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say-al0e · 9 months ago

Text

Want You

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary: Aegon had no desire to ruin you, so he buried himself in his favorite wine and favorite whores to keep his blossoming feelings at bay. Only, his efforts seemed to work too well and he has to convince you that you’re all he needs. Warnings: No Dance AU, inaccurate use of some characters (Tyrell was an infant during this time but here he's in his early 30s), two smut scenes (Aegon is a dick in the first, much better in the second), infidelity (Aegon), Targcest (Aemond x Helaena), nice guy Criston Cole, unprotected PinV, oral (f!receiving), miscommunication. Anything else, let me know and I'll tag. Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x fem!Reader (Manderly!Reader - no features mentioned) Word Count: 22.8k (....I'm so sorry) HotD Taglist | HotD Masterlist

The Red Keep was rarely, if ever, silent.

There were moments - fleeting, few and far between - where a hush befell the Keep with only the quiet noise of servants and guards dutifully moving about to shatter the illusion of solitude. But, no matter the hour, it was rare to find a silence so unbroken that it teetered on the edge of maddening.

However, as Aegon sat in your chambers for the first time in weeks, slouched in a chair adjacent to the couch you lounged on, you found the silence drawing on long enough to surpass discomfort and edge into pain.

Aegon - sobriquet still undecided, though he’d dismissed ‘The Magnanimous’ the moment you frowned as he spoke it, the moment Aemond snickered - sat with a cup of wine in one hand as he used the other to flip the pages of a book. It was one you’d left on the table, brought to you by Aemond and next on your list to read, and you hoped Aegon couldn’t see the way you winced every time wine sloshed a bit too close to the text for comfort.

As silence persisted, there was little doubt that the reason for his presence was his mother’s insistence.

Alicent, as well intentioned as you imagined her to be - and, where you and Helaena were concerned, she seemed to be truly well intentioned - chided him relentlessly these days. Since he became king, there was no end to her and Otto’s lectures. They urged him to play his part as faithfully as you played your own, to act as your husband and try to keep from embarrassing you. Time and again, you heard Alicent’s furious whispers, instructing her eldest son to think of the shame he continued to bring upon you, but you knew as well as she did that the time for his acquiescence had passed.

Everyone knew the kind of husband Aegon was, the kind of man he’d grown to be.

Though there was little chance he might, it he would have thought to ask you for your opinion - as he once did in the earliest days of your marriage - you wondered if you would’ve been able to stop yourself from sharing the sobriquet you chose but did not dare speak aloud; Aegon the Shameless.

Despite becoming Queen Consort, looks of awe and excitement had shifted into looks of pity that burned into your skin each time you found yourself in court. There were few who did not know where your husband spent his nights - in the throne room, deep in his cups and surrounded by idiot guards and naive squires; or, perhaps, lost in the streets of silk, deep inside one of his favorite whores. The only boundary he seemed to respect was that now his trysts were kept from the Keep, his whores bedded elsewhere.

Though eleven moons had passed since you were married, he’d shared your bed only a handful of times. Once, on your wedding night, to consummate the marriage; a drunken attempt or two at creating the heir the realm demanded; and once, not long ago, when he stumbled into your chambers by mistake and couldn’t be roused to move until morning.

Yet, as much as you hated to admit it and as unbelievably foolish as it made you feel, you’d somehow grown to love him.

In the very beginning, you had hope that your marriage might be a happy one.

Aegon was not perfect, you knew that. But for all his faults, he was kind to you in the light of day. The cruelty you caught glimpses of, the derision and bursts of anger, was never leveled at you. In fact, it often seemed that you were the only person he deemed worthy of sparing his unpredictable moods. He softened whenever you entered a room and made an attempt at levity. Though there were whispers of his sharp tongue and quick temper, you saw little of it.

The words he leveled at you were often kind - compliments, jests - and, if not kind, at least cordial. He gifted you beautiful gowns, glittering jewelry, perfumed soaps and oils, and allowed your youngest sister and a cousin to serve as your companions, all the while remaining very far from them himself.

When you chose to eat your meals outside of your own chambers, he kept you near and included you in the conversation at hand, no matter how little attention you paid. When decisions were made, he seemed to take your counsel more seriously than anyone else’s - save, perhaps, Aemond’s. When you took your daily walk around the gardens, he joined as often as he could, though he typically fell behind you and your companions and departed halfway through to return to the small council.

During the early days of your marriage, you spent a great deal of time seeking him out. Whatever moments he could spare for you were cherished and you treated them as gifts worth more than anything gold could buy. As far as you were concerned, Aegon was trying his best. You knew that his reign was young, that he was young, and took no offense to his frequent absences.

Though much and more of your time was spent with others - your companions, Helaena, Alicent, even Aemond - Aegon was present. Time alone with him, however, was scarce. And, despite Alicent’s repeated assurances that his absence was merely a matter of his duty to the Realm, you began to believe the truth was much simpler.

Aegon simply did not wish to be alone with you.

Of all the things Aegon had done to, according to Alicent, bring shame upon you, none hurt quite so much as the realization that you were nothing more than an accessory to his reign.

Much like his crown, you were only there to solidify his status as king.

Despite the fondness you sometimes felt from him, you realized very quickly that Aegon did not want to be married. He had been forced to wed and you were the least offensive choice. You were nothing more than a pawn chosen by his grandsire for the strength of your house, and meant to be nothing more than an acceptable queen to stand beside the king.

Still, the realization was one you struggled to make sense of.

Affection was, at least in the beginning, a somewhat regular occurrence. Though you did not lie together, he never turned down a kiss or a soft caress of your hand. If anything, he sought those fleeting gestures out. He also seemed to favor the soft press of your hand to his thigh beneath the table - a calming gesture, offered whenever his grandsire or another council member undermined his authority - or a gentle squeeze of his hand more than anything. And, for a while, even initiated the gestures himself.

There were moments when Aegon seemed to make an honest attempt at being a husband.

Though he did not spend much time with you alone, he sometimes sat with you in the evenings as you and your ladies sipped tea. He sought your company when settled amongst a crowd, standing close and smiling every time you caught his eye. He remembered the little details you shared with him and asked about things you’d only mentioned in passing as a thousand other conversations carried on around you.

The first time you wore the green of his house, he complimented your gown and granted you a brilliant smile with each green gown that followed. When you passed him in the halls, one of you rushing to someplace else, he would always catch your eye and allow his hand to graze yours.

Thus, for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to believe the hollow reassurances.

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to believe that you truly meant something to Aegon. The bitter sting of rejection, of humiliation, that accompanied his lack of desire to see you alone - his near refusal to bed you, unless he’d drowned in his cups and found himself on the receiving end of a lecture from his mother - was rationalized away.

It was easy, for a time, for you to believe that you simply meant more to him. Whores were meant to be bedded, a way for men to rid themselves of frustration - something a king had in spades. You told yourself that Aegon’s distance was a kindness, a form of respect. Your affection meant more to him than your ability to warm his bed. And for longer than you cared to admit, you allowed yourself to believe it; to love him, despite it.

Only, the lie grew harder to believe with each moon that passed.

Gradually, the little affection Aegon seemed to hold for you began to fade and the distance between you grew. While his visits to the streets of silk were few and far between in the early days of your marriage, the longer you were wed, the louder the whispers that he’d resumed his trips grew.

With every whisper came a lecture from Alicent, from Otto, from Aemond. And with every lecture, the more eager Aegon seemed to disappear into the deepest corner of his favored brothel.

One by one, every ounce of Aegon’s affection and attention seemed to disappear. The lingering glances he’d once spared in the halls, the brilliant smiles he leveled you with when you opted to join the family for dinner, the soft caresses of your hand when he passed you in the halls; they were no more and your heart ached with each disappearance.

Soon came the day of realization; if you did not offer affection, you received none.

After the passage of seven moons, it became obvious that Aegon merely tolerated. While he may once have even liked you, with the passage of each moon, you came to realize and accept that he did not love you.

While you found yourself grateful he was not unkind to you, that he did not seem to loathe being married to you, the realization that he did not love you was one that shattered the glittering illusion you’d been clinging to so desperately. You’d hoped that he would settle, that with time he would grow to love you as you were growing to love him, but there was no use.

Every day that passed, he seemed to drift farther from you and only proved there was no sense in waiting for him to love you back. There was no point in inserting yourself into places you weren’t wanted or making gestures that went unnoticed. So, you stopped trying.

And, if Aegon noticed that you’d stopped putting in the effort he’d grown accustomed to, he did not mention it.

In the beginning of your marriage, you rarely went more than a few hours without seeking Aegon out. Even if he could only spare a moment, even if you were only at the periphery of his attention, you accepted it happily. Now, it had been two days since you last saw him.

A simple change in your routine kept you from seeing Aegon much at all these days.

Whereas you would normally walk the gardens at midday, your companions in tow and occasionally accompanied by Helaena or Alicent, you chose to spend that time perfecting your needlework instead. The walk was pushed to either early morning or afternoon - when Aegon was busy with the small council. And, as for dinner, more often than not, you ate along in your chambers. Your sister and cousin joined you occasionally, even sometimes Helaena, but your goal was to avoid Aegon and that you did.

Still, you played your part dutifully when called upon.

As requested, you stood beside him to welcome the first of the lords arriving in King’s Landing for Daeron’s six-and-tenth nameday tourney. There were a handful of lords from the Reach accompanying the Hightower host and Aegon pulled you close, standing tall with pride as they all complimented what a beautiful couple you made.

Though your heart was no longer in it, you put on your happiest face - thanking the lords whose names you would doubtlessly spend the rest of the tournament whispering to your husband before he could ask - and resisted the urge to step away from him before you were granted leave.

Embarrassment and shame now burned in the pit of your stomach, heated your skin and left an acrid taste in the back of your throat, each time you stood at his side. The glances shared between the ladies of the court, the whispers you knew would inevitably follow - blaming you for not yet giving him an heir, for not being enough to keep him from straying - needed at your already frayed nerves.

Believing that he ever loved you was foolish and you were reminded of your delusion with every pitying glance you were spared.

Now, despite the silence that stretched unbroken for nearly an hour, instead of pitying glances, you felt the weight of Aegon’s gaze upon your skin intermittently. Violet eyes observed your stillness, watching with an uncharacteristic intensity you’d never seen directed at you before, and you wondered if that was worse. However, before you could wish for an interruption - someone to step in and save you - Aegon finally placed his cup onto the table.

“What troubles you, dear wife?” Though his words were beginning to slur, there was still a coherence to his speech that sometimes surprised you. “I’ve been here a while and you’ve yet to turn a page.”

“I believe I chose the wrong volume,” you sighed. The lie fell from your lips easily - unwilling to confess that it was the weight of his attention that distracted you, his very presence that left you unable to concentrate on the words you wanted desperately to read - as you lifted your head to meet his intense gaze. His attention remained on your face, eyes searching for something, as you placed a ribbon between the pages and placed the book onto the table, far from his glass. “This one is… dull.”

“They’re all histories written by maesters,” he reminded you with a laugh that rang a touch hollow, a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Dull is expected, is it not?”

Though Aegon could be kind to you - when he so desired - and once took an interest in what interested you, you were often reminded that you had little in common. Aemond was the studious brother, well-versed in the histories and philosophy, while Aegon found it all dreadful. Where Aemond could spend days locked away in the library and never grow bored, Aegon had only read what was required of him as a boy - sometimes - and only occasionally listened when you read aloud to him in the early days of your marriage.

“Perhaps,” you allowed, after a moment of thought. “Some of the stories about the Conqueror have been interesting,” you defended, “but Aemond assured me this was a favorite of his.” With a shrug, you leaned back into the cushion of the couch and admitted, “We must have different tastes.”

Aegon laughed, a derisive sound that made you frown as his eyes flashed with an emotion you couldn’t place so quickly you almost considered it a trick of the light. He reached for his glass once more and swallowed a scoff. “Of course you do,” he exclaimed, with a touch of venom you were unused to, “you are married to me and he can barely stand to be in the same room these days.”

With a sigh, you reached for your own glass. “That’s not true,” you reminded him, though not as gently as you supposed you should have. “Aemond’s part of the small council and plans with you, not over you. He’s loyal to you.”

“All one could ask of a guard dog,” he declared, lifting his cup, though there was little bite to the insult - as if it were spoken reflexively, rather than intentionally.

“I wish you wouldn’t antagonize Aemond,” you chided, almost wincing as you heard an echo of Alicent in your words. “He means well. He’s trying to help. All of your family is.”

The moment the words left your lips, you regretted them. Though you had grown uncomfortable in his presence, you did not wish for him to leave - not really. But you could see the flicker of warmth that lingered in Aegon’s gaze, the slight fondness he still regarded you with, cool completely as you uttered your admonishment. However, before you could apologize, blame the comment on your exhaustion, Aegon stood.

“As I’m often reminded,” he scoffed, though he attempted to cover it with a smile. “I’ll leave you to your dull volume, then. Goodnight, my queen,” he bade, smile tight and not reaching his eyes.

“Goodnight, Your Grace.”

Aegon bristled at the formal title - one you’d taken to calling him earnestly, no longer in jest as it had been the first few moons of your marriage - but paused only for a moment before striding out of the room. Behind him, the doors to your chambers fell shut with a heavy noise and you were, once again, alone with your thoughts.

For a few long moments, you sat with only the crackling of the hearth to fill the quiet. Somehow, the silence felt more overwhelming without Aegon’s presence, more oppressive, and you hated that you missed him.

Though you now felt a pinprick of bitter shame in his presence, you still felt guilty any time you pushed him away. Aegon was the one who began to pull away from, to place a wall between you and dismiss your attempts at affection, but you loved him. Despite realizing the few precious moments he spent with you alone were forced upon him, you cherished them, just the same - regardless of how ill they now made you feel.

To be the center of his attention, if only for a moment, still filled you with an awful, overwhelming, lovesick feeling. It once was the highlight of your day, the bright spot in an otherwise dull pattern of needlework and gossip. Now, however, the once bright light only served to further illuminate your own foolishness.

The giddy feeling was now replaced entirely by a roiling in the pit of your stomach, a bitter nausea that heated your skin and made your head spin, and you couldn’t help yourself as you stood to pull on a heavy cloak.

Despite being queen, you often felt an afterthought. There were only a handful of guards lingering near your chambers - none directly in front of your door - as most were keeping an eye on Aegon, Helaena, Helaena and Aemond’s children, or Alicent. It was easy to slip past them undetected and trace a familiar path through the halls.

At night, the Keep was almost peaceful.

Though a few lords lingered about, and others were on their way, there always seemed to be less pressure at night. Most were too deep in their cups or too weary from a long day to pay you any mind. The guards who kept watch at night were often less steadfast than their day-shift counterparts and most ladies who sent you pitying looks - or openly lusted after your husband - were locked away in their rooms.

Wandering about the Keep under the cover of darkness had become something of a routine for you and, with practiced ease, you made your way through the labyrinthine halls to the riverwalk.

Standing in the cool night air, the breeze surrounding you and filling your lungs with the familiar salt scent of the sea, soothed a touch of the homesickness you sometimes felt. King’s Landing was not White Harbor, not even close, but standing atop the riverwalk, you were able to pretend and felt your heart begin to calm. It was the hour of ghosts, a quiet time where the full moon shed bright white light over the bay and illuminated the water below just enough for you to watch it crash onto the shore.

There was no way of knowing how long you stood there. The only real measure of the passage of time was how cold your hands had grown. However, you realized that it had been long enough for your absence to be noticed as the clink of armor approached.

“Your Grace,” Criston began, voice carrying on the cool breeze as he stopped a few steps from where you stood, “the hour grows late and the night grows cold. You should return to your chambers.”

The question was no longer where you’d gone. Criston himself was the first to find you on the riverwalk one night, shortly after Aegon summoned you to his chambers in a drunken attempt to produce an heir that left you wondering why he would willingly bed everyone but you. The question was now how long you would remain.

Despite being from the North and used to far colder nights - longing for them, even - as winter began to creep into King’s Landing, Criston seemed to allow you less and less time in the cool night air.

“Why?”

If the question was unexpected, or confusing, Criston did not let on. Instead, he stepped closer - moonlight glinting off the silver of his armor with every step - and sighed as he watched your fingers trace the smooth edge of the stone barrier. “You are the queen,” he reminded you, simply, as if it were answer enough.

“I am the queen,” you agreed, voice quiet amidst the crashing of waves. A rueful smile twisted your lips as you shook your head. “Though, it is easy to forget.”

With a quiet sigh, Criston turned to face the water and watched the waves crash silently for a long moment. There was an affinity you shared with Criston, an understanding as he knew Aegon better than most - and regarded you with an affection similar to the one Alicent held for you. He seemed to share your disenchantment with life in King’s Landing, life in the Red Keep, and did not turn to face you as he asked, “Trouble sleeping again?”

“Mm. I do not wish to rely on the maester’s dreamwine to find sleep. The cool air helps. I apologize if I’ve caused worry.” A small part of you doubted anyone else knew you were missing - certainly not Aegon, for he was likely half-conscious in the throne room or already hidden inside the walls of a brothel by now - but you felt obliged to apologize, anyway.

Criston nodded, remained silent for a beat, and then pressed for another answer - the one he truly wanted. “What troubles you, Your Grace?”

Despite yourself, you found it easy to admit your upset to Criston. If anyone understood, you supposed it was him.

“I was excited to marry Aegon,” you admitted, a mirthless laugh escaping as you lifted your gaze to the moon. “I knew little of him but when we met, I found him charming. He made me laugh and he’s handsome. When he chooses to be, he can be good. Upon meeting, I forgot why I was afraid to marry, and my mother gave me reason to believe it would be… joyous, I suppose, too marry someone like him, to live in a place like this. I imagined a life that, looking back, could have never been mine.”

“Life rarely happens the way we imagine it will,” Criston reminded you, though it was gentler than you were used to. “We live the lives the gods see fit to allow us.” Those words, though spilling from his lips, were Alicent Hightower’s and you struggled to bite back a laugh as you recognized that you both pined for someone whose love eluded you. You wondered if this was the life he imagined for himself - a Kingsguard, hopelessly in love with someone who would never love him back.

“In that case,” you began, shoulders rounding as you wrapped your arms around yourself, “I can’t help but wonder what I’ve done wrong, what I’ve done to anger the gods so.” Your voice faded to a near whisper, lost in the wind, and Criston stepped closer to hear you as you continued. “I have no children to attend to, though if I did, there would be a nurse dedicated to them. They would not being to me, but to the realm.”

Another sigh escaped your lips as you blinked back the tears stinging at the backs of your eyes. “My only friends are two members of my own family. The rest of the ladies at court all cower in fear of my goodbrother or regard me with pity because of my husband’s reputation. And my husband…” Another laugh, this one bitter and harsher than you intended, escaped as you shook your head. “My husband drowns in his cups or remains too lost in the streets of silk to even consider wanting for an heir.”

With a hand brought to your cheek, brushing away traitorous tears that fell despite your best efforts, you felt a lump of emotion form in your throat. “Why does he seem so eager to bed every woman in King’s Landing, save his own wife?” Your voice broke, betraying your hurt, and you could see Criston tense beside you - uncertain, though hurting for you. The comment lingered for a moment before you shook your head once more and cleared your throat. “I apologize, Ser Criston,” you sighed, as the realization sank in. “Please forgive my outburst. It was inappropriate and I did not mean to… Perhaps you’re right, it is time for me to retire.”

“Your Grace,” Criston began, hesitant as he always seemed to be where matters of Aegon’s indiscretions were concerned, “it is understandable that you feel this way. Your patience has been impressive. Aegon is… he is young, but he will settle. Just give him time.”

“I’ve given him nearly a year,” you declared, suddenly angry as you turned to face him. “I knew, entering into this marriage, that it was little more than a political arrangement. I am but a pawn in the games of men. But I thought I might at least find a companion in Aegon. Now, I wish it did not feel so obvious that he cares little for me. I don’t want a husband to settle for me,” you declared, stronger than you intended. “I want a husband to want me, to desire me, to care about me. Aegon, I fear, barely knows I exist.”

A moment passed in which you sought to regain control of your own temper, your own tongue, and just as quickly as your anger arrived, it began to ebb. Exhaustion replaced it and you wrapped your cloak tighter around your body as you gave Criston a rueful smile. “Some in the realm consider that a blessing.”

Without waiting for his reply, you turned and set off in the direction of your chambers.

Criston followed close behind, remaining silent as you stepped through the halls much quicker than you had earlier in the night. It was only when you approached the door of your chambers that he spoke.

“For all your concerns,” Criston began, voice low and wide brown eyes meeting yours as he held the door open for you, “know that Aegon loves you deeply. It may not be visible in the way you wish, but it is there, in his heart.”

It struck you how deeply, how truly, Criston seemed to believe the words himself. There was an earnestness in his tone, a hope that you might believe him, and you desperately wanted to. But the best you could do was offer him a sad smile. “If only that were true,” you hummed. “Goodnight, Ser Criston.”

With the heavy, wooden thud of your door closing, you found yourself blinking back tears and hoping that the coming days would distract your husband enough to give you time to gather yourself. Every whisper convinced you of something different - that Aegon could someday love you, that he had no use for you, that he meant well, that he wished he was married to anyone else - but falling apart would do you no good.

