#game of thrones imagine

[dragons-and-handcuffs]

Maegor Targaryen x reader

It was not your choice or decision to marry Maegor the cruel. In fact you had already given your heart to another. A son of a lord. But in the seven kingdom everything is about power. Maegor needed the strength and support of your house, and your father wanted the cruel king to marry one of his daughters.

You along with your sisters were presented before the king. Your sisters dressed to attract the king, to get his attention and to tempt him. You, however, choose to dress modestly, thinking Maegor would not even look at you. Praying that he picks one of your sisters so that your path is clear to marry the man you love.

However, Maegor's eyes only remained on you. The girl who is clearly trying to not catch his attention. The girl who is longing to marry someone else. No matter how much your sisters tried they didn't manage to catch the King's eyes.

There was no way your father was going to oppose the marriage, not when he tried so hard to have his blood and name associated with the Targaryen.

Everything was happening fast. The man you love disappeared, probably killed or ran away to save himself from the cruel king. You had to move into the palace. The wedding preparations were happening. Your father started treating you as if you are the most precious and delicate jewel. Your sisters were taking every chance they got to insult you and express their jealousy. And then there is Maegor, your husband to be.

Maegor is pretty sure you have captured his heart. Whenever he can he would insist you join him for dinner or lunch. Just you two. He wants to know you better but you remain cold. He couldn't help but chuckle or smile in amusement whenever he sees you in your modest clothes, while your sisters and his other wives try to show as much skin as possible to gain his attention.

Most of his wives were jealous and felt threatened, while the rest felt relieved that Maegor's cruel eyes are not on them.

In a matter of short time you have witnessed Maegor's cruelty several times, not towards you but to those who tried to defy him or betray him. You even saw him cut a man in half right in the court room. You were scared. You were shaking.

And then came the wedding. Your father made you wear your house sigil on the wedding dress, embroidered in gold to show everyone how powerful his house is. He gave your hand to Maegor who then put his heavy Targaryen cloak on you. Throughout the ceremony your heart was beating like crazy.

Maegor had his arm around you throughout the feast. He could sense your anxiousness. Everyone showering you with gifts, gold, jewels, but none of them mattered, not when you felt like you are getting trapped in a cage with a cruel dragon.

For the bedding ceremony everyone was certain Maegor would do his absolute worst, just like he did to his other wives. Nobody cared though. And your family certainly didn't care. Your father told, no, ordered you to do your best to satisfy the beast of man. Your sisters eagerly waiting for you to get your "punishment" for taking the king away from them. Maegor however surprised everyone. Usually he prefers breaking the will of his wives and taming them, but not with you. He ordered everyone to leave, taking you by surprise. No one had the courage to say a word against it.

Maegor held you close, your back pressed against his chest as he felt you up, whispering how he can't wait to claim you. You want to push him away but you can't, and also your body has started to betray you. Maegor knows it. He soon learned how your body likes to be touched. You almost stopped breathing when he took off your dress. Normally he would have ripped it, but not this time. You both remembered all the you covered yourself completely hoping Maegor would not choose you, but here you are now, naked and soon to be claimed by him.

Tears rolled down your face when Maegor slowly claimed you. You felt like you were getting ripped and torn. You wanted to scream but only soft moans left your lips. Maegor pinning you down to the bed and kissing you while he thrust in and out of you. He looked so proud when you reached your climax, showing you, telling you how it was just the beginning.

The next morning you woke up feeling sore and exhausted. Maegor was not there but he did order the maid to take good care of you before he left. You were barely out of the bed when your father barged in with a maester. He was really happy to see the blood on the bedsheet, the proof that the bedding ceremony was a success and Maegor has claimed you.

For a moment you thought your father brought the maester to check if you were okay after what happened the previous night. But you were wrong. The maester was there to check if Maegor has properly "claimed" you and see if everything with you is okay to survive a pregnancy, to give Maegor the heir he so desperately wants and to ensure your father's blood gets to sit on the iron throne.

It's the first time in your life you have said "no" to your father. You refuse to go through that humiliation. At first your father was in disbelief, tried to laugh it off and ordered you to lay on the bed for the maester. Something inside you snapped. You called the guards standing outside the door and ordered them to take away your father and lock him in his room, and throw the maester in a cell. The guards obeyed you without any questions. The first time in your life you stood up for yourself. You felt the weight on your shoulders slightly lifting.

The news instantly reached Maegor. He was surprised and proud, but also angry. Your father had no right over you after your wedding, and what he did or was about to do not only insults you but also insults the king.

Maegor didn't visit you that night, in fact you didn't see him the entire day. But the next morning he asked you to go for a walk with him. You were surprised when he took you to his dragon, Balerion. Your first time seeing a dragon so close. Maegor grabbed your hand and took you closer, telling you the black dread won't hurt you. And he was right. The dragon didn't show any sign of anger or annoyance when Maegor put your hand on him. Even Maegor was surprised. You were amazed how something so big and scary was just resting so peacefully. But the dragon soon sat up when the guards dragged the maester to him.

Maegor holding you close, telling you he will protect you and punish anyone who hurt you in any way. The maester begged for his life but couldn't even finish two sentences before Balerion set him on fire.

You knew exactly what was coming next. Your family. The cruel look in Maegor's eyes told you he had something planned for your father and the rest of the family as well. You can't beg. You won't beg. But you can't just let them die.

That night Maegor visited you. You hate to admit how your body betrays you every time he touches you.

Once Maegor was asleep right next to you you pulled out a dagger from under your pillow. Your heart beating fast as you saddled him carefully pressed the dagger against his throat. You have never taken a life. You have never even killed a life. But you were certain that killing Maegor would spare hundreds of innocent lives.

You almost gathered up all your courage to slit his throat, about to apply pressure when Maegor gave you a small crooked smile which turned into an evil one when he opened his eyes. "Do it. Kill me," He smiled at you. He grabbed your hand and applied pressure against his neck, causing the dagger to slightly cut the skin. "If you don't kill me now then I will never let you go. I will claim you every night. And I will kill anyone who dares to even look at you in the wrong way."

You were at a loss for words. You don't want your family to die but also you can't kill Maegor.

He felt your grip on the dagger loosen. He quickly flipped you, and now you are the one pinned on the beg and he was on top of you. He snatched the dagger and pressed it against your neck and his other hand pinning both your arms above your head.

He let out a soft but cruel laugh before kissing you. You don't know why but you kissed him back. Maybe you were lying to yourself. Maybe you can see yourself being his wife. Maybe you could see yourself loving this cruel dragon one day.

Maegor never felt so satisfied before then he did when he fucked you with the dagger pressed against your neck. He knew you were the one for him when you cum while he teased you with the dagger. He knew behind all your modesty and innocence there was a part who craved the mad dragon.

Maegor was there when you woke up the next morning. You felt his arm wrap around you and pull you closer to him. Both of you naked, your back pressed against his chest. He put the dagger in your hand, taking you by surprise. After last night you were certain he would remove everything from your reach which you could use as a weapon.

"One day you will decide to punish your family for all their crimes against you, and that day you will need this," Maegor kissed you as he made you hold the dagger. "And I won't stop you...my queen"

Part 2? Idk

[fandom-puff]

Fulfilling Duty

Pairing: Tywin Lannister x Reader

Warnings: smut, pinv sex, fingering, reference to pregnancy and childbirth, brief reference to death during childbirth, reference to prostitution, implied arranged marriage, breeding kink, body image issues, implied innocence kink, older man/younger woman.

Italics indicate flashback

Gif creds to owner

After nine long months of pregnancy and two gruelling days of labour, Tywin Lannister finally had the son he craved. Little Darrick was perfect in every way. At almost four months, he guzzled his milk the way King Robert his guzzled his wine; he roared like a lion when something was amiss, fat angry tears pouring down his reddened little face until his mother or father consoled him; his hair thickened and lightened every day, though he showed no trace of Lannister emerald eyes (much you your elation; he already looked so much like Tywin so it was nice to see a shred of yourself in your son’s face).

The birth of your son only strengthened Tywin’s… affection towards you. It was not love- not yet at least- but his respect and fondness certainly grew. During the home stretch of your labour he had barged into the birthing room after overhearing an outspoken courtier’s gossip.

Your labour had dragged on and almost two whole days had passed since you first started having pains. While you had started in relatively high spirits, as progress began to falter almost to a halt and ‘one more push’ became an empty promise, your resolve almost completely shattered.

What had started as determined groans and howls of pain turned into whimpers, and then sobs as you begged the maester to just, please, get it out of you.

It seemed Tywin hadn’t unclenched his jaw for days, and while he wanted to remain just a room away in his office should he be called into the room, the Seven Kingdoms would not stop for any infant, not even the son of the Hand.

He had been walking back from an audience with disgruntled artisans from the city when he overheard some courtiers.

“… glad she’s shut up with the screaming, could hardly sleep a wink last night…”

“… should just cut her open, drag the babe out and have done with it… wouldn’t be the first Lannister woman to die in childbed…”

“… he’ll want another off her, just in case… especially if she gives him a girl…”

Tywin’s nostrils flared with rage, and while he would have so dearly loved to confront the gossiping courtiers, he marched to the tower of the hand, entering your chamber to the shock of your midwives and maester.

“Milord! Women’s work is still happening! The baby ain’t here yet,” scolded Jeyne. She was the eldest of the flock midwives attending you and the most experienced too, and had been crucial in supporting you.

Tywin held up his hand, and jeyne pursed her lips, knowing she could not argue. “Fine. But you’re not to interfere down here, milord. We’re nearly there,”

“You said that- ah- last night,” you said weakly, your voice shaky. Tywin sighed softly and knelt at your side, pushing your hair away from your face. It was a surprisingly tender gesture, one that he had done when you consummated your marriage. “‘M sorry, m-my lord,” you whispered, unable to stop the tears from slipping down your already damp cheeks.

“You needn’t be,” he said lowly, speaking so only you could hear. “You are doing well, just a little longer,”

Although the midwives and maester had repeated the same words over and over again over the last day, Tywin’s firm, authoritative voice reassured you, renewing your determination.

Tywin’s eyes flicked sideways to you. It was the first public event you had attended since giving birth, and he had kept a close eye on you all day. He’d even insisted on your retiring to bed for several hours in between the joust and the feast (“fine, I’ll rest. But only because I didn’t want to watch the archery anyway,”).

If you were tired, it did not show. You looked radiant, smiling serenely as you clapped for the dancing. You had changed into a gown of soft pink brocade, and while he always preferred to have you on his arm in matching Lannister red, he had to admit that the muted pink suited you beautifully, and provided a fresh and youthful contrast to his daughter’s sour, almost vulgar even by his standards, display of power.

“If you continue to glance at me so, you will miss the dancing, husband,” you said out of the corner of your mouth, bemused at the almost uncharacteristic attentiveness of the Old Lion.

“Then I shall miss the dancing,” he said lowly, though he kept his eyes dutifully on the entertainments. “Are you sure you will not sit?”

You rolled your eyes, turning to face him fully. “No,” you said with exasperation. “I am well rested, I promise you, My Lord,” your lips quirked into a smirk. “I may even join in with the dancing,” you added.

Tywins jaw clenched as he looked down at his mischievous young wife. Your pregnancy and subsequent birthing of a viable heir for him had consolidated your power in court- and your worth in the marriage. “Then you shall dance only with me,” he said. “I will not have you jostled so,”

And so the Lord Paramount of the West took his wife by the hand and led her to the dance floor, lest she be manhandled by less careful members of court.

Grinning, you held onto his hand, beginning the steps that you had known since childhood. “I so love it when you give in to my whims, Lord Lannister,” you murmured, laughing lightly at his grumble of agreement. He supposed he owed you a fair bit, now that you had given him his heir.

“You are as stubborn as a mule when you want to be, wife,” he muttered, pulling you closer to his body by the waist as a drunken jester weaved through the crowd, his motley cap jingling. But despite his complaints, Tywin permitted you two more dances, before you retreated from the crowd- the bawdy songs had began, and he would not have his wife passed about like the maidens in the songs.

Instead of sitting back down, Tywin took you before the king, bowing and excusing the two of you. “We must retire for the night, your Grace. Lady Lannister is very tired,” he said shortly, bowing once more as the king waved you away.

You followed him, your face indignant, but you did not dare question him until you were out of earshot of any high lords. “I most certainly am not tired, My Lord,” you said, running a little to keep up with his long strides. “I do not need to be bundled off to bed like a child- again,”

Tywin ignored your complaints, only speaking once you arrived at the entrance to the Tower- and even then he only spoke to the guard at the door. “No one is to enter this tower until tomorrow,” he said lowly, before all but frog-marching you through the door and up the winding stairs.

“My lord?” You asked cautiously when you arrived at his chambers. “Have I displeased you?”

Tywin turned around to face you. “No, wife,” he murmured, stepping closer to you so that you had to look up at him. “You have not displeased me… exasperated, perhaps, but not displeased,” you smiled slightly, opening your mouth to speak, but Tywin cupped your head with both of his hands, his thumbs stroking your jaw. “I intend to bed you tonight, My Lady,” he said, voice gravelly. Your face heated, but you nodded slowly. “Your body should be ready to take me once more,” he continued. “That is if you are agreeable?” He added, raising a brow. He had laid out from the beginning that while he expected you to do your duty and provide him with a son, he would not have you in his bed unwilling.

Nodding slowly, eyes wide as you stared up at him, you let out a shaky breath. "I… yes. Please," you murmured your consent, following him out of the solar to his adjoining bedchamber, where the hearth was crackling and the luxurious bedsheets were already turned down. Tywin poured out a cup of wine, offering you it, nodding when you smiled at the vintage before finishing the cup for you.

“Do you think it will hurt?” You murmured out of the blue, taking your jewellery off and setting it on his dresser.

“It may be a little uncomfortable, perhaps. Not as painful as childbirth, I’m sure, nor breaking your maidenhead,” your eyes widened at his words and he smirked. He so loved to see you flustered. “Such an innocent, wife,” he said, stepping closer to you and undoing the pins in your hair. He nodded his approval when you unwound the braids, shaking out your hair.

“It has been a while…” you considered, looking up at him in the mirror as he stepped behind you, beginning to unlace your gown.

“It has,” he said in agreement.

“Will you be gentle with me?” You whispered, eyes widening as his hand slipped up your front, over your breasts, lightly squeezing your throat before he tilted your head to the side.

“Absolutely not,” he growled into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his teeth grazing there as your gown fell stiffly to the floor.

You made to turn to begin undressing him, but he lightly batted your hands away, continuing to strip you of your stays and chemise until you were bare before him.

Eyes downcast, you made to wrap your arms around yourself; your pregnancy had left it’s mark on your body, your belly soft and marked with stretch marks, your breasts hanging heavier than they had when you first married. Tywin held your hands by your sides briefly, before his large hands claimed your hips, his thumbs massaging the softness of your belly. “I want another babe in your belly before year’s end,” he said lowly, making you shiver. “I want to watch you swell again with another of my heirs,”

“Yes, my lord,” you breathed, your breath hitching as he gripped your hips tighter, drawing your naked body to his, your skin hot against the cool metalwork of his belt and buttons. Slowly, he began to walk you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed, and he helped you up onto the mattress, his eyes blazing with lust. His green-gold eyes pierced you as he removed his chain of linked golden hands, his doublet, his boots and trousers too. Your eyes flicked down briefly as you admired your husband’s build; despite his age, Tywin was fit and strong, and your glance did not go unnoticed by him.

Tywin got up onto the bed, looking down at you as he came up between your legs, which fell apart willingly to allocate his breadth, to which he hummed with approval, his hands dragging up your thighs. You sighed softly as your body refamiliarised itself with the weight atop it, offering him a soft, shy smile. He returned it with a rare quirk of his lips, before his fingers teased closer to your exposed core, shushing you gently when you gasped. Whimpering, you arched your back as he dipped his fingers into your waiting wetness, body tense. “Are you in pain, wife?” He said lowly, his movements stilling.

“No…” you whispered, pushing your hips up to his hand as if to reassure him.

He nodded, looking down at you as his fingers worked you open for the first time in months, though he did not seem out of practice in the slightest. He watched intently as your face contorted, brow furrowing and mouth falling open, and your body twisted while you clenched around his fingers. When he felt the erotic spasming of your inner walls, he nodded and hummed with satisfaction, before withdrawing his fingers. You watched in awe as he used your release coating his fingers and dripping onto his palm to slick up his cock.

“You look as though you belong in a pleasure house in Lys, spread out like that,” he said, his voice gravelly with desire. And he had a point; your breasts rose and fell with shaky, heavy breaths; your eyes were now dark with lust, brow furrowed and lips plump as you stared down at him, propped up on the pillows with your hair splayed out.

“Are you calling me a whore, My Lord?” You questioned, pushing yourself up on your elbows.

“No,” he said, guiding his cock to you. “But if you were a whore, you would be mine alone,”

He grunted, pushing into your tightness. With a cry, you tossed your head back, your nails clawing into the Lion of Lannister’s muscled back and arms as you adjusted to his invasion. You hissed out a curse between your teeth, gasping as he stilled, smirking down at you. “Such deplorable language,” he said, and you could only whimper in response, gritting your teeth and scratching at his back. Despite his promise to not be gentle with you, he held you tight to his body by your thigh, massaging the quivering limb with his hand as you adjusted to the suffocating tightness of your union. With a needy whine, you rolled your hips experimentally, grinding your clit against his pubis. The resulting tightening of your channel had him hissing in pleasure, and with a low groan he began to move with slow deep thrusts that had your head spinning.

One hand still gripping his bicep like a vice, you trailed your other hand over his shoulder anchoring yourself as you made feeble attempts to meet his movements. Grunting, Tywin grasped onto your hips, before moving his grip to your thighs, holding them apart as he began to fuck you harder, faster. You cried out at the shift in pace, arching your back as Lord Tywin took his pleasure (though he gave just as much as he took). He let out a groan of pleasure as his own thighs trembled and his hips stuttered, and he emptied his seed into you.

Moaning lowly, you fell back into the pillows, panting. You felt the bed dip then settle as he withdrew from you and stood, and your eyes slipped shut as you heard him rustling about the room, the door slamming shut. You frowned. He must have dressed quickly. With a sigh, you stood up, albeit shakily and slipped your chemise back on. His thick seed seeped down your thigh as you stood before the mirror, combing out the tangles in your hair with your fingers.

The door opened, and Tywin stepped into the room, but before he acknowledged you, he turned to what you assumed was his squire. “Have the servants bring up two plates from the feast, and a flagon of Arbor Gold,” he said to the lad, who responded with a quiet ‘yes, My Lord.’ “And see to it that Lady Lannister’s handmaidens know to come here on the morrow with her gown and jewels. She will be staying here tonight,”

He dismissed the squire with a nod and shut the door, turning to you with raised eyebrows. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to return to my own chambers, my Lord,” you murmured, finally able to smooth your hair down over your shoulders.

“Indeed not,” he said simply. “I was merely arranging some supper and wine,”

You crossed your arms. “And for my handmaidens to come here on the morrow?” You teased.

Tywin only smirked, prowling over to you. “Indeed,” he said. “It would seem, wife, that we must return to bed…” you cocked your head to the side, looking up at him curiously. “An heir will not find its way into your belly if my seed is dripping down your thighs, now, will it?”

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

Masterlist

Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn)

Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Pre Series Content and Extras:

Woes of a Modern Day Love (a modern!au)

Scattered Memories of the Starks

Shadows of their Hatred

The Lost Chapters of Jon Snow

NSFW Alphabet (contains spoilers for Part 3 and 4)

Interlude of Jealous Desires

A New Life's Darkened Lust (continuation of Ashes of Various Grey)

Part 1:

Wolves of the Lone Stag

Mouth of the Lion's Den

An Intrigue Drenched in Blood

Standing Behind a Betrayal

A War of Tragic Beginning

Part 2:

King and Queen in the North

Shadow of a Fiery Stag

Reunion of New Enemies

Pleasure of Conflicted Desire

The Sanctity of Children

What Lies Beyond The Veil

Part 3:

The Cost of Our Sins

Dragged Through the Violence

Only the Cold

Fire for the King's Blood

Part 4:

Ashes of Various Grey

Plans of Pain and Horror

Afraid of a Ravens Flight

Trust in the Gentle Rasps

Visions in Eyes and Flames

A Bastard or The White Wolf

Part 5:

Home of Bloodsoaked Stone

Blazing Fire of Storming Ice

Ghostly Dreams of Old

Sailing Through the Glow

The Last Dragon

The Winter Rose

Part 6:

The Clash of Three Kings

Shrouded Truth in Sickness

Winged Shadow in the Sky

Light in the Darkest Storms

Peeking the Realms Woes

Blood, Roses and All Lies

Broken Love of the Dead

The Souls Tethered in Death

Wolves of the Past and Back

The Crows and The Sight

Part 7:

A Brewing of New Mystery

Great Wolves of White Mists

Darkness Heavy in a World

Past Becomes the Present

The Thing in the Night

Waving Tides of Turmoil

Greenish White Boodraven

Dark Blood of Blinding Light

And Wait for the Snows

Part 8:

[targaryenimagines]

My Khaleesi

Dark!Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,586

Summary:

Warnings: Smut and G!P Daenerys.

Notes: Wasn’t sure if you wanted Dark!Dany (in a sense) or not, but decided to just do it that way for this one shot! If you’d like another one with a non dark Dany, I’ll be more than happy to do that. Also, this is definitely the most graphic smut I’ve written… I apologize if it’s bad.

Ash still falls from the sky like distorted flecks of snow— rubble shifts under foot as you make your way through the courtyard of the Red Keep. You didn’t have to turn your head far to see the destruction that had been wrought across King’s Landing, a destruction that had come at the hands of the woman you love the most in this world.

Fire and blood had come to Westeros, you think, side-stepping a charred corpse. And penance seemed to have been paid in full.

The sights, along with the smells, that assault you the farther you trek into the once great city aren’t something that sits well with you, nor does the knowledge that Westeros had pushed Daenerys, your Dany, to this point. That all of her grief: Viserion, Jorah, Rhaegal, and Missandei, along with all of her men that she lost in the North, had forced her spirit into shattering so completely.

I don’t want to be Queen of the Ashes…

A saying that had constantly been thrown towards Daenerys, that had been used as a means to control her, keep her line, and what better way to do that then remind her of her father’s legacy, a tale that’s haunted her ever since she discovered it, and had been continually repeated until Daenerys spouted it out as if she was simply talking about the weather. Her drive, the passion that had carried her through Essos, slowly being driven out of her the longer she spent in the toxic landscape that is Westeros; forever surrounded by the tales of her ancestors, by the fear and hatred that the people she saved showed her, at the clear refusal to ever accept her as anything more than a Targaryen Whore.

Rounding the corner of yet another hallway, you pause just outside of throne room, or what you believe to be anyway, and think over everything that had transpired. Think of the darkness that had seemed to have only grown in intensity since the Night King had been dealt with. Would Daenerys, after all of this, still wish to see you? Would you still have a place by her side?

Only one way to find out…

With a deep intake of breath, you step fully into the debilitated area that had once been a source of great pride— at the head of it all being the almost legendary throne itself, a mass of melted together swords, and standing before it?

Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

At the sound of your approaching footsteps, Daenerys turns from her perusal of the throne, and a warm smile quirks her lips at your nearing form.

“Ñuha jorrāelagon,” she murmurs, adoration clear within violet eyes. Slim arms wrapping around your middle the moment your close enough for her to grab. A single gloved finger gently tracing down the expanse of your cheek, rubbing away the hints of ash that still remained. “I’m glad to see you unharmed. I don’t know what I would have done if that hadn’t been the case.”

