-mar'i grayson/nightstar from dc/titans (MY GRANDKID!!!!!!!)

-conner kent from dc (nephew)

-jon kent from dc (nephew)

-cassie from fnaf (niece)

-fred from the muppets christmas carol (nephew)

-herb cookie from cookie run (nephew)

-willy wonka from wonka 2023 (nephew)

-cullen row from dc (kid)

-daken akihiro from marvel (kid)

-dex poindexter from daredevil/marvel (romantic) tag: terdex <3

-abdonis from ringfit adventure (romantic)

-hank hall from titans/dc (platonic)

-dawn granger from titans/dc (platonic)

-karen page from daredevil/marvel (romantic) tag: 🤍📰

-amora (the enchantress) from marvel (romantic) tag: enchant me with your love <3

-sally jackson from percy jackson (romantic) tag: 💙✏️

-devon cassidy from i met a girl (platonic)

-dinah madani from the punisher/marvel (romantic) tag: terah <3

-amy bendix from marvel/the punisher (kid)

-the uno wild card/+4 uno wild card from uno (romantic)

-ryder page from roblox piggy (romantic)

-zizzy from roblox piggy (queerplatonic)

-pony from roblox piggy (queerplatonic)

-the warden from minecraft (romantic)

-the queen from a deck of cards (romantic)

-odysseus from the odyssey and any other media with him in it ig (romantic)

#f/o list #i think i remembered some of the tags wrong but im trying </3

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juuls · 6 months

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Multi-Fandom Fic Recs

The @fanfic-reading-challenge gives me the opportunity to explore tons of fandoms I normally wouldn't, and I wanted to share some of my favourite so far this year!

Game of Thrones

and in the night, you'll hear me calling by shawsdavid | T | 10k | Jon/Sansa/Margaery: When you met your soulmate, touched them for the first time, you would see everything in all its colorful glory.

A Knight's Watch by DolorousEdditor | M | 670k | Jonsa: Jon Snow is forbidden to take the black by his father. Instead he sent to squire for a famous knight, beginning a long arduous journey that causes him to cross paths with characters he never would have. Along the way he learns truths long hidden and discovers love in the most unlikely of places. All of this in the shadow of the War of Five Kings and the coming of the Others.

Potterverse

Dancing with Draco by diamonddaydream | T | 19k | Dramione: Retelling of the Yule Ball segment of Goblet of Fire as a Dramione story. Hermione Granger needs a dance tutor before she embarrasses her partner, Viktor Krum, and herself at the Yule Ball. Draco Malfoy needs a good deed to make amends for hexing her teeth. Both of them need to keep everyone else for finding out what's going on between them. Fluffy romance with just a touch of angst. NOTE: story continues in "Draco Takes a Mark."

All I Have Never Known by LittleSixx | M | 32k | Dramione: The Ministry of Magic requires all magical people to marry someone of opposite blood status by 25. The Malfoys host a ball to help Draco meet a non-pureblood witch, and the one he falls for isn't who she claims to be.

Divination for Skeptics by olivieblake | M | 98k | Dramione: The latest in magical advancements is an enchantment that reveals the bearer’s romantic compatibility with another person. Effectively eliminating uncertainty from dating, the charm can tell you whether or not you’ve found The One with a precise, Hermione Granger-approved calculation of traits and preferences. It’s a foolproof method of predicting relationship happiness. It’s also, for Hermione, positively dreadful news. Dramione, post-war, soulmate AU.

The Black Rose by DarkCloud190, Rijaya83 | E | 166k | Dreomione: After years of a rocky relationship, Hermione Granger is single again, and for the life of her she cannot stop staring at her two friends. Draco Malfoy and Theo Nott both work with her at the DMLE and she is analyzing everything they say, do, or breathe. Surely, she is just imagining it. They have been dating each other for a year now and couldn't possibly be interested in her. Hermione's troubled love life aside, there is a killer targeting a specific group of people, putting both Hermione and Theo at risk.

Hermione Granger, Demonologist by BrilliantLady | T | 47k | Hermione & Theo: Hermione was eight when she summoned her first demon. She was lonely. He asked what she wanted, and she said a friend to have tea parties with. It confused him a lot. But that wasn’t going to stop him from striking a promising deal with the young witch.