The swirling thoughts in your head, the bitterness gathering in the pit of your stomach, had you on edge but it would only hurt you in the long run. You would have time to try and make sense of it all later, after the tourney ended and the Keep once again returned to its normal state of being.

For the moment, you could only hope that Aegon himself would remain distant.

Aegon was certainly distracted by his responsibility as king. Council meetings, petitions, private meetings; all took up valuable moments he once might’ve spared for you. He wasn’t fond of any of it, though he suffered through at the behest of his mother and grandsire. Like his father, however, he found a certain joy in hosting. Feasts, tourneys, dances; Aegon enjoyed them all in a way that you and his siblings did not. Merriment pleased him as he found himself at the center of attention, amidst happy revelers and praise directed at him.

Though the tourney was being held to celebrate Daeron’s nameday, Aegon still found himself at the center of every conversation. And his youngest brother, like Aemond, allow him to do so without complaint.

And while you would have preferred engaging in conversation with the other Targaryen siblings - or, perhaps, Aegon’s Velaryon nephews, or even the ladies who pitied you - you dutifully remained at Aegon’s side as he drank and laughed and feasted with lords whose names he could barely remember.

The few ladies surrounding you remained polite, though you could see their shared glances every time Aegon’s attention drifted from you. Regardless, he remained as close to his best behavior as he could and kept his hand in yours as Lady Redwyne offered you a smile that even he could see through. Aegon squeezed your hand - in comfort, you supposed, though you refused to read into it, even as your heart leapt - as she opened her mouth.

“How are you faring in the South, Your Grace? I imagine King’s Landing is wholly different from White Harbor,” she declared, taking a sip from her glass as she awaited your answer.

“It has been an adjustment, to be sure,” you returned, as polite and pleasant as you found yourself capable after hours of cordiality with women who openly snickered at your marriage. “But it is nice to experience a change of scenery. There is no shortage of excitement in King’s Landing.”

“An understatement,” Lord Tyrell declared, laughing as he shared a conspiratorial look with Aegon that you didn’t very much like. “Though, one can assume you’re glad of the coming winter,” he continued, gesturing to the gown you wore - a lighter fabric, compared to the warmer gowns the other ladies had opted for in response to the biting chill that settled into the air.

“An understatement,” Aegon parroted, tipping his cup for a cupbearer to fill. “She’d spend all night out in the cold, staring out the water, if she could,” he revealed. “Cole has to drag her in at night,” he continued, and you felt a sharp pang of disappointment as you realized Criston had informed him of your whereabouts.

“A reprieve from the warmth of the Keep,” you agreed, smiling politely - even as you couldn’t help but wonder what else Criston had shared with your husband. “And a marvelous view of the Bay,” you continued, pulling your hand as naturally from Aegon’s grasp as you were able, unwilling to spark any questioning looks.

“A marvelous view, indeed,” Lord Tyrell agreed, a salacious smile curving his lips as his gaze dipped to the curved neckline of your gown. Though your stomach roiled at the way he glanced at you, you kept your expression neutral as he continued. “And a wondrous place to share with a child, if the gods should allow it.” A few heads turned, then, all certain of the direction Lord Tyrell intended to steer the conversation as you reached for your wine. “We are all thankful to be celebrating Prince Daeron’s nameday, but cannot help wondering when we might convene to celebrate the birth of the crown’s heir.”

Luckily, before you were forced to offer a polite response to the inquiry made countless times in such a short timespan, Daeron appeared at your side and offered a brilliant smile. “I would be honored if the queen would grant me a dance,” he declared, glancing first at Aegon for permission before offering a hand when he was granted it.

Eagerly, you grasped Daeron’s outstretched hand and allowed him to lead you into the throng of people - still within reach of the guards and within Aegon’s line of sight. “Thank you,” you sighed, allowing Daeron to take the lead with a practiced ease. “While I’ve enjoyed having so much excitement around the Keep, I’m not quire sure how you deal with all the fine people in the Reach regularly.”

Daeron laughed, violet eyes glimmering in the light and untroubled by life in King’s Landing as he moved gracefully in time with the music. You almost envied his weightlessness, his freedom, as he revealed, “Thank the Seven, my days are spent training. Conveniently, I am exhausted any time there is to be a dinner.”

With a hum, you asked, “Do you think one of the guards might train me, so I could have the same excuse?”

“No.” He twirled you, smile bright as he watched the soft green fabric of your gown shift with each motion, and kept pace with the other dancers easily. “But you’re the queen. You can do as you please.”

“If only that were true, my prince.” Despite your best efforts at levity, the statement sounded as disheartened as you felt, a note of bitterness - acrid and biting in a way you had no desire to be with the youngest of Aegon’s siblings - laced every word. However, before you could apologize, Daeron’s smile softened into something understanding.

“If only,” he agreed with a wistful shake of his head. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten what life is like here,” he admitted, not bothering to pay any attention to the others hoping to cut in. “But I do hope you can find joy in it someday.”

“Tell Aemond and I will adamantly deny I said anything,” you began, smiling conspiratorially at Daeron, “but I do believe you’re my favorite goodbrother.” When he grinned, smile bright and boyish in a way that reminded you of Aegon - painfully similar to the way he smiled at you so early in your courtship when you complimented him - you returned it with a soft smile of your own. “I’m happy Oldtown has treated you so well but very glad you’re here to celebrate with us.”

“I suggested a progress to mother and grandsire,” he announced, grin brightening when you blinked. “Aegon’s never visited the Hightower and grandsire was inclined to agree that he should. While my brother entertains Lord Tyrell and the other fine people of the Reach,” he parroted, laughing as you rolled your eyes at him, “I’ll give you a tour. Perhaps we’ll even find a few new volumes for you to bring back to King’s Landing.”

That anyone - let alone the youngest of your husband’s siblings who’d only been at court a few short days - could see that you needed a respite from the halls of the Red Keep and would advocate for it pressed a weight to your chest in a way that might’ve concerned you had Aegon not become so oblivious to your distress.

For a brief moment, the time it took for the music to change and you both to begin the new routine with practiced ease, you wondered if anyone else could see what he saw so easily or if his distance from the Keep gave him clarity others did not have.

Idly, you wondered if your husband’s family had all become so blinded by the mundane - by their own gilded cages - that your growing discomfort was simply regarded as part of the life you now lead. There was nothing anyone could do about your discomfort, nothing that could be said to Aegon that hadn’t been repeated a thousand times over. This was now your life, as it had always been their’s, so they simply allowed you to suffer in silence, as they did.

Though they tried to placate you, it was often confined to the Keep. They never gave you the freedom to wander, to disappear when the walls of your gilded cage began to close in on you, and you wondered if it was because they never considered leaving.

Regardless, you were touched by Daeron’s considerations. “I no longer believe you are my favorite goodbrother,” you announced, trying and failing to hide the emotion in your voice. “I know it for a fact.”

Daeron’s gaze softened for a moment, violet eyes alight with an understanding wise beyond his years - a kindness, an empathy ingrained in him by Gwayne, you realized - before he leaned in conspiratorially. “Let me further establish my place in your heart by promising to share word that the queen regrets her absence but fell ill with a sudden headache and decided to retire for much needed rest before the tourney begins,” he offered, and it was only then that you realized how close to the door he’d managed to guide you both.

“Well, now you’re just unabashedly courting the favor of the queen,” you teased, the words weak though the smile you offered him was genuine. “Thank you, Daeron,” you whispered, squeezing his arm in a gesture of appreciation.

“I hope your rest revitalizes you, my queen,” he bade, “so that you might attend the tourney.” His voice carried just far enough to attract the attention of the few lords and ladies surrounding you and, with a nod of acknowledgement, he allowed you to slip through the small group near the door before turning to pass along your regrets to Aegon.

Despite how exhausted you suddenly felt as you left the feast - the noise from the hall fading into a muffled cacophony with every step you took - sleep was the last thing on your mind. Since the arrival of the first lord, your days had suddenly become filled with noise, an endless, mindless stream of sound that deeply unsettled you. Though the Keep was never silent, it was mostly tolerable.

Now, however, you knew that every place you sought solace was like to be filled with lords and ladies from every corner of the realm. The gardens, the courtyard, the entire Keep swarmed with people. There was no solace to be found in your usual perch atop the riverwalk, not tonight - not after Aegon’s laughter - so you opted for a place you knew few would venture.

The library was, even in the bright light of day, usually deserted.

Very few people, aside from the maesters - and a septa or two - set foot in the dim room. Even when the Keep was filled to the brim with people, it was rare to find anyone in the darkness sifting through volumes kept in the royal collection.

As such, you were pleased to find yourself alone for the first time in hours as you lowered yourself into one of the chairs scattered about the room.

For a few long moments, you were left alone with your thoughts. There were very few that many any sense, all jumbled into a cacophony of noise that did, unfortunately, cause an ache to form at your temples. It felt as if each thought was made of smoke, impossible to catch and examine in the way you often felt necessary to make sense of them all, and you released a heavy sigh as you sank deeper into the chair and closed your eyes.

“Quite concerning how quickly your headache appeared, Your Grace. Though this is not the place to sleep it off.”

With a start, your eyes flew open and a hand lifted to your chest as you inhaled sharply.

Aemond stood in the doorway, illuminated by the dim orange glow of candlelight, and studied you with an intense understanding you’d started to grow used to. The green leather he wore looked black in the low light and you sighed as you settled.

“By the gods, Aemond,” you huffed, shooting him a look that might’ve caused anyone else to wither but seemed to have no effect on him, “you frightened me.” As he stepped into the room, moving to sink into one of the chairs across from you, you sighed. “I do have a headache,” you defended, lifting the hand from your chest to your aching temple, “and I did not intend to sleep here. I just needed a moment alone. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to check on my goodsister,” he declared, lips curving into a smirk as you rolled your eyes. “I only wanted to see that you were alright, my queen. And remind you that you shouldn’t leave accompanied. There’s no telling who might be lurking in the darkness.”

“I’m afraid you’re the only one who worries about such things. I doubt anyone else would notice my absence,” you declared, tipping your head to rest on the edge of the chair. “What are you really doing here, Aemond?”

Though your comment earned a frown, thoughtful and calculating, Aemond ignored it for the moment. “The same thing you are; escaping the mindless, drunken chatter of our king and his esteemed guests,” he declared wearily, tipping his head to study you - daring you to deny your true reason for leaving the feast.

There was nothing you could say that would convince him otherwise and, besides, you made it a habit not to lie to Aemond. He always seemed to find the truth in the end; it was easier this way. So, instead of playing coy, you simply asked, “How did you know where to find me?” When he raised a brow, you barely refrained from rolling your eyes once more. “Stupid question,” you admitted, sighing as you raked a hand over the intricate fabric of your gown in an attempt to distract yourself.

“Your absence is noticed, by more than me,” he declared, voice quiet in the still of the room.

When he offered no elaboration, you heaved a heavier sigh and asked, “Is Aegon still entertaining Lord Tyrell?”

Pursed lips served as your only indicator of Aemond’s contempt as he hummed. “Hatching a plan to escape the Keep and explore the streets of silk, no doubt,” he declared casually, only pausing to gauge your reaction. When you swallowed, he continued. “Lord Tyrell’s appetites are… notorious.”

“No more so than Aegon’s, I’d wager.” Aemond tipped his head in silent agreement as you sighed and stood. As you began to pace, a slow back and forth across the stone floor, your goodbrother’s violet eye tracked your every step as he waited for you to continue.

“I try,” you began, with a shake of your head, “relentlessly, it sometimes feels, but it all seems so pointless. I heard the whispers before we were married, there is no woman in the real that hasn’t. But I hoped, naively, that he might change when we were wed. Foolish, I now realize, but I still don’t understand why he seems so particularly… displeased with me.”

As you paused, inhaling a shaking breath, Aemond sighed. “Aegon is a fool,” he declared, strong and certain in a way you only wished you could be, “though I believe you knew that when you were wed.” Despite yourself, you cut your eyes at him - discouraging the insult, though you knew it to be true - and he repented with a tip of his head. “But you are as much a fool as he if you think he is displeased with you.”

With a frown, you continued your pacing. “What other explanation is there? I care, more deeply than I suppose I should, that he continues to spend his nights haunting the streets of silk. But it is more painful to hear the whispers at court. Those women who denigrate me, claim it is some fault of mine own that he strays - that there is no heir yet… I know I shouldn’t care, but by the gods, I do. We have lain together only a handful of times while he’s bedded every whore in King’s Landing thrice over by now. Eleven moons have passed and we have no child. I tried, in the beginning, but he’s turned me away at every chance lately.”

Another moment, another beat of silence, as you blinked back the traitorous tears that you refused to allow Aemond to see. You swallowed the emotion settling at the back of your throat and shook your head. “Do you know how humiliating it is, to know that my own husband would rather lie with every whore on the streets of silk than take me to bed? I just wish he would tell me what it is he dislikes, what displeases him, so that I might try and change it.”

Aemond sighed heavily and you could feel his intense gaze burning into your skin. You knew that if you looked at him, you would break - the dam keeping your emotion at bay would burst and tears would flood your eyes - so you kept your gaze cast to your shoes and waited, with an anxious need, for his response.

If there was anyone who might understand, anyone who might offer you the truth, it was Aemond.

As he stood, your breath caught in your throat. With only a few steps, Aemond met you in the center of the room and urged you to lift your head. “There is nothing wrong with you. If anyone needs to change, it is Aegon. You are… formidable,” he declared, unflinching as he took in the way your eyes shimmered in the dim light. “That is a compliment I do not spare lightly. Aegon, despite his foolishness, has never wanted for anything. Except, I believe, to be worthy of you."

The declaration settled over the library with a finality only Aemond seemed to possess, a certainty that nearly made you believe him without question, and the words reverberated in your mind for a long moment. Aemond granted you silence, understanding as your jumbled thoughts began to make even less sense in a desperate bid to make something of his certainty, and you inhaled sharply as you tried to follow a single train of thought for longer than a moment.

However, before you could beg for clarity - for him to speak plainly, as if he were explaining the concept to one of his children - your sister’s voice interrupted. “Apologies,” she began, sparing a glance between you and Aemond with a look you recognized as something akin to regret. “The king has asked for you to visit him in his chambers, sister. He was told you did not feel well,” she announced with a sigh, “but he insists.”

“Very well,” you acquiesced with a sigh of your own. “I can see myself to his chambers. If you could make sure a bath will be waiting for me when I return to my own, you can retire for the night.”

With a pitying look you did not much care for - especially not from your youngest sister - she nodded. “Of course. Goodnight, sister."

As she took her leave, Aemond hummed once more. “And here you thought him displeased,” he teased, lips twitch with the ghost of a smirk. “He could be perusing the streets of silk with Lord Tyrell but he wants for his wife. How touching.”

“You are insufferable,” you declared, turning to make the journey to Aegon’s chambers, though there was no heat - save for a fond warmth - in the statement.

“Yet you seek my counsel and company,” he reminded you. “If I am insufferable, it is a burden you willingly bear.”

“Gladly,” you corrected, easily. “A burden,” you confirmed, though Aemond knew you did not truly consider him one, “but one I gladly bear. Goodnight, Aemond. Bid Helaena goodnight for me, as well.”

Despite the growing resentment you felt toward Aegon, the bitter sadness that started to fill your heart, your found a sort of comfort in his family. They all seemed determined that yours would be a happy marriage, no matter the doubt you now felt, and you appreciated their efforts. Though it seemed to be something of a coping mechanism for them, brushing truth aside for something happier - something lighter, even if it was unrealistic - it brightened your considerably gloomy outlook in a way you needed.

Though you were not a Targaryen by blood, they all stood with you - sheltered you from the outside world, even if they could not shelter you from one of their own.

And as you stepped through the halls in the only vaguely familiar direction of Aegon’s chambers, you wondered if he would even be awake to greet you - a cynical thought that once would’ve never crossed your mind as you rushed to Aegon as soon as he asked.

Much to your surprise, however, he was wide awake and waiting near the foot of his bed for your arrival.

“My queen of ice,” Aegon slurred, grinning at you as you entered his chambers. The doors fell closed behind you, the hall and the guard disappearing, and you bit back a sigh as you stepped deeper into the dimly lit room. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight? Green suits you,” he complimented, though the words were broken by a hiccup and a scrutiny that you believed to be his curiosity as to whether the gown was one he’d given you.

“You have,” you assured him, though not a word of compliment had been uttered in longer than you cared to admit - the sentiment in his words now unsettling your stomach rather than setting your skin alight. You also did not bother to remind him that the green you wore was the color of your own house, not Hightower green, as you watched him pour himself another cup. “Perhaps you should rest, Your Grace. It has been a long day, filled with excitement. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“Not until I have done my duty as your husband,” he declared, before downing the contents of the cup in a long gulp. “Lost count of how many times I was asked when there might be a feast welcoming an heir to the throne.”

A small sense of satisfaction lingered for a moment - at least you were not the only one facing the repeated question. However, the satisfaction was short lived as conflicting emotions surrounding lying with Aegon began to cloud your mind.

For nearly a year, all you wanted was for him to want you. With each day that passed, you hoped - despite yourself - that he might seek you out and offer some of the affection you once received. You hoped that he might spare you the most fleeting glance, the softest touch, the smallest smile. It made you feel pathetic, but you wanted it so desperately.

Anything Aegon wished to give you, you realized you would gladly take.

However, now that he was offering you something of the affection you dreamt of each night you spent alone, the throbbing in your temples grew greater and the churning in the pit of your stomach nearly overwhelmed you. Thoughts - wondering if he would lay with you and then depart the Keep with Lord Tyrell, anyway; wondering if he might someday slip up, call you the name of one of his favored whores; wondering what might happen if you did fall pregnant, if he no longer had a reason to call for you - swirled so quickly that they stole the air from your lungs.

The room felt as if it were spinning around you and, for a moment, you felt drunker than Aegon seemed. Regardless, you could not bring yourself to deny him.

As pathetic as it made you feel, you grasped the opportunity to be closed to him with both hands.

“As you wish, Your Grace.” The acquiescence was soft, spoken in a breathless whisper to keep your voice from breaking, as you stepped deeper into his chambers. Despite the glassy sheen to his violet eyes, a flash of something dark - something angry, all too aware - flashed in them.

“I wish for you to call me anything else,” he sighed, pouring himself another cup of wine. The words were sharper than you imagined he intended, exhausted in a way you’d never heard him sound, and you felt yourself falter.

Breathing his name had once been your greatest joy. Calling him ‘Aegon’ or ‘husband,’ where others addressed him so formally, made you feel as if you had at least one piece of him others did not. Now, however, it brought you little comfort as you knew there was nothing you had others wanted for. You wondered, only for a moment, what the other women called him, before you bit the inside of your cheek to anchor yourself to the present.

There was no longer anything you possessed that was solely yours. No matter how badly your heart ached at the thought, no matter how angry it made you, there was nothing left. The only thing you could even hope for was a child born from your own body, though you knew even that would belong to the realm first, as Aegon’s heir.

With a swallow, you reminded yourself there was no sense losing the moment. Aegon wanted you, if only because he had to, and you would take it. You steeled yourself, willed yourself to remain upright and calm, and resumed your path.

“Very well, my king,” you agreed, stepping closer to the bed - unable to make yourself call him anything but. The possessive ‘my’ seemed to soften the title some, deemed it appropriate somewhere in the recess of his wine-muddled mind, and those violet eyes cooled some. They were beginning to glaze over, beginning to lose their focus, as he beckoned you closer.

Aegon drank deep from the cup, a few drops of wine escaping down his chin, and you sighed quietly as your fingers tugged at the intricate laces of your gown to keep from reaching for him. You wanted to, wanted nothing more than to reach out and brush the deep red from his pale skin, but you were uncertain how he would react.

However, before you could make much progress, Aegon pushed himself away from the bed and closed the distance between you.

Standing so close to Aegon left your heart beating wildly in your chest. You could feel it throbbing in your temples, in the balls of your feet that ached after spending the day standing to receive guests, thudding heavily against your ribcage. The scent of him filled your nose - the soaps and oils used earlier to prepare him for guests, the heady combination of wine and dragon fire that lingered on his skin - and it brought an ache to your chest.

Though it once might’ve made you swoon, brought a girlish warmth to your skin and sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach, it was now almost entirely unpleasant. As badly as you wanted this, wanted him, you also wanted to turn and run. But you kept yourself standing and schooled your face into an impassive mask as his fingers tugged at the laces.

Even drowning in his cups, he managed to make quick work of the ties that held your gown together - and, bitterly, the only thought you found yourself capable of forming was a question of how much practice that had taken.

Long ago, the first few times he’d taken you, there was some semblance of effort. Though you knew he did not want you, did not yet love you - though you still had hope then that he someday might - he tried. He kissed you softly, caressed your skin, whispered compliments in the dim of the room.

Now, he could barely keep himself upright as he helped you out of your gown.

Despite his drunkenness, Aegon still managed to remove the gown easily. The laces came undone quickly and it fell to the floor, piled into a heap around your feet. He stepped away, just enough for you to step out of the fabric and climb into his bed, before placing a knee onto the bed to follow.

Only then did he pause, seeming to remember himself. He stepped away for a moment, searching the small table near the privacy screen, and grabbed the oil the maesters had given you in hopes that it might aid the process.