You lean into the hand still resting on your cheek, a happy smile of your own making an appearance. “Burn down the rest of Westeros?” A dark look flashes through violet eyes, your joke suddenly taking on an all too serious light that you desperately wanted to veer away from. Bumping into her slightly, you disentangle from slim arms, warmed by the smallest bit of hesitance she had at letting you go, you step closer to the throne. “This is it? The Iron Throne?”

Daenerys settles next to you. “It is.” She touches the arm of it with an almost reverent air. “After all these years, all the trials and tribulations that I went through, I’m finally here. A Targaryen is finally the holder of the Iron Throne once more. I’ve brought honor back to my family.”

“You’ve honored them for years already, Dany. You simply being alive is honor by itself.” You angle your head, not surprised at all to see that she had already been looking at you. “This just exemplifies you into the ranks of Aegon.”

Violet eyes gleam with an almost childlike wonder, the hand closest to you touching your cheek with the same reverence she had shown the throne. “Aegon had his wives, he had his queens.” She steps away from you, taking her rightful seat on the throne. “Something that I’ll be in need of moving forward.”

Your head dips. “Anything I can help you with?”

Daenerys chuckles lightly, the sound rumbling from deep within her chest like one of Drogon’s roars. “There is, Y/N.” Gesturing for you to come closer, a command that you listen to without question, she gently maneuvers you into a kneeling position before her, slender fingers tangling themselves within the strands of your hair. “Say yes.”

“Your Grace?”

“Say yes to marrying me, to becoming my wife and queen.” Her holds tightens, forcing your head to tilt back. “Say yes to becoming mine and I’ll make sure everything you could ever want becomes yours.”

A small smile twists your lips upward. “Everything that I could ever want already is.”

At the words a small growl escapes Daenerys, her head dipping downward to press a heated kiss to your lips, maintaining that you’re kept in place by the iron-clad hold she still has on your hair. And, like with everything else, Daenerys didn’t hesitate in conquering what is hers, tongue barely brushing over your bottom lip before she plunders into your mouth, taking you for everything you have. The taste of you, the submission in which you’re showing her, along with the location no doubt, makes Daenerys almost frantic in her need for you.

Barely pulling away, giving you both a moment to breathe, before she’s claiming your lips once more— it’s wet, filthy in a way that makes your mind fog over in lust, and you can’t quite get enough air into your lungs through your nose, something that constantly ensures her scent is all that you’re surrounded by, but you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Wouldn’t want to be in any other position than where you are now; kneeling in front of your Khaleesi, her pleasure becoming yours.

Finally, with a ragged breath, Daenerys fully pulls away from you, a thin trail of saliva still connecting you both, before she shifts too far back and it snaps in half. Violet eyes, blown nearly black in lust, pin you in place as Daenerys slowly undoes the buckle of her pants, and jerks it down, the actions clear on what she expected from you. And, without preamble, or any sort of prompting, you help Daenerys with removing them, gently taking off her boots, before pulling her tight-fitting pants off her slim legs. The sight that greets you once you look up almost causing your mouth to dry up completely.

Daenerys Targaryen sat in all of her glory, bare from the waist down, her thick member jutting out from the apex of her thighs. The look in her eyes, in the darkness that lurks just out of reach, tells you all that you need to know, how your Khaleesi wished for you to service her next. Something you didn’t have a problem with doing, damn the consequences of potentially being caught in the wide open throne room.

Taking her into your hands, feeling her warmth, and the way that she twitches ever-so-slightly at your touch, is a heady sort of power that you’re never going to get used to.

Taking her into your mouth, jaw stretched wide to accommodate her girth, feeling the way she arches into the wetness it provides, hands tightening even further into your hair, the wonderful concoction of pain and pleasure, fuels you more than anything ever could.

Bobbing up and down, taking her deeper and deeper into your throat, listening to the breathy sighs she lets loose whenever she completely bottoms out, is a drug you never want to get off of. Her flavor— musky with just the barest hint of sweetness and something spicy— spreads across your tastebuds, your tongue lovingly swirling around the tip of her cock, taking in as much of her as you possibly could.

“Iksā doing sīr sȳz syt nyke.” The Valyrian praise escapes her in a low snarl, hands now guiding you in the exact way she wanted, your own simply being braced on her thighs as you let her use you. “Issare iā sȳz riña syt nyke. Ñuha sȳz riña.”

All you can do is moan in response, mouth completely stuffed full of her, but the vibrations makes her tense even further, another snarl rumbling from deep within her. You know that she’s close, can tell by the way her thighs were beginning to tremble underneath your touch, and the quickening of her thrusts, and your head moves even faster because of it— wanting nothing more than to feel her release down your throat, for your tongue to be coated by her cum.

“Issi ao jāre naejot gūrogon ziry mirre? Gūrogon everything bona nyke tepagon ao?” Daenerys groans out the question, clearly fighting with herself to not succumb just yet to the pleasure of her release. Peering up, you’re instantly met with darkened violet eyes, a rosy hue predominant across fair cheeks. Clearly waiting for a response, all you can do is gurgle around the cock currently in your throat, hoping that your eyes gave her all the answers she needed, which, by the tightening of her hands, absolutely did. “Sȳz riña.”

Within the next moment, jets of Daenerys cum shoots out, going straight into your stomach as you desperately swallow to make sure you don’t lose any of it. The feeling of warmth as her seed settles deep within you is one you’ve long since grown familiar with, but the possessive heat in her eyes as she watches you swallow it all down is definitely new. A reaction that causes your own arousal to come to the forefront of your mind finally, wetness clearly coating your thighs, waiting for your Khaleesi’s touch.

Daenerys pulls her cock from your mouth a moment later— the still hard length shimmering with the combination of leftover cum and saliva— allowing for you to take a deep lungful of air at last. Remnants of her still on your tongue.

Her thumb brushes across your bottom lip, briefly pushing into your mouth for you to suck on, before she retracts her hand and tugs you up onto her lap. Slim arms bracing your lower half perfectly against herself, settling her own body more fully on the Iron Throne.

“You did so good for me,” she murmurs, trailing slender fingers down your thighs. Nowhere near where you needed her the most though. “Do you want to continue?”

You nod. “More than anything, Khaleesi.“

Daenerys hums at the old title, hands gripping your hips in a hold that you know would leave bruises, lips ghosting across your jawline and down your neck.

“You’re mine, right?” Teeth nips into the sensitive flesh beneath your pulse point. “No one else can have you this way, fuck you the way that I can, or hear the beautiful noises you make when you fall apart.”

“Only you, Dany,” you whisper, nuzzling your nose against hers. “It’ll only ever be you. I’m yours completely.”

There isn’t need for more words after that, Daenerys simply hikes your dress higher up your waist, tearing your small-clothes away completely, before rubbing her hardened member against the wetness that has collected between your legs, a deep groan escaping her at the feeling of your clear want for her.

Within the next heartbeat, she’s buried to the hilt within you, a sharp keen being ripped from your chest at the feeling of complete fullness, the delicious stretch as your body tries to acclimate to the feeling of her, and begins to rut roughly into you. Hands slide from their place on your waist to settle on your hips, guiding you up and down as you begin to bounce in response to her thrusts.

A breathy moan falls from your lips, arms wrapped tightly around Daenerys neck, tugging her closer to you, continuing to ride her in complete abandon, wet slapping noise, intercepted by occasional grunts and moans, filled the air, echoing out across the empty throne room. A part of you thinks that you might even be able to be heard down below, the ripped open wall next to the throne offering an excellent siphon to the noises, but then Daenerys twists her hips in just the right way and everything, that doesn’t have to do with the mind numbing pleasure she gives you, vanishes from you mind in an instant.

Nails make crescent moons in the soft flesh of your hips, bruises no doubt already forming on your lower abdomen from how hard Daenerys was thrusting up into you, but the knowledge that your Khaleesi is marking you in such a way, that she’s lost parts of her control because of you, makes you not care in the slightest— you were hers, completely and irreversibly. Her pleasure was your own.

With another strangled gasp, your head falls to her chest, still glad in her formal garb, the metal cool against the heated expanse of your forehead, no longer being able to keep yourself upright. You could feel your climax approaching— coming faster and faster as Daenerys brushed against the spot within you every time she pulled out. Your core clenching around her desperately, trying to keep her within you, milk her for all that she’s worth, and the tight constriction causes a strangled sound of her own to resonate from your Khaleesi.

Feet planted firmly into the floor, she begins to piston fully into you, your body arching into her, allowing her to move you as she saw fit, clearly chasing her second release and your own.

“I’m going to mark you in a way that no one ever has.” Feverish violet eyes meet your own, strands of silvery-gold hair sticking to her heated cheeks, torn from their intricate braids, as her grip on you tightens more. “You’re going to bear my children, you’re going to continue on the Targaryen name. Would you like that?”

You moan. “Yes.”

The thought of carrying her children, of continuing on the Targaryen Legacy, filled you with a sense of purpose, a sense of warmth.

Pushing your head further into her chest, you plead. “Do it, Khaleesi. Claim me.”

With a ragged snarl, Daenerys’s hips stutter and before you know it jets of warmth fill you up, going straight to your womb. The feeling triggers your own release, a broken moan leaving you as you milk Daenerys for everything she has, everything that she’d be willing to offer. Harshly panting, Daenerys settles back onto the throne, hands gently running down your spine, holding you as closely as she possibly still could, still buried inside of you.

“Thank you,” she whispers, nuzzling you before she presses a kiss to your damp temple.

You sigh, content in her arms. “Always.”

Pressing another kiss to your head, Daenerys angles your face in order for you to look at her, the open look of adoration on her face one that’d only ever be reserved for you and her son.

“My beautiful love, my lovely wife.” She drops a chaste kiss to your lips, her hips beginning to move once more. “My eternal queen.”

“My Khaleesi.”

[plus-size-reader]

Gentle

Sandor Clegane x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2737 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Ned Stark’s eldest daughter finding herself interested by the King’s loyal protector, and even more disenchanted by how he’s treated

—————————————————————————————————

The King’s arrival in Winterfell wasn’t of much interest to you, if you were being honest.

Of course you understood that it was a great honor and that his Grace was very important to your father, but outside of that, you had no real reason to pay the caravan much mind as it moved through the streets of Winterfell.

Had it not been for the pretense of duty and honor, and more severely, the pressure of your mother’s wrath, you truly believed you would have skipped the entire affair.

You weren’t the object of their visit, after all.

As the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, you were much too old to be of much interest to the young Prince compared to your sisters, and the King only came to Winterfell with your Aunt Lyanna on the mind.

Really, you weren’t sure why you needed to attend.

Until, you found yourself staring down the traveling party of the King’s guard, and the striking presence of the man they called “the Hound”

You had heard stories of the man over the years, and you knew where the title had come from, but never could you have imagined the man before you now and that man were one in the same. He hardly struck you as some ravenous monster, even then.

…and as the days went by, you found your opinion unchanged.

You existed in Winterfell simply, a privilege afforded you by your father’s title and the love the families of the North had for the Starks.

For the most part, you did what you wanted and didn’t call too much attention to yourself, content to read on the sidelines and follow after your siblings as they grew into their own. That meant that you escaped a lot of the formalities of nobility, as no one really needed too much of your attention.

If they were looking for a Stark to talk to, you were always fairly low on the list and you liked it that way, especially given all the excitement in Winterfall over the past few days.

With Sansa entertaining the Prince, your father entertaining the King and Queen, and the charms of the North keeping the guard away, you finally had a moment to yourself which only meant one thing. You could finally finish your book.

It was all set, just as you wanted it.

The weather had yet to get so bitter cold that you couldn’t stand to be out, so you grabbed a blanket and set it in the clearing near the market, under a big tree. The septa’s rarely bothered you these days, so you should be able to get some peace and quiet.

Not that you got too far before something else caught your eye.

You had only been reading your book for a short time when you heard the familiar sing-songy tone of your sister’s voice, followed unsurprisingly by the nasally pitch of Prince Joffrey.

They were to be married following this trip, and you knew she was excited. You could tell by the way she skipped lightly as she walked, and how she hung on his every word.

You had never been in love yourself, but you had to imagine that was what it looked like. Perhaps that was why you found yourself watching them as they walked, or maybe it had more to do with the Hound, loyal as always, who was trailing behind them steadily.

He was an interesting man, you’d decided.

Even as he walked, he studied the world around him as if he wasn’t a part of it, rather that he was peering in at it from the outside. You felt that you could relate, in some way, as you had always been that way.

They’d chastised you for being a dreamer as a girl. The Septa would take your books and keep them from you, your mother would beg you to engage in your duties as a lady and even Robb and Theon teased you.

Your head was always far away and even now, you had managed to keep it that way. While other women your age married and had heirs for unimpressive Lords, you remained in your father’s homeland.

A place where you could keep your books and your dreams, without having to endure the ugliness.

Not that ugliness was really the problem in the first place.

You were certain that some found the Hound ugly in all his violence and impropriety, but you couldn’t dare count yourself among them. Even now, as you stared at him over your bound paper novel, you saw nothing short of a dream like all the others.

It wasn’t even something you could truly understand, if you had any desire to try. There was just a softness to him, a quiet contemplation that made you feel as if no harm would ever come to you.

That wasn’t a feeling you’d known before now, as that was one of the things the North had never really had. Your father and brothers would rather die than let something or someone hurt you, you knew that, but it wasn’t so simple.

The comfort his presence held went beyond any physical threat or danger, it was almost warm.

Not that you would have ever ventured to admit it.

After all, you had never even spoken to the man and if you tried to explain the way you were feeling to anyone, they would surely have you committed. The hound was a lot of things, but none would have called him warm.

None outside of you that was.

You continued your staring for quite some time, only occasionally looking away from the sight before you to mindlessly turn the page in your book. You imagined you may have sat there all evening if you remained uninterrupted.

However, when your attention returned to the imposing form of the King’s dog across the way to find him already looking at you, the illusion fell away entirely.

Surely he thought you were demented.

In the entire time he and the King’s guard had been in Winterfell, you had yet to speak a word to a one of them but that didn’t mean he was unfamiliar with you. Every time he turned around, he found you sitting somewhere over his shoulder, that same book perched in your lap.

Anyone else may have just brushed you off, assuming you were a bit out there as your family always had, but Sandor couldn’t quite do that.

After all, he had grown used to the weary glances and fearful whispers between people as he passed, but no one had ever paid him so much mind as you seemed to be.

Naturally he was curious.

No one had voluntarily spent that much time looking at him in all his life, and he needed to know what it was about you that was different.

You tensed the moment you noticed his attention, not daring to look away from the weathered pages beneath your fingers, not when you heard him nearing where you sat and certainly not when he stopped at your side.

Neither of you spoke, and you weren’t even sure if you drew a single breath, but he certainly did as he waited. Waited for what he wasn’t sure, but it just seemed to be the thing to do.

As if you would somehow explain yourself if he stood in your presence long enough.

Though, after a long moment passed between you without so much as a glance from you, he decided to just end the torment for you both.

There would be no sense in just standing here all evening.

“Why do you stare so much?” he wondered aloud, his voice just as gruff as it always was, though you caught something else hidden there too. Just beneath the surface, hiding beneath the walls he’d built hugh within himself.

It almost sounded like a sort of nervousness, though you would have imagined him incapable of something so common.

You didn’t answer at first.

Whether it was due to the humiliation of being caught that held your tongue or the nerves of facing down such an imposing man on your own, he wasn’t sure. All Sandor knew for sure was that this was one of the strangest interactions he’d ever had.

If only he knew.

The real reason for your silence wasn’t some twisted interest or shame but because there was no real answer at all. At least not one you’d confidently admit while those brown eyes had you locked in a stare.

You hadn’t meant it to be disrespectful, of course, because the nature of your admiration couldn’t be farther from distaste. However, to a man like Sandor, that was exactly what it looked like.

…What it felt like.

Naturally, after a life of rejection, Sandor assumed that your staring was like that of every else when they looked at him. He assumed you were disgusted by him, and his grotesque face, or perhaps that you were afraid.

He hoped you weren’t afraid.

In any case, he never could have imagined that you would answer him in the way you did, even if it took you a moment to summon the courage to string any words together at all.

“I suppose I’m interested in you” you decided finally, twisting your face up slightly at the way that must have sounded.

It wasn’t quite right, of course, though it wasn’t entirely wrong either.

You were interested in him, but that seemed too simply a phrasing, like all the gravity and sentiment was missing even still.

Sandor only grunted in reply after a brief pause, his gaze drifting across the market, watching as the surrounding northerners studied your interaction, only to drop their eyes when they met his.

They all feared him, and they were right too, because they understood what he was and what he was capable of. Though, maybe that was another thing that you had done since he arrived that was unique to you.

Never once had you looked away from him.

You had never shrunk away or grimaced as they did, even at a time like this when anyone else would have run for the hills. It was certainly new, even he couldn’t be so stubborn as to ignore that.

“What’s so interesting about me?” he wondered, not daring to move closer or join you as you sat, but not moving further away either. Even though it felt wrong to speak freely with an unmarried noble woman like you, it really wasn’t.

You certainly didn’t think so, and you believed that anyone else would agree.

If anything, you were simply making conversation while he did his duty, watching over the Prince and his future bride.

Now, it was your turn to pause, regarding the words on the page only a moment more before you closed it, and discarded it in the snowy grass.

“We don’t have men like you here,” you allowed, considering his imposing frame as he stood above you.

Though you had only seen him from afar until now, at his impressive height and with your current low position, Sandor seemed even larger than he had before. Still, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be frightened by him, which had to have been because he wasn’t frightening in the first place.

The rest of the realm may have treated him like a monster but you hardly believed that made him one.

You could tell in the way he glanced down at you, surprise painting his features, that he wanted to argue with you but he faltered, because he didn’t understand. He wanted to tell you that there were violent men everywhere, and that most were just better at hiding it, but somehow, he knew that wasn’t what you meant.

No matter how diluted that may have made you seem in the moment.

“Gentle,” you clarified, watching as his mind tried to pin down exactly what you were trying to say, because the most obvious answer just wasn’t possible. “Men here are all the same. They’re either ruthless fighters or cowards and fools. On rare occasions, they may be both but neither are gentle as you are”

That was it.

There were the words you had been trying to find before, but it still didn’t feel as if he understood, or perhaps he just didn’t feel as if you had any right to be the one saying them.

After all, you had only ever been in the North and you hardly knew anything about him, or many other men for that matter. What real ground did you have to stand on when it came to this?

“Trust me little girl, there’s nothing gentle about a man like me” he scoffed, washing away any tenderness you’d been feeling in a moment.

Perhaps he was right, but you didn’t think so.

While it was true that there were no other men like him in the North, you had seen your fair share of guarded men hiding from the truth about themselves. Normally they were trying to convince themself that they were braver than they were, or stronger, but it looked the same.

It made them look small.

“It’s in your eyes. You think I can’t see it because you don’t, but it’s there. It’s the same reason you’re still having this conversation with me, even though the Prince snuck off with Sansa” you countered, gesturing to the missing space they’d previously occupied through the pass.

If he’d truly been keeping an eye on them, and nothing more, he wouldn’t have let them out of his sight.

“Maybe I just want to know what’s wrong with you? After all, I thought the future Lady of Winterfell would be a bit more sociable” he argued, almost poking fun at you in a way you hadn’t seen coming.

Which was a welcome break in that untouchable armor of his.

“I am hardly the future Lady of Winterfell. That title will belong to the wife of my brother Robb,” you informed, gathering your skirts to rise to your feet, only to find his hand outstretched to you, a further invitation behind the curtain.

You took it as gracefully as you could and rose to your full height, though you remained entirely dwarfed by the large man at your side.

“And I have never really taken to being sociable, that’s true. It’s my mother’s greatest upset” you teased, straightening out your gown and taking in the full sight of the Hound in all his glory.

He looked small, if that was even physically possible, as you admired him with those eyes of yours. If you thought his gaze was pointed, you had no idea how he felt beneath the heavy weight of your own.

“You’re a strange little thing, aren’t you?” he grumbled, his question hanging in the air untouched for a moment as you studied him, no longer caring how strange it may have looked to anyone else.

You had been right.

He was anything but ugly up close, and it was a tragedy that so few got to gaze upon him in this manner.

“I suppose. Perhaps that’s why I remain unmarried” you suggested, subconsciously hinting at what you knew to be your own greatest flaw, at least in the eyes of your people and your house.

At the very least, the Hound had been able to make something of himself outside of being a husband or son. He could be a warrior, and he was, one of the most fearsome warriors you’d ever seen.

As a woman, you had never been afforded that kind of privilege and you never would. As far as your mother was concerned, you would live and die a spinster, and there was little you could do to change that.

“Perhaps. Or maybe this place really is full of cowards and fools, as you said” he muttered, sparing you one more heady glance before turning his back to you, his attention fully on the clearing ahead.

That was it.

In all the days you’d been admiring him and making a desperate attempt to understand exactly what lay beneath that shell of his, that was all he had for you.

…and you couldn’t have been happier, because for the first time in a long time, you found yourself looking forward to what the days ahead would hold.

[axelsagewrites]

Main Masterlist Here

House of the Dragon Masterlist Here

Warnings/Guides

【P】Platonic【P】 🆇Smut 18+🆇

Request Line Up and Request Rules

♡ Jon Snow ♡

🆇What he's like in bed🆇

Blind date

🆇Milady🆇

🆇Home Alone🆇

🆇Price of My Secrecy 🆇

Relationship Moodboard

🆇Couldn't Resist🆇

♡ Robb Stark ♡

Best Friend

Marriage night

🆇Dream🆇 🆇part two🆇

Frey Girl 🆇part two🆇

🆇I miss you🆇

Cloak

Honey Cakes (cloak part two or standalone)

Comfort

Sweet Girl

🆇NSFW Alphabet🆇

🆇Good girl🆇

Yearbook

Don't Die For Me

🆇Little Secret🆇

🆇Can't Catch a Break🆇

Goodnight Dear Husband

♡ Sandor Clegane ♡

Most People Say Goodbye Part One - Part Two

🆇Brat🆇

♡ Beric Dondarrian ♡

Home

♡ Thoros of Myr ♡

Favourite Friend

♡ Brienne of Tarth ♡

【P】Queen in the North and South【P】

♡Ned Stark♡

🆇MiLord🆇

🆇Wife🆇

♡Ramsay Bolton♡

🆇My Father Would Kill Me🆇

🆇Catch You🆇

🆇How Far Would You Go🆇

🆇Appreciate You🆇

🆇Bath🆇

🆇Little Mouse🆇

♡Roose Bolton♡

Perhaps

Not Yet

♡Edmure Tully♡

【P】Who We Call Family【P】

My Queen My Love

♡Theon Greyjoy♡

Dream of Sweet Memories

🆇Give it back🆇

♡Sansa Stark♡

Roommates

🆇NSFW Alphabet🆇

🆇What's This?🆇

Surprise Visit

♡Podrick Payne♡

🆇Praise🆇

♡Daenereys Targaryen♡

🆇My Queen🆇

♡Jamie Lannister♡

🆇Extra Credit🆇

♡Oberyn Martell♡

🆇Duty🆇

♡Margaery Tyrell♡

🆇Ropes🆇

♡Cersei♡

🆇Morning🆇

♡Tormund♡

🆇Real Man🆇

🆇Use your words🆇

♡ Yara Greyjoy ♡

Flirting

Preferences/Multicharacter

🆇Company🆇 - Yara and Ellaria threesome

🆇What they're like in bed🆇 – Robb, Jon, Sandor, Podrick

How they react to teasing – all

🆇What They're Like in Bed🆇 – Margaery, Sansa, Danny, Yara

Share pt1 🆇Competition pt2🆇 🆇Wait p3🆇 - Robb and Jon

🆇Hook ups🆇 - Theon and Jon

Love Languages - Jon, Robb, Bran, Tormund, Podrick, Oberyn

Thanks for any support I appreciate it all xoxo Sage

Dividers from here and here from @saradika

Post topper made on Canva

[darkdevasofdestruction]

My Innocent Snowdrop ~ Oberyn Martell x Stark!Reader

Summary: The eldest Stark girl is forced to marry Oberyn Martell as a political alliance made by Cersei, but what she does not know is that the Prince of Dorne is a very loving man who easily falls in love with her and cherishes her deeply.