The Accidental Courtship by Lomonaaeren | T | 14k | NottPott: Harry gets a soul-mark during his eighth year at Hogwarts, and is hopeful that he can finally be sure he’ll have someone who loves him for himself. When Theodore Nott rejects him, Harry steps back and goes to live his own life. Theo, who doesn’t want to be trapped in the limelight at Potter’s side, finds himself falling in love anyway.

A Star and Her Dragon by Lizzie_carlile | E | 256k | Theomione, Drarry, Hermione & the Malfoys: “The order took everything from me,” Lucius spoke again. “Now I’ll become the monster they always feared I would be.” The Death of the Malfoy Daughter was the catalyst for Lucius Malfoy becoming the man that everyone feared he would. With a second war brewing and secrets finally coming to light, one girl holds the key to turning the tides of the war.

Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves

Odd Little Family by chimneystacks | T | 1.7k | Xedgin: "Kira found it practical to believe that her father would someday remarry, and even more so to believe that it would be to the woman who was already a trusted, guiding figure to his child. Therefore, it was much to her surprise when a tall, handsome man interrupted her lute practice to ask her blessing in his proposal to her father."

House of the Dragon

The Falcon Becomes a Dragon by MichelleGz | T | 28k | Daemyra & Aemma: What if Rhaenyra and Daemon “woke up” during the tourney that was hosted for Baelon’s impending birth, both remembering their future life. What if Aemma’s labors were not so far along. What if there was time to save her? Will Aemma believe that her beloved husband was going to kill her for the child in her womb?

you and i are made of fire by aur_el_ias | M | 8.6k | Daemyra: Soulmarks are no trivial thing. Indeed, the words inscribed on the wrist are far from frivolous—they are the most important words heard in one's life, spoken by another. Unfortunately, save for a few exceptions, most highborn marriages are not soul-bound marriages. This is the story of one of those exceptions. OR In 105 AC, Daemon Targaryen finds his soulmate.

Viable Alternatives series by madina | T | 375k | Laenor/Rhaenyra, Daemyra, her children, and Viserys' children: So much could have been solved and so many could have been spared if a universe with dragons, magic, wargs and White Walkers had artificial insemination—and if the characters tried to be anything else but a dysfunctional family.

lodestar by aramblingjay | M | 43k | Daemyra: A Targaryen destined for a soulmate is a strange, broken creature, alone in a way that lives in their very bones, waiting for the half that will make them whole. Daemon waits sixteen years for her, and then a whole lot longer. A soulmates share scars au.

From Ashes to Embers by ladyalianora (AmbitiousWitch) | M | 185k | Cregan Stark/Rhaenyra, Daemyra: After burning by Sunfyre's flames, Rhaenyra Targaryen wakes up in her maiden bed, five and ten once more. With her mind broken and a determination to not relive the life she left behind, in a court that still presents a danger and with a father that keeps tripping her path. Can she change the future? Can she give up enough to take her crown? Or will she once again lose to her father's mistakes, her enemies' schemes and her own errors? (Juulna: One of my all-time favourites.)

A Woman Scorned by Shadow_Monarch_14 | E | 96k | WIP | Daemyra, Aemma/OC: After Prince Baelon Targaryen was a miscarriage, Queen Aemma Arryn tells King Viserys I Targaryen that she will have no more children. She has given him a daughter (a heiress) and that should be good enough. Viserys, pressured by his Small Council and his dream of a male heir as well as manipulated by Otto, makes the decision to set Aemma aside and marry Alicent. Aemma, betrayed by the love of her life, agrees… after taking her daughter, Dragonstone and the Islands of the Narrow Sea and the dragons from Viserys and his Small Council. If Otto Hightower wants a dragon King with his blood on the Iron Throne, he'll have to another thing coming.

Ancient Fire by AnaWayne | NR | 198k | WIP | Rhea/Daemon, Jonsa: Bran Stark knew that it wasn’t enough. So he decided to use his sister’s dormant yet growing magic to change the history of the House of Dragons before its fall.

put down that gravestone by darkgods | E | 249k | WIP | Daemyra: they have his mother's eyes, these would-be velaryon boys. not those of their own mother, but his. the king stretches limbs and smiles wide, heedless of his brother's fury mingled with agony, his daughter's frozen gaze. fire and blood has reunited. all must be well. the king thinks nothing of the prince's lack of mourning blacks, for the whole kingdom knew the wife daemon targaryen sought was never found in the vale. ten years after the godsforsaken night in the brothel, daemon targaryen makes his return to court to find it infested with vipers that threaten to coil lethal bodies around his niece. his niece and the nephews that bear his features yet claim the name velaryon. the rogue prince has returned, and a reckoning is set to begin.