A small part of you resented it - it hadn’t been necessary, in the beginning - while the larger part was thankful. It made the act more tolerable, easier to withstand, easier to pretend that the want was mutual and Aegon was not simply ‘doing his duty.’

Aegon tossed the vial onto the bed and peeled himself out of his clothes. The undershirt and breeches were tossed away, along with his small clothes, before he returned his weight to the mattress. He was half-hard, another surprise with how much he drank, and you contented yourself with watching as he reached for the vial and poured a few drops into his palm.

You were conflicted as to whether his refusal to glance at your face should be seen as an insult or a kindness as he worked himself to full hardness.

The man above you was somewhat unsteady, wobbling precariously as he climbed over you, and you had half a mind to reach out and steady him. However, you kept your hands fisted tightly in the sheets as he absentmindedly reached for your thigh with a slick hand and settled between your now spread legs.

Aegon’s eyes closed as he situated the head of his cock at your entrance, brows furrowing, and you followed suit as he pressed forward.

Unable to help yourself, a noise - louder than you would’ve liked - escaped your throat at the stretch. It had been nearly two moons since you last laid together and you couldn’t make much sense of how you felt in the moment as his weight descended upon you.

“Keep your voice down,” he slurred, shushing you - though you knew he would soon grow louder. “There’s still a feast going on.”

None of the guests would hear you, the feast was far enough away. If they did, it wouldn’t have been a bad thing - perhaps they might stop asking when to expect an heir, they might stop whispering that he refused to lie with you. But you relented and kept quiet, as he ordered.

The act itself was not wholly unpleasant, not when you relished in being the center of Aegon’s attention if only for a moment, but it was nothing like you’d hoped.

Aegon did not love you, nor did he desire you. The realization was enough to have you counting down the moments until you were allowed to return to your own chambers.

However, though the moment was less than idea, you held it dear. Despite yourself, as Aegon found a sloppy rhtzhym, you reached for him and held him close. One hand lifted to his hair, clean and soft as he’d been in the presence of so many guests and needed to keep up with appearances, while the other pressed to his chest. You could feel the beat of his heart beneath your fingertips, rapid but steady - or, maybe it was your own, echoing in your ears - and the way his chest rose and fell in search of breath.

Pleasing you was not his objective, nor was it even remotely on his mind, so you distracted yourself with watching him seek his own release.

Though you hated it, you still felt your heart beat a touch faster at the sight of him.

There was plenty of Targaryen beauty evident in Aegon - his fair hair, his violet eyes, his beautiful features - but there was something else that captivated you. Aemond was angular, fierce, serious; Helaena, soft and bright, with mournful moments of melancholy interspersed; Daeron, a mixture of both, blessed with a lingering, youthful ignorance his siblings were not granted.

Aegon, however, was something else entirely.

Even at his happiest, there was something so sad about him. His eyes, perhaps, where the smile never quite reached - holding a depth you were not privy to understanding - or the frown he wore so often when he thought no one was looking. The weight of the world rested on his shoulders, more so now than ever, but you’d long ago given up the hope that he might someday allow you to cary some of his burden.

Though the entire world had been placed at his feet, he wanted for something. If only he would tell you, you knew that you would provide it without a second thought.

In the pursuit of his own pleasure, Aegon still did not look entirely happy. There was a pinch to his brows that never quite left, a faraway look in his eyes that made your chest ache in the most unpleasant way, and a seemingly never-ending war waging in his mind as to whether he should touch you or not.

Hands, calloused from years of dragon riding - and the occasional session with a sword, though he’d long since given lose up - hovered near your skin. His violet eyes were conflicted, uncertain, and you could see his hands fluttering about before he settled on placing them near you. When he moved, his skin brushed yours and that seemed to be enough for him in his altered state. The weight of your own touch against his skin was something he leaned into, something he accepted eagerly, and you felt as if you could cry as he decided against returning the gesture.

However, you weren’t given long to dwell as his thrusts grew erratic after only a few short moments.

The time you spent together grew less and less frequent, as did the time it took him to ‘do his duty’ as your husband. With only a few thrusts, he buried himself deep and spilled inside of you, pressing himself close enough to steal the air from your lungs.

Disheveled blonde curls filled your vision as he leaned forward. Aegon stared at you, violet eyes clearly and blinking, and, for a brief moment, you felt a sliver of hope that he might kiss you.

It stung only a little when he did not.

“Gods,” he sighed,” leaning forward to press his face into the crook of your neck as he attempted to catch his breath. “You really look just like her,” he mumbled, voice slurring with sleep and wine. “Sound like her, too. And smell like her.”

Aegon breathed in deep, inhaling the scent of your hair and skin - perfumed oil doubtlessly dulled to barely any scent after a long day - as your heart began to beat even faster and your stomach clenched. A part of you had no desire to know who he imagined you were, who he pictured beneath him as he pressed his nose into your skin, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Like who?” If he noticed the shake to your voice, the way your hand trembled in his hair, Aegon said nothing as he hummed.

“My wife,” he answered, lifting his head and blinking bleary eyes at you once more, “the queen. Must be paid well.”

It was a wonder he couldn’t hear the beat of your heart as it threatened to hammer right through the wall of your chest. A thousand conflicting feelings ran through your head all at once. It was you he’d thought of, you he saw, and that was something of a balm for the ache in your heart. However, he thought you were a whore who merely looked like his wife, a whore he’d rather allow warm his bed.

A question lingered on the tip of your tongue - did he seek out one who looked like you or did he merely find your presence so improbable that he chose the most logical explanation.

Either way, he pulled out and moved away, rolling onto his back beside you. He allowed his head to fall against the pillow and muss his hair. “‘M sure there’re more than I care to imagine that want to fuck her,” he began. “That Tyrell cunt couldn’t take his eyes off her at dinner,” he huffed, eyes closing as he brought a hand up to scrub at his face. “Can’t fault him, though,” he sighed, “she’s beautiful.”

“Then why don’t you lay with her?”

The question escaped before you could consider it, before you could wonder if it was appropriate to ask, but Aegon seemed unbothered.

“Would you fuck me if I didn’t pay you?” Though the question was spoken blandly, meant to prove a point, it made your heart ache. Aegon thought so little of himself and you wondered how much a part you played in his self-doubt.

“I would, my king,” you whispered - you did, you would, if only he wanted you. “Gladly.”

“Don’t deserve it,” he declared, lips parting with a heavy sigh as he reached for the sheets to cover himself. “Leave me,” he ordered, not bothering to open his eyes and spare you another glance. “I want to sleep.”

The question of who he meant, of what he meant - who was undeserving of what? - lingered on the tip of your tongue, but rather than face his ire as he would doubtlessly turn his infamous temper upon you in the moment as he did not recognize you, you climbed out of the bed and pulled your dress on as best as you were able without the help of your handmaidens and slipped out of Aegon’s chambers.

Criston was the only guard lingering in your path - a calculated move, no doubt, to spare you further humiliation - and he dutifully cast his gaze aside as you approached your door. Any other night, he might’ve bid you goodnight, but thankfully, he remained silent as he held the door for you. You were uncomfortable and exhausted and grateful as the door shut with a soft click, plunging you into silence once more.

After bathing - alone, unwilling to allow anyone to see you after spending time with Aegon, too lost in your own thoughts and questioning your own feelings to care about propriety - you climbed into bed and waited for sleep you knew would not come.

The next morning, however, you awoke with a certain resolve. Following the night you spent with him, the questions that now lingered, you took greater care to keep yourself out of his reach.

Keeping away from him wasn’t all that difficult. Aegon had distanced himself enough that your routines were entirely different, living almost wholly separate lives despite sharing the same home. The only times your paths seemed to cross was in the middle of the day and at dinner.

Though, with the entirety of the realm now watching as you were supposed to be together for appearance sake, you were meticulous with your excuses.

The beginning of the tourney was a joyous affair, celebrated loudly by all in attendance.

With any number of events happening simultaneously, you made it known that you wanted simply to experience it all. Northern tourneys were different, you explained to anyone who asked - though all tourneys paled in comparison to those hosted by the king. This was simply an experience you wanted to remember, and Aegon encouraged your wandering.

There were but a handful of Northerners present - a few minor lords and ladies, two knights, and a handful of cavalrymen - and, while you were disappointed that your family was not among them, you were still glad to see familiar sigils. And, instead of sitting with Aegon in the royal box and watching as the tourney began, you made it a point to visit with those you knew, offering your greetings and welcome, and even a favor to the one knight who boldly asked.

Throughout the day, you wandered.

With your sister by your side, you watched the mummers and the archers, the puppets and the poets. You nursed a cup of wine and, when asked why you were not sitting with Aegon, confessed - feigning sheepishness, an emotion that earned you soft coos of delight - that you did not much care for the sport, that you worried for the knights and took no pleasure in watching them be carted off, injured.

In reality, it was Aegon’s act you did not much care for.

Without the attention of the realm placed solely on the pair of you, he might not’ve noticed your absence. It had taken him days, after all, to find you before the guests began to arrive.

However, this time, it took him only hours.

As the day crawled to an end and you found yourself stepping through the crowd to settle into your seat beside Aegon at dinner.

“Where have you been?” He frowned, paying no mind to the lord he cut off in the midst of a story. “I stopped by your chambers to escort you to dinner. You weren’t there,” he added, almost an afterthought - the words softening what he realized could’ve made you defensive, what could’ve made others suspicious.

“The bay,” you admitted, smiling your thanks at the cupbearer before sipping your wine.

Confusion wrinkled Aegon’s brow as he leaned in to get a better look at you - searching your face for any hint of a joke. “The bay,” he wondered, “why? Was the tourney not entertaining enough?”

“Lady Mormont wished to see it,” you answered, smile patient though you wished to roll your eyes. “It reminds us both a little of home.”

“There is water in the North? I thought it all miserable and frozen.”

When you frowned, incensed by the lord’s quip and the laughter that followed, Aegon sighed and reached for your hand. “It was a jest, my queen,” he soothed you. “I’ve heard stories of the beauty of White Harbor. Grandsire suggested a progress - perhaps we can go to the North and you can show it to me.”

“The Conqueror held court at New Castle three times,” you recalled, a fact you read in a book long before you married Aegon. “I’m sure my father would welcome you as my ancestors welcomed your namesake.”

“Alysanne held court there, I believe,” he declared, almost uncertainly as he glanced to you for confirmation. When you nodded, he hummed - pleased to have remembered his own history, something Aemond could have recounted with startling ease.

“A women’s court,” you confirmed, reaching for your cup with the hand Aegon left free. “I grew up hearing stories of how kind she was and how much the women enjoyed the opportunity to speak and have the queen hear them.”

Daeron, who had taken the spot occupied by Lord Tyrell the previous night, turned to you with a smile. “Perhaps it might be worthwhile to use this gathering to your advantage,” he interjected. “I know some women do not much care for tourneys. Perhaps you could hold court with them, afford them an opportunity to speak directly with the queen.”

“A marvelous idea,” Aegon agreed, squeezing your hand and smiling as he tipped his cup in his brother’s direction. “You’ve sat with me, listening to petitions before. You’re well trained,” he teased.

“Oh, how wonderful that would be,” Lady Baratheon declared, offering you a knowing smile - easily detecting the discomfort your husband so eagerly ignored. “All of the ladies could gather and share, so that you might know more about the concerns around the realm, Your Grace.”

“It’s settled, then,” Aegon concluded, smiling brightly as he nodded. “A women’s court; a perfect opportunity for my queen to become better acquainted with the women of the realm.”

Of the group, only Daeron seemed to sense your discomfort and you could see the pang of regret in his eyes as you spared him a glance. Regardless, you nodded your agreement and offered a smile to the new sets of eyes now turned to you.

“Of course. Tomorrow, then,” you confirmed, “I shall begin holding court for the women who do not wish to watch the tourney.”

In hindsight, the women’s court was, truly, a marvelous idea.

Though it was not something you wished to be put upon you without notice, there was a desire in you to take a more active role as queen. You grew bored easily, tired of needlework and idle gossip. The books you read were a nice distraction, as were the infrequent High Valyrian lessons your husband’s siblings spared you, but you needed something more.

Spending your time learning more about the plight of the women of the realm made you feel as if you were accomplishing something.

The women’s court also gave you a reason to disappear throughout the day, a reason to avoid Aegon entirely without having to explain yourself to anyone. As your mornings were spent working through the previous day’s findings and dinner was eaten alone - exhausted by the very valid concerns shared by so many women - you never needed to flounder for a reason to seek solitude.

However, that did little to stop the whispers.

From your sister - and your cousin - you heard the few whispers, those who correctly deduced your dedication as an excuse to hide from your husband. But you had little reason to believe that Aegon heard, or cared, about the whispers himself.

Until he sought you out.

On the third day of the tournament, late into the night - after the feast ended and the lords and ladies had retired for the evening - the door to your chambers flew open at the hour of ghosts.

Aegon, doublet undone and hair mussed, stormed in. His eyes were wild, violet darkened by an emotion you found yourself too exhausted to attempt to read, and his cheeks tinted pink as he stared at you for a long moment. “What have I done?”

The door to your chambers had barely swung shut when the demanding question echoed through the room.

Aegon looked less the part of king and more the part of upset husband as he began pacing before you, only pausing to glance at you incredulously when you flipped a page.

“The offense very likely depends on who is chastising you,” you declared, tone detached, uninterested - despite the unsteady beat of your heart and the sharp inhale you took great care to conceal, “your mother, your brother, or the hand. Perhaps you should ask one of them.” Your exhaustion kept you from standing yourself, from reading too deeply into the situation as you knew there would not be a satisfactory answer, but that seemed to only fuel his upset.

“The offense is yours,” he clarified, resuming his pacing as he ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “What have I done to offend you?”

With a sigh, you finally placed the book onto the table and leaned into the couch - just as you’d done only a few days earlier. It was clear that he had no plan to leave without an answer, though you found yourself at a loss for why he thought he’d offended you or why he cared. “I take it Alicent chastised you, then,” you deduced, the only logical answer as you finally lifted your gaze to watch as he stepped evenly - without the drunken sway you so often spotted. “Order the Guard to keep your trips to the streets of silk quieter and she might leave you be.”

Violet eyes narrowed as his brows furrowed in frustration - he seemed more upset that you weren’t listening than by the thought of causing offense.

“This has nothing to do with my mother,” he insisted, stopping to take a seat in the same chair he’d occupied only days earlier. Now, instead of waiting in silence for you to acknowledge him, his intense stare was accompanied by a frustrated frown. “I’ve done something to offend you but I don’t know what. Tell me, so I can fix it and apologize.”

For a moment, you simply stared at him, attempting to make sense of his sudden line of questioning, his sudden interest in you - in whether he’d offended you, when you both knew he’d spent nearly a year doing little else. If Alicent had not chastised him, if Aemond or Otto or even Criston hadn’t pressed upon him the importance of soothing your aching heart, why did he seem so rattled?

“If your no one has reproached you,” you finally began, words slow and deliberate, your confusion evident, “what makes you think you’ve done something to offend me?”

Aegon huffed a frustrated sigh as he gestured to where you sat, glass of wine, a stack of papers, and a book on the table. “You’ve been avoiding me. This is the first I’ve seen of you in days.”

With a sweeping glance around your chambers - at the papers and the book, at the gown waiting to be worn for the next day of court - you blinked at him. “I’ve been entertaining the ladies of the realm,” you reminded him, words still escaping slowly, evenly, even as you raised a brow at the way his knee bounced. “We decided to hold women’s court, like Good Queen Alysanne. I believe you called it a ‘marvelous idea’.” Aegon huffed at the reminder, incensed by your response, and you sighed. “The ladies are glad to spend the day unburdening themselves. I’ve been working through their concerns,” you explained, gesturing to the stack of papers, “discerning which are in need of further attention and which can be solved without the crown’s intervention.”

A moment of silence passed in which Aegon scrutinized the papers before he huffed once more and stood, resuming his pacing. “You’ve been avoiding me long before guests began to arrive,” he declared, nearly startling you as you hadn’t realized he’d noticed. As you blinked, surprised, he shot you a look, something angry - wounded, almost - and shook his head. “Don’t deny what we both know to be true."

“You’ve been busy.” Deflecting blame to him was not how you intended the conversation to go, not when you could see him bristle at the acknowledgement you had, indeed, been avoiding him. So, you added, “I did not wish to add more of a burden.”

Aegon sighed, a defeated sound that you’d never heard, and sat once more. He seemed to consider reaching for the flagon of wine, perhaps even stealing your cup, but thought better of it as he settled into the chair.

Silence enveloped you both for a long moment, thick and unbroken by even the faintest of sounds outside your chambers - by design, you assumed, as Aegon seemed intent on understanding why you’d been avoiding him, for reasons you could not fathom - and you nearly allowed yourself to ask why he seemed so desperate for an answer, when it was he who began the whole ordeal.

Violet eyes studied you, settled on your face and searched for something - anything - in lieu of an answer to an unspoken question, a question even he couldn’t seem to form. You nearly shrank beneath the intensity as Aegon finally uttered, “You are my wife. Nothing about you is burdensome.”

Though the words were soft, sincere in a way you did not expect, you found yourself unable to stop the bubble of laughter that erupted from your throat. “A relief.” The comment was biting, sarcastic in a way you’d never been with Aegon, and he frowned - wounded, violet eyes sad - as he regarded you.

“You do not believe me.” It was not a question and the realization seemed to do little to settle him.

Aegon was not someone you spoke openly with, not someone you shared your feelings with, but you couldn’t help yourself. Exhaustion set in and your desire for propriety was long gone. Instead of feigning acceptance, you simply reached for your wine and offered him a sad smile. “I often feel my presence is little more than a burden your family insists you bear.”

“That’s not true.” A near whisper, though the declaration held far more conviction than you ever imagined Aegon capable of. The hurt was no longer prominent in his sad eyes, replaced, instead, by disbelief - anguish, nearly, that you believed your words to be true. “Surely, you don’t believe that.”

Eager to move on, to keep from sharing your innermost feelings with Aegon in a way that you would surely come to regret when he drunkenly spilled them to the entirety of the realm, you shook your head. “It does not matter what I believe,” you declared, waving a hand to rid yourself of the conversation. “I fear there are more pressing matters at hand than my feelings. Court has been… enlightening.”

For a moment, you feared Aegon may not allow you to move on - that he may dwell on the subject until you broke, shed the tears that stung at the backs of your eyes. He seemed eager to push, to argue, but after a nearly uncomfortable stretch of silence, he finally asked, “What have you learned?”

The question was hollow, detached, and you nearly apologized. Instead, you turned your attention to the stack of notes on the table.

“Every solution the crown offers only seems to create a dozen more problems,” you related, sighing as you poured more wine before nudging the cup across the table toward him. “For every petition answered, a dozen more appear in its place.”

Aegon sighed, momentarily redirected, and reached for the cup with a nod of thanks. “We’re learning the same things, then,” he announced, rubbing at his eyes. “There is not enough grain or land or livestock. The winters are too cold, the summers too harsh, boundary stones are being moved and duels are breaking out over cows grazing on the wrong grass.”

The complaints were similar to the ones you heard, though yours were more nuanced - filled with heartbreaking accounts of cruelty and anger.

“The men are cruel, taxes too high, inheritance laws unfair; I’m sure we’re hearing similar stories.”

“The men are cruel?” Aegon frowned, hand pausing midway to his mouth as he blinked, uncertain as to what you meant.

“Mm. The men share the complaints about taxes, I’m sure, and maybe inheritance laws, but the women have unique concerns,” you explained, brushing a hand across your nightgown in an effort to distract yourself. “Alysanne decreed an end to the First Night but it seems the decree only held for royal or highborn women. Lesser ladies only escape the ritual if they have a kind husband. And inheritance laws mean second or third or even fourth wives are left with nothing if a husband dies, unless she or her husband has kind relatives.” Aegon frowned as he returned the cup to the table and shifted in his seat to get a better look at you. “Marriage is a political alliance for most,” you informed him, though you assumed he already knew. “But, for others, it’s a means of survival.”

“Gods,” Aegon sighed, “what did my father do all those years? Nothing seems to have changed. It’s all fucking miserable.” He leaned forward, placing his head in his hands for a brief moment, before he returned his gaze to you. “They told you all of this?”

“They did,” you confirmed, sighing as you clasped your hands together to keep from reaching for him. “I believe they just wanted someone to listen.” For a moment, you simply studied him - your gaze sweeping across his face, eagerly drinking in the soft look in his eyes - before you laughed, a soft sound lacking mirth. “I suppose I am lucky,” you confessed, standing to begin your journey to Alicent’s chambers for your nightly tea with her, Helaena, and the children.

“You’re married to the king,” Aegon surmised, standing to follow - to head for his own chambers, or perhaps out of the Keep.

“No.” With a shake of your head, you paused to meet his eyes. “I would be just as happy as a lady,” you confessed, watching as he frowned. “I am lucky because, even though you do not love me, you are at least kind to me. That is more than I could have asked for, more than most women hope for.” Aegon blinked, violet eyes going wide as his lips parted in preparation to respond, but you gave him a tight smile. “It’s alright,” you assured him, straightening your robe. “I’ve accepted my fate and am grateful for your kindness. I would not ask more. Goodnight, Your Grace.”