The wolves never strayed away from the North - Y/N told herself, staring up at the head of her father, rotting on that wretched pike. He should have rejected the spot as the Hand of the King - Look where it got him and all the men that came with them. Septa Mordane’s head was also there, staring up at the Sun... And poor Jayne Poole, being imprisoned and... Lord knows what is being done to her.

Lady was dead, Nymeria and Meria, Y/N’s direwolf, were long since away from their premises. All the Stark wolves were very much dispersed all over Westeros, with Sansa and Y/N the only unfortunate souls licking each other’s wounds in King’s Landing.

Y/N would think hard, if there was any good memory she had of this forsaken place. Perhaps the time that she saw Arya being taught how to ‘dance’ by the master. The castle, the courtyard... Maybe everything except for the flower gardens was completely awful - Just like the stench of Flea’s Bottom. A good memory would be when she cheered for Sandor Clegane during the journey for Prince Joffrey’s name day... While he was still Prince, at least. He was such a good man, despite that rough exterior he puts out - Though Sansa was afraid to even look at him, Y/N always felt safe around him. Ironically, the same could be said about Tyrion, the Lannister dwarf with that silver tongue and cheek to match him. She could could count on her fingers the amount of times he had saved her and Sansa from danger - And she wouldn’t have enough hands.

She missed the North so much. That harsh cold was soothing, and the whipping wind was a caress. She wanted to hear the lullaby of the forest and the beauty of the fauna and flora around. She wanted to feel the fluffy snow under her feet again, and see her North lights with her old friend, the bastard of Dreadfort. She was glad that her parents had no idea she would meet up with Ramsay Snow every fortnight, in the Wolf’s Woods - He might have been the craziest psychopath, she thought, but she hadn’t felt more alive than when they were running with their canine companions through the frozen forests.

“Alys, do you think we will ever see home again?” Alys Manderly was Y/N’s best friend since early childhood, they have been inseparable, just like Sansa and Jeyne. They were closer than sisters - She would call them soul-sisters, or something. She remembers Theon one time telling them to marry twins, so they would never be torn apart. For a while, they actually pondered that idea. “I hope so, Y/N. I hope so.” the dark haired girl hugged her friend dearly.

But perhaps there was room for celebration - King Joffrey’s name day approached again, and a another tourney would take place. Though Y/N encouraged Sandor to participate, he merely barked at her - One win was enough for the old dog.

This time, the festivity was even greater than before. There were many houses that wouldn’t join anymore, being at war with either Stannis or Renly - But at the same time, there were a few houses from down South that were going to arrive in grand maniere. Royal, noble houses from Dorne.

“Y/N, you are so beautiful!” Alys complimented her friend, who looked down bashfully and shook her head.  “Please do not jest so. You are far more beautiful.” Y/N went to fix her friend’s hair, before they went to the the stands. Sansa was to stay next to Joffrey and the other Lannisters, unfortunately for her, but the two friends were glued to the rails of the stands. They saw many a great knights - Until Alys gasped, and blushed powerfully.  “Y/N, look - That is the Prince of Dorne! Isn’t he so beautiful?!” Alys’s voice was chirped with glee - And the Prince proudly strutted by them - And then he stopped, right in front of them, with a beautiful deep pink rose into his hand, and grinning charmingly as every lady was cheering and chanting his name. Y/N didn’t dare, but Alys was almost bent over the railing, wanting to get closer to the man. “A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady.” the man said, and though Alys melted, his arm went directly past her, and in front of the Stark girl, whose eyes were wide. Her hands trembled, unable to reach out for the flower - And the man approached her, ripping the stem and putting the flower in her hair. “Much better.” his smile was so gentle and sweet, Y/N thought she would die on the spot. Instead, she reached out to the ribbon in her hair and tied it around his palm. “I pray that you will win, My Lord.” the Prince’s smile widened, and Y/N could swear that he, in that golden outfit of his, was radiating brighter than the morning Sun. “For you, I will. sweet rose.” with a wink, the Lord trotted away to end the grand finale of the tournament. “You’re SO lucky, Y/N! Prince Oberyn himself chose you!” Alys shook Y/N’s whole body, and the girl couldn’t help but let out a weak, amused exhale. “Calm yourself, Alys. It is just a flower, nothing more. He will not even remember that I exist.” the girl smiled gently at her friend, reassuring her - But she had missed the envious look in her eyes.

Just as he had promised, the Red Viper of Dorne had won the tourney - And for the remainder of the day, the Dornish retinue drank and cheered and sang songs - And many more other things that were only for adults to speak of. Y/n smiled, watching Oberyn kissing the woman she found out was named Ellaria Sand, the Prince’s paramour. She was a tall and slender lady, with sun-kissed skin, black hair like ebony, and dark, warm, kind eyes. They seemed to be very happy - And so was Y/N. A happy couple always made Y/N happy as well - It meant that there was still hope for people out there, even if she, herself, couldn’t see it.

Alys was more of a party person, whilst Y/N wanted nothing more than to run away and hide in her room, now that she knew Sansa was safe in her room, and people were actually enjoying the feast - But Alys was insistent, and she dragged her friend forcefully to the Dornish table, pushing away some of the drunker men so that her and her friend could sit down and pretend they belong there.

Lady Ellaria gave them a weird look, while the Prince seemed to be smirking in amusement - Not only for the evident desperation of the Manderly girl, but the way the Stark girl was hiding her face with her hands. “Alys - That was rude!” Y/N whisper-yelled at her friend, who outright stared at the Prince with starry eyes. “Let us return to our chambers, Alys - It is far too late for us to be out.” but Y/N’s pleas were in vain. “It is not every day that you get to meet a Prince, Y/N! Lighten up, it’s a party!”  the comment made not only Y/N, but the two lovers look at her perplex. “You... Do realise that... You are in King’s Landing. And you have met two Kings, a Queen, a prince and a princess... Right? And you see them every day.” the timid lady pointed out, shocked about her friend’s absolute moment of dumbness. “Well - Yes, I know - But none of them are so exotically beautiful, are they? The Prince’s skin is sun-kissed, and that smile was painted by the Gods.” hearing these affirmations made Y/N’s head spin in vertigo. Her eyes were cast down in shame, and her cheeks were pinker than the flower in her hair. “What an interesting pair we have before us, my love. An innocent and timid little snowdrop, accompanied by a bold and fierce rose. How intriguing.” the Prince was now focused on the two new-comers, though his arms were still snaked around his lover’s waist. “We are undeserving of such compliments, Your Grace.” Y/N spoke softly - Oberyn was so used to all the strong-willed and strong women of Dorne, that he completely forgot that shy little fawns like her existed. Shy, and very much traumatised, by the looks of it. His heart was almost swelling with dear, just looking at the girl. “Don’t be rude, Y/N - The Prince is giving us compliments, you have to accept them.” Alys grunted at her friend, before turning at the Martell Prince, batting her eyelashes dearly.  “I, uh... I just think that Her Grace is far more beautiful than I am.” her voice was like that of a little mouse - It amused the woman, but also, made her feel protective of her.  “Ellaria Sand is my name, little one. I am no noble, just a bastard of Dorne.” the woman smiled kindly at her. “Noble or not, it does not take away from your beauty.” Y/N retorted quickly - Ellaria and Oberyn shared a look, before looking back at them with mischievous smirks. “What are your names, sweet flowers?” the woman asked them. “I am Alys Manderly - And this is Y/N Stark. It is a pleasure meeting you.” though Alys looked at the Prince with lust in her eyes, but she did not once look at Ellaria.  “Beautiful names, just like the ladies having them.” Oberyn nodded. “Then, would the ladies wish to share our chambers tonight?” Y/N almost fell backwards off the bench from complete shock and fright. “A-Ah, n-n-no... W-We, uh... W-We were just, uhhh, retiring for the night! Yes -- G-Goodnight, Your Grace. My Lady.” Y/N shot up to her feet as if electrified, and though she jumped to the other side of the bench, her wrist was caught by Alys, and she was roughly pulled back on the seat. “Don’t be such a bore, Y/N! Let’s have some fun~! Lord knows, we need some distraction after everything the Crown put us through!” Alys’s mouth got slapped by the Stark girl, as she was given a warning look. Y/N was looking around for unexpected onlookers and eavesdroppers, like a skittery bunny during a hunt. “Watch your mouth, Alys. You do not know who is listening in. If you are not careful, your head will end up on a spike, next to my father’s.” Y/N had seen enough for a life time. The last thing she needed was to see her best friend being killed. There was only so many family members she could see dead, before she’d lose her mind. “Come on, Y/N, loosen up a bit!” but Y/N snatched her hand away, and rose to her feet, looking down at her friend with a simple look.  “I will be seeing you tomorrow at breakfast, Alys. Sweet dreams.” Y/N spoke curtly. “May you have sweet dreams also, Prince Oberyn. Lady Ellaria.” with a quick courtesy, the terrified beauty went rushing back to the castle and hid herself in the safety of her own room.

Although, safety was a great word - Only she knew the amount of times she had escaped assassination attempts. She hated sleeping alone - Anything could happen at night, when you are sleeping - Alas, she could not share a bed with anyone, even her own sister. The rules of King’s Landing were unnecessarily strict and harsh. She wanted home already.

The next morning was unusually quiet and relaxing. The weather was fine, the Sun was warm and the breeze just right. Somehow, during this beautiful morning, even the royal stench wasn’t as awful on the senses as usual. Y/N decided to have a plate of fruit tarts and find her peace in the flower garden, alone from everyone else. It was her hiding place - A little silly, she knew, but sitting down on the soft green grass and gazing at the myriad of colourful flowers was the only thing that made Y/N smile.

“My Lady has such a beautiful smile. You put the flowers around to shame.” Y/N found herself squeaking in shock - She had been found! What a shame. She had attempted to raise to her feet and made a little courtesy, but the Prince’s hand on her shoulder stopped her - Instead, he had opted for sitting on the ground next to her, and with a leisure smile, he snatched the tart plateau and popped a small strawberry tart into his mouth. “Not bad for something done in this place.” he tilted his head to the side comically. “Your Grace --” the girl began to speak to him, but was cut off by the man, saying his name instead. “I-I dare not.” “I insist, My Lady.” his brown eyes were so warm and welcoming, like a loving embrace.  “I dare not address the Prince so colloquially.” she spoke. “I am just a girl from the North.” “Your father was the Warden of the North. Your brother is the King in the North. You cannot tell me you are ‘just’ a girl.” he watched her shamefully hanging her head. “I have no achievement of significance of mine own. My sister Sansa is the beautiful one. She can embroider and seam like no other, and she sings the prettiest songs. My other sister, Arya, is a fantastic archer, and she learnt how to swordfight from a braavosi water dancer. Mother is the beauty of the Riverlands. Robb is the King in the North. Bran is... Well, was...The most capable climber... Before he got crippled... By the bad men... And Rickon is just a babe of three.” she spoke softly, yet the love and pride in her voice when addressing her family was evident. “And there, here I am. Y/N, the firstborn child of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully. The family’s disappointment - Though they would never admit to it.” she let out a self-deprecating exhale. “Your Grace is kind, but there is no need to waste your precious time with the likes of me.” “I beg to differ, young lady.” Oberyn frowned for a second. “There are not many who can catch my eyes, yet you certainly did. You are underplaying your self - I wonder why. Gorgeous - You are, beyond words. And your voice is sweet as a nightingale. I’d say you are just overly modest. Is it how they teach you in this place?” he ask, reaching his hand to her hair and absent-mindedly playing with a strand of her long, luscious red hair that shone auburn like the red rose of love and passion. “I have long since heard that the people of Dorne are the happiest. That they are free, and life-loving, and very confident. I can only guess this may come as a huge surprise for you. Although... You have also seen my sister-friend Alys, and she is the complete opposite of me.” the man hummed, hearing of the other girl’s name. “Ah, yes, that one. Rather impolite and a little arrogant, after you left. The Dornish may be lax and permissive, but we still do take into high regards our courtesies.” he seemed completely unbothered, but the girl’s heart froze. “O-Oh, my -- Please forgive her , Your Grace. She has been through a lot since we have come to this place... She - She thought she could find some comfort in the arms of a temporary lover. She meant no harm or disrespect.” although Y/N apologised profusely in the girl’s stead, only to see the Prince wave his hand dismissively, as if it was nothing. “You are far too naive and innocent for your age, little one. And the look in those beautiful eyes of yours makes me realise that you are already aware of that.” his finger reached underneath his chin, raising it up just a little bit. “Forgive my language, Your Grace, but I think the right word you are searching for is much harsher and down to earth. I am an outright simple idiot.” her delicate hand was placed over his, so she could move his hand away from her face. “That will not do.” he shook his head. “I found it rather amusing that you hate this place, and its people, almost as much as I do.” his smile was perked up again, especially amused once he saw the terrified look in her place. “Fret not, sweetling - All of Dorne feels the same. I have no reason to speak out your feelings in your stead. I respect you and your boundaries - Forgive me for teasing you. I find great pleasure watching your face turn the colour of your hair.” the girl could say nothing more, but she hung her head in defeat, hoping to hide her bashfulness with her long locks. “I am undeserving of your compliments, Your Grace - Though, I am grateful for your discretion.” her sweet voice made the man want to snatch her into his arms and plant kisses all over that snow-white skin of hers. People of the North truly were so pale - Almost sickly pale. Would she end up sun-burnt often, should she end up travelling in Dorne one day? That supple neck looked and her uncovered cleavage were so inviting - How was he to resist? The birds have started to chirp a pretty song, and Y/N found herself caring naught for her worries, and she closed her eyes and inched her face up to the sky, bathing in the caressing love of late Spring. “Does this bring you joy?” the man asked, and he saw her head nodding lightly. “It is one of the very few things that I can still appreciate without being punished for. It is not much, but these few moments of bliss are enough to make me forget for a while of the woes of life spent in the capital.” she sounded more at peace now, as if she wasn’t as guarded around him. Surely, the mutual hatred of this place and the Crown must have made her feel at ease. With a soft smile, Oberyn put his hands on her shoulders, and pushed her down on the grass. “How about now?” he asked, gesturing for her to close your eyes. “I... Feel a bit... Uneasy.” she admitted, embarrassed. “Are you afraid?” she let out a small, affirmative answer. “I will protect you, so fear not.” though a bit skeptical, Y/N closed her eyes again, and rested the back of her head on her palms, and she took a deep breath. For once, she forced herself to keep a clean, empty mind, and to relax. If the Prince of Dorne said he would stay on lookout, he would. Though, perhaps that was a weird way of saying that he protected her. Oberyn was laying on his side, next to her, and he was gazing at the beautiful lady as he stroked her velvety hair. Apart from her mother, she had never, once, felt anyone taking care of her so dearly. She loved this feeling so much that she was afraid she would get used to it, and by the time the man leaves for back home, she will feel all alone. She couldn’t afford to get complacent.

The Prince, however, thought of last night - He wanted to tell her that he did not believe Alys was a good influence on her, but why would she believe a complete stranger, over her sister-friend? Would she believe the suspicions of a seasoned man, over the pleading eyes of her faux friend?  Ellaria, too, was reticent, when she looked at the Manderly girl - She could smell the venom dripping from her tongue - The complete anti thesis from the innocent girl who seemed to fight so hard to remain good to the word. Was it to keep hope for her friend? Or was it that she wanted to believe humanity was not yet lost to her?

The party from Dorne had remained guest to King’s Landing for the whole week - Time in which Oberyn tried to get closer to the sweet dove, but could not, because she was always taken away by some one. Though irritating, it was to be expected. What a pity.

Or so he thought - For the Lannister Lioness herself came up with rather the interesting proposal - Claim an even more solidified alliance, through the knot of marriage between the Prince of Dorne and the firstborn daughter of the greatest House of the North. The Seven Kingdoms had to be kept tightly knit together, after all. Were it anyone else, Oberyn would have laughed in Cersei’s face, thinking she sent some lackey of hers to spy on him. Even if Y/N was forced to be a spy, he knew he could persuade her not to be afraid of the Queen Regent and her fearsome claws. For so many years, he had been opposed to marrying - He was very fine with his loving paramour and his children. He needn’t anything else. And even better, he needn’t have the wedding in this stinking city, for he could have it at his own, glorious home, in Sunspear. It was perfect.  The Queen had no idea how stupid she was. Or perhaps she wanted to get rid of the elder Stark sister, and claim monopole over the younger one in her entirety? Possible, as well. Only Lions knew how many lions they could tell, in a single minute.

Once Y/N heard the knew of her leaving with the retinue all the way down South, she felt faint - It was hard enough to get used to the climate and people of the Reach, let alone the deserts and scorching heat of Dorne? And the... Very friendly people as well. She had the tiniest glimpse of that whenever Oberyn passed by her, and would reach out to cup her face or quickly caress a lock of her hair. But Y/N was lucky she had not seen the dark look in Alys’s eyes - The Prince had seen it, and he did not like it. It would be fine though - She will be leagues away from Y/N, so there was no way of bringing her harm, or to his family by being a Lannister lackey.

Y/N felt absolutely terrified of Ellaria for a quick second - She felt like an intruder in their loving relationship. Like a homewrecker. She felt like she outright destroyed the peace and harmony of the whole country of Dorne. Or perhaps, she was simply fatalistic by nature - She wasn’t yet sure. But Ellaria was the sweetest woman in the world, and she hugged her dearly to her chest and kissed the top of her head. “Sweet little flower, worrying so much over nothing. It should be yourself you should be worrying about. Being traded off like an object of political means. You needn’t apologise to me. I pity you - But fret not. Oberyn is a good man. He will take good care of you. And so will I.” she remembers tearing up and hugging the woman tighter, thanking her over and over again for being so understanding and benevolent.

The wedding was not to be properly planned until a few months to come, under the pretext that the young girl has to get used to her new environment - To truly become part of the family. Simply put, it was Oberyn’s way of keeping the pressure off the girl.

Some of his daughters seemed interesting in the new girl, while some cared little or even less about her existence. Just another woman in his life, they said. How long she would last, it was only a matter of time.

The Prince made sure to keep her at the lust Water Gardens, where the palace was cool, and she could indulge in the warm waters of the numerous pools - Maybe play around with the children of the common folk, if he felt uncomfortable with the adults. The outfits, also, were completely different from what she used to where, even in King’s Landing, where the weather was mild. Now, she was given the most luxurious silks and linens, some more sheer or revealing than the others - She felt far too outrageous to leave her room like that, so she kept with the more modest clothes, that would hide her silhouette better.

Most of the time, however, she would spend her time in her room, doing various activities, be that reading Dornish books, or practicing over and over again strategies for the card game that Oberyn had thought her. She wanted to be a worthy opponent for the man - She had to live up to the expectations of a Prince, after all. Or, at least as close as she can get. Sometimes, she would embroider some of her dresses, and even some of the tunics that the Prince may or may not have intentionally taken over to her room. He had even taught her how to paint, and brought her all kinds of paints and paper, and though it wasn’t perfect, she had a particular fondness and skill in painting the flowers she would see in the gardens.

Once in a while, she would write letters - All addressed to King’s Landing. Of course, out of respect, she had Oberyn read and approve of them. She had written her sweet sister, to make sure she is okay, and she wrote to Sandor, her most unlikely friend, to see how he fared.  But the most beautiful envelope was directed to Alys. It was of rose gold colour, and inside, she had pressed various flower petals, and sprayed perfume on the letter - Which was written in cursive ink - But she had not sealed it yet. This one, especially, she would seal with a flower instead, so Alys would know who it was from, without a name being addressed.

The two sister-friends would shower each other in compliments and confessions of how much they missed each other, and would speak about the happenings of the countries they were in, or interesting rumours and gossips - Here and there, a little tricket would also be brought.

“This letter seems particularly tender, compared to the others.” Oberyn hummed, pacing around the room, pondering. “It is her birthday. In fact, it is the first birthday we spend apart. It must be hard for her, all alone in that lion pit. Who knows how Joffrey is torturing her.” she spoke lightly - Though she was still shy around the man, he cherished him deeply. Not once, did he try to pressure her - Instead, he was always gentle with her, and would never raise his voice around her, or speak foul.  “Do you love women, Y/N?” he asked in the most casual tone possible. “If yes, I can have any woman of your liking brought over for you.” it only made her cheeks flare up. “N-No, nothing like that!” she denied immediately. “You needn’t be cautious with me, sweetling. Men loving men, women loving women - People loving people - It matters little, as long as the love is genuine. You can tell me. I want to know the preferences of my lovely wife.” he always knew how to make her mind spin around. “No, Oberyn - Really, it is just a letter sent in good faith, on her name’s day. This is how we used to talk, even back in the North. My sister Sansa with her friend Jeyne were the same.” the girl explained, only to stop for a moment, as the man gazed at her as if she was the most innocent thing in the world. “Does it... Sound weird?” “I think it is sweet that you can express your love this way, my dear. I just fear what would happen if any of those stuck-up idiots would get the letter instead, and accuse either of you of... Unspeakable rule breakings, in the name of the Gods... Or something ridiculous like that.” he turned to look back at Ellaria, who was leaning on the door frame. “Will I be the recipient of these sweet words one day, little flower?” “Darling - Don’t tease her like that.” Ellaria sighed, rolling her eyes and snatching the letter from his hand. She scanned it quickly with her eyes, before she let out an exhale once more, and she shook her head. “Oh, sweetling... The world is not yet ready for such a mellow heart.” the look of distraught on her face made her reconsider, however. “Although... If you keep the letter anonymous, they should have no way of tracing it. Have you used different birds like we told you too?” the girl nodded. “Then, I suppose it should be fine. But be careful who you rely on.” the woman couldn’t tell her about her suspicions she had of her so-called best friend. How could she, when Y/N looked most alive, speaking of her dear friend? “Of course! Alys wouldn’t do me any evil. We have grown up together, closer than sisters. We always covered for and took care of each other!” she exclaimed, with new-found vitality in her eyes. “I will have this sent, then. Darling, why don’t you go with Y/N to the pools? It’s evening already, they should be warmest at this hour, and mostly empty.” with a sultry smile, the woman left the chamber, leaving the two alone. The Prince stepped in front of his betrothed, and bent slightly at the waist, extending his hand for her to take. “Will you join me by the pools, sweetling?” he rejoiced in the blush that graced her features, and the delicate feeling of her hand feathering his own. She had remained quiet, feeling bashful enough as it was, walking hand in hand like that with the Prince of Dorne - But thankfully, the guards were nowhere to be seen, and they were as alone as they can be. Private and intimate, and very much away from the eyes of the onlookers. 