Marvel

Some Things Shouldn't Be a Chore by scifigrl47 | T | 22k | Stony, Phlint: Steve takes things like personal responsibility and respect seriously. Tony's got people he pays to take care of that kind of thing, and anyway, he's pretty sure that he's going to die of some exotic disease in his workshop, because Dummy's still a little spotty about what is 'clean' enough to put on an open wound. The rest of the Avengers are in this for personal gain, except for Clint, he just enjoys being a dick. And some things shouldn't be a chore.

Basic Rules by StrivingArtist | T | 7.9k | Tony & Avengers: It said something about Toni’s life that she had an established system in case of kidnapping and torture, and while there had been tweaks, it was still basically the same as from when she was a kid.

Let them underestimate you.

Don’t fight back until you have an exit.

Lie from the start.

Protect what matters.

Assume no one is coming to help.

Tony and the Falcon by ArcticVulpix | T | 10k | IronFalcon: Steve introduced Sam Wilson to Tony Stark after the Fall of SHIELD. He grows to regret that. He grows to regret that very much.

Ramblings by TheSovereigntyofReality | G | 34k | Pepperony, Tony & Peggy: The problem with Alzheimer's is that sufferers sometimes ramble…often with no idea who is sitting with them. Peggy says something that sends Tony Stark on a legal manhunt.

Five Things Darcy Loves About Working for SHIELD by teand | M | 49k | ShieldShock, Phlint: The Bronx was up, the Battery was down and thank freaking Thor that SHIELD provided housing or Darcy suspected she wouldn't have been able to afford to live closer than Vermont.

I (created from fantasies) exist solely for you by Mizzy | T | 62k | Stony: Six years ago, without the Avengers Initiative there to save the day, scientist Dr. Eric Selvig sacrificed himself to save the world, the almighty demi-god Thor was lost to a terrible storm, and vigilante Iron Man – spotted with a nuclear weapon trying to take advantage of the situation – was forever labelled an enemy of SHIELD. This is a comic book office AU, where Steve is defrosted a year too late, Thor has forgotten who he is, and no one knows Tony is Iron Man. Also includes: office pranks, inappropriate post-it notes, and superheroes who like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain.

The Mechanic, The Soldier, and The Captain by AvocadoLove | M | 6.4k | Stuckony: HYDRA need a replacement for Zola’s genius, and they have years worth of experience breaking and brainwashing a good man into something they can control.

The Evidence by StrivingArtist | T | 16k | WinterIron: Didn’t notice. Right. Sure. Two brilliant minds, two super spies, and a god didn’t notice when the chattiest man they knew stopped making sound. They just seemed happier than before. Brighter and more cheerful than before. They just seemed like they were more comfortable with him around when he was stone silent. Fuck it. He knew they noticed. And he knew they liked him better this way.

In Which The Winter Soldier Might Just Be Wooing Darcy by Out_Of_Custody | T | 28k | WinterShock: Exactly what it says on the tin. (Prompt-Fic) (Juulna: I adore this fic!)

Blood Stained by QueenVee1 | NR | 313k | WinterShieldShock: With a war on the horizon, the Avengers mend bridges that had been burned, relationships are rebuilt, and new friends forged. After a chance encounter with Steve Rogers, Darcy Lewis figures she's had her fill of Avenger-related activities. Turns out she's more entrenched than she ever thought possible. When she forms an unlikely friendship with James "Bucky" Barnes, she thinks her life can't get any weirder. Spoiler alert: IT CAN! A (double!?!?) meet!cute and secret!sibling story! They said it couldn't be done. B**** YOU THOUGHT!