With quick steps and a racing heart, you left Aegon standing in the middle of your chambers with blinking eyes and parted lips. There would be time later to dwell on how much you said, how awful you felt for confessing such a thing, but you did not imagine it would be before the tourney ended.

However, you were surprised to find a request from Aegon the next morning - the king wished for you to join him in his chambers to break fast, as early as you were ready.

The request itself was odd - in the eleven moons you’d been married, you’d only broken fast together once or twice, and always after Aegon woke. Part of you feared you’d offended him, that you might finally become acquainted with his infamous temper, while the other part feared the rats shared your conversation with Alicent and this was her doing. There was little you could do to calm your racing heart as you considered both possibilities, neither pleasant and neither comforting.

Either way, you hurried through your morning routine. A part of you wanted to make him wait, to take your time or even send your regrets with the excuse that you had other plans. The greater part, however, knew it was better to get the whole ordeal over with and pushed you to your way to Aegon’s chambers - skin alight with an unfamiliar warmth as you did so.

Though you half expected to find Aegon still asleep, he was stood - pacing, silver hair clean and brushed - waiting.

As you entered, heart thundering in your chest, Aegon stopped in his tracks. “Good morrow, my queen,” he greeted with a tentative smile and an outstretched hand. “How did you sleep?”

Without thought, you accepted Aegon’s outstretched hand and allowed him to guide you to the table. He pulled out the chair beside his own, one you’d never before occupied, and gestured for you to sit. As you did, you noticed that the table held most of your favorite foods - items you normally requested for your own morning meal - and you nearly forgot the question as you turned to meet Aegon’s gaze.

With a great effort, you attempted to mask the confusion you felt. “Fine,” you assured him, offering a smile you hope he believed real. “And you?”

Undeterred by the obvious concern in your tone, Aegon nodded. “Fine,” he parroted, reaching for the tea to pour you a cup. “No wandering in the night for you?”

A confused curiosity filled you, settling into the pit of your stomach alongside a sinking feeling you couldn’t quite make sense of. There was no reason for Aegon to care - none that made sense to you, anyway - but being at the center of his attention, if only for a moment, sent your heart soaring.

So, with a rueful laugh, you shook your head and decided to humor him. “No, not last night.” Aegon hummed as he offered you a piece of fruit - your favorite, though you weren’t sure if he remembered it from the early days of your marriage or if a servant simply filled the table with things you liked - as you continued. “It seems some of the lords and ladies wished to see the riverwalk after I spoke so highly of it. They are curious what it is that calls to me.”

Aegon winced, his violet eyes flashing with regret as he sighed. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” he declared, eyes cast down and lips curved into a frown. “I did not mean to…”

With a tight smile, you nodded. “I know,” you assured him. He’d been drunk, caught up in conversation with Lord Tyrell - who seemed to bring out the worst in him - and you did not blame him. Not entirely. “It’s for the best, anyway,” you continued, shrugging. “Alicent has chided me relentlessly for wandering about alone so late. I do not wish to face another of her lectures. I suppose I’ll just read, instead.”

The pair of you shared an understanding laugh - though your lectures were, doubtlessly, far kinder than any Aegon had ever received - before his thoughtful frown returned.

For a moment, Aegon allowed his searching gaze to sweep across your skin. There was a question written on his face, one he seemed unable to articulate, that he sought an answer to. Finally, he asked, “The reason you wander, is because you can’t sleep?” When you sighed, sipping your tea instead of denying what he now realized to be true, Aegon’s frowned deepened. “Is it the sound of the water or the cool air you seek, on the riverwalk?”

When he affixed you with wide eyes, a look that begged for the truth, you sighed. “The sound is soothing, but I wish for the cool air, more than anything. I leave my windows open when I can but as the air grows colder, someone will catch a glimpse and I am scolded - reminded by the maesters again and again that I could fall ill any time a breeze blows. It’s as if they forget I’m from the North.”

At your indignant huff, Aegon laughed - a soft sound that you’d missed dearly - before his thoughtful frown returned. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

Aegon’s concern left you mildly unsettled, confused, as you searched for an appropriate answer.

“We married in winter,” you finally reminded him, shrugging lightly. “I slept well enough then and we haven’t spoken about it since.” We haven’t spoken much at all since went unsaid but Aegon’s wince assured you he heard it, just the same. “It does not matter anyway,” you continued, “as there’s nothing to do but wait for cooler weather. I’m growing used to the heat. I wander a bit, cool off, and return to my chambers. Ser Cole was the only one to notice my absence. If he hadn’t said anything, no one would’ve known.”

“I’m sorry.”

The apology caught you entirely off guard and you found yourself turning to face Aegon with a frown. “What for?” With a laugh, you reached for your cup once more. “You’re the king, but you cannot control the weather. I will just savor the cool air whenever it appears.”

“I did not even know you wandered until Cole told me,” he confessed, swirling the cup of tea in his hand. His brows furrowed in frustration - though, you could tell it was not directed at you as he huffed. “I should’ve known you were not sleeping.”

With a sigh, you shook your head. “Just as you cannot control the weather, you cannot expect to know my every waking move. There are more important things to concern yourself with.”

“I’m your husband. You are my most pressing concern,” he declared, words soft - guilty. “I should know all there is to know about you.” Before you could argue - something Aegon could see written clearly on your face - he continued. “The next time you find yourself unable to sleep, perhaps I could wander with you. I do not enjoy the cold but I will brave it with you,” he offered, a hopeful smile lifting the corner of his mouth as wide violet eyes met yours.

A spiteful comment lingered on the tip of your tongue - certainly, if you are in the Keep and not lost in the streets of silk - but you swallowed it with a sip of tea. “Of course,” you agreed easily, though you had no intention of seeking him out when sleep inevitably refused you once more.

Sleep would only be harder to find when coupled with disappointment.

Regardless of your intention, Aegon seemed settled by your easy agreement. Assured - of what, you were uncertain - he turned the conversation to the remaining days of the tourney and began to eat as you began to worry.

Though all you’d wanted for nearly a year was Aegon’s attention, having it in spades made you overwhelmingly suspicious. There was little about the situation that brought you joy or comfort. If anything, it set you more on edge than you’d been since stepping foot into the Keep.

There was a part of you - the rational, pragmatic part - that understood. Aegon wanted to keep up appearances. Alicent and Otto had spent much of his life instilling in him the importance of maintaining an image. What happened in the privacy of the Keep when the crowds departed did not matter, so long as they all believed the happy facade put on for their benefit.

It made sense, then, why he insisted on breaking fast with you - so the lords and ladies would see you depart from his chambers - and why he insisted on escorting you to dinner. It even made sense to you why his hand found yours when you were amongst the crowd of revelers at dinner.

The part that worried you, however, was the attention he paid you when no one was looking.

Just as he had in the beginning of your marriage, Aegon’s hand brushed yours in passing as he went his way while you went your own. Throughout the day, you felt his intense gaze on you - searing into your skin across a crowded room, across the field as you spoke with the ladies of the realm when he should’ve been watching the tourney. And when night fell, he escorted you back to your chambers after dinner and sat with you, sometimes without so much as a word shared, until you deemed it time for bed.

For two days, Aegon paid more attention to you than he had over the course of your entire marriage - all without drowning in his cups.

And by the final day of the tournament, you found yourself utterly exhausted.

Being surrounded by people - those who meant well and those who certainly did not - was enough of a discomfort. The sometimes curious, sometimes accusing, sometimes pitying gazes of the lords and ladies of the realm set you on edge. But attempting to make sense of Aegon’s sudden burst of attention was what kept you awake at night.

Every reason you considered made little sense.

Initially, you assumed it was Alicent’s doing. However, the moment she expressed her surprise at Aegon’s sudden change of heart, you found yourself more perplexed. She seemed assured, however, certain that her eldest son was finally settling, and rejoiced at the sight of Aegon escorting you to the gathering of women two mornings in a row.

Aemond also seemed surprised, though his was better hidden than his mother’s as he watched Aegon offer you a hand to pull you into the fray of dancing bodies. And your assumption that it was he who’d spoken with his brother vanished into thin air the moment his violet eye met yours - a question of ‘what’s happening’ dancing curiously in it.

All logic failed you, each conclusion vanished as quickly as it arrived, and you found yourself confused and alone - away from the madness so that you might catch your breath and think.

However, you were not left alone for very long.

Without warning, no guard and no crowds of people vying for his attention, Aegon approached you as you sat far from the madness of the tourney.

The Conqueror’s crown glimmered atop his head, silver and ruby shimmering in the sunlight, and he looked the part of king. Royalty suited him, you decided - his features regal, his poise now unencumbered by drink as he’d done his best to remain sober in your presence - though you kept the thought to yourself as you bit back a sigh at his presence.

Aegon had taken to asking you what was wrong - a question he took seriously, as he attempted to remedy whatever it was that bothered you - but you turned to him before he could.

“What does it feel like?” The question was asked in desperation, a deep-seated desire to turn the conversation away from yourself - a need to return to some semblance of normalcy, despite his newfound attention - and Aegon’s brows furrowed. “Riding a dragon,” you elaborated, gesturing to Sunfyre in the distance. His prized dragon had been brought from the Dragonpit to be seen, marveled at; the most beautiful dragon in the realm, the king’s pride. “I’ve asked Aemond and Helaena, even Daeron,” you confessed. “They all say the feeling is indescribable.”

For a moment, Aegon regarded you with a smile - something bright and true, genuinely happy; something you saw little of in him - before he turned to glance at his golden dragon. “Do you want to try it,” he began, stepping closer and tipping his head to meet your eyes, “find out for yourself?”

With a hollow laugh, and a touch of fear at the prospect, you shook your head. “A beautiful thought, to be sure,” you acknowledged, “but if I stepped closer, I fear I would only learn what death by dragon fire feels like.”

Unbothered, Aegon stepped even closer - his arm now brushing yours. “If you stepped closer to Vhagar, surely, but Sunfyre is less inclined to violence,” he teased, sparing his dragon an admiring glance. “He listens well and will take to you, so long as you are with me.” When you frowned, uncertain, Aegon smiled softly and reached for your hand. “I should’ve introduced you sooner,” he hummed, apologetic as he squeezed your hand, “but we will just have to make up for lost time.”

Slowly, carefully - for your benefit, you realized, as Sunfyre seemed entirely aware of Aegon no matter how he moved - your husband guided you across the field to where Sunfyre rested. The keepers offered you both polite greetings before stepping aside to allow Aegon to interact with his dragon, unbothered.

Though his commands were nowhere near as sharp as the ones you’d heard from Aemond, nor as fluid as those you’d heard from Helaena, Aegon’s word still struck a chord with Sunfyre. His High Valyrian was clumsy, almost broken, but Sunfyre still responded just as eagerly as the others - if not more so - as the great beast made a rumbling noise and nudged Aegon in the chest.

Aegon cooed, returning the greeting happily as he offered the dragon a few soft strokes of his hand, and you felt a smile curve your lips - in spite of the thundering of your heart at your proximity to such a fearsome creature.

“Give me your hand,” Aegon urged, turning his head to glance at you when Sunfyre settled and turned a great eye upon you. “He trusts you because I do.”

With a tentative step, you moved closer to Aegon. He accepted your outstretched hand eagerly, tugging you closer, and placed a steady and on your waist. Every inch of your skin felt warm - from the great breaths Sunfyre took, warm air billowing around you; or from the heat of Aegon’s body pressed to yours, unfamiliar and easily stealing the breath from your lungs as his hand stroked your waist to calm you.

Aegon tipped his head to offer you a reassuring smile before turning his attention to Sunfyre once more. With a few quiet words - mostly in Valyrian, though a few words in the common tongue caught your ear - Sunfyre lifted his large head and repeated the affectionate gesture he’d shown Aegon.

A noise resembling a purr escaped the large beast and, with Aegon’s hand still clasping yours, your hand was pressed to his scales.

For a single, nerve wracking moment, you waited - half-afraid Sunfyre might turn on you, temper as unpredictable as his rider - but when he simply leaned into your touch, you exhaled slowly. “He’s beautiful,” you whispered, voice awed as your fingers trailed lightly across the warm patch of golden scales. “And so warm.”

The moment Aegon’s hand released yours, it fell to your waist as his chin rested atop your shoulder. Sunfyre rumbled another pleasant noise, as if he understood the compliment, and you laughed. “See? Nothing to fear.”

“You are well matched, I believe,” you nearly whispered, as if Aegon had not spoken at all. “The most beautiful dragons in all the realm.” The compliment escaped without your notice, unintentional, but Aegon’s hands squeezed your waist gently as he inhaled just a bit too sharp.

“He is beautiful,” Aegon agreed easily, reaching out to stroke the scales just above where your hand rested - thankfully sidestepping your compliment of him. “He’s also quick and loves to soar over the sea, something that reminds me of you.”

Sunfyre released another contented noise, happily basking in the attention, as you hummed thoughtfully. “The view must be incredible,” you whispered, still in awe of the beautiful creature before you. “I’m not sure how you find the strength to return to the ground.”

“It helps to have something worth returning for.” Aegon’s declaration was soft, as was his gaze as violet eyes fell to you. “Do you want to see for yourself? You’ll be safe, I promise. There is nowhere safer, in fact.”

The prospect of riding a dragon set your heart beating overtime once more and brought butterflies to your stomach. It was terrifying - and tantalizing - and you could not understand why Aegon offered. Still, you tipped your head and offered him a playful smile. “Do not let Vhagar hear you,” you teased, voice nowhere near as strong as you hoped it would be. “She might take offense.”

“The old beast is asleep in a field, she couldn’t hear me if I stood right next to her.” Aegon grinned at you - expression brightening considerably when you laughed - before he stepped away. His hands left your waist but grasped your own, fingers intertwining with your own, as he guided you to the rope connected to Sunfyre’s saddle. “Come, my queen. We won’t be missed.”

A lie - his absence would be noticed immediately - but you said nothing.

Conflicting feelings swirled in the pit of your stomach as you allowed Aegon to help you climb into the saddle. There was fear - a natural instinct, when faced with the prospect of riding a dragon - and doubt, uncertainty as to your safety. There was concern, an ever-present wonder as to why Aegon seemed so intent upon getting you to bond with his dragon. There was worry, a curiosity as to why Aegon was acting the part of husband you so desperately wanted.

But, above all else, there was an overwhelming happiness.

Excitement coursed through your veins as Aegon helped you situate yourself in the saddle, despite your dress not being appropriate riding gear. Warmth coursed through your veins as he settled in behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and offering you a bright smile as you turned your head to glance at him.

The reason why mattered so little when it felt so intoxicating in the moment.

Though the question danced on the tip of your tongue - more of a demand, a need to know what had changed - you kept quiet as Aegon spared a few words for Sunfyre.

With an eager rumble, the dragon began to stand.

“Ready?”

Before you could answer - nod your agreement or beg to be returned to the ground - Aegon shouted a command you couldn’t understand. The golden beast took a few steps forward before bolting toward the sky, clearly as eager to fly as his rider.

As you hurtled toward the sky, your heart leapt into your throat and making any noise at all seemed impossible.

Though you would’ve agonized over the decision any other time, there wasn’t a single thought in your mind as you reached for Aegon’s arm. You held - perhaps too tight, you realized, as your nails bit into the leather of his riding jacket - and held your breath as the burnt, fading colors of foliage began to give way to the white stone of the city and then the dark water of the bay.

Cool air rushed around you, growing cooler the higher you climbed, and you delighted in the contrast of it biting at your skin as Aegon’s warmth bled into your back.

Part of you wanted to close your eyes, to savor the feeling of weightlessness as Sunfyre began to level out and soar above the water, while the rational par demanded you keep them open and drink in the sight of King’s Landing from above.

There was no guarantee you would have another opportunity to witness the beauty below you.

The city you’d grown to early loathe - the streets of silk that claimed your husband, the stench that sometimes wafted through your open window - was undeniably beautiful atop Sunfyre’s back. A thousand thoughts ran through your mind, though none seemed to provide an adequate description of the beauty below you.

Rather than attempt to speak, you simply breathed deeply and reveled in the quiet.

Atop Sunfyre, everything you’d spent nearly a year agonizing over seemed to fade into nothing. It all seemed so trivial, so meaningless, when the world was so vast and beautiful.

For a moment, you understood what your husband’s siblings meant - there was certainly no other feeling in the world that could compare to the experience at hand.

As you caught your breath, lungs filling entirely for the first time since leaving White Harbor, Aegon remained quiet behind you. For the first time, his silence was entirely comfortable - not something to be wary of, not something for you remedy. It was blissful, a shared joy, and you appreciated it.

Aegon’s chin rested atop your shoulder once more, blonde curls brushing your skin, and as you glance out at the dark water, you were nearly convinced it was all just a beautiful dream.

Having Aegon so close, his affection flowing so freely - his attention so rapt, so complete - was al you’d wanted for longe than you cared to admit. However, now that you had it, you were uncertain of what to do with it. You remained suspicious, concerned there was some sort of string attached to his affection, but a he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, you felt your concern begin to melt away.

It had been so long since Aegon kissed you, so long since he offered any kind of affection, that you couldn’t help yourself.

With a turn of your head, your gaze met his. As Sunfyre soared, you felt your heart begin to beat just a touch faster when Aegon leaned to press his mouth to yours. The kiss was soft, nearly chaste, and you could feel the familiar ache in your chest at the gentle nature of it. There was something so intimate about the gesture, something that meant more than all the attention in the realm, and you struggled to blink back your tears as Aegon broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to yours.

Everything around you ceased to exist with those violet eyes trained on yours.

Sunfyre rumbled a pleased noise - something bright and joyful - and Aegon smiled as he tipped his head to glance at the golden dragon. With your husband distracted, you swallowed the emotion lingering in the back of your throat and held tight to the saddle as the flight continued.

Just as you’d imagined, there was little desire to return to the ground - to the life that awaited you both, the crowds of people seeking your company, the expectations that overruled your happiness - but with a single command from Aegon, Sunfyre began to descend all too soon.

Though the flight had been short, nothing more than a quick trip around King’s Landing, it meant the world to you.

And when you landed, your feet firmly on the ground and Sunfyre returned to the keepers, Aegon’s expectant gaze met yours. “Well,” he began, smile knowing, “what did it feel like?”

“I fear I owe your siblings an apology. It was truly indescribable,” you admitted, heart still pounding in your chest - though you weren’t certain if it was from the adrenaline or the way Aegon was looking at you, bright eyes so intent on your face. “King’s Landing is beautiful from above. And I believe Sunfyre is the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen.”

“Dragon, certainly,” Aegon agreed easily, stepping closer and bringing his hand to your waist. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

The compliment was nothing more than flattery, almost certainly untrue - he’d spent his nights with Lyseni women whose beaut was famed - and shattered the moment entirely. Reality crept back in, startling you back into your own body, and drew the tears you’d been keeping at bay since the kiss.

With a shake of your head, you attempted to pull away from him as you lifted a hand to brush at your cheeks. “Aegon,” you whispered, voice cracking as you addressed him by name for the first time in several moons, “please, don’t.”

Like a strong wave, every emotion you’d felt over the course of your marriage crashed into you.

Each feeling was stronger than the last, shattering your resolve with astounding ease, and you could see the flash of panic in Aegon’s eyes as he stepped closer. The nudge you offered in response was weak, nowhere near strong enough to dissuade him, and Aegon ignored the gesture completely as he began to guide you back to the Keep.

Neither of you wanted the moment to be witnessed - Aegon did not wish for his mother’s ire, as she knew your tears were his fault, nor did he wish for more speculation on behalf of the realm; you did not wish for more pitying gazes - so you allowed him to steer you through the halls without complaint.

Aegon guided you through the halls of the Red Keep, stepping without thought in the direction of his chambers. However, before he could turn down the hall leading to his door, he seemed to think better of his destination. Instead, with a few retraced steps, he turned and guided you to your own chambers.

The moment the door shut behind you, effectively sealing you both away from the realm, Aegon did something he’d never before done - he wrapped both arms around your waist and held you tight to his chest.

It was a clumsy gesture, almost uncertain, and crushed your arms to your body, but you appreciated it, just the same. His proximity did little to stop the tears that spilled, though you pleaded with your body to offer you some sort of respite, and Aegon made a broken noise as his own eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“Please, don’t cry,” he whispered, voice quiet in the still of your room. “I’m sorry.”

Despite yourself - despite the truth you both saw plainly - you shook your head. “Not your fault,” you denied, reflexively.

Aegon scoffed, wholly disbelieving, as he shook his head. “It is,” he acknowledged, tipping his head to press his forehead to yours the moment you glanced at him. “I have not been the husband you deserve. I have been no husband at all.”

For a moment, he seemed to falter - uncertain, unused to such emotion - before he lifted a hand to cup your cheek.

“I wanted to spare you,” he admitted, so earnest it made your chest ache. “This place, this life; it seems to make everyone fucking miserable. My mother was happier before she was queen, Helaena is happier when she is far from King’s Landing. There is no joy to be found here. I didn’t want to subject you to the same misery.”

The sincerity with which Aegon spoke struck you. He truly seemed to believe it - truly believed that he was sparing you - and you couldn’t help the fresh wave of tears that fell.