She listened dearly to the proud and loving way in which he spoke of the Gardens, and their history, who created them and why. The loud and harmonious song of the crickets and the toads, even the rattles of the snakes. It was peaceful. The breeze was warm, and the sky was filled with thousands of colours, ranging from yellow, red, orange and pink, but purple and indigo as well - And many other hues in between. She had never been able to sit back and admire the sky like this in a while - Especially not since she’s been sent to the hell that the Red Keep is. When the day met with the night, and the stars were shyly peeking and twinkling, thought it wasn’t yet as dark as midnight - It was a breath-taking sight.

She was so lost in the sight that she didn’t realise the way the man besides her looked at her. He was gazing at her as if she was his most beloved person in the world. It was true, he held a deep love for Ellaria, and had fathered several children together - But he had never even thought about marrying her. Between the parties and the debauchery, the fun, the many men and women that shared his bed, and the amount of travels he partook in... But now, there she stood, before him, someone so completely different than anyone he’s ever met before. Different from all the treacherous people, the liars, the flatterers, the manipulators and what not.

She was so good of heart and innocent - As if she was living in a completely different world than his own. A world of complete peace and harmony, where people can do no wrong, and everyone is trustworthy and reliable. It only made him even more desperate to keep her safe from the cruel world. He wanted to keep her in this oasis, and keep the mirage of goodness for her to keep believing in. Little by little, she will find herself not only comfortable in her new home, but with them as well. With him, most specially, as he wanted her so badly.

Suddenly, a mischievous smirk played on his lips - He was so enchanted by her, that he couldn’t help himself. He threw his arms around her body and jumped into the warm water of the shallow pools. The little squeak of surprise, as she met with the water surface, made his heart beat faster. He stared down at her adorable expression, at her wet hair and the incredibly attractive way the light material of her dress revealed the shape of her body as it stuck to it so tantalizingly sweet. There was only so much the Prince could refrain himself, after the few weeks since she’s been brought to his country. His hands cupped her cheeks, and he leaned in to kiss those soft and pink flower petals of her lips. The few seconds of surprise in which she felt her body and mind frozen, completely dissipated, and Oberyn could feel her melting into the kiss. For just a moment, he let go to gaze at her awestruck look, before one of his arms snaked around her middle, holding her dearly, whilst his other hand was buried into her hair. He felt like being breathed into him - It was unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Passion and fire from Ellaria especially, but now, his heart was beating alive, and he felt tender and mellow. 

At some point, he was even afraid of getting greedy - Not only did he not want to scare his sweet little fawn away, but he also was afraid of how drunk he would get if he went even further, indulging in those lips of hers, and the smell of her flower perfume... That was how she deserved to smell - The stench of King’s Landing was finally washed off for good. He was never going to let her go back to that awful place. He hated it as much as she did. Were it not for the situation of the captive sister, or that devious bitch who calls claims to be her friend, then she wouldn’t have any further worry about that disgusting city.

Now, even more than before, he would come over to her chambers and would bring her new jewellery, all of them shining gold like the Sun, with precious stones of every kind and colours, and he would steal long and tender kisses from her. If he were gifting her a necklace, he would put it around her neck from behind, admiring how it embellished her flawless snow-white cleavage, and would embrace her from behind, leaning down to tickle her with soft neck kisses - She would always giggle from those. If there were rings, he would kneel in front of her and slid them on, before kissing each of her knuckles, the back of her hand, and then he would lean his face into her touch and kiss the inside of her wrist - She would get so bashful that she would get on the ground next to him and hug him tightly to her chest, whispering the sweetest confessions of love and care. And if he were to bring he any kind of hair accessory, be it a flower crown or pearls, a golden gem tiara, or a sheer veil filled with diamonds and zircons that would make her hair shine even more, then he would ask to brush her hair and he would fix the accessory in her hair himself, then tilt her head to kiss her forehead - She would put her hand over his, and cheekily bring his hand for her to kiss.

What he wouldn’t do to keep her away from all the horrors that waited them across the borders...

During the day, the two would play the newest card and dice game that was trending all around the young people - It became a trend, as she called it - And he had to admit, it was a nice game that combined strategy and luck rather beautifully. But better than that, he loved how she would make such adorable expressions when she would lose. He didn’t even imagine there could exist one with such awful luck, but she proved him wrong, times and times again, when out of 10 dices, none of them would depict the element she needed... For multiple rounds... For multiple games.

But he knew just how to make her forget about her lost games, by either going horse riding, or for a walk by the beach - Maybe even a little swim, if they so wished to. At evening, she would sneak by the shore and dance - But it wasn’t just any type of dancing, Oberyn realised - But spear dancing. After he showed off to her multiple times when training, it seemed to have inspired the little flower to practice herself. She was fast and agile, but more than anything, she was so graceful and elegant, with her flowing skirts spinning around her slender form, and her long hair flying with every move. More than anything, however, she was having fun. Never had he seen her grinning so widely and having fun with all her heart. She looked free - As free as a bird, allowed to sing at will and fly at win - Allowed to do anything without anything restricting her in any way. She had some difficulty with the weight of the weapon, but twirling around made it feel less than a feather. And her voice - The way she would hum whatever melody she was thinking of - Some familiar to the Prince, while some, completely foreign - Oberyn felt himself completely relaxing whilst he leaned on a tree and admiring her from afar.

Then, came the night, the most honeyed part of the day. The time when he either spends the most passionate hours in the flames of excitement with Ellaria, and perhaps even other participants - Or he stays in Y/N’s room, with her cuddled into his side as he strokes her hair and he reads her a book. She was sleeping so peacefully in his embrace that he could never bring himself to return to his own chambers. It was always wonderful, waking up to such a lovely woman by his side, especially when she’d snuggle even closer to him while asleep, like a little kitten.

Though she was still very much worried about her family scattered all over the Seven Kingdoms, and the on-going war with the Crown, she at least had found the closest thing to a feeling of peace and belonging, here, in Dorne, soon to be married to Oberyn, and good friend with Ellaria, his paramour. Getting even closer to the man, the two agreed to finally plan the wedding, and everything was as great as it could get. Y/N was happy and felt at home, and Oberyn was glad that his soon to be wife was had finally found a family in him, but also Ellaria, his many daughters, and all the citizens of Sunspear.

But in Westeros there can never be a moment of respiro, and much to his dread and anger, there was a letter he received - It was for Y/N, not for him, but she had long since agreed that he should read any letter she writes or receives, for safety purposes. She hated that she was still far too naive when it came to the harsh political affairs between the more powerful houses, so she was fine with someone who could handle this better to take care of these trivial things.

He had called his paramour to read this as well - He knew the Lannisters were the scum of the earth, but to think they would find something as ridiculous and innocent as Y/N’s friendship with Alys, just to bring them pain and exploit the Stark name... It was cruel, and the Prince was getting very quickly fed up with the lions. He had not forgotten, nor forgiven, the way they treated his dear sister, Elia, and her two children. He sure as hell won’t be lenient now. He needed his sweet revenge... Dorne needed the long awaited vengeance, and somehow, he shall have it. Especially on the perpetrator of all evils... The Mountain.

But how was he to tell Y/N about the contents of this letter, without alarming her, or making her feel guilty? In a way, he wondered if Alys was also a  conspirator to this ploy - Surely, she was, he thought. At first, he wanted to just throw the letter in the fire and ignore the matters from the Crown - But Ellaria had reminded him that Y/N’s own sister was helplessly caged in King’s Landing, and they could easily threaten to kill her, just as they did with their father.

That night, he had taken Y/N to bed with him, just like many other nights. Usually, he would be reading her a story, or tell her of some of his weirder adventures from his long travels - Or, on particularly sleepless nights, she would tell him about home and her interactions with her family, and how unique all of them were. This night, especially, as soon as he stepped inside her room, he saw her in one of those sheer, light pink night gowns - It was a pretty warm night, even this late - And she was at the table, painting. She was gracing a serene, happy smile on her face. As soon as she turned her head to look at her visitor, her smile widened even more, and her eyes lit up. “Ryn!” she called out his new nickname breathlessly, throwing the paint brush into the water glass and wiping her coloured hands. “What a coincidence, I was thinking of you!” she had become so much bolder and more honest with her feelings, it was very endearing. “I made this for you! I saw you liked the desert roses the most whenever we’d go through the garden - Thought I’d make something for you to hang on the wall in your room, if you like it.” quickly fanning the painting to dry faster, Oberyn went next to the table, admiring her creation. “I’m surprised, lovely, Y/N, you have become so good at this.” seeing as it had dried, he held up the long paper and admired it. “Just like the real flower - I’ll have someone hang it so I can see it every time I wake up. Thank you, sweet one.” he raised her chin slightly, before kissing her forehead.

He watched as she scurried to clean her hands properly, before taking a book and getting in bed, she motioned for him to come along faster. “I found this book that talks about the culture and history of many countries in Essos - And I have seen many a story about the Rhoynar, and the water mages and witches - I was so fascinated by it, and then I remembered, Nymeria was one of the Rhoynar, and most of the traditions from the Dorne of these days were brought by her and her people. Can you tell me more about it?” how could he ever decline a request from her, especially as she wanted to learn more about his own country? She was just so beautiful and lovely, he could not understand how could anyone wish her ill. “Of course I will, my sweet Snowdrop. Anything you wish for, I will do for you.” he sat on the bed and pulled her into a small kiss. “Before that, I have something to tell you.” he could see the anxiety form into her eyes, so he quickly brought her into an embrace, caressing her hair, reassuring her that she had nothing to fear. “We must leave for King’s Landing in three days.” Y/N looked up at him with confusion, yet he could also see the disgust she held for that place. “But... Why? I thought you said you hated that place.” “O, darling, trust me, I do. If it were after me, I would burn the whole capital to the ground, and all the people in it, beginning with the Lannisters.” he explained, and the girl nodded her head in approval - She would have done the same. “A letter had arrived from King’s Landing today, with the seal of the Crown.” the girl gulped in fright. “They had called for you to attend the trial of Alys Manderly, under the pretexts of adultery, seducing and indulging in... Unethical misconducts with at least a woman.” just like he had feared, the Queen had used their letters to accuse the Stark girl of indirectly going against the laws of the Faith of the Seven. “So... Alys is being sentenced for indulging with women... And their proof are our letters, yes?” the man nodded. “But I was in Dorne, and here it is not illegal. And they cannot prove anything from the time I was in the capital.” “If they want to, they can prove anything, with enough bribing. After all, they are not directly accusing you, but your friend, who is from a far less important family. Not to mention, if she is found guilty, by extension, so will you be, and by those stupid laws of the Church, they have every right to take you away and put you through very harsh conversion punishments, and maybe force you to renounce your family’s name and title and become a Septa, or join the Silent Sisters.” the gravity in the man’s voice made the girl feel as if her soul was sucked out from her body. “What does Cersei get out of this? If she wanted me dead, she could have done so when I was in the capital, not have me marry you, and be far away from her grasp, under your protection. Moreover, she couldn’t have known we would wait so much to legally marry. And if she wanted to threaten me, she has Sansa in her hands. Why go through all this trouble? I do not understand.” she asked, aggravated by all this mess. “The less Starks alive, the better. She did not want Sansa to marry Joffrey, but the King did, and because of that, she can’t change until someone better comes along - And there aren’t many families that can beat yours.” he explained. “Your brother is leading a rebellion, and you are allied with the region that is most likely to go against the Crown for vengeance. You could seduce me into joining your brother’s cause and take over Casterly Rock.” Y/N’s eyes went wide, and was about to protest, but got silenced by a kiss. “I know, I know, you would never do that. Surely, Alys would have told Cersei by now, and I, myself, know you would never even think of attempting something like that.” Y/N frowned and looked down, pondering and thinking deeply, and she sighed in utmost defeat. “I’m so sorry, Ryn. I shouldn’t have involved you in this. I was a stupid, naive little girl who hoped that, if I was away from them, they couldn’t lay their hand on me anymore.” her head was hung, and Oberyn could even see her eyes watering - She must have been feeling very angry and guilty. “I will go to King’s Landing by myself. You have enough on your shoulders anyway.” but the man scoffed and ruffled her hair. “Are you done speaking nonsense?” he asked, giving her a look. “I will not have my wife slandered, nor accused or prosecuted like that, especially not by that accursed family.” though he was serious, it didn’t seem to convince the girl. “I am not yet your wife, Ryn. You do not have to go that far for someone like me. I have only brought you problems since you have met me, and given you reasons for migraines. That is already far more than anyone would do for me... And I do not want to abuse your kindness.” she had tried to raise from the bed, but was pulled back by his strong hand. “You do not get it at all, do you? Or is that you do not want to understand?” he asked, putting Y/N on his lap. “It is you that I love.” Oberyn pulled the girl into a long and passionate kiss. “And I will have no one hurt the one I love.” he kept pulling her closer and closer with each kiss. The fire was suffocating her, but it also made her long for more. “I was unable to save Elia, but I will not allow those fuckers to lay their hand on you, my love.” Y/N was feeling her body and mind melting altogether in his embrace, and she was sure that, soon, she will transform into a puddle and slip between his fingers. “I am no saving Alys. I am saving you.” “Are you sure you want to go through all this troublesomeness, Ryn?” she managed to breath out, her brain almost blank, as his wet lips traced her neck veins. “I would go to the ends of the world for you, my darling. I would reach out and grab the Sun rays, to make you a shining crown, fitting for the Princess of Dorne.” the more his hands were roaming all over her skin, and underneath the sheer material of her night gown, the more she felt her blood scorching from within. “R-Ryn!” she gasped from embarrassment, the same way his compliments always overwhelmed her - In that instant, she felt herself being rolled on her back, and the only things she could see were his gorgeously chiseled visage, his sweet smile painted on those perfect lips of his, and those warm, loving dark eyes, that only ever looked at her with such deep emotion. “Hush, my love. Say no more. You are safe with me, so cease your worrying.”

Three days from then, the Dorne retinue had moved forwards towards the Capital of Westeros. Through the days, Oberyn looked seemingly unbothered, though both Y/N and Ellaria were on the edge, more or less, afraid for what was to come. No one willingly went inside the Lion’s den and thought they would get out unscathed. Still, the Martell Prince had no problem easing his two lovers, and comforting them - Even while inside the awful castle.

They had a good deal of food and wine to drink at the feast, but everyone new, the following morning at court, the Seven Hells would break loose. Y/N had told that night to both Oberyn and Ellaria about the many times she had to be held accountable at court, and how Joffrey had humiliated both her and her sister countless times. Also, she had told them how, despite Jeyne being Sansa’s best friend, she had a different treatment compared to Alys. Oberyn realised that even she suspected something was amiss, but did not stray away from wanting to save her.

This time, however, things were different. It was not inside the Castle’s court that they held the trial, but outside - Was it because of the fine weather? Or because it was far easier to have so many people outside, without too many voices echoing all at once and blending together? Y/N did not know, but she was extremely afraid. The young King was in the middle, on a large throne, and on either side of him were Cersei, and Sandor, Sansa and Tywin, and some other guards. Blasted thing, Y/N thought, Sansa was looking as awful as the day she had left her in this awful place.

“I have an awful feeling about this.” Y/N muttered, only to feel both Oberyn and Ellaria holding her hands. The Dorne envoy was somewhere up there, all on the same stand, watching  the trial unfolding, as Maester Pycelle was down, speaking of the sins committed, before Alys was dragged by two guards She looked ragged and tattered, and beaten up and starved. Y/N’s breath was hitched in her throat, and she immediately shot to her feet. Oberyn realised that any suspicion she ever had of Alys was destroyed by the mere visual of her abused childhood friend, and the pity and guilt she felt for putting her through it all, because of some minor indiscretion

“As we all know, we are gathered here to judge the actions of Lady Alys Manderly, and her unethical actions that go directly against the rightful laws dictated to us by the Sept of the Seven, ancient and brought to us so long ago, by the Andals.” Oberyn could see her small hands gripping the railing so tightly, and the way her chest was heaving up and down. “Septa Nadya has discovered letters written by Lady Alys addressed to Lady Y/N Stark, in which she confesses her love for the Lady, under the pretext of being childhood friends. She has abused the kindness of her Lady through the years and continued to endanger her by association. She has committed acts of manipulation and blackmail towards her liege Lady.” Y/N wanted to hit her head against the railing - Everything they were saying was almost word for word what Oberyn had warned her. “Septa Nadya has also caught Lady Y/N Stark sneaking out at night to go sleep at Lady Manderly’s chambers, which is improper behaviour for women of marrying age.” “What a load of bullshit.” Ellaria grimaced. “Girls are girls. Let them gossip the night away, for fuck’s sake.” it was obvious even she was pissed off by the ridiculous accusations. “Your Grace, these are the accusations against Lady Alys Manderly, and by default, Lady Y/N Stark, through association.” The Maester spoke clearly, despite his old age. “So this is a trial for two traitors of the Faith, not just one!” the King rose to his feet. “Lady Stark was in Dorne when these letters were sent. The laws of Dorne are different from the ones here, so she has nothing to do with these accusations.” Tyrion was the first to stand up for the girl. “Thank you, Tyrion.” Y/N muttered under her breath - the Prince rose an interested eyebrow - So the little wolf girl actually had some allies around the Crown, even if that ally was a dwarf Lion. “That does not take away from the sneaking around at night.” the King spat back. “Your Grace, Lady Stark had gone through many assassination attempts while staying here. I had personally escorted her to Lady Manderly’s chambers, so she would not feel afraid alone.” Sandor Clegane also spoke up for her.  “O, Sandor, you shouldn’t have.” Y/N gritted her teeth, suddenly afraid for a completely different friend - Whilst the Martell almost huffed in amusement - The Mountain was a ruthless piece of shit who mutilated, raped and abused to death his own sister and her children, but his younger brother was a good hearted loyal dog. How ironic. “That means all accusations against Lady Stark are null?” Cersei was the one to ask, and from the looks of it, Y/N was more or less safe.  For now. “Your Grace, what punishment do you find appropriate for Lady Alys Manderly?” the Grand Maester asked. “Any crime against the Faith is a great offense directly against the Crown as well. I say - Flog her to death!” murmurs and gasps were heard throughout the court - What was with that death sentence?! Over something as ridiculous as a girl telling her friend how much she cares for her. “YOUR GRACE, PLEASE -- I BEG OF YOU!! SPARE ME! HAVE MERCY! WE ARE JUST FRIENDS -- WE DID NOT REALISE HOW DIFFERENT THINGS WERE HERE, COMPARED TO BACK HOME, WHEN WE WERE CHILDREN! PLEASE, PLEASE, SPARE ME! SPARE ME!” Alys was on the ground, weeping and imploring the King to at least give a lighter sentence. Oberyn looked up, realising Y/N’s body was trembling, and her grip on the railing was even tighter. A single tear made its way down her face. King’s Landing truly was the city of sorrow. “GUARDS! UNFOLD THE PUNISHMENT HERE, BEFORE EVERYONE’S EYES - LET HER SERVE AS AN EXAMPLE FOR EVERYONE WHO DARES BETRAY THE CROWN AND THE FAITH!” Joffrey was smirking wickedly. Tywin looked seemingly unbothered, though he realised his own grandson was almost as mad as the Mad King himself, and he did not want another situation like that. Cersei, also, was annoyed that her own child was, once again, ruining her scheming by killing the people she was using. Tyrion was disgusted by his nephew’s behaviour, Sansa was too horrified to even watch, remembering Jeyne and seeing her instead of Alys down there... And Sandor... His eyes scanned for the Stark Girl, and upon seeing her, he felt pity. Only he knew how many times he saved her from the assassins and even those stupid guards like Meryn Trant. As the very same guard stepped forward with a large wooden rod, he readied himself before using all his force to strike the girl’s back. Her screams were shrill and raw, and with each him, Y/N was jolting as if she was the recipient of those aims.

“I DEMAND TRIAL BY COMBAT!” 

The whole court went quiet.

“I DEMAND TRIAL BY COMBAT!” the very same wavery voice shrieked out, her voice echoing loudly through everyone’s ears.  “Your King does not allow it!” Joffrey snarled at the woman. “No one has the authority to deny an ancient right like the trial by combat... Your Grace.” Y/N spat with disgust. She snatched her arms from both Oberyn and Ellaria and ran through the crowd, all the way down to the court, where she pushed Meryn Trant away from the girl. “Three days for now - I demand a fight to determine Alys Manderly’s fate. Choose your fighter, Your Grace.” each time she used the honorifics, she spat with mocking and disgust.  “You dare challenge me?!” the young King was getting angrier by the minute. “Your Grace, as the Stark Lady said, the trial by combat is irrefutable. Choose a fighter and we will prepare for the fight.” the Hand of the King, Lord Tywin Lannister, spoke up with a solemn grace. “Fine then. Ser Gregor - Step forward. Show Lady Stark and Lady Manderly that the authority of the Faith and of the Crown are far stronger than some silly girl friendship.” thus, the monster of a man, clad in heavy plate armor from head to toe, holding a longsword that must have been taller than even Y/N herself, and he strutted in front of the Stark girl, who stood tall, and looked at him with sternly, despite her heart dropping with fear. “So it is you they send again, isn’t it, you fucking monster?” the people gasped at the unlady-like vocabulary displayed by the Lady. “Do you find pleasure in killing young ladies? Is that why you so willingly volunteer to do all the dirty deeds the Lannisters order you to?” her voice was getting louder and harsher with each word. “First, you abused and killed your own sister.” Y/N spat at him. “Then, you dared to touch Princess Elia Martell.” she continued - both Ellaria and Oberyn were now on their feet, shocked by her recklessness - But whilst Ellaria was more frightened, the Prince was proud and satisfied - His sweet flower wasn’t afraid to speak up anymore. “You raped her! You ruthlessly cut her body in half! You outright destroyed her children!” she yelled at him. “And now, you would kill two other women, for no reason -- You must be jerking off to the thought of butchering us... Mayhaps you want to rape us too, don’t you? Then cut us in half? Or do you first rape after death as well?” the challenging of the Mountain made the man raise his sword up - Though both Tyrion and Cersei yelled out for him not to hurt the Stark girl, as it would go against the Law of the Trial by Combat, Y/N was quick to dodge, with a graceful twirl - And she snatched away the heavy sword of Meryn Trant, choosing a defensive stance in front of her friend. “So you even have against your Master’s rules, don’t you, you fucking deaf beast?!” lucky her, however, Sandor leapt from the stands and caught his brother’s attention, protecting her.  “LEAVE HER BE!” he roared, giving Y/N time to step away. “Is that how you rule over your guards, Your Grace?! You let them go savage and rampage everything in their path?! Where is the Rule of the Crown, then? Where is the abiding to the Faith?! Gregor Clegane is disobeying you, and you let him go! How is it any different from Alys Manderly’s case?!” Y/N yelled out, accusing the King, and by association, all the Lannisters. “IS THIS HOW IT WENT FOR ELIA MARTELL?! AND WHO KNOW HOW MANY OTHER COMPLETELY INNOCENT PEOPLE WHO HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS WAR?! HOW MANY CHILDREN WERE SLAUGHTERED AND CARVED UP, WRAPPED IN LANNISTER BLANKETS, BECAUSE OF THE HEARTLESS WHIMS OF A TYRANT LEADING A BRAINLESS MONSTER?!” “ENOUGH!!!” King Joffrey screamed - His eyes were red with anger, and if he could, he would burn everyone alive in that place. “GUARDS - BEAT HER TO DEATH, RIGHT NOW!” “Not yet, you have not the right to do that - Your Grace. Wait three days, and if my fighter loses, then by all means, my life will be yours. Until then, it is mine own, and no one else’s.” as the King had his temper tantrum, realising he couldn’t touch the woman humiliating him, Y/N made a mock curtesy bow and spun around, pacing towards Alys and roughly grabbing her by the wrist, dragging her away from there, in the castle, to her own room. “Stay here. Don’t move.” she ordered, locking the door.