Shadow & Bone/Six of Crows

Quiet Miracles by goatsandgangsters | G | 10k | Darklina, Zoya & Nikolai & Alina & Aleksander: Alina knew miracles. She was no Saint and no savior, she knew this. But she knew the light in someone’s eyes when they smiled. She knew the warmth of an arm slung around her shoulder, the squeeze of a hand, the elbow in her side, the tight squeeze of an embrace. She knew the moment the room held its breath and then broke into the brilliant cascade of laughter. She knew the glimmer of tears wiped from her cheeks by careful fingers. Alina knew miracles. Ravka had never been so full of them. Or: sometimes a government is the beloved sun saint of the people, a young king determined to fix what has long been broken, the eminently practical head of the newly formed Grisha council, and the heretic who’s no longer going it alone.

Without a Mouth I Can Swear Your Name by tothewillofthepeople | T | 32k | Wesper, Kinej | Helnik: Kaz looked at Matthias coldly. “What do you want?” “I want to know where Wylan Van Eck is,” Matthias said. (A Six of Crows Hogwarts AU)

Star Trek Discovery

Respite series by Alethia | E | 22k | Michael/Pike: The Terran Pike comes to visit the newly-resurrected Captain Burnham on the Shenzhou and things get…heated.

Stargate Atlantis

Desert Rose by mific | E | 18k | McShep | John, a downed Hurricane pilot in WWII, is rescued by Rodney who's tracking strange energy readings in the Sahara. And in another life, their story makes another John and Rodney unwilling Atlantis celebrities.

Ted Lasso

At the Right Time by Annaelle | E | 25k | RoyJamie: Roy doesn't like to think he's taking advantage of Jamie. He's making him better, stronger, faster, a better player, and now that he's got the fucking muppet actually behaving for him, he'll be damned if he lets him go. For the PepPerVerse Bottom!Roy Challenge.

The Hunger Games

The Victors of District Twelve by DustyAttic | G | 49k | Everlark & Lucy Gray Baird & Haymitch: night What if Lucy Gray survived that night in the woods with Snow? What if she made it up north, found those people rumored to be surviving without the Capitol, and realized District Thirteen wasn't quite as obliterated as she'd been taught? And what if, sixty-five years later and after watching a certain Mockingjay end Snow's reign, she came back to District Twelve? This is the story of Katniss and Peeta meeting Lucy Gray Baird, and learning her story-- the story that Snow so desperately tried to erase.

The Locked Tomb

Your Necro Questions Answered by Magichorse | T | 8.8k | Griddlehark: Syndicated columnist "Nav the Cav" offers a sympathetic ear to cavaliers across the galaxy and dispenses practical, no-nonsense, real talk advice on how to properly manage and care for your necromancer.

Cake by the Ocean by zoicite | T | 15k | Griddlehark: Okay, so the thing was, Gideon had always been shit at plans. She knew that. Everyone knew that, but this--she really didn’t think it would be this hard! Gideon’s voice was like the least memorable thing about her. Bargaining her voice for a well-shaped set of human legs--that really should have worked in her favor.

who ya gonna call? by igneousbitch | E | 24k | Griddlehark: (Casual sex and paranormal investigation. Not necessarily in that order.) (Or: the Buzzfeed Unsolved AU in which Gideon is ready to fight a ghost, and Harrow just wants to be haunted.)

Behind the Locked Door by UnseelieWench | T | 98k | Griddlehark: It figures that the only college with the badass Cavalier program is also the college that Harrow Nonagesimus wants to attend. Oh well. Campus is big, right? She'll probably never see that pointed little face again.

The Mummy

Best Laid Plans by kyaticlikestea | T | 6.6k | Ardeth Bay/Jonathan Carnahan: After 20 years of being subjected to more yearning than any sister should ever have to witness, Evy decides that enough's enough.

Wednesday

A Torment of the Mind by cherrybirch | M | 58k | Wenvier: In which Wednesday and Xavier sign up for Hermione’s course in Legilimency. Two overdramatic darkness-loving teens with crushes on each other, trying to master their psychic powers by learning to read each other's minds… what could go wrong? NOTE: Canon non-compliance has been tagged for three things: Hermione’s presence at Nevermore, Larissa acting as principal (as if nothing happened), and the complete removal of the stalker subplot. (I find stalkers terrifying and don’t want to write about one.)

#harry potter #game of thrones #house of the dragon #The Locked Tomb #Wednesday #The Mummy #The Hunger Games #dnd: honor among thieves #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ted lasso #stargate atlantis #star trek discovery #six of crows #shadow and bone #marvel #mcu #juulna recs #rec list

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