“As noble as your intentions may have been, I am here,” you reminded him, voice thick with emotion. “There is no sparing me, not when our lives were intertwined in front of the realm and in the eyes of the gods. It might be enjoyable if we sought happiness in one another.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever made anyone happy,” he confessed, voice a pained whisper, “as a son, a king; certainly not as a husband.”

“You have made me happy,” you asserted, brows furrowing. When he frowned, disbelieving, you gestured to the embroidery of Sunfyre adorning his doublet. “Soaring over the city with you on Sunfyre was the most joy I’ve felt in all my time in King’s Landing and I felt it because of you. The first few moons of our marriage, you were kind - affectionate, present - and that made me happy. The past few days, you’ve been kind again, you’ve been with me, and my heart felt as if it might burst. Being with you made me happy, Aegon.”

Aegon’s eyes fell shut, his breath stuttering as he shook his head slightly. “I know less about being a husband than I do about being king,” he confessed, violet eyes glassy as they reopened. “I’m afraid I’ll only disappoint you.”

“You’ve never been a husband, nor have you been a king, just as I have never been a wife or a queen,” you reminded him, tone gentle. “I also know little of either role but I want to learn. With time, both will become easier, but learning together would make me happy. I don’t want perfection, Aegon. All I want, all I have wanted, is you.”

“And I you,” he agreed, quickly - easily, his hand squeezing your hip. “I am not too late, then?”

“I’ve spent the last few moons wishing to hate you,” you confessed, lifting a hand to caress his cheek - your heart aching in your chest as he flinched, expecting a blow instead. After a moment, he leaned into the caress and you struggled to keep yourself from crying once more. “I wanted nothing more than to feel indifferent, or even angry, in your presence. But all I’ve wanted is your love. I’ve taken what little of you you would give but I want all of you. I fear it will never be too late, not when my heart belongs entirely to you.”

“How can you love me, after all I’ve done?” Sad violet eyes met yours, downcast and filled with a self-loathing you understood all too well, as he leaned into your touch.

“Because love is irrational. It lives in the heart, not the mind, and my heart has been yours for a long while.”

“I don’t deserve this,” he whispered, “I don’t deserve you.”

The whisper sharpened the ache in your chest, made your heart hurt for Aegon, as you caressed his cheek. Your thumb brushed away a few errant tears, brushed the dark circles beneath his eyes, as you studied him. His drunken words, whispered in the dim of his chambers, returned to you and you sighed as you met his eyes. “You do. You deserve love, Aegon.”

The declaration hung in the air for a long moment, lingering between you in a silence that seemed to stretch endlessly, before Aegon moved. He surged forward, eager to press his mouth to yours in another kiss.

This kiss, unlike the soft display atop Sunfyre, was desperate. It brought forth every emotion you both struggled to make sense of and stole the breath from your lungs. It was searching, starving, and you allowed it to consume you completely as Aegon’s grip on your waist grew tighter and you hand moved to tangle in his hair.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the turn you day would take, for the onslaught of Aegon’s desperate affection, for the sheer force of his kiss, but you surrendered to it without thought.

Even as your lungs burned with the need for air, as your chest ached and your skin felt as if it were blistering, you refused to part from him. And, to your surprise, Aegon seemed just as reluctant.

Each breath was stolen with lips only inches apart, with violet eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

Whereas affection had been nonexistent for so long, it seemed as if the dam had broken and you were both desperate for some semblance of the other’s love.

Despite Aegon’s emotional whispers, his open display of concern, you could feel the doubt lingering in the back of your mind as he walked you backward. While he navigated your room with an ease that should’ve surprised you, you wondered what might happen in the aftermath.

How long would Aegon’s affection last before you were left alone again?

As if sensing your hesitation, Aegon broke from the kiss and pressed his forehead to yours as you approached your bed. He took a moment to breathe - to allow you to breathe - before he whispered another apology. “I can’t change what I’ve done,” he acknowledged, “how I’ve treated you. But I can be better. I will be.”

Before you could speak - and say what, you did not know - Aegon recaptured your lips in another searing kiss.

With a practiced ease, he unlaced the ties of your gown - Hightower green, laced with the gold of his dragon - and brushed the fabric from your shoulders.

Unlike the night of the feast, Aegon took a long moment to study you as you stood before him in only your small clothes. And when you attempted to cover yourself - arms stretch across your chest, your stomach, your hips - Aegon gripped your wrists.

“Please, don’t hide from me. I want to see you.”

Wide violet eyes met yours, so sincere in their desire, and you found yourself unable to deny him. With a nod, you relaxed your arms - allowing them to fall to your sides when Aegon released you - and he hummed, a pleased sound that warmed you from within.

Though you only laid together a handful of times, and though Aegon had been attentive in the beginning, no experience compared to the one at hand.

There was a desperation in his touch, an eagerness you’d never before witnessed, and your breath grew harder to catch as Aegon crowded closer. His lips - chapped, but warm and not entirely unpleasant - pressed to every inch of skin he could find; your cheek, your chin, the column of your throat, your shoulder. He inhaled deeply and laughed, a surprised sound, as his gaze lifted to meet yours.

“You stink of dragon,” he teased, eyes glimmering with a mirth you’d missed - a lighthearted joy you hoped would remain - as his words recalled the words you leveled at him in the early days of your marriage. “It suits you, my queen.”

“A worthwhile exchange,” you assured him, hand returning to his hair as he nosed at the hinge of your jaw.

“We’ll ride again,” he promised you, pressing a soft kiss to your skin. “Any time you want, all you need is to ask.”

Aegon pressed you back, then, allowing the backs of your knees to press against the footboard of the bed, and you squealed as he tipped you toward the soft bedding. When you rested on the bed, legs hanging over the end, Aegon followed you down.

“Look at you,” he hummed, voice low as he ghosted kisses across your skin, “my queen of ice, melting beneath your dragon’s touch.”

Without thought, you heard yourself ask, “Are you?” Doubt still lingered in the back of your mind.

Though his lips pressed to your skin, Aegon responded with a somewhat distracted, “Am I what?”

“My dragon?”

The possessive was clear, easy to hear, and the question was unmistakable. The doubt that lingered shined bright, obvious, and Aegon sighed as he continued to press kisses to your skin.

“I am yours,” he promised, fingers lacing with yours as his lips pressed to the warm column of your throat, “entirely.”

It was not a promise you could yet believe, not a promise that you would allow yourself to fall victim to, and he seemed to understand your reluctance as you whispered, “Aegon…”

“I know,” he confirmed, tone softening as he continued pressing kisses to your heated skin. He trailed down your chest, blazing a path down your stomach and over your hips, and the beat of your heart pounding in your ears nearly drowned out the words he spoke. “I’ve been a terrible husband,” he acknowledged, violet eyes lifting to meet yours. “Worst of all, I’ve not exposed you to the most incredible joy of marriage - pleasure,” he declared, sinking to his knees at the foot of the bed. “But, from now on, I devote myself to seeking pleasure with you.”

A breath caught in your throat. Though your thoughts were muddled, uncertain - rational thought disappearing with each kiss he pressed to your skin - your stomach flipped at the potential weight of his declaration. “Does that… are you…?” The question would not escape, mostly for fear of misunderstanding, but Aegon understood.

“No more streets of silk,” he whispered, lips pressing to the heated skin just above your knee, “no Flea Bottom. You are the only one I want, the only one I need.” There was a certainty in his voice, a desperate need for you to understand, but you were hesitant. And when you blinked, uncertain, Aegon pressed his forehead to your heated skin. “You have no reason to believe me, to trust me, but I will prove myself to you. I will be worthy of you.”

“Oh, Aegon,” you sighed, fingers carding through the silver strand of his hair as he busied himself with pressing eager kisses to every inch of skin he could reach - lighting a fire that burned bright within you. “You are worthy.”

Aegon hummed, acknowledging he’d heard you, before he returned his gaze to yours. He searched, for just a moment, before he confessed, “I’ve been drinking, waiting while the knights and squires enjoy themselves. I’ve not… The only whores I’ve bedded as of late are the ones that look like you and even that is not enough.”

“The night of the feast,” you whispered, nodding. “You marveled at how much I looked like your wife.”

“Gods,” he huffed with a shake of his head, “I hoped that was you. I wasn’t sure. It felt like a dream, seeing you in my bed. I… I’ve been frustrated, as of late. I thought you would not want me. When you told me you felt as if you were little more than a burden I must bear, I… All I’ve wanted is you. I’m sorry I allowed you to believe otherwise.”

“Then have me,” you encouraged, as an understanding began to creep into your mind. “Take what you need from me, my love.”

Aegon’s fingers dug into the plush of your thigh, grounding himself to the moment for fear it was all a dream - something pleasant he would wake from violently, with his mother ripping the sheets from his body or his grandsire yelling insults at him - before glassy violet eyes lifted to meet yours.

“You are kinder to me than you should be.”

“Love is meant to be kind,” you whispered, your heart aching as he clung to you. “I want to be kind to you.”

For a long moment, Aegon simply stared at you. Words seemed to fail him - all thought lost to the ether as your statement lingered in the silence - but you both knew he preferred action.

Without sparing another moment, he returned his attention to your body, splayed just for him.

In the beginning, though he was attentive - pressed kisses to your cheeks, your lips, your throat - Aegon offered little in the way of true pleasure. Sex was a duty, a chore you shared in an attempt to secure an heir for the throne, but this was something else entirely.

Little seemed to exist outside of the pair of you. All you could find the strength to focus on was the eager press of Aegon’s mouth to your heated skin.

The warmth you felt was unfamiliar, indescribable, as he pressed his mouth to the plush of your inner thigh. He nipped at the sensitive skin, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh, and you could feel a fluttering in the pit of your stomach as his eyes began to darken.

With each nip of his teeth, with each swipe of his tongue, you allowed quiet gasps to fall from your lips unbidden and each noise only spurred him on.

And as his fingers tugged at the fabric hiding you from his searching gaze, you resisted the urge to cover yourself and, instead, relaxed beneath his touch. Though you felt an overwhelming vulnerability, you were offering Aegon the opportunity to earn the trust he sought.

“My beautiful wife,” he whispered, fingers digging into the plush of your thigh as he spared you a glance. “I intend to make up for lost time when our guests leave us. For now, I’ll settle for introducing you to pleasure.”

Before you could question him, Aegon leaned in and licked a stripe along the length of your slit with the flat of his tongue. Your fingers tugged at his hair as a gasp escaped your lips, and you could feel his mouth curve into a grin as he settled between your thighs. The sensation was new, odd but you hated the thought of losing it as he licked at you leisurely.

Though your absence had doubtlessly been noticed, Aegon was clearly in no rush.

Settled between your thighs, he seemed to struggle to decide whether to close his eyes and enjoy himself or keep them open and watch the bewildered look on your face morph into unabashed pleasure as his hand lifted and his thumb pressed to your clit. As your thighs jerked, fingers gripping his hair tighter, Aegon hummed against you.

“Better than the sweetest wine,” he mumbled, words muffled by your skin a he lapped at your leaking arousal.

Every swipe of his tongue, every press of his fingers, sent shockwaves down your spine. Your skin felt warm, feverish, and you suddenly found yourself understanding the few women who eagerly disappeared with husbands who lavished them with affection.

Pleasure was something foreign - a concept you’d only read about - but the experience was better than you could’ve imagined as Aegon eagerly sank into you. His fingers began searching, gathering the slick that coated his lips and chin, and pressed to your entrance. As you tensed, preparing for the uncomfortable intrusion, Aegon hummed.

“Relax for me,” he whispered, warm breath fanning over your skin and earning him a shiver. “This will feel good,” he promised. “Let me make it good for you.”

With a little effort, you attempted to relax beneath Aegon’s touch. It was difficult, when the only experience you had to call upon was the discomfort of your earlier encounters, but he seemed so earnest. And, as he waited, he continued lapping at the slick gathered between your thighs.

Throughly distracted by the press of his tongue to your aching cunt, the foreign sensation of warmth in the pit of your stomach, you managed to keep from tensing as Aegon pressed a finger to your entrance.

The ease of his touch was different than the quick, rough thrusts you’d grown used to and you found yourself sighing in a mixture of relief and pleasure as his thumb rubbed circles over the bundle of nerves. As foreign as the entire experience felt, you found yourself enjoying it more with every passing moment.

Until, however, a pressure began to build at the base of your spine.

When you tensed, gasping as you attempted to make sense of the new sensation, Aegon cooed. “Don’t fight it, my love,” he urged, fingers continuing to press into you - touch further igniting the spark blazing across your skin. “Let go for me.”

With a cry of pleasure, a noise you lifted a hand to cover, you felt the blaze swallow you whole. Aegon pressed forward, eagerly lapping up your release, and your vision began to white around the edges as he hummed.

For a moment, everything ceased to exist.

There was only the ragged sound of your breathing and the uneven thump of your heart as you attempted to make sense of the intense warmth you felt.

All too suddenly, however, a pang of discomfort drew your attention back to Aegon whose teeth sank into the soft flesh of your hip. “That was your peak,” he explained, grinning as his thumb continued to rub soft circles over the bundle of nerves - eyes glimmering with an unrestrained joy with every twitch of your limbs. “How did it feel?”

Unable to make proper sense of your own thoughts, and unable to choose your words with your usual careful precision, you hummed. “Fine,” you whispered, though your twitching thighs and hips chasing his touch as he pulled away betrayed you. He met your lackluster review with a raised brow, waiting for elaboration. “I think I need another to truly understand the joy of it.”

A laugh, genuine and all too pleased, escaped Aegon as he stood. He made quick work of his own clothing, pushing the fabric to the ground without a care, as he shook his head. “I’m afraid you were meant to be my wife,” he teased, climbing onto the bed to join you with a look that only served to bring a reader warmth to your skin. “And I’m afraid I’ll have to spend the rest of my life between your thighs, making up for lost time.”

“You’ve a duty to the realm,” you reminded him, though it sounded weak in your own ears - a flimsy rebuff as he tipped his head to press his mouth to your throat once more.

“Mm, but my first duty is to my wife and I’ve neglected her long enough. The realm can wait,” he announced.

Aegon settled above you and, for the first time, there was no stench of wine - no fumbling hands, no unsteady swaying. He was present, eager, and overwhelmingly affectionate as his mouth pressed to your heated skin.

Any lingering doubt, any fear that this time might be like the few others, dissipated as his hand explored your heated skin. His touch was light, almost teasing, as his fingers brushed your chest, your stomach, your thighs. You could feel his lips curve into a smirk with every soft noise you made and, as something of a reward, his touch grew steadier the louder your noises grew.

“I want to hear you,” he assured you, his hand dipping between your spread thighs to gather the slick pooling there. “Sound divine, moaning for me.”

As he babbled, words of praise escaping his lips in a near incoherent stream - never once falling quiet, though you found yourself unsurprised - he reached for the base of his cock. The head dragged through your folds, gathering slick, before it notched at your entrance.

Unlike previous encounters, Aegon took his time sinking into you.

With one hand pressed into the mattress near your head, the other gripping your hip so tight you feared it would bruise, he pressed forward slowly - deliberately. There was no rush, no frantic urge to reach the end, and you felt your breath catch in your throat as his forehead pressed to yours.

The noise Aegon made rivaled your own and you found yourself lost in him.

Soft silver curls, disheveled from your fingers raking through them; darkened violet eyes, torn between watching your face and eying the way you took his cock; parted lips, swollen and red from kissing you - he looked beautiful, and you wasted no time telling him so as you lifted a hand to cup his cheek.

“So beautiful,” you whispered, voice cracking with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Aegon paused - slow, deliberate thrusts stopping - as he blinked in surprise. His lips parted, however, before he could speak, you offered him a reassuring smile. “My beautiful king,” you continued, fingers brushing his flushed cheeks, “my beautiful husband.”

A strangled noise escaped his throat at your compliment and his cheeks and chest flushed a deep pink, a stark contrast to the fine silver of his hair. In lieu of response, however, he simply lowered his head and pressed his lips to yours.

The hand on your hip moved, thumb returning to the bundle of nerves that sent shockwaves down your spine, and for the first time, you found yourself enjoying the moment.

There was no worry as to whether this would provide the realm the heir they so desperately wanted, no worry as to whether Aegon may leave you wanting - there was no worry at all. Instead, all you felt was a pleasant warmth, the eager press of your husband’s lips to yours and the weight of him atop you, and you allowed yourself to revel in the feeling as the pressure you’d felt earlier began to return.

Aegon seemed to be near his own end, his thrusts gaining speed and force - though it was still far more pleasant than anything you’d ever experienced - and his lips parted from yours as he inhaled sharply.

Time seemed to slow and speed, all at once. Everything blurred into a searing warmth, all-encompassing and overwhelming. The edges of your vision turned white and you felt yourself plunge headfirst into the depths of pleasure as Aegon buried his face in the crook of your neck. His own release followed yours, the end sweeter than anything either of you had experienced thus far, and you couldn’t help but cling to him as he buried himself deep inside.

For several long moments, Aegon remained above you - more of his weight pressing you into the mattress with every second that passed. You both fought to catch your breath, chests heaving and ears ringing, and you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled in your throat as he lifted his head to glance at you.

“I’m dying, and you’re laughing?” He rolled his eyes, though there was a fond warmth in the question as he pulled away to lay beside you.

Rather than placing distance between you, Aegon tugged you into his side - wrapped an arm around your waist and nearly hauled your body atop his - and returned his face to the crook of your neck as you laughed a bit harder. “I just, I didn’t know it could feel like that,” you explained, still marveling at the lingering warmth you felt.

Aegon remained silent for a long moment, seeming to gather his thoughts, before he sighed and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “I’m sorry. It should’ve been like that all along,” he declared, hand returning to your hip as he attempted to pull you closer. “I didn’t want to disappoint you, or make you unhappy, but that seems to be all I’ve done,” he lamented. “But I promise, that will change.”

“So long as you’re with me, I think I’ll be happy enough,” you assured him, reaching out to cup his cheek once more - smiling as he leaned in to the touch. “I was happy to be betrothed to you, you know. I thought you were handsome and funny, charming.” Aegon leaned in, then, and stole a soft kiss - unable to part from you now, it seemed, now that something had shifted - and you laughed as you sank into him. “Perhaps there will be another tourney come summer,” you hummed, lips barely parting from his, “to celebrate the king’s heir.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed, nose brushing yours as violet eyes searched your face. “But heir or no, I’m glad to have you by my side.”

Though a small shred of doubt lingered in the back of your mind, a nagging feeling that made you nauseous, you swallowed it with a smile. Aegon’s attention was yours, his love was yours, and that was all you wanted. Certainty would come with time, with practice, and you were glad to spend as much time with him as he wanted.

The only thing you’d ever dreamt of - a husband that wanted you - was finally yours and, despite the rocky start to your marriage, you found yourself glad that it was Aegon.

_________________________________________________________

Author's Note: This may be fanon!Aegon but I just wanted something a little soft. He deserves some love. I was also a little nice to everyone but you know what, why not? It's fiction. Not sure how it got this long but here we are.

Taglist: @anaya-rhys, @holypeacecrown, @marvelously-flawed, @travelingmypassion, @letsgotothehop, @reynacrawford, @liannafae, @ffsg0jo

#aegon ii x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen smut #hotd smut #hotd imagine #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon targaryen x you #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #v's fics

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novaursa · 6 months ago

Text

Winter's Eve

- Summary: A short story for Christmas Eve.

- Pairing: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: The reader is Rhaenyra's daughter.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

- A/N: I'm wishing you all warm and happy Christmas Eve. Be kind to yourself. ❤️

The snow fell thick and silent outside the towering walls of Winterfell, blanketing the world in a hushed stillness that seemed sacred. The air smelled of evergreen and pine resin, mingling with the faint, rich scent of roasted venison wafting through the stone halls. It was Winter’s Eve, the North’s cherished celebration of hearth and kinship, a day to honor the gods for surviving the long night and welcoming the promise of lengthening days.

Candles glowed warmly in every nook of the Great Hall, their light shimmering off the polished swords hung as decorations along the walls. Evergreen boughs and red winterberries adorned the long wooden tables, filling the air with a faint, crisp fragrance. The hall was alive with laughter and song, the kind of revelry that made the cold beyond the walls seem a distant memory.

You stood near the hearth, the massive blaze casting your silver hair in a warm golden glow. Your gown, a deep blood red edged with silver embroidery, stood out amidst the furs and wools of the Northern lords and their families. At your side, Rickon, your stepson, and your eldest daughter, Lyanna, giggled as they shared a slice of honeycake. Your youngest son, Rhaegar, was bundled in your arms, nestled against your chest. His tiny hand reached up to clutch at the strands of your hair, cooing softly.

Cregan entered the hall, a commanding figure even among the gathered lords. His dark hair was windswept, and a light dusting of snow melted on his heavy black cloak. His presence always seemed to fill the room, his deep voice carrying as he greeted his bannermen, clapping hands on shoulders and exchanging hearty laughter.

“Y/N,” he called out as he approached, his grey eyes softening when they found you. “You’ve made the hall shine brighter than the stars themselves.”

“And you’ve brought the winter in with you,” you teased gently, noting the snowflakes still clinging to his beard. “Come here before the children think a bear has wandered in.”