Y/N’s whole body was shaking like a leaf. She had never protested, or raised her voice, or acted violent in any way. She had never mocked or humiliated anyone, let alone, tried to stand up for someone like that, even putting her own life on the line.

How stupid could she be?

Frankly, she wanted to bash her skull against a wall and end it all, but she knew she had to come up with a plan, and fast. There was no way she could fight against the Mountain, of all people. She should have known it would be him... Hell, she didn’t even want the Trial by Combat, but seeing her friend being beaten up made her mind go array. Instead, she leaned back on the wall and looked up at the ceiling of the hall, trying to clear her brain and think rationally.

Where could she go now? What can she do? She only knows Tyrion and Sandor here, in King’s Landing, and neither would prove to be too great of a help. “You! How-- HOW COULD YOU DO SOMETHING SO STUPID?!” a familiar voice cried out, as rapid footsteps echoed - Y/N felt herself being pushed against the wall by weak hands. Her beautiful sister Sansa was crying in her chest, shaking and sobbing tragically. “You will die! How could you do that?! Was seeing dad die not enough?! Now you will have me watch you die as well?!”  “Sansa...” Y/N pulled her younger sister into a tight embrace, petting her hair dearly. “I don’t care about Alys! I don’t care about Jeyne either! I don’t care about anyone! Anyone can die - But you can’t! You can’t leave me all alone! I don’t want to be here anymore!” her voice was so broken, just like her heart. It shattered Y/N. If she could, she would kidnap Sansa and get the hell out of here, with the first opportunity. “Dorne and House Martell is known to cause problems for the Crown for hundreds of years. Might as well sneak you out and bring you back to Sunspear with your elder sister. You will see that she has taken quite a liking to the Water Gardens especially.” Oberyn’s amused voice betrayed none of his nervousness. Sansa had a glare on her face, looking at him. She saw him as the man who took her sister away from her. “Lord Martell, I would greatly appreciate it if you would not disturb my reunion with my sister, or imply such unseeming nonsense. I would not dare commit treason against the Crown and neither would Y/N.” somehow, the younger Stark child was able to keep her courtesies up. “Ahh, I see, so those pretty words run through the family, now that makes sense. You see, little flower, the truth is - Your sweet sister was happiest away from this place. I think that was obvious by what happened just moments ago.” Oberyn chuckled lightly. “Enough, you two. I am busy. I don’t have time for silly banters.” Y/N grumbled, prying her sister away from her embrace.  “Busy? And with what, might I ask? Surely, you won’t go train to fight the Mountain yourself, will you?” the girl did not look at him. “Ahh, you’re playing stubborn again. Do you like me reassuring you every time, or are you willingly forgetful?” “I will not have you dying to that monster, Ryn! I won’t let him take away someone important to me.” she snapped at him strongly. “Is that your declaration of love, sweetling?” this comment made the girl groan. “And who said anything about - Dying - Anyway? Do you think me so weak as to die to that meat brain? Surely not, otherwise I would get offended.” Oberyn tut-tut’ed at the girl playfully. “I don’t want to take chances.” came her resolute reply. “You created the perfect opportunity for me to get my vengeance against that thing who took Elia away from me. Whether you want to or not, I will have my revenge.” Oberyn stepped in front of her, gently picking her chin and raising it. “On the other hand, your bold declarations of today have turned me on so bad that I will have to steal you until tomorrow. Little flower, go back to your room, your sister is safe with me.” the gallant man with the mischievous smile easily picked his soon to be wife up bridal style and brought her to his room. The look on her face was almost hilarious, that’s how bewildered and embarrassed she was by him acting so forward, in front of her sister, no less. “Now, my sweet snowdrop, how about I show my love for you? It should serve as enough of a reassurance that I will win against that thing.”

The three days passed by far too quickly, and Y/N could only watch Oberyn train, or speak to Sandor and hopefully find out whatever weakness his awful brother might have had, that they could exploit. The outside court was, once again, the place where the Trial took place, and while the Mountain was already on the fighting ground, Oberyn was kissing and embracing Y/N and watching as Ellaria polished his spear. And coated it with the deadliest poison there was.

“Ryn, please, please, please - Promise me you won’t leave me alone. I can’t bare the idea of losing you.” her wet eyes made the man smile even more as he pulled her into another loving kiss.  “I won’t ever leave you, my love.” he put his forehead to her own, his hands on her cheeks. “I love you, Y/N.” “I love you, Ryn.” she held tightly onto his wrists, afraid of letting go. Still, it was thanks to Ellaria, who gathered her into her own arms, that she unclenched her fingers from around his hands, so he could get his weapon and go for the fateful fight. “Don’t worry, Y/N. Oberyn won’t lose. There is no other Red Viper in Westeros.” she petted her hair as the two watched the fight to death unfold.

Oberyn entered the fighting area by twirling around and showing off his agile and elegant moves - It almost looked as if he was dancing - Was it his way of showing Y/N that she has nothing to fear, and that the fight will be as easy as when she’d dancing around with the spear by the beach, and she’s smiling all happy and content?

He was taunting the Mountain, and parrying each and every one of his heavy blows. It was magnificent, watching the Viper mess around with his opponent, but every time Clegane would approach and hit, both Y/N and Ellaria would flinch and hug each other tighter.

The enemy was able to cut the spear in two, and even throw Oberyn to the ground - But it was the only damage he could do, as an enraged Prince impaled with ease the huge man’s torso, and even cut away at his leg’s tendons, making him kneel to the ground, before striking him even harder. The Mountain was laying flat on the ground, as Oberyn circled him, accusing him of the crimes he committed against Elia Martell, and kept ordering him to tell to the world who gave the wretched order - To prove that it was indeed Tywin Lannister.

“DON’T LOSE FOCUS!!!” Y/N shrieked at him, seeing the Mountain still twitching on the ground. Thankfully, the Viper took heed of the warning and dodged once the enemy tried to sweep him off his feet with his swinging arm. “RYN!!” it took every ounce of strength Ellaria had to keep the little flower away from the fighting ring, as Oberyn kept taunting and stabbing the Mountain, until finally, his last words became swept away into the stinking breeze of King’s Landing, and with one last defiant act, the Mountain had betrayed his former master.

“Tywin Lannister.” Gregor Clegane was dead, and so was the whole crowd, from shock. Only Y/N burst out of Ellaria’s arms once the trial was deemed finalized and the Martell Prince declared the winner, and she jumped in his arms, shamelessly peppering his whole face with kisses. Finally Dorne had received the confession and redemption of the perpetrator who committed such heinous, unforgivable acts against their beloved Princess. Now, it was only the Lannisters to bring to justice - Somehow - But all in due time. “I’m so not letting go of you tonight, my sweet Y/N.” the man couldn’t help but chuckle at the uncharacteristic display of affection from the otherwise timid and reserved lady - But it was, by far, the most endearing thing he’s felt. “Never let me go, Ryn.” how can anyone resist those sweet words, and those beautiful eyes of hers?

But Oberyn will soon learn that going against the Crown and getting revenge will prove to be far more devastating than he could ever imagine - Not for him directly, but for those dearest to him. The loss of the greatest Knight of the Lannisters must have been a huge blow, and they had to retaliate... Or that is what he thought at first... Though at the breakfast feast where only the select few members of the Royal family were invited, and the ones attending the Small Council. Everyone, but one, was shocked at what was to unfold.

They were supposed to just leave back home that day - How could things shatter so easily? Everything was under control, and they were the victors... How could the tides turn so quickly?

At the long table, King Joffrey and the Hand of the King were sitting on the opposite ends of the table. Oberyn, Y/N, Ellaria, Cersei  were on one side, while Varys, Tyrion, Baelish and Grand Maester Pycelle were on the other side. There were two more chairs left vacant, one on each side. Y/N looked at Oberyn and whispered in his ear, worried - Where was Sansa? Surely, as the future Queen, she would be there? Y/N then looked at the King, further up, at Sandor, but even he seemed to know nothing. Tyrion, as well, was simply drinking wine, not bothering to raise the covering platter from his dish.

“I see my sister is running late. Is it appropriate to begin our meal without the future Queen?” Y/N asked, her hands holding each other on her lap. “Clegane, why don’t you go by Lady Sansa’s room and see how she is doing?” Tyrion ordered the Hound. “I have not been informed by her maid of any illness.” Cersei spoke, slowly reaching for her cup of wine. She shared a look with both Tyrion and her father - A look of imminent danger. They were all suspecting something was wrong. “The food will get cold if we wait any longer. Perhaps my Lady wife has lost the track of time putting on make up or doing her hair. That is what pretty girls do, don’t they?” with a wave of his hand, the people at the table had to reluctantly begin the meal, taking off the covers of their plates.

An ear-piercing shriek, followed by the loud sound of a heavy chair colliding with the cold ground. All at once, the chamber was silent, save for the loud, ragged pants of distress from the Stark girl, whose eyes were glued to the contents of the plate before her, as she stood huddled and small, like a scared little mouse, absolutely terrified.

“You have declared war with the whole North, irredeemably, and now, with the South as well. Is this how the Crown knows to keep old alliances in place? Perhaps the Mad old King Aerys wasn’t as bad as we thought.” Oberyn rose to his feet, glaring at the oldest Lannister man, who couldn’t peel his eyes from the blasted thing that ultimately sealed the end of the Lannister House.

“Sansa...” there, on Y/N’s very platter, lay her own sister’s beautiful head. Her expression was fixed, terrified, in agony. “My sweet Sansa... What have they done to you...” powerlessly crawling back to the table, Y/N reached out and gingerly grabbed her sister’s head, hugging it dearly to her chest, sobbing in her still very soft red hair. “Who did this to you, my sweet Sansa? Tell me... And I will kill them with my own two hands. Who ever it is... No matter who it is... I will make sure to avenge you.” her voice was so low and serene, that it sent shivers to most of the people present. “I assure you, this crime has nothing to do with us. We didn’t want Eddark Stark’s death, nor Sansa’s. We did not want a war with the North.” Cersei’s desperate voice seemed to make Oberyn realise that although not herself guilty, King Joffrey was the culprit. “You were Queen Regent, and still allowed her father’s death to happen. It is your fault, as well as King Joffrey’s, that the North wants you all dead.” Oberyn felt himself re-living the very same moment he learnt the news of Elia’s death. He was enraged. “I will have Varys and Lord Baelish investigate her death.” Tywin waved his hand to the two. “The same way you investigated Elia’s death? Or the same way you ordered it?” the Prince slammed his fist onto the table. “The disobedience of a subject does not fall under my jurisdiction.” the old Lannister spoke up. “A leader who cannot control his subjects is a bad one.” Oberyn refuted immediately. “What is it, Sansa...?” Y/N’s soft voice made everyone silent. “Did you say... Joffrey? The bastard born of incest? The boy-King who is crueler than Maegor, and madder than Aerys?” that seemed to anger both the mother and the child. “It is your own fault that you had to retort to killing my father to get rid of those accusations. They only made you even more guilty.” Y/N looked straight at Cersei, with piercing eyes. “Out of all the Stark children, only Arya looked like father. Us, the other five, looked just like mother. You were in the same position. You were just too dumb to realise. Now, look around you - The whole Westeros knows your secret, yet you have the stupidity to create even more enemies. The North remembers, Cersei. I have long since wished for a lion’s pelt for a carpet. Might as well have more than one.” the Queen Regent shot to her feet and stormed in front of Y/N, only to have Ellaria get in between. “I do not think you are in the right to step anywhere closer to the Princess of Dorne.” it was a warning. “And neither of you has a right to slander and threaten the Crown.” she shot back immediately. “I have every right to do whatever the fuck I want. You took my father and sister from me, for no reason. Surely, you have forgotten... That your own twin brother and lover is being held captive by my brother and mother. Let us see how long does it take my mother to take the sword herself and put Jaime Lannister’s head on a spike, once she learns that her sweet Sansa met the same fate her as beloved husband. Let us see how long it takes Robb to ally himself with Stannis. Imagine King’s Landing... Against the North... The East... The South... And, perhaps, if that does not work, than the Targaryen girl with her three dragons... She is still in Essos now, isn’t she? And Essos is so very close to Dorne... I’m sure it wouldn’t be too difficult to go in search for her and get her over to claim her throne... So many possibilities... All very tempting...” Y/N spoke, not once blinking, not once extending her gaze else where, and once she was done, she turned around to leave. “DOG, DON’T LET HER LEAVE! CAPTURE HER AND THROW HER IN JAIL!” but the Hound did nothing. “DOG!” “Fuck the king.” Clegane spat, as he threw his weapon to the ground. “I am done doing the stupid orders of a brat.” “I AM YOUR KING!” Joffrey kicked his chair in his rage. “You are no king. You are just a fucking cunt.” he was the first to punch open the doors, and he stomped away, followed by Y/N and the Martells. “Sandor. Will you come with us?” Y/N’s soft voice called out, down the corridor. “No, little fawn. I’m done with this shit. Fuck this city and all the people in it.” the man growled, and the girl agreed with a hum. “But don’t you want to avenge Sansa?” Sandor stopped in his tracks. “I know you loved her.” she continued. “She told me she wanted to run away with you. Up North, back home. Said she only ever felt safe when she saw you. We have not forgotten the many times you saved us.” she felt herself being pinned to the wall. “Avenging her won’t bring her back to life!” Sandor growled at the girl. “I know. But I’ve lost too much to let those fuckers continue to live without facing the consequences of their actions.” Y/N’s was calm... Too calm. “I have a friend in the North. He is known for flaying people alive. He had shown me, once. I think it is time I polish up those skills.”  “And what would you have me do, then?” he let go of her. “You either become my guard and come to Dorne with me, or you go and join Robb in the war. Whether or not you want to fight, it is your choice, but I need someone I can trust up there. And I need to find a way to get Robb to ally himself with Stannis. He’s got a fleet. If Robb goes to attack the Westerlands again, threatening Casterly Rock, and Stannis attacks King’s Landing from Blackwater Bay... And if we attack from the South... There’s no way the Lannisters can win. We just need a good strategy, and a great many deal of people.” Oberyn had heard her speak this way for the first time. She wasn’t soft and shy anymore, nor was she erratic and desperate. Now, she was smart, collected and worst of all, grieving and war-driven. She had never been to war, but it was clear, all her trauma made her fearless. It was now that the young she-wolf was the most dangerous. “Fine. I’m going North. Your brother better not have me killed on the spot.” he scoffed, only to receive a pendant.  “Robb gifted it to me before I left for the capital. It has a small letter addressed to him. He will know. Tell him I had sent you. Tell them what happened. The North never forgets.” she explained the plan. “You have changed, little fawn.” he was the last thing the man spoke to the eldest Stark girl. “I am no longer a little fawn, Sandor. Not anymore.” thus, Sandor Clegane left for his horse, Stranger, and galloped North, while Y/N and the retinue for Dorne, including Alys Manderly, set South, only stopping by a distant part of the God’s Wood to set fire to what remained of Sansa.

She was far too beautiful to rot away. Best remain ashes, and let herself be carried by the wind and travel wherever she wants to. Now, she is no longer a caged bird. Now, she is free. The days in Dorne were no better, and Y/N kept herself locked in her room, staring helplessly at the wall besides her. She was heart broken, and only revenge could quench the rageful fire in her heart. Day in and day out, she sent out letters - The first, to her brother, Robb, informing him of Sandor’s arrival, and the ideas of allying either with the greatest force on which Renly was relying on, the Tyrells, or on Stannis’s army. Then, to Ramsay, learning more of Lord Bolton’s plans, and convincing him to strive harder to become legitimized and quickly take over the Dreadfort. Lastly, she had sent a letter to Tyrion. He was the only one from King’s Landing that she did not want to kill. He had told her that he was planning a certain one’s death, after being snubbed harshly for even thinking about becoming the Heir of Casterly Rock.

Though Alys was here, she did not want to see her. In fact, save for Oberyn and Ellaria, Y/N had not allowed anyone to enter her chambers. It was clear that she could not get over the shock of losing two of her family members in such a fashion, and for the most part, the only thing she discussed with Oberyn were war strategies - Unless he wanted to help the girl sleep and dismiss her nightmares, at least for the night, and he would pamper and spoil her until she would forget even her name. His sweet words and tender caresses, those passionate kisses and the culminating sounds were all but sinful secrets that will forever remain in her chambers.

Even so, she hardly smiled - And the idea of their wedding was long since forgotten, until one evening, as she was very comfortably sitting on his lap, she found herself telling him about the preparations. “I have made you wait long enough. Everyone needs a reason to celebrate these days - Us, most of all. I wish Sansa... My family... I wish they were here. But it’s fine. You are my family, just like they are, and Dorne is my home, they same as Winterfell.” “You are still hurting, my love. There is no need for you to rush or hide your mourning. You need to heal.” his voice was so gentle and loving, Y/N felt herself melting in his touch. “I know. But I was raised with very traditional and stuck up views. I have long since broken many of those sacred laws, but by mine own selfishness, I am invoking the marriage pact so I can have you even closer to me. Will you forgive me for my unbecoming selfishness, my sweet Prince?” his chuckled breath on her skin as he was kissing her neck made her fingers dig into his shoulder as she let out a sweet mewl. “There is nothing to forgive, my love. I am sure Dorne would be filled with joy. They will see the most beautiful Princess.” he smiled, looking up to her. “And as a wedding gift, I promise you, my love, I will bring you lion pelts for carpets.” for the first time since so long, a smile appeared on her face, and life seemed to return in those beautiful eyes of hers. “Really...?” she asked, breathlessly. “I may have killed the perpetrator who did those awful crimes against Elia, but it doesn’t take away that she is still dead, while the Lannisters are thriving, and well. Now, they have made my sweet Princess suffer and they killed her family. I will have them brought to justice.” her heart was beating so fast, and she was completely charmed. She almost couldn’t breathe anymore, that’s how excited she was, imagining the dead bodies of the Lannisters. “I love you more than life itself.” without even thinking, her heart spoke out. “That’s what I love to hear, my sweet flower.” he chuckled lightly before pulling the girl into his arms once again.

The wedding was fa more spectacular than any Dornish would expect - Was it because of all the pain and suffering they had to endure? Or because the region needed all the cheering up needed? Or, simply, because Oberyn loved Y/N so much that he wanted to spoil and pamper her with every resource available in his hands, fitting for the Princess of Dorne.

Either way, it did not matter - Ellaria was the one that Y/N wanted to help dress her in all the jewellery and expensive brocades and the linen embroidered with the shiniest golden threads and sparkly zircons. Her long hair, red like the Rhoynar Sun brought by Princess Nymeria herself, was embellished with the most precious brilliants and diamonds in existence. Her make up, also, made her lips red like the blood oranges that were ripe and sweet, but her eyes were dark and seductive, making them look even more attractive and piercing than they already were.

Her dress, also, was highlighting her gorgeous silhouette and her bossom, and it was of gold and orange - Fitting for the Princess of Dorne - And Oberyn, also, was wearing his best clothes, all in the same colours of the Martell.

The songs were so joyful and fun, all the people were having a blast, everyone was dancing and drinking and were excited to celebrate the happy marriage between their beloved Prince and the kind and beautiful Stark girl.

The two lovers, despite all the woes and sorrow in their hearts, found that, together, they could move on and find reason for happiness within each other. Not once, did they break apart from each other, their hands always together, fingers always intertwined, and they were kissing so shamelessly in front of everyone, without any care in the world.

But garments were of no use at night, and their bodies spoke every words that was left unsaid. There was no need for anything else, for the passion they had for each other was enough to be understood, and their love was like no other.

For many nights, the two were the happiest people in Dorne, and even through the letters, she had received many positive news - Perhaps there was still hope for a good future for the Stark family? Perhaps, there is even promise for peace? Who knew.

There was one person, however, who was very against everything going on, and her plans all ruined. There was one last act of vengeance that she could commit. 

One night, Y/N was drinking with Ellaria and Oberyn, and they were telling stories of old, and laughing about all the silliest things - Y/N especially wasn’t used to drinking so much so she was in an even gigglier disposition - But as long as she was in glee, and smiling, the two were content. A knock on the door made them raise their head, and as it opened, Alys timidly walked inside. 

“Alys - So good to see you. Here, take a seat, drink some wine with us.” Y/N smiled gracefully at her friend, kicking a stool for her to sit on. Alys could see very well that Y/N wasn’t the same shy girl from up North, but someone far more refined and fitting of her title of a Princess. And the way she was cuddled up into the Prince’s side was even more of an insult. “I dare not...” the Manderly girl muttered bashfully, looking down.  “Why are you acting all timid for, all of a sudden? Oh - Are you intimidated to sit with the Prince and his paramour? You were far more eager to bed them some months ago.” the Princess laughed shamelessly, making the girl keep her head even lower. “So King’s Landing was able to destroy even the most sociable of people. No surprise. Come on, you, just sit down and drink some wine with us.” Y/N sigh and rose to her feet, grabbing her wrist in an attempt to pull her on the chair - But Alys had brought her old friend into a tight embrace.  “Forgive me, Y/N, I have not been able to get over what happened at the capital. I’m still shaken up that I almost died back there... And were it not for you and the Prince to save me... I am so sorry I wasn’t able to celebrate your wedding as you deserved... I am a shameful friend...” the Manderly girl sobbed into the crook of her neck, making the Stark girl sigh and roll her eyes. “Enough of that. I don’t want to hear it. You either sit down with us, or you go back to sleep. I can’t see other reason for coming here.” but then, Alys whispered into her ear. “The Lannisters send their regards -” she thought she was being sneaky, coming over at night when she was drunk - What a fool. Before she could plunge the dagger hidden in her sleeve into Y/N’s torso, the Princess had already grabbed her wrist and threw her into the stool she had kicked earlier, making her stumble to the ground, allowing Y/N to grab the hand in which she was holding the weapon and she slammed it hard onto the hand laying on the table, which was keeping her up. “First of all - Fuck the Lannisters. Second of all... Fuck you.” Y/N chuckled, seeing Alys with huge tears in her eyes, groaning from the pain. “H-How did you -- How did you know?!” the Manderly girl shrieked at her, making Y/N cringe and rub her ears. “Sheesh, so loud, calm down already.” the Princess muttered, plopping back down on the comfortable couch. “Neither Oberyn nor Ellaria trusted you, from the very beginning. Every time they warned me of you, it had come to light.” she reached towards the bowl to eat some grapes. “Also - Tyrion told me you’re Cersei’s lackey. I had been on the lookout for you for... A while now.” “T-Tyrion?! The Queen’s own brother?!” Alys’s eyes were bulged wide open. “There’s no man who wants Cersei dead more than Tyrion, trust me on that. Which reminds me... Would you now tell me why exactly do you want me dead? You were safe here, which means whatever vendetta Cersei has against me, it could have been erased... So you have something personal against me. Why?” the girl asked, her voice mocking her, as she felt Oberyn embracing her lovingly. “She is jealous of you, my love.” Oberyn spoke, taunting the girl. “From the moment I wanted to bed you, but rejected her, she has had it out for you.” he chuckled darkly. “O, so the little peasant girl wanted your wealth and status, didn’t she? How quaint.” Y/N rolled her eyes, amused, but also disgusted. “IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!” Alys yelled at her. “It should have been me...!” she started sobbing. “Cersei promised me she would marry me to you! She promised me wealth and status and everything I wanted, as long as I worked for her!”  “And you were stupid enough to believe her?” Ellaria snorted in disbelief. “Why would Oberyn ever marry someone like you?” Y/N asked in amusement. “Why would he marry YOU?!” the glare on her face made her look even uglier than before. “Because I’m cute.” Y/N laughed at her, only for her lover to agree. “Cersei thought she was being smart, creating a political alliance between the Starks and the Martells - But instead, she created an alliance that would one day come to destroy the Crown. Stupid bitch.” she shrugged at her. “Cersei would have never tried to marry you to me. Your House is nothing. Your name is nothing. Cersei isn’t smart, but she’s not that stupid either. She was only lucky I had fallen for this beautiful little lady over here, otherwise, I would have declined her offer too.” Oberyn planted a sweet kiss on the girl’s temple. “Lucky me, rather. You got me out of there, and you took care of me so dearly. I owe you everything, Ryn.” she leaned forward, her arms around his neck, pulling him into another sweet kiss. “You’re a woman worth loving and pampering, my love.” the man pulled her even closer to his body. “Just you wait until the Boltons skin your cunt of a mother and poor excuse of a brother -” Y/N immediately snapped up. “The Boltons are on the side of the North.” she corrected her, but by the look on her face, she realised otherwise. “Tywin bought Roose Bolton, didn’t he?” Y/N cursed under her breath, getting up to write a letter to her brother and to her bastard friend. “Not for long.” “The Boltons aren’t the only ones who support the Crown, you stupid girl!” Alys tried to shout, but she got ignored - For the most part. “The bastard son of Roose Bolton is MY friend. He is not loyal to anyone, even his father. Once he gets legitimized, he will kill Roose and will join our cause for good.” Y/N spoke, before looking up at Alys. “Which reminded me... Ramsay had always told me that, to get proficient at flaying, one must practice hard. I suppose it is high time I put in practice his teachings. I have to find out the other families that you claim are traitors to the Starks, after all.” Alys blanched on the spot. “Riri, will you help me out with her~?” that fakely sweet smile that Y/N had on her face made Alys even more terrified. This was not her old friend, Y/N Stark. This was a completely different person. “Gladly.” Ellaria got up from the couch and roughed up the Manderly girl, dragging her to the cellars. “Surely, you can go have your fun with her later. My sweet, innocent snowdrop aroused me too much, and I couldn’t possibly continue my night peacefully without some aid from my beautiful and lovely wife.” lazily extending his arm, he grabbed the girl’s wrist and pulled her back on top of him. “Since you ask me so nicely, I suppose I can make her wait a night... Or maybe two, to take care of my sweet husband of mine.”