Rickon laughed at that, reaching for his father, who hoisted the boy up onto his shoulder effortlessly. “A bear, is it? Perhaps you should be wary of this bear stealing your mother away.”

Rickon giggled, shaking his head. “Mother would never leave us!”

“Smart boy,” Cregan murmured, ruffling his son’s dark curls before setting him down again.

The merriment paused briefly as Lord Harwyn Manderly, a stout man with a booming laugh, entered the hall carrying a large bundle of fur. He set it down carefully at the edge of the fire, and the bundle shifted, revealing the unmistakable forms of direwolf pups. The room fell into an awed hush.

“Winter’s blessings, Lord Stark,” Manderly said, bowing slightly. “I thought it fitting to bring gifts for your children—a pack for the pack, as it were.”

The pups, four of them, were small but already carried the proud features of their species: thick, shaggy coats, sharp eyes, and strong paws. One was silver-grey, like freshly fallen snow; another was black as night. A third was mottled white and grey, while the fourth was a soft brown, almost tawny.

Rickon was the first to approach, his face alight with wonder. “Are they truly for us?” he asked, glancing at Cregan.

“Aye,” Cregan said, his voice warm with approval. “The North remembers its own. A wolf for each of you.”

You knelt beside Rickon, helping him approach the pups. The black one padded forward and sniffed Rickon’s outstretched hand before nuzzling into it. The boy’s face lit up with joy. “This one’s mine!” he declared, holding the pup carefully.

Lyanna hesitated before stepping closer, her small fingers gripping your gown. You encouraged her gently. “Go on, sweetling. They’re meant to be yours.”

The silver-grey pup seemed to sense her shyness and padded over, wagging its tail. Lyanna giggled as it licked her hand, her bright eyes wide with delight. “I’ll name her Frost,” she whispered, hugging the pup to her chest.

Even little Rhaegar was not left out. Cregan held the mottled pup up for him to see, and the baby cooed, reaching out to touch its soft fur. “He likes you already,” you said softly, marveling at how the wolf seemed to settle instantly in Cregan’s arms, as if knowing it belonged to the smallest Stark.

The brown pup, meanwhile, padded up to you, its head cocked as if studying you. Cregan chuckled. “Seems you have a wolf of your own, my love.”

You reached down to scratch behind its ears, smiling as it leaned into your touch. “Then we’ll call her Ember,” you said. “A wolf to match the fire in our hall.”

The celebration continued late into the night, with the wolves curling at the feet of their new masters and the children’s laughter echoing through the hall. Cregan pulled you close as the night deepened, the warmth of his presence as steady as the roaring fire.

“This,” he said quietly, his voice filled with reverence, “is what Winterfell was always meant to be—a home, filled with life and love.”

You leaned into him, watching your children and their wolves play in the firelight. “And it always will be,” you replied, your voice soft but certain, “as long as we’re together.”

The warmth of the previous night’s celebration still lingered, faint strains of music and laughter echoing in the air as a few lords and ladies, who had stayed the night, stirred slowly in their chambers. Fires crackled in the hearths, and the scent of bread baking in the kitchens mingled with the crisp winter air.

You stirred awake to the sound of muffled giggles and the unmistakable pitter-patter of small feet on the stone floor. It took only a moment to realize that the source of the giggles was your children. Rolling over, you found Cregan still beside you, his arm draped protectively over your waist, his breathing steady and deep in sleep. Smiling softly, you disentangled yourself from him and slipped out of bed, wrapping a fur-lined robe around yourself to shield against the morning chill.

The giggles grew louder as you stepped into the corridor, and you followed them to the courtyard, where Lyanna and Rickon were already bundled in their cloaks, dragging their new direwolf pups along on makeshift leashes fashioned from ribbon. Rhaegar toddled after them, clutching a toy carved from weirwood, while the brown direwolf pup, Ember, kept a watchful eye on him.

The sight brought a smile to your face, but the moment of quiet admiration was short-lived as you noticed what—or rather who—they were approaching.

In the far corner of the courtyard, nestled in the snow, lay your dragon, Balelyx. His massive, silver-scaled form shimmered faintly in the morning light, his great wings tucked tightly against his body to conserve warmth. Wisps of smoke curled from his nostrils as he slept, the ground around him melted into dark slush from the heat of his presence.

“Lyanna Stark!” you called out, striding quickly toward them. Your voice carried a note of warning, and the children froze mid-step, turning to look at you with wide, guilty eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Rickon, always the boldest, spoke up first. “We just wanted to see if the wolves liked dragons.”

“Dragons and wolves don’t always mix well,” you said, softening your tone as you knelt beside them. “Balelyx is still half-asleep, but if you startled him...”

“He wouldn’t hurt us!” Lyanna interrupted, clutching her silver direwolf pup protectively. “He’s your dragon, Mama. He’d know we’re family.”

Your heart softened at her innocent trust, but you still shook your head. “Balelyx is a dragon, my love. He’s not like the wolves. He follows his instincts first and foremost. Come, step back.”

The children reluctantly obeyed, though Rickon glanced longingly at Balelyx’s massive tail, which twitched faintly even in sleep. “Can’t we just sit near him?” he asked. “We promise to be quiet.”

Before you could answer, a deep rumble echoed through the courtyard as Balelyx opened one great, molten eye, focusing immediately on the children. The dragon lifted his head slightly, a plume of smoke curling from his nostrils. For a moment, the children held their breath, but Balelyx only huffed softly, his tail curling protectively around his body as if acknowledging their presence but not perceiving them as a threat.

“See?” Rickon whispered triumphantly. “He likes us.”

You sighed, reaching out to stroke Balelyx’s scaled neck, murmuring softly in High Valyrian. The dragon relaxed under your touch, and you turned to the children. “You may sit nearby, but no loud noises, no sudden movements. And if he so much as growls, you’ll come straight to me. Understood?”

They nodded eagerly, settling onto the snow-covered ground with their pups, who sniffed at the dragon curiously but kept their distance. Balelyx watched them lazily for a moment before lowering his head back onto his forelegs, his eyes half-closing.

The scene might have remained peaceful if not for the arrival of Lord Harwyn Manderly, still dressed in his fine green doublet from the night before. His booming laugh shattered the stillness of the courtyard as he approached, accompanied by a few other Northern lords who had stayed the night.

“Well, well,” Manderly said, clapping his gloved hands together. “It seems the little wolves are braver than most grown men, sitting so near to such a beast.”

“Lord Manderly,” you said, rising to greet him with a polite smile, “Balelyx is no beast. He’s a dragon of Valyria and far smarter than he appears.”

“Smarter, perhaps, but still dangerous,” Manderly countered, though his tone was light. He turned to Cregan, who had appeared in the courtyard as well, his dark hair still tousled from sleep. “What say you, Stark? Shall we make this a Northern tradition—dragons in the snow?”

Cregan chuckled, crossing his arms as he surveyed the scene. “I think it’s enough that the children have wolves, Harwyn. Let’s not tempt fate by encouraging them to bond with fire as well.”

The lords laughed, their voices carrying across the courtyard, and you couldn’t help but smile at the warmth and camaraderie that lingered even after the festivities. Cregan approached you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he gazed down at the children.

“They’ve inherited your boldness,” he murmured, his voice tinged with pride.

“And your stubbornness,” you replied, leaning into him. “We’ll have our hands full with these three.”

“Aye,” he agreed, his tone warm. “But there’s no joy greater than this.”

The morning passed in a blend of lingering celebration and quiet moments like these, the North’s stoic strength softened by the warmth of family and kinship. Winterfell, in all its cold and grandeur, had never felt more alive.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #fire and blood #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #asoiaf #house stark #house velaryon #house targaryen #hotd cregan #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan x y/n

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cregansdingdong · 10 months ago

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dingdong hear me out, cregan and reader going through the honeymoon stage of their marriage in winterfell where he just cant get off her and they get it on (she gets on should i say 😜) EVERYWHERE and ANYWHERE. im talking in the stables just out of earshot of the lords in the courtyard, in the wolfswood surrounded by the beautiful northern countryside, in the council chambers, on the table, EVERYWHERE. I KNOW this man gets hot knowing anyone could catch them and that they couldn’t do anything about it because he is their lord. PLEASE GIVE THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

- fellow cregan worshipping anon xo

I HAVE THOUGHTS. THE GEARS ARE TURNING. I FEEL THEM TURNING. SEND HELP ANON.

Let's get something perfectly clear, my beloved, the honeymoon stage never ends with Cregan. Now, it might slow down after the birth of a few kiddos ten but in no way, shape, or form will your Lord Wolf ever be satisfied. That being said, you have my prayers, sorrows, and congratulations also my envy ofc if you both are ever caught getting your freak on. It's gonna go a little something like this...

ʜᴏɴᴇʏᴍᴏᴏɴ. (thoughts ver.)

NSFW stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

"We're going to—"

"I don't care." He grunts. Skirts lifted up the curve of her ass, his hips rutting into her at a pace desperate enough to bruise. They were both frantic, fucking like it was their last day alive. The council room was empty—which it usually was; only really filled when Cregan felt the need to call on his vassals. If it had been a regular day, Lord and Lady Stark wouldn't have had anything to worry about.

His wife presses her cheek down on the table, holding onto the oak edges for dear life, mewling of course, as he rocked into her like a man possessed. Controlled entirely by his need, by her whines for him, Cregan thought he could die a happy man right there in her snug cunt. He could. He wanted to, in a way, the last sensations in the living world being her velvety walls, clenching around him with every swift thrust.

They were loud as they always were—unintentionally. It was too good to remember any restraint. Not that it mattered to the Lord Wolf, he was the Lord paramount of the North. Who was going to tell him he couldn't make love with his wife? No one, but he could at least make an effort to lock the door first. Rabid grunts and the sound of his hefty balls slapping against her flooded the corridor as the entrance to the council room was opened. "Seven Hells—"

His bannermen. His vassals. The meeting. Gods. He forgot about the meeting. Torrhen Manderly turned right back around, narrowly avoiding whatever it was that Cregan flung towards the door—thankfully fast enough to stop the other men from following in after him. "Get out!" The door was promptly slammed shut, right as his wife lifted her head from the table, face flushed red in mortification. "Were we just cau—fuck!" Lord Stark still didn't care, reaching around to rub at her pretty clit as his cock resumed pistoning against her ass. And as she came for at least the third time that morning, the realization of getting caught was quickly erased from the front of her mind, Cregan's teeth latching on to the curve of her shoulder as he chased his release.

okay I can't help myself so here's a bonus bit:

Redressed and thoroughly embarrassed some twenty minutes later, Lady Stark emerges from the council room, expecting her handmaiden to be waiting—no. Gods. They'd waited. They'd actually waited. Seven bannermen, each one avoiding her eye more than the last, probably in an attempt to maintain whatever was left of her dignity. They made not a single sound as she walked sprinted by, nodding stiffly in respect to their Lady.

Cregan, however, did not share that same sentiment. Satisfied for the moment, smug, and seated lazily at the head of the table, legs spread comfortably as he sat back against his chair. He exhaled quietly through his nose once his vassals entered the room, the smallest of smirks written on his face that said more than his mouth ever could. "Where did we leave off last time?"

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

#hotd #dingdonganswers #house of the dragon #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark imagine #cregan x reader #cregan stark x female reader #cregan stark fanfic #🙏 anon

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sluttysnowangel666 · 10 months ago

Text

Weeping Waters - cregan stark x reader

this story was inspired by this post!! i suggest you follow the op they were kind enough to let me write a story inspired by it❤️ @weirdiingwoman

summary: whilst on a trip for a tourney to celebrate queen rhaenyra’s succession to the throne, lord stark brings his child hood friend to keep him company. however a blistering hot day sends the northerner’s searching for relief from the sun. when they come across a hidden spot on the beach, cregan agrees to stand guard and keep watch so the lady can swim.

cw: au, no dance of dragons or war just cregan and his lady being secretly in love, smut as always, cregan is a SIMP for his lady just down historically bad for her , loss of virginity, fingering, friends to lovers, beach sex

masterlist

“Gods, when will it end?” You moan out, fanning yourself to no avail.

Cregan doesn’t acknowledge your relentless whining, only sighs in response. The heat was torture, that was for damn sure. He nearly begun to feel sick from the mix of the moist air and putrid smell of King’s Landing.

After living in Winterfell for so long, his nose had grown blind to the familiar scents of his home. But now, after being away for weeks to celebrate the first Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Cregan had grown desperate to return to the smell of winter.

You groaned and whined and groaned some more, only adding to Cregan’s already heightened irritation.

“Cregannnn!” You whined, dragging your feet while your sweaty hands held up your dress so it wasn’t pummeled with whatever strange liquids manifested themselves on the ground.

“I don’t know what you wish me to do, my lady.” He responds, flatly, growing ever so annoyed with you. “Tis’ the last day of the tourney, and then we will be home shortly thereafter.”

“I am ill equipped for this place.” You say, looking at the long sleeves of your dress that were now damp with sweat.

You arrive to the tourney, walking through the red and black dragon decorated festival. Your arm is linked in Cregan’s as you both take the steps to the table of other high lords. Cregan had refused to participate in the tourney, but encouraged his men to. Today Cregan’s right hand man and your brother, Jon Manderly, would go up against the Lord Commander of the Queensguard, Criston Cole. Your proximity with Cregan made those around you assume you were the Lady of Winterfell, and did not realize you were there representing House Manderly.

“Let’s hope our brother does not die today.” You mumble. Cregan smirks, but your words sting him slightly. Our brother. As if the three of you were siblings. He dared never admit it, but he was in love with you. In love with you how a Targaryen man was oft in love with their sister. He would give anything if it meant he could actually make you Lady of Winterfell. But he knew you did not love him the same, and although your father was desperate for Cregan to ask your hand he would never jeopardize the friendship he shared with you and your brother.

He glanced down at your lap, your hands folded properly between your thighs. Gods, what he wouldn’t give.

The day would be long, and your brother’s fight was the last joust of the day. Only then could you finally go home to your cold bliss. But until that time came, you all had to suffer the blazing fury of the sun.

You sipped on the sweet wine that had been brought to you by servants, twisting your features at the fruity taste. The flavor was that of one you were not used to, given the ale in the North was oft bitter and strong.

“This wine is disgusting.” You say to Cregan. He picks up his own cup, taking a quick swig before doing the same thing you did.

“I told you.” You laugh, pushing his strong arm.

“You weren’t jesting, my lady. That is a very unpleasant wine.”

“Well, maybe I have a surprise for you later.” She whispered.

Despite the heat, he shivered at her words and his stomach swirled with anticipation.

The day seemed to drag on. Although the morning had been hot, it was nothing compared to the sun at midday. None of the southerner’s seemed fazed, but you and Cregan were drenched head to toe in sweat. It looked as if you had both bathed, that was how wet your hair was. Your sweat had seeped through your dress in every crevice. It was so hot in fact, you and Cregan were both panting like overworked dogs and now suddenly that sweet wine was a delicious and cool reprieve from the heat.

“Cregan, please can we sneak out of here?” She asks.

“And go where?”

“I don’t care! Just somewhere cool. There’s got to be some sort of water near here that isn’t filled with gods know what.”

He knew he should’ve stayed, but you had that pleading look in your eye and gods was it hot. He was growing so delirious from the heat that he would do anything you asked of him.

You both mumbled a quiet excuse to the other lords at the table, saying you were off to pray or something. The lords gave you both confused looks, but you were already off.

You ran holding your dress in your hands so you didn’t trip over the skirts, and you giggled as Cregan was close behind, also giggling at your escapade. The breeze from your running felt cool against your wet skin.

Cregan grabbed your arm and you laughed as you lost your balance and fell. You both screamed and laughed as you tripped over each other, rolling on the grass.

“You’ve stained my dress!” You yelled, laughing.

“Why don’t you take it off then?” Cregan says. The words come out before he can stop them, and his hand flies to his mouth in shock at his own words. His cheeks grow even more red than they were before.

You laugh, giving his arm a push. “Cheeky today, aren’t we?”

You both stand, walking now past the gardens. “Do you know where you’re going?” You ask.

“My father brought me to King’s Landing when I was younger. I got lost and found this beach beyond the gardens.” Cregan says.

You both walk down the stairs to a stone building, making your way through the dark, abandoned halls to reach the other side.

The sand on the ground felt grainy and satisfying under your boots, and you quickly pulled them off to sink your toes in the sand. The area Cregan had brought you to was slightly secluded, but could easily be found by accident by someone wandering by.

“I’ll keep watch.” He says, turning to face the direction you came as you shuffle out of your dress.

“Keep watch.” You mumble, displeased he won’t be joining you. Cregan doesn’t hear you leave initially, but he hears your groans of relief when you step foot in the cold ocean.

“The water is so lovely!” You yell to him. He looks down, shaking his head. He wanted to join you so badly, to cool off in the ocean while he held you close to him. The sun was beating down on his brown hair, soaking his head with sweat. He began to grow frustrated with the heat, and the thoughts of you naked in the ocean weren’t helping to cool him off.

But he’d rather face the heat of a thousand burning suns before he let someone see you bare. You were his, and he’d allow himself to pass out from the heat before he moved from his spot. He told himself that, swore it in fact. You would not tempt him with your siren song into that ocean.

“Careful you don’t burn, my lady.” Cregan yells.

“What was that?” You call. “I didn’t hear you. Perhaps you should join me.”

He smirks, tapping his foot impatiently against the sand. He breathes in the salty smell of the ocean, such a sweet reprieve from the foulness that lingered even in the Red Keep.

“Cregan!” You yell jokingly angry. “Come in right now before you melt!”

He laughs, and you walk towards him from the shore. He doesn’t hear you over the sound of the waves crashing.

He jumps a bit when he feels your hand touch his shoulder. You tug on it to try and turn him around, but he stands firm.

“Cregan.” You whisper.

He shakes his head.

“Cregannnn.” You sing. “Look at me.”

He doesn’t move, so you walk around his body to face him. He closes his eyes, his heart racing with fear.

“My lady.” Cregan says with caution, eyes still closed.

“I-“ Your sentence is cut off by loud, rambunctious yelling.

Cregan’s eyes snap open, immediately grabbing you to drag you back to the water. His gaze avoids your body as much as possible, but he still can see your curves in his peripheral.

He walks in with you, ignoring his now wet clothes and pushing you until the water is at your waist.

“Sit.” He says, pushing your shoulders down so you’re on your knees, the water stopping at your collar bone. “Do not move.”

He walks back to shore just as the men reach the beach.

“My lords, this area is off limits.” Cregan says to the group of three men.

“Says who?” A short and stocky man drunkenly yells.

“Me.” Cregan says, his voice stern. One of the taller men peaks a glance around him, locking his eyes onto yours. Cregan notices and immediately shifts so the man is face to face with Cregan instead.

“Are you men of salt and sea?” Cregan asks them.

“No… We represent House Clegane; We’ll be facing some Northern cunt.” The tall guy spits on the ground and his minions laugh. The men continue to avert their gaze to you, with nasty smirks filling their faces.

“I see. Then, my lords, let me tell you as Warden of the North I suggest… No… command you turn and go back to the tourney.”

“And if we don’t?” The tall one speaks again, challenging Cregan.

“Then since you wish to stay so badly I will drown you in the ocean… and make you men of salt and sea.”

The men shuffle uncomfortably, looking to their tall leader. He avoids Cregan’s eyes, looking around and deciding if a fight is worth it. Your heart beats unusually fast in your chest, afraid of what fight may come.

You had never seen Cregan so… dominate and protective. He was like a wolf defending its pups. You had seen him assertive in the training yard, frustrated, angry… but this was different. You could feel the vibrations radiating off him. He was ice normally, but right now he felt like fire… even from far away.

A shiver ran up your body, yet you felt… hot in your stomach. Your chest fluttered, and you were afraid at the beast in your vision right now. Yet, he was igniting his own kind of fire in you, a heat that burned between your legs. Your hands nervously clawed and gripped at your thighs. You licked the salty water off your lips, nearly drooling at Cregan.

The men finally backed down, turning and leaving the way they had came. Cregan turned and looked at you, shaking his head. He did that a lot.

The way he protected you was so hot. You wanted to make it up to him.

He walked to the shoreline, the remnants of waves splashing his boots. He didn’t take his eyes off yours once.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his voice gentle with you. You nodded.

“Cregan…” You said. “I need you in the most unimaginable way possible right now.”

“Fuck.” He whispered, too quiet for you to hear. Did he dare cross this line? If he did, there was surely no returning.

Right when he decided against it, not wanting to strain your life long friendship, you stood up.

All logic, at that moment ceased to exist,

and he immediately stripped off his clothes.

Before he could even fully undress, you pounced on him. You yanked him in the water with his small clothes still on and slammed your lips on his.

“Thank you for protecting me.” You whispered. He kissed you with even more force after that, no longer able to contain himself. He felt such a strong urge in him to protect you, love you, hold you, breed you. He was possessed by your beauty and grace, and found himself getting lost in your lusciously sweet lips.

He held you tight against him, his length poking into your thighs. You rubbed him through his small clothes, eliciting a groan from him. Although the water was cooling him off, he found himself sweating with nervousness.

“Make me yours.” You whisper. His fingers greedily dig into your hips as he kisses you more deeply, tongues and teeth clashing. He claims your mouth with his, fighting to prove himself strong enough for you.

He tried to hide it, but he was deeply afraid. Cregan had never been with a woman intimately, and he did not want to let down the girl he loved since he was a child.

“Marry me.” He whispers. “Give me your hand. Be the Lady of Winterfell.”

You pull away from him, staring at him to search his eyes for any sign of a jest. But all you see are his gray eyes, staring back at you with a mixture of lust and love and hope.

When he saw the look of shock in your eyes, he immediately regretted his words. He had pushed too far and turned you off. He was convinced you had gotten lost in the madness of lust, and were only now realizing the consequences of your actions.

“Are… Are you serious?” You ask.

He nods, sadly. He couldn’t back down, he needed to say he tried.

“But, I’m just a Manderly. You could marry a Targaryen or Hightower if you wanted… Why me?”

“Because I love you, endlessly.” He says, “All those moments, all those memories… You’ve made me who I am. I’m not me without you.” and it was true. Every glance he stole, every time you fought, hunted, played, argued… It all led him to here. He knew there was a purpose for you both. He always felt it in his soul, he just hadn’t known what it meant until now.

Now he knew it meant your fates were sealed long ago.

“Lady Stark,” You say, playing with Cregan’s chest. “rolls off the tongue quite nicely.”

He pulls you back onto his lips, a tear escaping his eye at the joy he felt. You were his, and you always would be.

Gods be damned, honor be damned. I want her now.

He picked you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. His hand supported your bottom as he carried you all the way back to the sand. You kissed his neck, cradling it between your hands.

Cregan set you down on his discarded clothes, flattening out the cloak so sand wouldn’t ruin your endeavor.

Cregan’s fingers smoothed over your cunt and you gasped. He pushed one inside and you found yourself gripping his bicep for support, the other hand resting on the back of his neck. You closed your eyes, moaning softly. He inserts another, stretching you to prepare you as best as possible. You moan his name, begging for the rest of him.

“Please, please, take me.” You pleaded. He was hesitant, as badly as he wanted it.

He decided he would be angry with himself later. For now, for the first time in Westeros history, a Stark forgot about honor.

He pulled his fingers out, rubbing himself with the lingering wetness from your cunt. He pushed off the last of his small clothes and positioned his length against you.

You finally felt slightly nervous when his length touched you. Cregan was a big man of course, surely you should have known that would’ve applied to other parts.

And yet it had slipped your mind, so now here you were mentally unprepared and growing nervous at his size about to take your maidenhead.

“Were other women you’ve been with intimidated by your size?” You ask, a tremble in your voice.

“What?” He asks.

“What?” You repeat.

“I’ve never been with other women.” He shakes his head.

“What?” You say again, surprise in your voice this time.

“You will be my first.” He says. “Am I yours?”

You nod.

“Then I will take care of you.” He says. You press your shaky lips to his, and his hand gently holds your cheek to comfort you.

He slides into you, slowly, holding you close to him to keep you from wiggling. You whine into his lips, a small sob parting you.

“You’re okay.” He whispers. “I’ve got you. We will go easy, my girl.”

You nestle your face into his neck, holding on to him with a death grip.

He makes love to you slow at first, waiting for your tight cunt to adjust to him.

“Gods, please move.” You beg,

He immediately does as you command, fucking you with lust in his hips but love in his heart. You stare at him, admiring every feature on his face as he fucks you. His lips are parted, gasping softly, and his piercing gray eyes are focused only on your face. His wet brown locks fall beside his face, and you push it back with your fingers so they don’t hinder his vision. Your other hand leaves trails of red scratches down his chest, which only fuels on his hunger to make you writhe and wiggle more beneath him.

“Right there, Cregan. Oh, fuck, please. Please, my lord.” You moan. Cregan nearly melts at your lascivious begging.

He continues his harsh thrusts on your cunt, blood drips down his chest from the ferocity of your nails. He hardly even notices the burning pain, he’s too busy drowning in the heat between your legs.

You pull his lips onto yours, whining and moaning into his mouth as you hit your peak. Cregan groans as you tighten around him, and he plants his hand into the sand beside your head.

He wanted to pull out, he really did. But the way your cunt tightened around him, the way you pulled him into you so you could moan into his lips, the way your body trembled as you peaked… it was too much to handle. He spilled his seed into you, and by how much he spilled surely you would be pregnant with an heir if he did not get you moon tea on the morrow.

For now, he just wanted you. He wanted to wed you the moment you arrived back home. Your father would definitely be doing cartwheels when he heard the news, your brother would likely be happy as well.

There was time in their future for an heir, but all he could think about right now was how hard it was gonna be to restrain himself with you as his betrothed now.

“Our little secret?” You asked, referring to your engagement on the beach.

“Our little secret.” He said, pecking a soft kiss on the tip of her nose.

You both rinsed off in the ocean, dressing back in your clothes and returning to the tourney just in time to see your brother win against House Clegane.

But unfortunately, he had celebrated too early following his win against House Clegane, because he had gotten too drunk and lost only an hour later to Criston Cole.

“50 gold dragons.” He drunkenly scoffed.

“Better than none, brother.” You said, trying to comfort his first place loss. You looked to Cregan for help, but he was lost in his own world thinking about the beach.

“Something trouble you, Cregan?” You ask.

“Quite the opposite, actually.” He says, discretely brushing his hand against yours.

You blush, and the three of you silently make your way back to the great hall inside the Red Keep for the final feast of the tourney.

“I offer my congratulations to the winners, including my sworn protector Criston Cole and the second place winner Jon Manderly. I also offer my thanks to all the lords and ladies who have travelled from as far as Dorne to Winterfell. This will be a tournament for the books.” Queen Rhaenyra announces, sitting beside her council members including Alicent, Rhaenys, her son Jacaerys, Criston Cole, and her husband Daemon. “I would also like to announce a new marriage betrothal, brought to me by Cregan Stark!”

You and your brother turn to Cregan, who avoids your eyes yet smirks. “Cregan Stark has announced he will wed Lady Manderly, sister of the second place winner Jon Manderly, to celebrate Winterfell’s second place victory!”

The hall erupts in noise as people flood around you with their congratulations. You look at your brother, whose jaw is hanging to the floor.

“I suppose this truly makes us brothers now, aye Cregan?” Your brother says when he finally speaks, his northern accent appearing thicker than usual.

“Aye.” Cregan nods.

Your brother’s shock dissipates, and he finally shares his joy with you. He punches your arms, just like when you had been younger.

“Ow, brother! You forget yourself!” You say, smacking his arms.

“Sorry, sister. This moment is so joyous. Father might have a heart attack when he hears.”

You give your brother a gentle, appreciative smile, grateful for his approval as he takes your hand in his.

“Lady Manderly and Lord Stark, while your marriage will not take place here we will celebrate in your absence. King’s Landing is forever indebted to the hospitality and strength continuously provided by the Starks.” The Queen says, raising her glass to you and Cregan.

Those around you celebrated and drank, relishing in the most joyous of occasions. Queen Rhaenyra successfully ascended the throne, the tournament had been historic, Winterfell had emerged near victorious, the Stark bloodline would soon carry on.

“It is unfortunate we cannot get drunk on this piss wine.” Cregan says, playing with his cup.

“Didn’t I tell you earlier I had a surprise for you, my betrothed?” You say, lifting your dress to reveal a little metallic flask tied to your leg. He looks at you, raising his eyebrow and smirking.

“Shall we retire for the night?” He asks.

You take his hand and the both of you slip out the door, in search of another place to “cool off.”

#hotd #hotd season 2 #cregan hotd #hotd cregan #cregan fanfiction #cregan x you #cregan smut #cregan x y/n #cregan stark #cregan stark smut #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #team black #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd smut

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ophelieverse · 1 year ago

Note

Oppy my baby,can you please please please take in consideration to write something about my man Cregan Stark?🥺🥺

⊹˚₊only you could have called me back home

Cregan Stark x fem!reader

-Summary:reader is from house Manderly and she meets Cregan when they are kids,during his stay at her house she reads him a book about mermaids to help him sleep during a storm.Years later he does the same thing for their children.

-I finally gave in and decided to try.This is the first time that I write for Cregan,even though i love him very much and i can’t wait to see him(I pictured in my mind Tom Taylor)so forgive me if this sucks.

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It was night,late evening.

The sky,which was usually a dark blue,was covered by a thick blanket of gray clouds that made the stars and that moon disappear,which were supposed to illuminate New Castle of White Harbor.The blue blazon with the green merman holding a trident,symbolizing House Manderly,was dancing in the wind.

A little girl,who seemed to be not older than eight years old,was observing the world and that summer storm,one of many she had seen in just a month.Sitting in her chamber,on the carpet in front of the window that brought into that small balcony,curled up and with her arms hugging her legs,she let her eyes get lost in counting the thousands of droplets that rested on that sheet of glass.

She began to stare at a drop of rain,trying to see it flow along the entire length of the window.But this one soon disappeared,bursting into smaller droplets or joining others.

For Lady Y/n Manderly,the rain made everything so fascinating.

She came closer to the glass,almost squashing her face against the door-windows and waiting for a thunder to arrive.She had never been afraid of thunderstorms,quite the contrary.She found them fascinating.She still couldn't conceive that all that noise and lights came from nature and not from something created by men.

Watching a thunderstorm was more interesting than reading a book.Her mother used to read her dozen of them to help her sleep at night,especially during storms like this one.But at the end,the books in their library all looked alike and never change final.If she didn't want to read them anymore she could just close them.While thunderstorms are unexpected and uncontrollable.But above all,always different.

People can never predict the duration or intensity of a thunderstorm.You can just try to guess or stay and observe it.And Y/n loved to see thunderstorms.

But that wasn't the case for everyone.

The little girl knew for sure that there was someone who instead hated them and had a big fear of them.A young boy,just of two years older than she was,the son of the protector of the North,had revealed that he was very afraid of storms during one.

Lord Rickon Stark had arrived to White Harbor four nights before,just in time for dinner,to discuss with Lord Desmond Manderly,Y/n father,about the union of their houses.A calm but still noisy storm was what welcomed them,alongside the blue and green blazon of New Castle.

Y/n didn't understand what was scary about those lights and noises,but she couldn't help but think about what the boy was feeling at the time.

That boy who was also her husband to be once they would be old enough to marry.They already knew each other,they had met in different occasions and places,yet they had never forged a particular bond or friendship.

Their characters were particularly different and they both knew that they would find themselves colliding easily if they became friends.Moreover, there had never been a particular opportunity to get to know each other better.They were always surrounded by their families,politicians and maidens.

They were simply two children,two heirs of big and powerful houses and one day they will become husband and wife.Nothing more,nothing less.

And yet,at that moment Y/n was just thinking.She was just thinking about Cregan.That was his name and what he had told her to call him when she had addressed him as “Lord Stark” with a polite bow.

Y/n wondered if he wasn't scared.

She remembered once,when there was a tournament in Lannisport,he didn’t showed up to see the horses in the morning when it started to rain.Once again,during a visit a the Wall he had been more restless than usual when he had heard the sound of the thunders.

But didn't the dark sky of the evening emphasize the whole thing even more?

Y/n loved night thunderstorms,she found them even more impressive.But also scary.Especially now that her mother was heavily pregnant and needed to stay in bed to rest,meaning that she couldn’t read her stories to help her sleep better.

In Y/n that fear gave a sudden adrenaline rush,but in Cregan no,she could have said it with certainty.So,after thinking about it for too long,the little girl got up,took the cloak on the chair and without even thinking anymore,she opened the window-door wide and within seconds she found herself on the balcony,while the rain was beginning to increase slowly.

That wing of the castle was where both Y/n and her brothers chambers were,the same place where young Cregan was staying,in the room right next to hers.

Y/n stayed for a while to observe the sky,and the drops of rainwater falling on the palm of her hand that she had turned upwards,fascinated by everything as a child could be.But she hadn't gone out to the balcony to admire all that,no.

If she had only wanted to do that,she would have been content to sit in front of the front door-windows as she had until then,instead of getting wet.

No,Y/n had gone out to check on Cregan.To make sure that he was alright.

Their balconies were connected,divided only by a low wall of light bricks.She had often seen the young boy on that balcony in those days,watching people occupying those crowded streets or just wanting to breathe some air.

And on those occasions they had just waved to each other politely with kind smiles.

Y/n knew that the window on that balcony led to the room where Cregan was staying.

Still in the rain,half protected by the windowsill of the upper floor,she barely reached out her neck to observe the young boy room.But it was dark and the curtains were pulled,a sign that Cregan was probably already sleeping,as he would on any night.

The little Lady wanted to call herself a fool for coming out of her room just to make sure that he was okay,a boy whose she exchanged a few words and nothing else.The same boy that one day would have been her husband but the she didn’t knew nothing about.

Yet,in some way,she was relieved.Relieved that he was not awake yet and afraid of those thunders.

A part of Y/n wanted to go back into her room and go back admiring that storm from behind the glass plate of the window,but first she got closer to the wall that separated her from her neighbor.

To,she said to herself,just to check more closely.Just to make sure.

But check what exactly?

Y/n shook her head.She really had to be out of her mind if now she was worried about an almost - stranger that seemed to not like her at all.She made to retrace her steps,when a curled figure caught her attention.

Sitting on the ground,with his shoulders leaning against the wall of that balcony and with a black cloak on him,he stood with his head hidden by the hood.Still like a statue,with his arms around his legs.Half of his body was protected under the windowsill,while the other half was being wet by that rainwater.

Y/n tilted her head to the side,confused.

“Who is that?And what are they doing?”she wondered.

Even though she knew very well who it was.It couldn't be anyone other than him.

«Cregan?»Y/n spoke without having the slightest control over her voice,attracting the attention of the boy.

Cregan raised his head,which he had kept sunk between his legs until that moment,turning his head then towards the young lady on the other side of the wall.His eyes were usually clear and calm,but now they were wide open with astonishment.

Wide in a way that Y/n couldn't but find adorable.

She ignored these thoughts and just reopened her mouth«What are you doing out here?Don't you see .. ?It's raining.»she asked with a soft tone.

“As if i hadn't noticed,Y/n”Cregan wanted to tell her with a little voice.He wouldn't have put on his cloak if he hadn't seen the rain.

But a part of him decided to keep his mouth closed.Lady Y/n was immensely pretty under the pale moonlight and wet by the rain.He had always been fascinated by her,by the way her eyes shined bright and the way she talked fast about something she liked and knew about.She made him nervous to speak whenever he was around her,she was far smarter and wiser than him even at that young age,always so kind and he was afraid to make a fool out of himself.Especially when he was still scared of thunderstorms.

Cregan didn't answer,just staring at her with his big blue eyes.

«Are you hurt?»Y/n brown furrow as she scanned his pale face to find something.

The rain kept falling and it seemed that its intensity continued to increase as the seconds passed.The trees in front of that castle moved to the right and left,driven by a force they already knew,but which they were still unable to repel.

Cregan shook his head and then spoke«I'm scared of thunderstorms.»he just said.

Y/n nodded«I know that.But why are you outside?»she offered him a kind smile.

Cregan seemed to think about it for a while, undecided whether to say everything to her or keep shut up.But there was something in her,something that was pulling in from the inside.Something that was screaming at him to tell her everything that he was afraid of,because with her it would be safe,she would have kept him safe.She would’ve understood him and comforted him.

He chose the second option and returned to stare at an indefinite point of his cloak,hoping that the young lady with wet hair and sweet eyes would soon leave,leaving him alone.As he had only been until recently.

One day Cregan would have been Lord Stark,protector of the great North and he needed to learn to not be afraid of thunderstorms on his own.But Y/n presence,the little girl that would become his wife,was louder than any thunder and brighter than any light.

In fact she had no intention of leaving.

«I'm scared of thunderstorms.»he found himself repeating and then adding«I really can't stand them.»he murmured.

She listened to him carefully,standing in front of that little wall,while Cregan continued to turn his back on her and look down as he spoke again:

«I can't sleep when there are thunderstorms.And being alone in the room,in the dark with only sudden flashes to illuminate,is scary.»he explained quietly.

Y/n nodded sympathetically,although she didn't find anything scary at all in his description.But for once she tried to put herself on Cregan side.

«So why don't you go to your father?My mother always makes me sleep with her when I have nightmares.»she asked with curiosity.

Cregan shook his head,clutching in that heavy cloak«He doesn’t want to.He say I have to overcome my fears sooner or later.»he said,with a glint of sadness in his eyes.

Y/n curled her nose,confused«And do you get over them by standing in the rain?»squeezing her hands to create a little bit of warmth.

This time he took some time to respond.

Then,shifting his gaze towards the horizon«It's less scary.I can see the lights of the villages and the boats passing by and I know I'm not the only one awake.I know I'm not alone.»he found himself admitting«It's less scary.Or at least I think…»

He didn't know why he was saying these things.Especially to her.For all his ten almost eleven years he had carried that fear of his with him without saying anything to anyone.Revealing his fear only to himself.And seeking comfort only in him.

A comfort that most of the time was not enough.

His father kept telling him that he was grown up by now,that he had to overcome his fear of thunderstorms by now.A fear that was too childish for his age.For the Lord he was destined to be.How could he protect people when he was the first to be scared?He needed to start acting like a man.

But how adult can a ten year old be?

Without meditating on his words,Y/n replied«And are you going to stay out here all night?Until the thunderstorm stops?»her angel face was worried.

Cregan just nodded,without staring at her directly in the eyes.The little girl made a grimace that the other could not see.It was the stupidest thing she had ever heard.Yet she still didn't find the strength to leave him alone.Leave him there alone and go back to her room.

Y/n had felt,she had felt for a few seconds,almost a perceptible thread that drew her to Cregan.Maybe she was just imagining everything. Maybe it was just her childish mind that was playing tricks on her.Or maybe it was just that summer storm fault.

She didn't know,but now she felt tied to the boy with the dark cloak and blue eyes.

«Come.»Y/n voice was firm and warm.

Cregan jolted,surprised to still hear the young girl voice.He thought she had returned to the heat of her room by now.And instead there she is,on the other side of the low wall,reaching out to him with a pure smile on her face.

“She’s cute when she smiles.”Cregan immediately thought,noticing her soft eyes and all her teeth shining in the light of the torches in the street.

He also found her so reassuring.That kind of safety that he desperately needed.

«Where?»he asked confused.

Y/n smiled at him again,getting closer and reaching out her hand again,almost touching his face making him shiver.

«If you spend the night out here you're going to get sick.If you don't want to be alone,I'll keep you company.»she stated fiercely and he knew nothing would’ve changed her mind.

They were simple words.Words of a child of eight,almost nine,years old.Yet Cregan swore he had never heard such beautiful words.No one had ever given him such attention and didn't know whether or not to trust that young lady.

They had met numerous times and now they were even betrothed to each other,but they weren’t exactly friends.

And Cregan was very skeptical to those he knew very little.Especially the ones that made him feel nervous just by looking at him.

He decided to refuse Y/n invitation.

But when he made to decline the offer,the first of many flashes lit up the sky,followed by a noise so loud that raised Cregan hair,or more commonly called thunder.

The boy snapped to his feet in fear.Perhaps the idea of going out,so as not to stay in the dark of his room,had not been the best.Or maybe it was the worst idea that had ever occurred to him and only now did he find it stupid.

«So?Are you coming or not?»Y/n called for his attention again,noting the thin veil of blush on his pale cheeks.

She was younger than him by only two years,yet she was still more mature than him.She had this aura surrounding her,of someone that would have took care of him.Someone he could really start to trust and lay down his strength.A little sun,personal and only for him,to remind him that the storms he was so afraid of were only temporary while she would have been by his side forever.

Cregan found himself shaking Y/n hand,who helped him climb over the wall that divided them, and in a moment he was on the other balcony.

He crossed his eyes again with those of his future wife,who immediately answered him with another sweet smile and opened the window door,to let him enter in the warmth of her room and protect him from that storm.

Immediately closed the door behind them and,after a moment of uncertainty she spoke first«Give me your cloak,i’ll put it here with mine so that tomorrow the servants can wash them.»she told him,taking her off to remain in her pink nightgown.

Cregan blushed even more as he nodded as if in a trance and took off his dark cloak,handing it over to her and revealing a pastel-colored pajamas.

He thought it was impossible for a room to look like it owner,but Y/n bedroom was just like her:a mess of colors,books everywhere and with a pleasant warmth that made him feel safe.

«Why are you still awake?»Cregan suddenly asked,trying to not move around too much.

The little girl took two pillows from her bed and a blanket,walking to the fluffy carpet in front of the old fireplace that the servants had lighted up before she went to bed,once the thunderstorm had started.

«I like to watch the storms.»she said,patting the empty space next to her with one hand«Also,now that my mother is pregnant and my father stays up with his advisors,i need to check on her.»she continues.

Cregan looked at her carefully,the long hair falling free on her shoulders,her perfect face.He was right,she so much mature than he was,already taking care of everyone around her at such a young age,just like a proper lady should.

As he took place next to her on the pavement,still keeping a proper distance between them,Cregan realized that he didn't know anything about her.But he knew how much she loved her mother as he always saw the two of them holding hands.He didn't know if she had the same relationship with her father,who seemed to prefer her older brothers,but he still didn't have enough closeness to ask her for more information.