[storiesforallfandoms]

littlest lion ~ oberyn martell;game of thrones

word count: 3182

request?: no

description: after witnessing the littlest lion sibling’s abuse at the hands of her queen sister, he decides that not all lannisters are as terrible as he once thought

pairing: oberyn martell x female!reader

warnings: swearing, verbal abuse (it’s cersei so...not surprisingly), much use of y/n, a little bit of a re-write on the canon of got to say that tywin had a second wife and another child so that it makes sense for the reader to be the youngest lannister

masterlist (one, two, three)

Everyone in all of Westeros knew the Lannister siblings to be cunning and pretentious. For the most part, those assumptions were right. Cersei and Jamie were definitely both of those things - Cersei more so than her twin brother - and Tyrion’s general distaste and apathy for everything could be misinterpreted as pretentious.

But then there was their youngest half sister, (YN).

Born to Tywin and his second wife after the death of his first, (Y/N) Lannister was the complete opposite to her older siblings. She was kind and shy, which often resulted in a verbal lashing from Cersei. Tyrion was indifferent to (Y/N), but treated her nice enough. Jamie just ignored her unless he was with Cersei. Cersei despised her sister with every fiber of her being. She never wasted a breath to inform (Y/N) that she wasn’t a real Lannister, despite her being a true born to Tywin.

She tried to pretend like Cersei’s words didn’t affect her. It would only result in more taunting if she did. But (Y/N) had spent countless nights in her chambers sobbing over whatever Cersei had said to her that day. She dreamed of the day she would be able to leave her sister’s kingdom (although technically it was her son, Joffrey’s, but everyone knew Cersei was the true leader), but it felt like that day would never come. (Y/N) was well into her adulthood with no prospects of getting married. It didn’t help that Tywin hadn’t arranged a suitor for her in her younger years, and now that Joffrey was king the task fell to him and Cersei, but Cersei would not approve of any suitors for her sister.

“She needs someone to bully,” Tyrion had told (Y/N) once. “The only way you will ever marry is if you manage to find someone who will take you away.”

(Y/N) hoped that Joffrey’s marriage would bring Cersei enough joy that she would not think to be cruel to her. (Y/N) made herself unseen to Cersei as much as possible while the wedding was happening, unless she was called upon.

Unfortunately for her, Cersei still found reason to call upon her.

(Y/N) entered the throne room where Cersei was speaking with Joffrey. She curtsied, waiting for the two to notice her. She was sure Cersei was intentionally keeping Joffrey’s attention when her legs began to shake, threatening to collapse from under her.

“You may rise, aunt,” Joffrey finally said.

(Y/N) stood straight. “Your grace, you summoned me?”

“Upon my mother’s request,” Joffrey confirmed. “She wishes to speak with you in regards to my wedding day.”

(Y/N) tried to keep her expression neutral as she turned to Cersei. “What can I do for you, sister?”

“Don’t call me that,” Cersei hissed.

“I apologize, my lady.”

“I called you here to ask what you intend to wear to the king’s wedding.”

(Y/N) blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Have you become hard of hearing? What do you intend to wear to your king’s wedding?” She enunciated each word as if (Y/N) were a child. Joffrey was smirking from his throne. He reveled in his mother’s cruelty just as he reveled in his own.

“I...I suppose a gown from my wardrobe,” (Y/N) said.

Cersei scoffed. “Please, your wardrobe is so common. It would be humiliating for you to show up like that.”

A lump began to form in (Y/N)’s throat, but she tried to swallow it down. “I have no other options, though, and the wedding is in a matter of days.”

“I’ll have to get my seamstress to work on a more appropriate gown for you then,” Cersei sighed.

(Y/N) felt a heavy pit in her stomach. It was starting to make sense why Cersei had called her here. It wasn’t truly to figure out suitable wear for the wedding. It was so Cersei could once again humiliate (Y/N). She had no doubts that her sister would have her seamstress make the most hideous dress for (Y/N) to wear to the wedding. It would be an embarrassment for (Y/N), and it would mean it would be less likely for any potential suitors to show interest in her.

Tears were welling in her eyes. She was trying to fight them back, but it was a losing battle. “May I be excused, your grace?”

Joffrey glanced at his mother. She sighed and turned away, so he waved (Y/N) off. As she began to leave, she heard Cersei tell her son, “What a pathetic woman.”

(Y/N) all but ran from the throne room. She hurried out the doors of the castle into the palace’s garden as her tears finally began to fall. Her body was wracked with sobs as she fell onto the nearest bench. She felt so struck and so helpless. She would never get out of Cersei’s clutches as long as she lived, and there was no one in the world who could save her.

“I wonder what it is that causes a lion to cry.”

(Y/N) jumped at the sound of a voice. She looked up to see a handsome man in a yellow robe stood in front of her.

“Apologies,” she said, quickly wiping the tears from her face. “I was no aware that there was anyone else here.”

“No need for apologies. This is your home, you are allowed to cry anywhere you wish.” He sat next to her, looking at her as if studying her. “But the question still stands: what makes a lion cry?”

“You know who I am.”

It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyways, “Everyone in all of Westeros knows who the Lannisters are. Even if I didn’t, your golden hair would have been a clue.”

(Y/N) had to break their eye contact because this handsome man was intimidating her. Not in a bad way. His looks were just making her feel tongue tied.

“It was nothing,” she said. “I apologize for disturbing your peace.”

“The little lion is surprising,” he commented. “She cries, she apologies. Very un-Lannister.”

“I am no Lannister. At least, not to my own siblings.”

A look of realization passed his face. “I believe I am starting to understand.”

Tears were forming in her eyes again. She couldn’t cry in front of this stranger. Not again. It was bad enough that he had already caught her once. Cersei would have her head if she found out that (Y/N) was making the family name seem weak.

“Would you like to go for a walk, little lion?” he asked.

His voice was quiet and soothing. If she didn’t know any better, (Y/N) would’ve thought he was mocking her. But one look told her he was being genuine. A walk through the garden definitely sounded like a good idea.

He offered her his arm and she took it. As they stood, he told her, “My name is Oberyn Martell, brother of Doran Martell.”

“The Prince of Doran,” (Y/N) said.

Oberyn smiled. “You know of my family too, then.”

“One must know all the families of Westeros, as not to let down their guard,” (Y/N) recited. “Or to not make a fool.”

She could see Oberyn look at her, but she wouldn't dare look back at him. Instead, she changed the subject, “You must be here for my nephew’s wedding.”

“I am. My brother was invited, but he was very busy, so I am taking his lace.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy your stay then.”

“I am already enjoying it.”

(Y/N) smiled, her face burning from the compliment.

She showed Oberyn around the garden, the two of them trading stories and getting to know each other. For a brief moment, (Y/N) was able to forget about everything. It was a brief moment of happiness and feeling like she was actually wanted.

They came to stand at a perch that overlooked the kingdom. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden he over everything. (Y/N) was acutely aware of Oberyn’s hand brushing against her own, but was trying not to focus too much on it. Oberyn’s presence was starting to make her feel dizzy, but not in a bad way. It was an intoxicating feeling. She never wanted it to end, but at the same time she was worried about making a fool of herself in front of him.

“This visit has already brought many surprises for me,” Oberyn said.

“How so?” (Y/N) asked.

“For one, I have found that not all Lannisters are as terrible as their reputation would have it. And two, I am finding myself enjoying time with a Lannister.”

He lifted her hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles. She drew in a shakey breath at the action. Oberyn’s deep brown eyes were watching her again. She hoped her legs would not give out from underneath her as she felt them growing weak.

“I have been enjoying my time with you as well, my Lord,” she said.

“Please, call me Oberyn. I am but a second son, not a Lord. Besides, I do not intend for these formalities between us to last long.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You are ambitious.”

“I am a man who knows what he wants, and it is seldom that I do not get what it is that I want.”

Her heart was beating so fast she thought she may pass out, or that Oberyn may hear it. She had never had a man tell her that he wanted her, and she realized she had never wanted someone so much either. In just a short period of time, Oberyn had managed to completely steal her heart. There was nothing in the world that could ruin this moment, or this connection.

What she didn’t realize was that her sister was watching the two of them from inside the castle.

~~~~~~

The sun was nearly completely set when Oberyn and (Y/N) finally parted ways. He had kissed her hand once more and told her he would come looking for her the next day. (Y/N) was so lightheaded that she practically floated back to her room. She was just about to enter her chambers when a voice asked, “Did you have a good evening with the Dornish prince?”

She turned quickly to see Cersei stood at the end of the long hall. Suddenly, everything came crashing back down to Earth around her.

“He is very lovely,” she responded. “I apologize that he kept me for so long. I did not intend to miss out on dinner.”

“It was lovely without you.” 

(Y/N) winced. She put her hand back on her door, intending to escape into her room and hopefully salvage whatever good feelings she could from her time with Oberyn.

“I know you are not wise, (Y/N), but I truly hope you are not stupid enough to fall for Oberyn Martell.”

(Y/N) looked at her sister in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that he is not a man who settles for one woman. Everyone knows that he will fuck anything that walks - man or woman. He was already visiting the brothel here before his arrival.”

Her breathing began to increase. “I...I didn’t...”

“Oh my word,” Cersei breathed. “You have fallen for him, haven’t you?”

The tears were forming again. (Y/N) quickly blinked them away so that Cersei wouldn’t see. “He was treated me as if I was an actual person. That is more than I can say for anyone in this castle. I apologize if it makes me stupid because I was happy to feel wanted for once in my life.”

“He only made you feel that way so he could take your maidenhood,” Cersei retorted. “He will not make you a wife, he will make you a whore. And then he will return to Dorne while you are here, weeping over his departure even though you were the fool who fell for him. It will be left to me to pick up the pieces he left behind.”

Cersei was shaking her head as she turned to leave. (Y/N) was hoping that she could finally escape her sister’s cruelty for the night, but then Cersei paused to add, “I mean, really, (Y/N). Why would a prince of all people want to marry someone like you? The last born child, from a second marriage, who has not been wed by the time she reached her maturing age? You are pathetic.”

(Y/N) didn’t wait for Cersei to leave. She shoved into her room and slammed the door shut. Her tears began to fall before the door was fully closed. She didn’t even have the strength to make it to her bed this time. She collapsed into a heap against the door, burying her head in her skirts as she began to sob.

How could she be such a fool? How could she let herself believe that she had finally found someone who wanted her? That she might just escape from Cersei once and for all? What Cersei had said may have been cruel, but (Y/N) knew there must be some truth behind the words. There was nothing remarkable about (Y/N) that would draw in the attention of someone like Oberyn, unless he just wanted to try and get into her bed. He saw her at her weakest and he preyed on that, the same way that Cersei always had.

“Stupid,” (Y/N) whispered to herself through her tears. “You are stupid.”

A knock came at the door.

“Go away!” (Y/N) called through her tears. She wasn’t in the mood for anyone to see her like this, or to have to be humiliated further.

“It is me, little lion.”

She paused. How had he found her room? Why had he come for her? Surely he wasn’t about to try to get into her bed already.

Against her better judgement, she stood and opened the door. When he saw her tearstained face, Oberyn’s expression filled with sadness. He reached for her, and she allowed him to pull her into his embrace.

“I am so sorry you are treated this way,” he said.

“Did you hear?” she asked.

He nodded. “I will admit, I followed you once we had separated. I wanted to see if you would be intercepted by either of your siblings before you reached your room. I saw the Queen Regent approaching, so I kept a distance to hear what she would say to you.”

“Then you heard what she told me about you.”

(Y/N) pulled away from Oberyn. She knew she shouldn’t listen to anything Cersei said, but she couldn’t help that her sister’s words had once against gotten to her.

“I did,” Oberyn confirmed.

“And is it true?”

“It is true that I went to a brothel before I arrived at the castle. It is true that I enjoy intimacy from anyone who is willing to give it to me, regardless of gender. But it is not true that I was only kind to you to try and take your maidenhood. What I said in the garden, I meant it.”

“Why?” (Y/N) asked. “Why would you want me? Out of all the beautiful women that I am sure you have seen, both noble and not, why is it me that you desire for?”

He cupped her face. He wiped the tears from her eyes with his thumbs as he looked down at her. “Because I believe you to be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

(Y/N) scoffed, but Oberyn said, “It is true. From the moment I saw you in the garden, weeping over what I am sure was another verbal lashing from your sister, I was taken by your beauty. You are a beautiful woman, both inside and out. I am completely taken by you, (Y/N), and it upsets me greatly that you are made to think that you do not deserve that kind of love.”

She wanted to be happy by what Oberyn was saying. She did believe him. She could see the sincerity in his eyes. But knowing that Oberyn was taken by her that much just made her heart ache more, because she knew that they would never be allowed to be together.

“Cersei will never approve,” she said. “She will not let me marry and escape this place. If you show any interest in me, or voice that you want me to be your wife, she will deny it.”

“Then I will take you away from here.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

Oberyn looked over his shoulder to be sure no one was around. (Y/N) stepped back into her room and motioned for him to follow. She closed her door, giving them some privacy to speak freely.

“She cannot stop me if I take you before she realizes you are gone,” he said. “We can leave after the king’s wedding and return to Dorne immediately. She cannot stop you once you’ve already gone, and if she tries then you will have an army of Dornish men waiting to defend you. Myself included.”

“How will we get my things out of here before she can stop us?” (Y/N) asked, glancing around her room.

“Pack what is essential,” Oberyn told her. “Just one bag of essential things. Whatever you cannot fit I will replace once we return to Dorne. We can put it in my carriage before the wedding, and once it all ends we will leave immediately. I did not intend to stay long after the ceremony anyways, so it will not seem suspicious if I take my leave so quickly.”

Tyrion’s words were playing in (Y/N)’s head. “The only way you will ever marry is if you manage to find someone who will take you away.” She had thought for so long that it was an unreachable desire to find someone who would want to take her away. She almost wanted to pinch herself to see if she was dreaming.

“You would really do that for me?” she asked.

“Of course I would, my little lion,” he said. “You do not deserve the life that you are living here. Even if you do not want me, I will still take you away and let you live a happier life.”

“I want you,” she whispered, almost worried that saying it out loud would make everything fall apart.

But Oberyn heard her, and he smiled. “When we are in Dorne, I will court you as I should, then I will make you my wife.”

(Y/N) couldn’t find the words to say how much she wanted that. She just smiled, then leaned into Oberyn’s embrace. She mentally counted the days until she could be free from her prison, but then decided not to think of how long till it would happen. Instead, she focused on what she was going to have after she had finally gotten out of there.

Oberyn.

[roselibrary]

𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐧𝐞 || 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞

Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon! Reader

Trigger Warnings: murder, targcest, eventual dark!aemond, yandere!aemond, obsessive behaviour, typical targ madness

Summary: Aemond would have his sea-nymph one way or another.

Requests are open!

Summer blossomed like the pink buds on a cherry tree coming to life the day the young Prince Aemond realised his affection for his niece. She had ensnared his soul and enraptured his heart like the vines of ivy devouring the exterior of a Keep. Silver locks and lilac spun eyes that beheld all the secrets in the world, it seemed. Soft-tanned skin – a perfect blend of her mother and father though the same could not be said for those she called brothers – that beamed soft gold in the light of the sun and lips that looked as if only the sweetest of fruits had kissed them. Her hair shone pearlescent in a similar fashion to the decorations often found woven into her curly smooth locks. They fascinated him; the way the peals glimmered in the light and emerged from her curls like the foam atop a crashing wave.

More Velaryon than Targaryen in truth was she. She, too, had no dragon to call her own but instead proclaimed the sea as her abode and its treasures her horde. He wished to be considered a valuable item amongst those she already kept. Soft-spoken and gentle in nature she was her mother's pride and joy – the image of her grandmother they deemed the sea nymph. Sometimes, he wondered if she could grow a tail much like the mystical mermaid on the sigil of House Manderly and if she could, would she finally join her beloved sea and leave them all to wither on land? Those thoughts never brought him any comfort. Instead, he remained grateful that for as much as she wished to join the sea in all ways; she simply was unable to.

He often prayed to the gods in thanks for her inability to simply vanish on the waves.

It became lonely, living in such cold solitude, after a while and none could deny the younger prince led a cold, solitary life. His other kin shone so brightly, vivaciously and with such vitality that it was easy for him to fall into the shadows, the darkness, and the madness. He was a scarred second son of a King who did not even deem his firstborn son his heir. Aemond believed deeply in tradition and the stability such a thing brought to the realm; he could not fathom his elder half-sister bringing chaos with her untraditional succession claim. His sister would openly have a bastard follow her on the throne. Perhaps that’s where his true sentiments lay; he did not despise his sister for being a woman with a powerful agency, or even for being the heir to the throne, but for what would come after his sister's succession. What precedent would it set if bastards could inherit before trueborn children? What chaos would that sow within the realm? Aemond was a man of routine, tradition, and unrelenting stability all of which Rhaenyra was inherently posed to ruin.

Aemond didn’t wish to see his little sea nymph fall with her mother, as she undoubtedly would, due to her unending loyalty and devotion to her catastrophic family. His Gentle Dragon had no qualms openly expressing her love and devotion to the young men that would steal her birthright; it was bad enough the elder prince Jacaerys would steal her place upon the iron throne but downright insulting that, the younger than she, Lucerys would steal the birthright of her father from her person by claiming Driftmark. Aemond wished to see her claim her rightful place as the heiress of Driftmark as the only trueborn child of its heir, however, he would not want to see her seated atop the iron throne.

The monolithic, fearsome work of art did not suit the gentle and ever-changing disposition that she carried with her. Unmoving iron and sharp-edged swords should be nowhere near the supple curves and smooth skin lining her form, instead – if it were not for his no-good elder brother – he would sit upon the iron-casted seat of death in her place. He would be her King and she, his Queen. He had only to find a way to keep her with him permanently.  

Perhaps his father's addled mind and desperation for peace would smile fortuitously upon the one-eyed prince, for once.

It had been many a year since his eyes last wandered upon the form of his beloved sea nymph – a name he only acknowledged in his mind's depths. The realm’s Gentle Dragon had returned to Kings Landing alongside the rest of her kin when protests were raised on the legitimacy of her younger brother's claim to Driftmark. Something many deemed rightfully hers. She glowed effervescent in her Velaryon blue and soft violet threaded gown the silk gently forming the curves of her body and flowing down the lengths of her arms and back. It seemed the dress also recognised the girl's call of the sea for it moulded like waves and rippled in each minuscule movement of her own. The train of the gown followed behind her like the sea lapping at the sand of the beach never quite reaching as far in as it wished.

She stood beside her mother with her head held high in pride as her uncle all but disparaged what remained of her mother's good name - if anything was left of it to begin with. It had delighted him to see the Strong princelings debased in such a public manner and their mother alongside them. He enjoyed much less the disparagement of the Crown Princess’s only daughter and the belief that she would fall to the same whims her mother had and beget only bastards for her future husband. No, that did not please the prince at all. He had observed and planned and waited patiently for many a year to gain his nymph and she would give him no bastards – he knew she wouldn’t. His nymph was too intelligent, dutiful, and self-aware of the consequences of such a thing to attempt such a crime.

Still, his blood boiled, and his hands clenched behind his back. It took an effort to keep his stoicism about his person in the face of his ever-present wrath but within a second his wrath was replaced with bewildered wonderment. Gone was Ser Vaemond’s head; instead the figure of his uncle stood tall, proud, and nonchalant in the face of such grotesque violence. Aemond felt the stirrings of admiration and conflict within his chest at such a sight. This man, his uncle, was a threat, an obstacle, his biggest unrelenting guard towards what Aemond had deemed his. All the realms knew of how Daemon favoured his girls over his boys, and none could deny how he had claimed the Gentle Dragon as much his own as his other brown-skinned, silver-haired darlings. He clenched his jaw. It seemed he would need to confide with another of his aspirations if he wanted to succeed where others had failed.

As if the man could hear the thoughts echoing in the princeling's brain the Rogue turned and leered. Aemond could see the taunt within his gaze, the dare for him to be as foolish as the man who kept his tongue but lost his head.

He could hear the whisper Daemon Targaryen’s eyes conveyed.

“Claim her, if you're bold enough.”

Just as he proved to his father when he claimed Vhagar; Aemond would once more prove that he was, indeed, bold enough.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Imagine...

Pairing: Dark Viserys Targaryen III x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

WARNINGS: Manipulation; Blackmail.

Please, reblog and give me feedback.

--

"But I do not want to be your queen.” the words left your mouth before you could stop yourself.

Viserys raises his blonde brows, surprised and incredulous.

“Your grace, I…do not love you. I couldn’t possibly marry you.”

Viserys‘s tongue pokes his cheek as he chuckles, the sound devoid of any humor.

“And I didn’t ask. I don’t need your permission to wed you.” he replies, annoyance painting his features. He grabs your hand, squeezing his fingers around it until you gasp with pain, a satisfied smirk replacing his anger.

“I’m going to be king very very soon. My word will be the law then and you will obey me, whether you like or not.”

His nails bury into your soft skin, and you cry out, shaking as you attempt to push his hand off.

“You’ll be my queen, I promise you that. It’s either that or perhaps you should start planning for your family’s funeral. Your choice, my love.” 

[in-my-feels-probably]

Hii

Can I have daemon Targaryen x wife!reader. She’s pregnant and the dragon egg for the child hatched before the birth. The baby dragon stay with her the hole time, sitting on her belly. Otto thinks that it’s wrong and try make the king forbid the reader of walk around with a dragon. During a dinner the baby dragon attack the food on the table and daemon and wife just laughs .

White Knight

Request: Can I have daemon Targaryen x wife!reader. She’s pregnant and the dragon egg for the child hatched before the birth. The baby dragon stay with her the hole time, sitting on her belly. Otto thinks that it’s wrong and try make the king forbid the reader of walk around with a dragon. During a dinner the baby dragon attack the food on the table and daemon and wife just laughs.

Hi! Thank you for the request, this is a cute idea. I’ve never written for the pregnancy trope, so I hope this is ok. I’m still getting the hang of writing for Daemon, he’s a difficult character to write and stay true to the nature of. Writing fluff for him is a little difficult, but I hope you like it. Let me know what you think!

(Warnings: i don’t think there are any, let me know if i missed any)

—

Daemon had returned with his pick from a clutch of eggs during your last month of pregnancy. Not that anyone else besides you could tell, but he was clearly nervous about the child coming, and went to great lengths to keep you and the child safe. The dragon in him was pure instinct, and he was fiercely protective over you.

He knew you would be alright when Caraxes started guarding you whenever you were around him, sneering at anyone who passed by. It was actually how you found out you were pregnant in the first place, Caraxes knowing before either of you did. Daemon had the instinct to protect you, it was only natural for his dragon to do the same. Especially when you were with child.

What neither of you saw coming, was the egg hatching within a week of being in your child’s cradle. You had placed a blanket in the cradle, preparing the room for the baby, when the egg began to crack. You worriedly called for Daemon, who rushed in, only to find a little tail, peeking out from the shell. 

It was unheard of, at least in the past few decades, and you both were a bit bewildered about what to do with it. After all, it was supposed to be raised with your child, and connect to them, not you.

You knew it would be alright, though, when the dragon crawled out of its shell, scaling the side of the crib to rest on the perch at the top. 

He was completely white, a rare color for a dragon, with hints of red on his underbelly and tips of his wings. His eyes shone a bright green. He was beautiful.

You watched its eyes narrow at you, like it was listening for something, when it finally jumped down to the rail in front of you that was level with your stomach. You had held your breath, nervously watching it, Daemon close at your side. Finally, it leaned in close, let out a small huff, and rested its head on your stomach. 

You nearly melted at the sight, cooing at it, feeling Daemon’s chin rest on your shoulder. He smiled, letting a hand come down to rest on your stomach, when the dragon angrily lifted its head, sneering. 

Daemon laughed, raising his hands in surrender. “That’s right! Already a little guardian, aren’t you?”

“Timpa Azantys,” you replied, running a finger along the cheek of the dragon. 

White Knight.

“Azantys. That’s a good name,” Daemon said, grinning as the dragon traveled up to rest on your shoulder. 

You nodded. “Azantys. I like that.”

Azantys, perched on your shoulder, and locked eyes with Daemon, staring him down. Daemon, never one to relent, narrowed his eyes, his face hard as he stared back.

“Gods,” you rolled your eyes. “He’s minutes old and you’re already sizing each other up.”

Daemon didn’t answer, eyes still locked with the dragon. “Obey.”

After a few seconds, the dragon finally bowed its head, submitting. Daemon gave it a nod, before turning back to you. 

“You only have as much power as you take. A dragon is only dangerous if you let it be. If he’s going to be the protector of my wife and heir, he ought to know that young.”

You raised a brow. “I thought a dragon has no master? Are you telling me a mere man can get a beast like no other to submit to him?”

“I’m not a mere man. Targaryens have dragons blood running through their veins. With our child, as do you. He can sense that, and recognizes his place. That is why he must learn now, just as Caraxes did.”

You nodded, bewildered by the fact that your husband just told a dragon of all creatures to obey, and it actually listened. 

—

In the following days, you were quite a sight to be seen walking throughout the castle. Daemon wasn’t found at your side near as much as he was before, because now, you had a dragon, always on guard atop your shoulder. He may still be a baby, but he was growing every day, and people were wary around you, even the guards. 

You sat in on sessions at court, like Daemon asked you to. He advised you to pay attention, as your son would be the Lord of his own people one day, and he’d need his mother to guide him. You knew it was just an excuse, but you still obliged Daemon for his own peace of mind. The truth was, he didn’t like you being alone when he had his duties, and preferred you to be around people he trusted. 

Rhaenyra started joining you as well. She was to rule one day, and took the opportunity to learn how to command. She also enjoyed spending time with you, as well as Azantys, who had taken a liking to her. 

You walked into the throne room a half hour before it was supposed to start. As pregnant as you were, it took you a while to get places, and you liked to get comfortable before you had to pay attention. The only people in the throne room was the King, Otto Hightower, and a handful of guards and servants. 

King Viserys smiled fondly at you, nodding as you entered.

“Your Grace,” you curtsied, at least as well as your condition allowed, before taking a seat off to the side. Azantys curled up on your stomach, head facing where the crowds would be so he could keep watch.

Otto gave you a look of disdain, his face set into a scowl. You were amused as you watched him fight himself to say something, before he turned to the King. 

“Your Grace, I don’t think it’s appropriate for the Lady to be here.”

Viserys turned, narrowing his eyes at the Hand. “Whatever for? She’s come every week for months, and is entirely respectful. She’s a positive influence on Rhaenyra as well. You know she is here at my brother’s request, what reason would I have to turn her away?”

You smirked as Otto faked a smile, letting his hands join behind his back. “I meant no offense to the Lady, Your Grace. I have no qualms with her…it’s her dragon. We have the pits for a reason. It is a distraction to the court, and a danger at that.”

“It is only a danger if the Lady is vexed. The court knows well enough to leave her be.”

“But the dragon–”

“She is a Targaryen, now,” the King spoke sternly. “Targaryens have dragons. Neither have done or will do any harm, unless it comes to it, and you’ll be glad to have them against swords if the day does ever come. I will hear no more of this.”

“Your Grace,” Otto nodded, returning to his place beside the throne. He looked in your direction, and you smirked again, running a hand down Azantys’s back. 

—

The following evening was a feast, the first of many for the week, meant to celebrate welcoming your very soon to come child into the world. Lords and Ladies came from neighboring cities across the Kingdom to congratulate you and Daemon on the start of your family. 

You were sat next to Daemon, a few seats away from the King. Daemon kept one hand in yours, the other rested on the table as he held a conversation with a nearby Lord. Azantys, already almost too big to lay comfortably on your stomach or in your lap, was perched on the top of your chair. 

The servants brought food to the tables, setting places in front of you. You listened to the chattering of all the people, not paying attention to any one conversation in particular. You were zoned out, thinking of other things, when one of the trays was accidentally slid towards you, haphazardly jostling food your way.

Azantys let out a growl, swooping down from his perch to attack the tray in front of you, violently clawing at it to push it away. He opened his jaws, breathing a small flame onto the tray, charring it. 

The guests gasped at the heat and sudden movements, slightly leaning back in their chairs. 

It was quiet for a moment, before Daemon broke the silence with a chuckle. You swiftly followed, holding your stomach as you laughed, wiping under your eyes to clear the tears that had fallen from laughing so hard. 

“Good boy, Azantys,” Daemon smirked, gripping your hand in his. “You protected her from a stain.”

The other Lords and Ladies cautiously laughed, nervous to be in such close proximity with a dragon, albeit a small one, who had just tried to kill a tray for almost spilling on you. They uneasily went back to their conversations, and Daemon let out a low whistle, signaling for Azantys to go back to his perch. 

Azantys obeyed, returning to his guarding spot above you, resuming his watch.

“If he’s like this now, imagine what he’ll be like when the child is actually here. He’s a ferocious little thing,” you joked. 

Daemon squeezed your hand in return, nodding. “I’m counting on it, Darling.”

—

A/N - Hi! I hope you enjoyed this. To anyone who has sent me a request, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get to it, I will eventually, thank you for sending them in. 

[dragons-and-handcuffs]

Aemond Targaryen x niece!reader

You always knew this day was coming. Everyone knew. Your marriage to your brother, Jacaerys Velaryon, was arranged the moment you were born. Ever since you could understand words you were told you have to do your duty. You have to protect your family. You have to marry Jace. 

And the day is finally here. You are just moments away from getting married. You are marrying Jace, someone you have known your entire life and yet you are still nervous. Luckily your maids left you alone after you got dressed, giving you the time to calm your fast beating heart. 

You took a deep breath as you looked at yourself in the mirror. The wedding dress was simple but perfect, but the gold necklaces with rubies around your neck was making you feel suffocated. It was heavy and felt like a collar instead of a necklace. A gift from your mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen. For the moment you decided to take it off, planning to wear it just before you walk out to get married. 

Just as you put the heavy necklace down the door opened, without any knock or announcement. Only one person does that. 

Aemond almost froze when he saw you. His eyes in awe and disbelief. 

“Uncle..” You gave a welcoming smile. 

Aemond couldn't deny that you look breathtaking. 

He stepped closer and gently touched a strand of your silver hair, trying to find the right words. His other hand was holding a small box. 

“You look beautiful,” Aemond said, his words almost getting caught in his throat. 

“Are you sure? My mother thinks the dress is too simple,” You let out a nervous laugh as you looked down at your dress. “But it's the only thing I got to choose.”

“Rhaenyra's judgments are often wrong,” Aemond replied. 

You looked up at him and gave a soft smile. You can always trust Aemond to agree with your choices. 

“I…umm.. i have a small gift for you,” Aemond showed you the little box in his hand. When he opened it there was a dainty chain with a small sapphire, the same shade as the one he has in place of his injured eye. “I know it's not much, but…”

“It's beautiful,” You gasped as you gently touched the delicate piece of jewelry. “Can you..can you help me put it on?” 

Aemond nodded and picked up the necklace. You turned around and lifted your hair up slightly and he put the necklace around your neck. Both your eyes met in the mirror and lingered there. 

You put your hair down and your hand immediately went for the sapphire around your neck. It was much lighter than the one your mother gifted you, and more beautiful in your eyes. 

“Thank you, uncle,” You turned back to look at him. “I will always cherish it.”

There were a lot of things Aemond wanted to say. A lot of things you wanted to confess. But neither of you could. 

“I…I better go join the others at the great hall,” Aemond finally able to snap out of the trance. 

You gave a forced smile and nodded. 

“And..and if you think you don't want to do this…don't want to marry your strong brother then I am here. I will stop the wedding and…”

“There will be no need for that, uncle,” You stopped him from finishing the sentence. “I love Jace and it is my duty to marry him and give him children, to further the Targaryen bloodline.”

“Would your mother have betrothed you to Jace if you were a Strong just like him instead of a dragon?” Aemond asked. He already knows the answer. Deep down even you know the answer. Your silver hair and deep lilac eyes are the reason why you are marrying Jace. 

“Aemond…” You tried to defend your mother but no other words came out. 

“You just need to say the word…maybe you won't today, or tomorrow, but when you do I will break the shackles your mother put on you and give you the freedom you have always desired.” Aemond kissed your forehead and then walked out, leaving you to think about your life and future. 

[barbiedragon]

Kinktober Prompt #19

Prompt: Voyeurism/Exhibitionism

Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister x sister!reader

WC: 500

Additional Tags: incest

*comments/reblogs are appreciated

Kinktober Masterlist

A soft, summer wind wafted through the halls, making the flame on your candle flicker. Curiosity always got the better of you. Your father teasingly called you his curious cub. Tonight, it stirred inside while making your way to your sister’s chambers. Cersei had traveled from King’s Landing to visit and proudly show off her golden-haired son, Joffrey.  The heir to the Iron Throne.  You thought the petite babe had the sourest face, and you didn’t like him. However, you pretended for her sake. Lannisters looked after their own.

When you slowly pushed the door open, Cersei’s breathy moans and Jaime’s deep grunts filled your ears. She was on top of him, riding him as if he were a wild stallion, her golden curls cascading down her pale shoulders. Sweat beaded across her skin, dripping a small trail down the middle of her back. Her hands braced against Jaime’s chest while his fingers dug into the curve of her arse. Breath hitched in your throat as you stared, transfixed by the sight of your siblings fucking unabashedly.

An egregious sin, yet it was beautiful to behold. Two golden lions writhing in pleasure, melting into one. They held such power, beauty, and vanity. Your mind flickered briefly as you thought of Joffrey’s bright blue eyes and flaxen curls. Now you knew the sickening truth. He was the fruit of their fornication and not of Robert’s seed. Cersei tossed her head back, crying out Jaime’s name, before catching sight of you. Her ruby lips curved into a smug smirk.

“Little sister. Come to see us play?” she purred, bouncing faster on top of Jaime.

Your brother let out an amused chuckle before slapping Cersei’s pert arse. “You always were a curious kitten, little sister,” he mused. Neither made pause, they simply continued their tryst.

Fluttering started in your belly as you stood frozen, eyes glued to their bare bodies. You should run away or scream at the top of your lungs, but could not tear yourself away. They seemed to delight in your onlooking. Jaime squeezed Cersei’s breasts, and you inched closer until you stood by the side of the bed. As Cersei moved her hips, you could make out the faint outline of Jaime’s cock. His stones heavy and full. Her cunt damp, and both had sparse golden curls between their legs. The same as yours.

A needy mewl spilled from your lips as you felt a throbbing between your thighs. Shameful arousal from the sight of your older siblings fucking. You were in a trance, inching your white nightgown up your thighs, stroking the dampness between your legs. Cersei’s breasts bounced tantalizingly as her moans grew louder, nails digging into Jaime’s shoulder.

“My wild woman, my perfect sister,” Jaime murmured, lifting to press his face between her breasts.

Your moans bled into Cersei’s, everyone reaching a sweet peak.

“You must join us next time, little sister,” Cersei smirked. Jaime chuckled darkly. On shaking legs, you made your way to them.

[tinfairies]

PLEASE! reactions to sandor, theon, jorah, jon, tyrion, sansa and missandei for praising them during sex?

I just did the men for this one, my character limit is 4 but I couldn't choose so I did all of them

Sandor buries his face into the crook of his lovers neck. His face flushing at their words, his hips don't slow however. He opts to kiss at their delicate skin, trying to ignore the praise. It's not as though he doesn't like it, he just feels as though he doesn't deserve it. The praise keeps coming however, his lover keeps mumbling how good he feels and how amazing he is.

He sits up, bringing his lover with him. Sandor holds them close, their chests pressed together, then his lips find theirs. A desperate attempt to silence them as he keeps thrusting, bouncing them on his cock. Their arms wrap around him, as well as their legs. Clinging to him as he fucks them mercilessly. They make a note to praise him like that more often if this is how he'll react.

Theon is cocky about it, smirks and thrusts into his lover even harder. "You like that huh?" his hands wander and he gropes at every part of their body. Even if he doesn't fully believe that he's the best man out there, he makes his lover moan and squirm and cum. That's all that matters to him. Theon makes sure they'll remember him even if they leave him, he's the best cock they'll ever have.

His fingers pinch at his lovers nipples, he loves the way they squeal at the sensation. His cock plows into them, the wet sound of their slick and his hot precum is downright selacious. He wants to hear more about how good he feels, how hot he is. If he had it his way, he'd never leave his lovers bed.

Jorah can't help but get flustered when he hears the praise. His heart climbs up his throat as his lover moans and tells him how amazing he's doing. He leans down, his head resting against their chest. His thrusts don't slow down, in fact he angles his hips to go deeper. He opts to kiss their soft skin and hide his face from them. Jorah knows he shouldn't feel embarrassed, but how can someone so perfect love someone like him?

His hands roam their body, tracing down their sides and groping their hips. Pulling them against him and losing himself in their love. He believes that if he doesn't acknowledge the praise, he doesn't have to accept it. He can't accept it, not a man like him.

Jon doesn't register his lovers words at first. He's so lost in them, wanting to make them feel as good as possible. When they repeat themselves, it hits him. He can't help but pick up his pace, he wants to hear it again. His hips angling in such a way that his cock goes deeper than before. Again and again his lover praises him, calling him a good boy and moaning that he feels heavenly.

He doesn't believe their words, not really. But it doesn't stop Jon from drinking them down like a deserted man. He knows that outside of this bed he isn't good, though he tries. No, the only place he's truly good and thoroughly skilled is right here between his lovers legs.

Tyrion lives for praise, craves it and works hard for it. He knows he's good in bed, downright godly even. The words of his lover fuel his ego, he'd laugh and smile, asking if they want him to fuck them stupid. He loves to hear how good he's doing, how good his cock feels up inside them. He's thrusting his hips into theirs, hands roaming, he wants to hear more. Tyrion will keep going long after he and his lover cum, he doesn't want them to stop praising him.

He knows that when he pulls out, and they get cleaned up, that the praise ends. He doesn't want it to, perhaps that's why most of his free time is spent in brothels. Either way, he'll revel in his lovers words for as long as they can last.

[thebadboyfanclub]

Don’t Say It (Tywin x Reader)

I know I disappeared for a little but I hit a writers block with this one, I think it’s due to exhaustion over me working full time so I hope @thanyatargaryen forgives me if this wasn’t what you intended. Enjoy

Olenna Tyrell was a legend, she had learned the rules by heart and was now on a mission to pass them down to her wonderful granddaughters, the beautiful rose that listened to the name of Margaery and the bewitching siren that could stop a man with a simple song, the young (y/n).

Olenna was no fool, she recognized that the two girls were her strongest soldiers, with these two alone she could rule all of Westeros, well at least all the men which was the same thing.

“Today is an important day, even for you dearest, the wedding of your sister to the king means every eligible lord from all of the seven kingdoms will be attending”

“I am well aware, you do not have to worry about me, grandmother”

(Y/n) reassured olenna whilst her handmaidens assisted her with the finest dress anyone had ever seen, it was her first time at court she needed to look her best, (y/n) squeezed into a dress that was custom made, her hair had taken hours and was brushed to perfection and she smelled of the finest of fragrance oils that were brought from Dorne, it is safe to say that (y/n) couldn’t have looked nor smelled better.

Everyone’s breath hitched at their throats when (y/n) walked with the confidence only a Tyrell could possess, she strutted up to her big sister to wrap her arms around Margaery with clear endearment.

“Congratulations, my queen”

“Oh come on now stop with that”

“I know this is a blessed day for the king but could he be so kind and hear a plea I have for him?”

“Anything for my good sister”

“Look after my dear Marge, as she has done for me”

(Y/n)s voice was as sweet as strawberry cakes and her smile could stop a man dead in his tracks, the young Tyrell leaned on her big sister pressing her chin on Margaerys shoulder whilst the bride leaned her head close to (y/n) as well, the girls shared a strong bond, it was the first time that they would be separated ever since (y/n) was born.

What they did not know was that a certain someone had already his blue set of eyes on the lovely Tyrell who seemed so blatantly unaware of it all, Tywin had sworn to never remarry, no one would ever be as good as his dearest Joanna, she was the one that knew him like the back of her hand, the lady that could wrap her arms around the vicious lion and make him swoon, if she saw him now she would laugh at him, she always told him “never say never my love, you won’t know what the future holds for you”.

“You have your queen and your alliance now, I hope you are happy”

“Naturally, Margaery will serve the realm greatly”

“Soon enough she will start popping out lions, hopefully, my little (y/n) will have better luck”

“What could be better than becoming the queen mother?”

“Becoming the lady wife of a lord that cares for your well-being and happiness”

Tywin grew silent, there was nothing he could say against the allegations of Jeffrey’s cruel nature, he could only hope that Margaery was cunning enough to outsmart him which honestly was not going to be much of a huddle, all the times that Joffrey has been able to be sadistic was owed to other peoples stupidity to either allow him or cover for him.

“Well then let me take a good look at this girl you have such expectations for, lady (y/n)”

Tywin called for the girl whilst he stood a few feet away from the newlyweds, (y/n)s eyes finally found his, and Tywin felt his chest grow tight, the girl was a dream, a dream he often had but could never speak of due to him always believing it will be just that… a silly dream of a widower.

“Lord Tywin, I can imagine this day is probably one of the happiest for your house, correct me if I am wrong but house Tyrell has never wed a Lannister prior to this moment”

“Indeed, let this be a fruitful union for both of our houses, your grandmother has spoken quite highly of you”

“Oh do not listen to her, it is a grandmother's nature to always speak for her grandchildren in the best light”

“Nonsense, Garlan is utterly nice which makes him boring and Loras likes to imagine being a young day twirling in a dress on the garden field, I had lost all hope up until you and your sister were born, the true soldiers of the Tyrell’s”

(Y/n) smiled sweetly before she leaned to place a kiss on her grandmother's cheek, (y/n) and Margaery was well trained, they had sat on the table and played against the best of players only to come out victorious, now Margaery was queen and (y/n) was ready to score her alliance that would bring nothing but glory to her and her family.

“Lady olenna is a lot of things but she is not soft nor does she hide behind her finger, if she says you are her best card then I truly believe it”

Olenna noticed the graciousness in the old lions' words, she picked up on the scanning look that started from her toes and ended on the top of her head, (y/n) did not even have a hair out of place, she placed her hand over her heart as a sign of vulnerability and her smile became brighter in gratitude.

“You are utmost kind, my lord, it is not every day a lady gets to be complimented by the warden of Casterly Rock and the hand of the king, I consider myself lucky for that”

“Luck has nothing to do with it, above it all I am a man that favors honesty and that is what you are receiving”

“I shall go before your words get all in my head, it was an honor to meet you, my lord”

(Y/n) went to curtsy before she was interrupted by Tywin that instead of letting her, reached for her hand and then placed his other one on top of hers, a smirk still evident on his lips as his eyes pierced through her, yet he was left with nothing, (y/n) had always prevailed under the hawking looks of men, she was well aware that she could not budge whatsoever.

“I will see you later Grandmother”

“Of course little flower, go on now, have some fun for me”

Olenna kissed the top of the lady’s head lovingly, it was not a secret that olenna doted on her especially now that it was her turn to marry, she had to bite her lip when it came to Margaery since her son had already bargained her for a sweet deal of a crown, she must do right by (y/n).

Once the lady was far away enough Olenna turned her head towards Tywin who was still following the enchanting Tyrell with his gaze, the way she walked, talked, even her breathing was perfect, his thumb traced over his fingertips, recalling how soft and warm he skin felt against his touch.

“I know that look”

“Pardon?”

“You are planning something”

“I always am”

“If you are scheming to betroth my precious flower to another lion, I must admit I would rather it be you than that little son of yours, in truth I would rather for her to stay away from lions but an old lion is better than Tyrion”

-

The news of Tywins betrothal hit everyone in kings landing like a ton of bricks. Joffrey was dead, Margaery was technically the dowager queen, and the crown was getting weak by the moment.

(Y/n) had become her sister's shadow, some applauded her compassion and how she was present at all hours to console her sister, what they did not know was that Olenna was already moving the strings for Margaery to marry Tommen, the young, kind boy who could never hurt a fly, however, Olenna had ensured both of the girls now once and for all, what better way to do that than to mess with Tywins head?

“Lady olenna, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I am here to propose another marriage between my house and yours”

“That is no surprise, I am to expect you wish to betroth Margaery to Tommen?”

“No, no my dear Margaery has been through way too much”

“Loras is still to marry Cersei, is there a change in that betrothal?”

“Unfortunately that mess of a wedlock is still going steady, I am concerned over my (y/n)”

Tywin had been too occupied with writing to look up at olenna up until now, his ears perked up at the sound of her name, the girl with the bright smile and the scary resemblance to a shadow of the past.

“What do you wish to suggest?”

“My (y/n) is sweet, kind, and full of life, I believe Tommen would treat her as delicate as she deserves to be treated”

“Tommen? You want to put (y/n) by the new king's side?”

“Tommen is a good boy, nothing like Joffrey, I have taken notice of how Tommen smiles at her, no man could ever deny my beloved granddaughter, I am convinced their reign will be prosperous”

“Mayhaps, although I do not believe Tommen should be the one to marry (y/n)”

“Who else could stand the weight of the crown? Tommen is in much need of someone like (y/n), to keep him humble and gentle, show him what it is like to be loved”

That was what made tywins blood boil the most, the concept of (y/n) hugging Tommen, his grandson brushing (y/n)s hair, the lady creating a child out of Tommens semen, the image of her with a swollen belly whilst Tommen rubbed his hand over it made his skin crawl.

No, no he would never allow another man to be by her side on those milestones, he was graced by the gods with a second chance at love, how could he be a bystander to a marriage that would probably be terrific, although Tywin could never survive with the “what if” lingering on his mind.

“Because she is to marry me”

“Pardon?”

“I am to be betrothed to the lady (y/n), our marriage will take place the same day as Margaerys and Tommens, your Margaery will be queen, and lady (y/n) will become the lady of the rock”

“I would rather die than let my dearest become a second wife, your daughter will eat her alive once the news hit her ears”

“Are you afraid of Cersei?”

“I am petrified of the brass neck your daughter possesses, that woman thinks she can do whatever she pleases with no consequence”

“Cersei is my daughter, you have nothing to worry about she will not be allowed to harm your little girl, once (y/n) falls pregnant that child will become heir of Casterly Rock”

“What if she births a girl?”

“You and (y/n) along with Margaery will decide on her future, I will not partake or force my daughter to do anything”

“Your offer is dripping with syrup, but I will not accept, I gave you Loras and Margaery and now you dare to ask for more”

“If you do not consent to this then I shall announce a match of (y/n) and Ser Sandor Clegane, how does that sound?”

“Careful now, what you are suggesting is… grasping”

“Indeed, but I am feeling rather charitable so I grant you the day to decide, if I do not have an answer by the morrow then the sweet girl will be cloaked with a wonderful yellow flag”

Tywin was a man that proudly stood behind his every word, so as he walked out with a triumphed smirk on his lips he was too occupied with feeling his triumph to notice that olenna was also doing the same (y/n) was now the future lady of the rock and Margaery was to have a second chance to wear the crown.

“My lord”

(Y/n) interrupted his thoughts once she saw him, Tywin stopped swiftly before he could fall right onto her, she was waiting behind the door anxiously, her eyes gawked at the man as her cheeks grew rosy from the embarrassment of her clumsy nature.

“Lady (y/n), what seems to be so important that you could not wait in your chamber for your grandmother”

“She informed me about my betrothal, I apologize I was just so fidgety I wanted to know the second that it was settled”

“Are you in such a rush to marry that boy? I am concerned over your taste”

“Tommen is a wonderful person and the future king, any lady would be lucky to be his lady wife”

“So is it the promise of a crown that excites you? I can tell you wearing a piece of metal decorated with gems will not bring you any happiness”

“Pardon my intrusion but why are you so opposed to the fact of me marrying your grandson? I am highborn and have received the proper education, your house along with the Baratheon owe my family everything”

“It is not you that is not enough young lady”

Silence fell over them, Tywin had stumbled right on her trap and now he was as still as a grain of salt, only blinking at the girl that acted surprised over his suggestion that Tommen was the one that was short when he stood next to her, (y/n) bit her lip before she gazed down for a split second and then back up, she wanted to appear at a loss of words.

“I do not want to believe what my thoughts are suggesting”

“You are a fool if you don’t”

“Lord Tywin, you and I it- how could”

“I am too old for this game my dear, I have given your grandmother the rest of the day to decide and if I’m being frank I believe that luck is on my side, so I suggest you ran along and instruct the finest tailor to start on your gown, you must look as stunning as ever”

“I am fluttered, but I do not understand-“

“Listen to me dear, from that moment you smiled at me you have haunted every waking moment and I cannot seem to escape you even in the shackles of deep slumber, I am aware that I do not look like the young and beautiful knight in shining armor a maiden might expect to marry but I can you this promise right now, every other lady from east to west will be jealous of the luck you held when you marry me”

Lord Tywin once again made his exit thinking that he had the upper hand, if someone were to consider everything that has been done in this world wasn’t it always like this?

A man trotted away victorious while the woman stood and smiled proudly at herself, moving the strings without even the man realizing that she had very carefully placed the strings around his arms like a little puppet.

“My dearest girl, I was there at your birth and I took one good look at you and saw the moon and the stars in those eyes, I always knew you would be the brightest of them all”

Olenna informed (y/n) once she had walked into the office Tywin was in moments ago, Olenna wrapped her arms around her in the most loving manner and (y/n) responded with the same warmth.

“We have so much to plan, the future doesn’t wait for anyone”

-

“How could he ever do this to our family?”

“Who did what?”

“Do not play the fool with me Jaime I am sure you have heard of the vilest news, our father is to marry that little rat from Highgarden”

“One of them is a smirking whore and the other one is a rat? Well you certainly won’t have a good time in the palace once all of them marry into our family”

“How could be so calm at this time? Our son is dead, the other one is to marry Margaery and now our father betrayed us”

“Our father has been without a wife for over a decade Cersei, he is a highborn lord, anyone would have a good chunk of heirs from another wife by now”

In jaimes defense he has always attempted to take the logical side when Cersei went on her little paranoid rants over loyalty or whatever the case was at that time, however, this time he could not sit for hours and let her blabber.

Jaime did not even blink when his father told him about his betrothal, he is a kingsguard, and Tyrion is… well, Tyrion and Cersei have played her part in becoming queen though she could not inherit lannisport, every year he waited for his father to announce a marriage of alliance for himself and now it was finally time.

“This is despicable, they will tarnish our name”

“How will they do that exactly? (Y/n) will probably do her best at becoming pregnant which will install our name to live on which as you know is truly what our father cares about”

“Margaery is a manipulative little scum she will shred our Tommen to pieces”

“Tommen was tormented by Joffrey for years and you know it, if anything having some female tending to him will probably do wonders for his confidence”

“Of course as a man that is all you think about, I do not even know why I came to you over this matter, once again I am called to act by myself”

That is when Jaime had heard enough, very softly he rose from his seat and went over to his clearly disheveled sister, a kiss was laid on the center of her forehead all while his hands rubbed up and down to her forearms making her puff out a breath of relief from the comfort his touch brought to her.

“You will do nothing, Father has already announced his betrothal, if anyone even touched a hair from (y/n)s head he will not hesitate to demand its head to be served on a silver platter”

“Father is just being short sighed it is us that must act to save him”

“From what? Having his bed warm by a woman? Especially her, surely you are not that blind that you haven’t understood what he saw in her”

“Don’t say it”

“I know it feels like salt over the wound-“

“No, no”

“You must admit the resemblance is uncanny”

“Never!”

Cersei pushed him away harshly, tears welled up in her eyes and all of a sudden she was rudely pulled back to that day, the gods forsaken day that Cersei had to witness her mother laying in bed with blood staining her nightgown.

“That bitch is not our mother”

“She is not, though she looks like her”

Requests are open!

[plus-size-reader]

Loyalty

Aemond Targaryen x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 3628 words

Warnings: none

Summary: The reader is closer to Aegon, which is unacceptable to Aemond, who is in love with her and always has been

(Disclaimer: I despise the brutality against women used as a plot device for 'entertainment' so any SA or ickiness regarding Aegon doesn't exist in my universe. He's still a burden on the realm and uber pathetic tho)

—————————————————————————————————

You had always cared for Aegon.

He could be challenging sometimes, you knew that better than anyone, but that didn’t change the fact that he was important to you. As children, he would share his toys with you and tell you stories of worlds far beyond this one.

Things changed as you got older, of course, but he was still Aegon. It didn’t matter how crass, cruel, or drunk he got.

He was your truest friend, and that meant that you were willing to put up with certain things for his sake.

At this moment, for example, you were listening to him drunkenly ramble about battle strategy and knights he figured he could best in combat over dinner. Did you particularly care about either of those things? Of course not.

…but Aegon did, so you listened all the same.

Just as the rest of his family did, because like it or not, he was the firstborn son and this kingdom was his to inherit.

One member of his family, in particular, was less than thrilled with this arrangement. At the other end of the table sat Aemond, the second son of King Viserys Targaryen, drinking from his own goblet to keep the bile from rising in his throat.

You had to be kidding.

Did you truly find his brother that interesting? It wasn’t possible that you actually believed him capable of besting Sir Harwin Strong in hand-to-hand combat. Aegon could hardly stand on his own most of the time.

He would die in a fight like that, and Aemond knew you were clever enough to know that. Still, you said nothing as he continued his rant.

You just kept listening, with a soft smile playing at your lips, as if his idiot brother wasn’t an embarrassment to his bloodline.

“I know for certain that I could have been a knight, the best knight there ever was” Aegon spouted, slurring his words lightly toward their end and earning a soft giggle from you as you imagined what that would look like.

It was a lie.

Aegon didn’t have what it took to be a knight by any stretch of the imagination but your laughter wasn’t so much about what he said. More than anything, it was about Aegon. He was drunk, as he so often was, but in moments like these, it didn’t matter.

This was how he’d been as a boy too, and that was the part that amused you. The slight glimpses of the dreamer he’d been before the world had robbed him of his right to dream.

Before he’d turned into nothing more than a man, seeking out his own pleasures, even at the expense of every other.

“I think I would quite like to see that” you mused, sipping from your own cup, though you weren’t anywhere near as under the influence as he was. You had been nursing the same goblet all night, one cup for Aegon’s seven.

It wasn’t really a challenge, but like he so often did, Aegon took it as one anyway.

“I would venture I could even beat Aemond, if he’d be brave enough to face me,” he added, shooting his brother a look that did sort of alarm you. It was beyond harmless musings about the knights of the realm and famed warriors.

This was a bit more personal, and you didn’t like where it was heading. “I could even cover an eye, make it fair for him”

Naturally, in his drunken state, Aegon’s movements were clumsy and rash but the implications when his left hand came up to cover his eye were just as impactful as they would have been if they’d been delivered sober.

You were silent for a moment, your gaze shifting between the future King’s lopsided grin and the sharp glare of his younger brother.

He knew that he’d been insulted, and you didn’t expect him to forgive it, but shot him a look anyway. It was small, but the message was clear.

You were asking him to ignore his brother’s ill conceived attempt at humor.

“Alright, perhaps you should slow down, Aegon” you suggested finally, resting your hand gingerly on his wrist, all but forcing the cup in his hand back to the table’s surface the moment he once again attempted to lift it to his mouth.

He had already been drinking most of the day and as the sun slowly retreated from the sky, it was certainly time to stop. Your fear for what he’d do if he didn’t was only furthering your insistence.

Not that you could make that clear outright.

“Y/N’s right, it’s about time for everyone to turn in” Alicent agreed, shooting you a thankful glance as she stood from the table, glad that she didn’t have to step in. The King had already gone back to his chambers, and with her leaving, everyone else was sure to follow suit.

Alicent had always been glad for the bond you shared with Aegon, though she didn’t understand it, especially in moments like this.

You were probably the only person who could have ever gotten him to do as you asked without the tantrum that normally followed. “Goodnight, your Grace” you called, watching as she and Helena retreated from the room, leaving you, Aegon and his brother alone in the room.

In the back of your mind, you were aware that Aemond was still watching you, his blue eye unwavering as he studied you, but you didn’t have time to figure out why.

Not before his brother once again pulled your attention to him instead.

“I’m not finished” Aegon tried, bringing the chalice back to his lips only for Aemond to scoff over your shoulder.

He would truly never understand how his brother had managed to survive this long, much less maintain his place in line for the throne. He had no real business being there, and he wouldn’t, if it hadn’t been for his birthright.

Though that would just be among the list of things Aemond didn’t understand, like why you were so determined to take such good care of his pathetic brother, when you got nothing back in return.

Aegon would never show you the same courtesy, not in the way he would, had he been in his place.

“Yes you are, it’s time for bed” you spoke softly to your oldest friend, but your eyes had found their way across the table to Aemond and his now sour attitude.

It was no secret that he and his brother didn’t exactly get along, but you didn’t understand what had happened tonight that was any more irksome to him than any other night. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d insulted him, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Every night with Aegon was essentially the same, and no one was more used to that than Aemond was. Not even you.

“Will you take me?” the firstborn asked, that twisted smirk finding its way onto his face once more as he grinned, never ceasing his drinking even as he spoke about being done drinking.

Normally, one of the servant girls would be tasked with trying to get the future King to his chambers, but between his cheery mood this evening and the silent appreciation you’d gotten from the Queen, you figured you were up to the task tonight.

“If you promise to behave, I will take you” you agreed, finally reaching over to snag his cup from him completely, the stem held delicately between your fingers.

Again, Aemond found himself swallowing back more than just wine as he watched the scene in front of him unfold.

Did the two of you really have to do this every night? Aegon was married after all, and if his mother had anything to say about it, you would be too, soon enough.

It was so far beneath you.

In Aemond’s opinion, his ridiculous brother could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve a moment of your time, but clearly, his believing that wasn’t enough to convince you. At this point, he feared nothing would.

“Are you serious?” he finally called out, not even bothering to hide the ugly tone in his voice. It was practically dripping with emotions, but whether that was jealousy or disgust, he wasn’t sure.

Perhaps it was some mix of both.

“About what?” you hummed, your focus not leaving his brother even as you spoke to Aemond, ignoring the clear upset in his voice in favor of getting the future King to his feet.

Because even when he was speaking directly to you, Aegon was all you could ever give your attention to.

Aegon was basically dead weight when he drank like this, and it was going to be quite the task for you to get him into bed without accident. Not that the servant girls complained, each and every night when they took the job.

They simply did what needed to be done, and you weren’t about to be any different. Those girls deserved a break from his drunken antics for once.

“I could get someone to do that for you. It isn’t your job to make sure he gets to bed” This time, Aemond was sure to monitor the venom in his voice, fully aware that it wasn’t getting him anywhere anyway.

If Aegon had spoken to you like that, you would have stopped everything to assess its origin, but from Aemond, it was almost as if he hadn’t opened his mouth at all.

Why he even bothered at all at this point, he wasn’t sure.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” you assured, draping the blonde’s arm over your shoulders and heading toward the door without a second look at his brother. The second son, the man who dreamed of taking care of you instead of forcing you to care for his every need.

The man who had been hopelessly pining over you for all the years you’d known him, but who you’d never once actually seen.

Left all alone at the table.

~

You were able to move quietly through the halls, finding Aegon much less drunk than you’d originally assumed once he got to his feet. His steps were clunky, and he’d been whisper-yelling in Valyrian at you the entire time, but he wasn’t totally helpless.

He’d had enough to fully give up on the pretense of his birthright, but not enough to be slobbering on your shoulder, which you had enough cause to be thankful for. In the past, he’d not been so gracious.

“Alright, go to sleep now Aegon,” you cooed, pulling the covers up over him and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “In the morning, we can take a walk around the garden”

The only answer to your suggestion came in the form of gentle snoring, which made you smile in spite of yourself as you left the room.

It seemed to you that the only time the prince got any peace was when he slept. He hadn’t always been that way, but as the days passed, you found it harder and harder to ignore the way the world was changing him.

You weren’t blind to the truth.

It was just as obvious to you that Aegon was a disaster as it was to everyone else. You knew that he was a coward and a fool and that the care you had for him was the only thing keeping you from sharing the ire for him that so many others felt.

You knew that, but the truth remained that he was your oldest friend and you loved him for that, despite his many flaws.

You were many things, and loyal seemed to be chief among them, even if sometimes you wondered if your faith in him was misplaced. Would Aegon be a good King? You weren’t sure, but you knew that you would be by his side until the day he proved undeserving.

The Lord’s chamber door closed softly behind you and gave way to a long dark hallway, which you maneuvered expertly. You had taken the walk between your chambers and Aegon’s a thousand times and you knew it like the back of your hand.

Still, you couldn’t account for everything.

For example, you never could have expected to be grabbed from your path until it happened, and you found yourself standing in an adjacent room instead of the long expanse of the hallway. You couldn’t see it that well, with only the moonlight streaming in through the window available to help orient yourself.

It wasn’t an altogether distinctive space at first glance, but it didn’t take you long to place it anyway.

The grasp your kidnapper had on your arms remained, even as the moments ticked by, and while it wasn’t tight or uncomfortable, it gave away the perpetrator in an instant.

Aemond.

No one else was capable of so much selfish aggression while also maintaining such a tight composure. No one else would have cause to take you from the hall, and certainly no one else would have the gull to do so.

Still, for whatever reason, apparently the blonde had decided to snatch you from your normal path and was now just holding you here, a foul look on his usually handsome face.

“Care to explain yourself, my Lord?” you scoffed, removing your arms from his grip as gently as you could, and trying to figure out what could have possibly gotten into him.

It didn’t make any sense.

Never had he attempted something like this before, and you couldn’t work out what was going on, no matter how hard you tried.

“My problem? My problem is that you couldn’t possibly be more of a fool” he started, essentially ignoring your justified response in favor of his own feelings.

He couldn’t watch it anymore.

It was bad enough that his brother was a bumbling idiot without any care for history or culture, or any actual skill. He couldn’t have the throne, the realm, and the affections of you.

That would simply be too much.

Especially when he deserved it so much more. .

“What are you talking about? How much did you have to drink tonight?” you wondered. You were used to Aemond being moody, and he could be unpredictable sometimes but never had he put his hands on you like this. Never had he spoken to you in such a way.

It didn’t make sense, and if you were being honest, you didn’t like it. This was something you wouldn’t have given a second thought coming from Aegon, but here, with Aemond in front of you, it confused you.

Aemond scoffed, clearly not finding your care for his well-being as endearing now that it was aimed at him. Even an hour earlier, he would have been thrilled to have even an ounce of your affection, but not now.

Now, it was almost an insult.

He was so tired of being the second son, and the second in line for everything. Just once, he wanted someone to pick him over his idiot brother.

“Not nearly enough. Perhaps if I drank more, you’d actually look me in the eye”

That got your attention.

You were silent for a moment as you considered his words, and what they could possibly mean in regards to this conversation.

It was an obvious jab at his brother, but it still didn’t help you understand what all this was about and you were torn. You didn’t know how long you were supposed to let this go on or how you were supposed to react.

On one hand, you never would have wanted Aemond to be upset but on the other, you couldn’t exactly explain being alone together in the dark, in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t technically allowed considering that you were both unmarried, and while the Queen was fond of you, you were certain she wouldn’t like this.

You sighed, taking in the distance, or lack therefore, of space between the two of you before you finally broke your silence. “Aemond, enough of this, what has you so upset?”

Your voice was soft as you spoke, hoping to get him to calm down enough to actually speak to you. He had always been the more rational of the brothers and he was certainly better at communicating.

It was one of your favorite things about him, but right now, he sounded like Aegon and you didn’t like that one bit either.

You put up with Aegon out of care for him and hope for the kind young boy you had once known him to be, but Aemond was better than that. You enjoyed his company, and the time you spent together was time you treasured.

You didn’t understand why he was so angry with you tonight.

“I don’t understand why you love him when he treats you so poorly. What has he ever done to deserve your affections?” he wondered, his tone matching yours almost instantly.

It hadn’t been his intention to yell at you, and it certainly wasn’t something he wanted to do, but one man could only take so much. At some point, he had to make it so that you saw who he was, and what he had to offer you.

Of course, Aemond would have preferred a heartfelt declaration of his feelings, in a room where he could actually see the sparkling of your eyes instead of this, but it was no matter.

Even if it had to be like this, little more than a hushed whisper under the cover of darkness, all that mattered was that you heard him.

…and what choice did you have after something like that? What had Aegon done to deserve your affections? You weren’t sure.

Granted, if you’d had time to think about it, you may have had a reason. You may have been able to explain the many reasons you’d chosen him as your closest friend but right now, you couldn’t think of a single thing.

All you could focus on was the way Aemond was peering down at you with so much intensity and the way his right hand had slowly snuck back up to your wrist at your side, fiddling with the fabric trim of your sleeve.

All you could see, and feel, was him in a way you’d never experienced before.

“I don’t know,'' you muttered finally, feeling a bit pathetic as you willed your brain to work properly. You had never once been stunned into silence by the presence of another person before, and it didn’t make any sense.

What had changed? You didn’t know. Apparently, in this moment, you didn’t know much of anything but instead of mocking you as Aegon would have, Aemond simply nodded.

That was what he thought.

You were so used to being devoted to his brother, and had been for so many years, that you didn’t even know why that was. You were so busy constantly doting on him, and dealing with his every thought and feeling that you didn’t realize it was meaningless.

“I could be so much more for you, if you’d only let me” Aemond’s words surrounded you the moment he spoke them, and like the crashing of waves, you realized what this was.

He wasn’t angry at all.

Aemond was hurt.

All this time, he was under the impression that the reason you remained by Aegon’s side was because of a longing, forever to be unfulfilled, but that couldn’t be more wrong.

You did not love Aegon, and it was not Aegon who made you feel as if you could breathe for the first time in all your life.

That title belonged to another, though he had clearly been just as blind to the truth as you had before now.

“I do care much for Aegon. He’s one of my oldest friends, but I have no desire to be with him,” you clarified, feeling the need to get that out in the open first and foremost. Getting a bit braver, you took his wandering hand in your own, giving it a testing squeeze.

It was so strange, knowing someone so well and not at all, all in the same moment.

Aemond tensed slightly at the touch, almost as if you’d struck him, largely because this wasn’t what he’d expected at all. In truth, he hadn’t had much time to consider anything at all regarding this conversation, but he never would have predicted this, not with all the time in the world.

“What do you desire?” he asked, his tone barely audible and inconceivably small as he tried to wrap his mind around how he’d gotten to this point.

You, the one he’d always dreamed of, were so close and yet still so far away. He felt as if he were to breathe, he may ruin it all, and that just wasn’t worth the risk.

Gingerly, you collected your thoughts, for once deciding to let your own desires out way those of everyone else.

Aegon didn’t matter, the opinions of the nobility didn’t matter, and really, Aemond didn’t either. In this moment, all that mattered was you and what you truly desired, stripped bare of all other things.

“I quite think I’d like to be cared for, for a while” you hummed, your voice equal parts certain and wavering as you tried to take a role you’d never known a day in your life.

If Aemond meant as he said, he would take care of you and that was something you desperately wanted. You just weren’t used to asking for the things you wanted, or even, needed. It wasn’t something someone of your standing had ever known.

…But, perhaps it was time to change all that.