In fact,they had absolutely no closeness and it could be seen in the silence that fell between the two children.One of those silences that always arise in similar situations,when two people don't know each other but have to spend time together.

«Would you like to do something?»Y/n calm voice sounded even more melodious up close.

She tried to mask that awkwardness with a polite tone,asking her guest with a kind expression.

Cregan spoke little and for the rest of the time he just agreed or disagreed on a certain statement.

The younger of the two was shrinking her minds to think of some kind of game to play together, but the boy next to her would just stare at her,frowning,as if he was annoyed by that situation,while standing close to window of that room like he wanted to escape that situation.

Y/n curled her nose,bored by that sudden superior attitude that Cregan was carrying on himself.

«Look,you can still go back in the rain if you prefer.»she told him,with a sour tone.

She felt bad to see him frightened by that thunderstorm,but if he didn't even show her a minimum of gratitude or a spirit of collaboration, then he could very well leave.Y/n was a sunny child,always with a smile on her face and ready to raise the morale of anyone who needed it.

But“This boy is really unpleasant”she thought.

Cregan crossed his arms to his chest,squeezing his eyes and staring at her,offended and angry at the same time.He thought that he shouldn’t have accepted her invitation and that both their fathers had made a mistake by promising them.They would never get along.

He could very well go back to his room and overcome that storm on his own,as he had always done until then.He didn’t need Y/n help.He made a grimace in the direction of the little girl,who responded to the gesture by raising her eyes to the sky.

But when he was about to open the window door and return to his room,without his dark cloak,a flash illuminated the sky and his face.

Cregan eyes went wide,as he was falling backwards and ending up on the ground on his butt as he waited for the arrival of the thunder that did not take long to arrive.His lower lip trembled,while he couldn't move any muscle.

He hated how thunderstorms could do this to him.He hated how they could make him tremble and frighten.

“They are a normal thing,dictated by nature”his father had always told him.

Yet Cregan didn't believe it.He continued to hate thunderstorms.

And something told him that this fear of his would never go away.

«Cregan.... are you all right?»he heard a soft voice behind his back.

Cregan looked up and saw Y/n standing on her knees on the carpet and he only remembered at that moment of her presence.

The boy gasped,looking for an answer.But before he could speak,another flash lit up the room,and before the thunder could be heard,Cregan had already put his hands on his ears.

The arrogant facade,which he had previously put on,had now completely crumbled, revealing his insecure and frightened side.

Y/n didn't know what to do.

The annoyed face she had a little while ago,was gone.Now she was really worried for him.She just wanted to find a way to distract him,and to put an end to that clash of lights that illuminated the room.

Cregan did not move,with his head resting on his bent knees,and the palms of his hands were still covering his ears,in the vain hope of not hearing that almost metallic and shackled noises.

«It’s alright,don't worry.»Y/n tried to reassure him.But it seemed that no one could move the young boy.

«They usually just make a big noise and then they go away.»she continued with a reassuring voice getting closer to him.

But Cregan was still shaking, scared,and Y/n didn't know what to do.She was never scared of thunderstorms.She would have liked to hold him tight in a hug,to drive away all his fear.But she knew that if she did,she would only make things worse.

In the meantime,Cregan continued to make himself small,smaller and smaller,curled up almost on himself on that light pavement.

«I mean…deep down it's just water,isn't it?Water and lights.As if it were an ocean... and the oceans are beautiful,aren't they,Cregan?»she asked with a hint of hope.

Y/n was used to the water,she lived near the sea and she had grew up running up and down on her fathers boats with her brothers.Her mothers read her stories about fishes,sailors,mermen and mermaids.

And while he did not respond,too busy controlling his fear,Y/n came up with an idea.

«I know what to do!»she almost screamed,catching Cregan attention and shicking around the room,as if looking for something.

The boy looked at her confused,forgetting – but only for a short time – of the thunderstorm.

«There you are.»Y/n exhaled,almost relieved.

Cregan blinked,observing the more confusion she had created throughout that room,the books scattered on the floor and the cabinets wide open,just for that medium-sized old book she now held in her hands,with a proud and satisfied smile.He didn't understand what use that book could have,but he didn't breathe,limiting himself to observing the young girl sitting carefully next to him and opening it.

And then millions of billions of fishes began to swim between the old pages.Cregan mouth widened into an “o”, but he quickly closed it again before Y/n could notice his astonishment.It's just a very simple book of fairy tales,he said to himself.

Yet,in some way,it had distracted him.

«If you lie down on the bed,you can see them better.»Y/n spoke,making herself comfortable on her bed and starting to turning the pages.

Cregan grimaced,watching how she was smiling.That wasn’t proper.

«Why should I lie down-»yet another thunder«Alright... I lie down.»he immediately changed his mind.

He hurriedly took the steps that separated him from that bed,before sinking into the lavander sheets that smelled of flowers and vanilla.

Y/n by his side smiled at him.But Cregan didn’t,remaining impassive and jolting at every thunder.She closed the curtains around her bad,only the soft light of the candle on the nightstand remain.The 'lightning' factor had been solved.

«They're beautiful,aren’t they?»she said,tracing with her fingers the different fishes.

They were.Their shapes,colors,sizes were mesmerizing.

Cregan didn't know to answer again.Those bright,fishes seemed to moved quickly on all those pages in a continuous flow.They were simple,so damn simple,yet they had caught the his attention.

«Yes,they ar–»he tried to agree with her,but here's yet another thunder made him jump out of fear.

Y/n by his side watched him close his eyes and plug his ears with both hands.

She had to find a way to distract him from the sounds too.

«You see him?»she turned the page and pointed to a strange figure on the right corner.

A man with a tail of a fish.

Cregan turned to her,taking his hands off his ears and moving his eyes on what Y/n finger was pointing to.

«It’s a merman?»he sounded uncertain,the figure on the book looked like the blazon of house Manderly.

Y/n nodded her head confirming his question«They said that he loved another mermaid and when the pirates had captured her,driven by grief,he turned his body in marble creating White Harbor.»she explained him,showing him another picture of the place where now she was living.

Cregan looked confused,his eyebrows raising«Why would he do that?»

The girl next to him sighed,her shoulder touching his,the sweet perfume of her hair was tickling his nose.She was warm and soft and made his stomach twist and his hands sweat.

«I guess that he couldn’t live without her and preferred to die.»she simply answered«Years ago i used to cry when my mother read me this story.»she continued as she flipped the page.

In the dim light,he could see that her eyes were a little glassy and only now he remembered that just like him,she was still a child with fears like him and stories that made her cry in her mother arms.

«How about her?»Cregan eyes and hand went to point to a female picture.

A mermaid with a red tale and long wet red hair on her shoulders,sitting on a rock near the coast.Her beautiful expression seemed pained,her mouth opened as if she was saying something.In the distance seemed that a storm was coming,the waves crashing into the shore,dark clouds on the horizon.

Y/n smiled,stretching the book out to him so that he could take a better look«She was a princess that fell in love with a sailor.Her father,the King of the fourteen seas had forbidden their love.»she started to explain with a soft tone«They could see each other only on the beginning of the Long Summer,when her father was away in the ocean»she said.

Cregan yawned«And how did they knew when the Long Summer came?»he seemed genuinely interested now.

«The storm.»Y/n quickly answered«It was her way to let him know that she was waiting for him.She was calling him back to her.»in her expression he could find a hint of teasing.

He shuddered,the thing that scared him the most,for this children book,was just a mermaid calling for her lover.

«But how does he know?»he asked again and his voice was becoming softer,his eyes closing a bit,yet he stayed very curious about the story.

«Does he know what?»Y/n whispered.

«That it was her.»he continued.

«Because he had loved no else but her in his life.Only her could have called him back home.»she explained and he swore he could’ve seen her eyes shine bright.

«I hate her father.»Cregan mumbled.

He found it stupid,it was just a fairy tale to help people sleep,but if the mermaid father didn’t get in the way tonight he would’ve been scared.And that’s also must had been the reason why she wasn’t afraid of them.

Y/n giggles made him blush,as she shook a little onto him«But you know what’s the best part of it?For the rest of the summer there wouldn’t be any other storms,just the bright sun as the two of them could be together.»she whispered.

It was a way to say that after every thunderstorm that would’ve been the sun.Always.

«Wasn’t she scared of her father founding out that they were still together?»his voice was sleepy and his eyes heavy.

Y/n shook her head«Love is stronger than fear.»she stated«Don’t you find it beautiful?»she said then,a dreamy look in her eyes.

There was no answer.

Y/n turned to him,finding him with his eyes closed and his mouth half-open.His chest would rise and fall at a regular pace,while his slight breathing could be heard.She smiled at that sight as she stroked his hair.

Cregan had fallen asleep.Y/n was satisfied.Satisfied and happy.

She succeeded in her intent,help him and distract him from the thing that scared him the most.She wondered what Cregan would do at this time if Y/n hadn’t invited him?

He would probably still have been awake.Because the thunderstorm hadn't stopped,no,it had never stopped.The mermaid was still calling for her lover.

The flashes,however,had mixed in the images on the pages and the noise of thunder had been lost among the stories of Y/n mermaids.Cregan had been so busy observing those images drawn on the book and hating the King of the seas,that he completely forgot about the thunderstorm.

Y/n closed the book,placed it carefully on her nightstand and reached out to grab a thin sheet at the bottom of their feet and covered the young boy who slept well by her side.

«Good night,Cregan.Tomorrow there will be the sun,i promise you.»she whispered kissing his forehead and drifting to sleep too.

And for the first time,after so many years,he slept.After so many years,Cregan was sleeping peacefully with a thunderstorm.

On any day in the early summer,ten years later,Lady Y/n Stark of Winterfell was laying in the bed she shared with her Lord husband.

Wife and husband,that’s what her and Cregan had been for the past four years.But before pronouncing their vows in front of the Seven and their families,they had became the best of friends.

When did they start calling each other that way?When did they become friends?Could they find a precise moment when they had gone from being strangers to even best friends?Were they able to establish the exact moment when their bond changed?

No,they couldn’t.

Maybe it was the year after that fateful rainy night.Maybe it was the next month when Cregan had spent all of his moments and attention in Y/n presence,falling in love with her more and more.

Or maybe it had happened at the exact time their hands had touched,when Y/n had proposed to be together in that thunderstorm,to mark the point of change for their relationship.

They didn't know that though.Neither of them knew for sure.But they didn't even ask.They fell in love with each other before they got married and that was that mattered.There are bonds that are born before the interlocking of the hands and connections that are born before touching each other.It was just pretty to think that,all this time,there was some kind of invisible string that was tying them together.

Anyone who cared for Cregan had to understand that he needed a little looking after.Someone who could help him sleep,who reminded him that he was just human and that he could still a child sometimes.And Y/n understood that,she held him gently,far more gently that anyone ever did.She stayed up with him when he couldn’t sleep at night,she stood next to him to greet the arrival of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and supported him in his decision to fight for the Dragon Queen.

All because she loved him more than anything and because he loved her.To love and to be loved was to rest.

Yet,now that Cregan was away,on the Wall of the great north with the young prince,Y/n couldn’t seem to find sleep.It was raining heavily outside,the long summer had arrived earlier that year and a violent storm was what welcomed it.

The pale rays of the moon filtered through the clouds,the wind was blowing against the windows,the lights of the lightning shaped the dark room she was in.

Cregan had ruined her,she thought to herself,ever since they got married and started to share the bed she couldn’t sleep if he wasn’t next to her,holding her in his arms,kissing her lips softly and whispering how much he loved her.But she knew that,with the war at their doorstep,he was busy with the young prince Jacaerys who came two weeks ago in ask for the help of the North.

Her husband was a man of honor,the Lord of Winterfell that never forget his oaths.

When a particular loud thunder broke through the quietness of the castle,Y/n got up from her bed.Taking the candle on the nightstand,she started walking down the dark corridor to reach her children chambers.Her sons,Rickon and Brandon,only four and two years old,looked exactly like their father:true men of the north but with their mother eyes and kind smile.

Just like their father they were scared of storms,it took her hours to put them to bed that night since the first drop of rain had hit the ground.They both reminded her the first time that she had spent with Cregan during one of those,curling up on her as she read them one of her books to help them sleep.

But that night was different,after two weeks of writing letters and longing,Cregan was finally home.As she quietly opened the door,the candle that Y/n was holding in her hand almost fell,when she saw her husband sitting on a chair in between the two beds where their sons seemed to sleep so soundly and well.

He was still wearing his dark fire coat and his long were wet,the tip of his nose red from the cold,while in his hands he was holding a old fairy tale book that they both knew very well.As if he had heard her behind the door,he smiled,and his face was like the sun.

He had came back as soon as he had heard the first sounds of the thunders,like a sailor bewitched by the melody of a siren voice.His sons were the first ones to greet him,running barefoot down the hallways to reach comfort in their father strong arms.

Cregan had been there before,his heart clenched in his chest as he dried the tears off their eyes and saw the fear on their little faces.But he knew what he had to do,unlike his father,he would always be there for help his children no matter what.

«The mermaid had waited all winter for her lover return,her voice guided him through the storm.»his voice was quiet and soft like a warm blanket«With the first lights of the new sun,he came back to her.»in his hands the hold book.

His oldest son yawned«But wasn’t he afraid of the storm?»Rickon asked,holding his teddy bear closer to his chest.

«He was.»Cregan nodded«But you know what is stronger than fear?»he whispered,noticing his younger son fast asleep.

Rickon shook his head,his eyes fighting to urge to close«What?»he chirped.

«Love.»his father simply answered«The idea of coming back to his lover was stronger than the fear of the storm.»Cregan stood up,caressing his son head.

«One day i want to love someone this much.Just like you love mama.»Rickon murmured sleepy,with a little smile on his face.

«And you will.»he promised«One day you will have someone that will help you overcome your fears and that will always call you back home when you are wondering too far.»he kissed both of his sons forehead.

Cregan was still a little nervous about storms,but that night he was finally back home as sun on water.Y/n reached for him and skimmed her hands over the light of him.

«I missed you.»she whispered on his lips,kissing him sweetly.

Cregan was holding her in his arms,gently caressing her hair,his forehead on hers«I saw the storm and i knew.»he smiled,trailing his lips on her chin and cheeks.

Y/n shivered,not only because his icy fingers were rubbing up and down her back,but because only her could understand the meaning of those words.The intimacy of having something only them could share with each other.

«So you came back early because of the storm?»she giggled as his beard tickled her beautiful face.

He smiled even more,tightening his grip on her smaller body«I came back because of you.Only you could have called me back home.»he whispered placing a kiss on her lips.

The smell of her hair,the taste of her mouth,the feeling of her skin seemed to have gotten inside of him or in the air all around him.She had become a physical necessity,not only to ease his fear,but to have someone to come back to.

She placed her head on his chest,listening to his heartbeat beating alongside hers.They stood there for a moment more,embracing each other,in the dark corridor.

«Do you hear it?»Y/n softly asked suddenly.

«Hear what?»Cregan voice was low.

«The sound of the rain.»she explained,closing her eyes and relaxing against his touch.

For a while they just listened to the incessant ticking of the rain,while a thousand fish continued to swim on the pages of their book.

But suddenly a flash illuminated the corridor,followed by the due thunder.

Y/n jolted,expecting her husband to do the same.

Yet this was not the case«Aren't you afraid of thunderstorms anymore?»she teased him.

«How can I be afraid of thunderstorms when I'm by your side?»he said,caressing her cheek lovingly.

«Tomorrow there will be the sun.»she smiled against him,brighter than any light.

She was right,after the storm there was always the warm weather and Y/n was the golden sun at the horizon.That one thing that gave him hope for a brighter future,the only one that could bring him back home.Because his sleepless nights are better with her than any nights could ever be alone.

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howdoesagrapewrites · 1 month ago

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𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬: 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐟𝐲𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Plot: You, the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen grew up with a very devoted extended family. But after the dance of dragons begins, you know exactly on what side you belong

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere! EVERYONE x reader

>As you mounted your dragon for the first time after escaping King's Landing, a sense of safety settled all around you. It had been foolish not to fly

>Targaryens were said to be fire and blood, and perhaps it was fitting for some* of them. You thought of Baela and your father, of Rhaenyra as well. Fire and blood, molten, viscous dragonfire ran through their veins, no doubt

>But you? You were fit to be right in the sky

>And you suspected Jacaerys to be the same

>He had said that once they saw him and his brothers riding on top of the dragons that hatched in their cradles, no one would dare call them bastards. He was using his king voice when doing so

>Jacaerys looked like a king sometimes, and like a boy most of the time. He looked like a knight from the stories, and a gentleman, and a brother, and a little like Daeron.

>You saw Vermax's green scales in your peripheral vision. You were meant to fly side by side, though it was clear that the nimble beast would surpass your speed at some point

>But it looked intentional

>Was Jace trying to leave you behind? It looked like it

>Well, it looked like it until you heard him laugh. He was not trying to leave you behind, he was racing you

>How long ago was it that you raced with him for the last time, without knowing it would be the last?

>You shook your head to shake off the melancholy, silly thing it was

>You screamed to Dagahrion, and loosened the reins

>The air could cut like an icy blade, and sweat was freezing on your face as soon as it formed. You leaned back to balance yourself and let Dagahrion take control of you instead

>He raced, speeding up with a roar that, to you, sounded like a rumbling laugh

>Though your mount was fierce enough, nature had been on Jacaerys' side by making Vermax longer and less stocky

>After the race, the flight was serene. Although it was long, and it made you wearier than any race

>And when the sun was starting to dim, the both of you descended the clouds, finding it would still take a day to reach Winterfell.

>As the dragons stepped upon land, to the awe and horror of the people below, you had to feel a spike of pride. Dragons were gods, and the magic in your blood had bound one to you

>The trident and merman imagery soon told you that you were in White Harbor

>White Harbor had once been known as the The Wolf's Den, before the wolves in question, the Starks, gave it to the exiled southrons.

>The city was beautiful, even as the sky darkened. It had roads of white cobblestone, and statues of mermen made of white stone, that instead of tridents, had oiled torches to light up the night, and of course that invigorating breeze of the sea, even if vaguely fishy due to the proximity to the markets.

>Soon, after the guardmen went to fetch the Lord, you were welcomed to the opulent grand hall of New Castle, the Merman's Court.

>Lord Desmond Manderly welcomed you and Jacaerys with arrogant eagerness, one that spoke of an ambition you would have previously let slide. No longer you would, for everything had made you more vigilant

>The pleasantries were exchanged, and beer poured like a waterfall. Jacaerys drank two servings of the stout beer, you counted them. One not to be ungrateful of the service, and one to let Desmond relax. You on the other hand, felt a cozy warmth in your gut and cheeks right after finishing your first pouring of alcohol.

>"Aye, he has not." The prince recognized,"But lord Stark, I am told he is honorable, his father swore an oath to king Viserys' heir, and I trust he has not forgotten..." he took another sip of beer, perhaps for courage

>"My prince," began lord Desmond "it is undying, the loyalty of my house, to your mother and our queen, however..." there always a however. "Our liege lords, the Starks of Winterfell, they have given us these lands graciously, and most ungracefully they can tear them from our grasps, were we to oppose them. And Lord Cregan has not yet declared for the Queen in Dragonstone or the King on the throne, has he?" He questioned with the elegance of someone looking down on you, despite being a head shorter than Jacaerys.

>"My liege lord is just and wise, m'prince. Yet he was but a babe when those oaths were spoken." Replied the host, with an ever-so-subtle leaning of his back to his carved wooden chair, chalice in hand.

>"Yet you were not, lord Desmond." Said Jacaerys, using his king voice. "You are not a youth, if my lord will forgive me. But I trust your wits remain just as sharp, you have ruled diligently, one can tell from a single look to this city, thriving and prosperous." And prosperity can be undone was the hidden threat, the regal threat.

>The man kept as steady and composed as a still river, as a hand brushed through his brown, silver frosted hair, sweaty with the warmth of the candles and beer. "You flatter me, my prince, but truth be told, White Harbor has always been prosperous, the sea provides for us, so do our people, in fact." He paused, a zaccharine smile plastering his face."It did quite bloom in the times of my great-grandsire, lord Theomore, who lavishly entertained your own great-grandmother, the good queen Alysanne"

>"Is that so? I am glad to hear. Such a good host, my forefather was, that once her grace left, two of his sons had found brides." Then he looked at you. "Many years later, his hospitality would earn him a lady wife for his own, the princess Viserra, though the natch never came to fruition."

>"I have heard such stories, though I regret my stay will be much less jovial, I assure you that you do not seem to pale, lord Desmond."

>Proudly, Desmond hid a scoff beneath a bite of tender eel. "The iron throne promised a match, my prince, and I fear the princess' recklessness was never remedied. You ask me to declare for your lady mother, even when it might earn me the pointy side of liege's blade who remains quiet until now. There are those who say blood binds faster than ink. And there are those who say a dragon wins to a wolf."

>His gaze flickered between the attendants of the lavish supper, and it made you restless. You would have kept quiet, had the alcohol not lowered your inhibitions. "Quite the history lesson, lord Manderly. Though I fail to see what such stories of fraternity have to do with your fealty." And you regretted it as soon as you said it, especially with Jacaerys' poorly concealed glance of dissaproval and despair. He had lord Manderly in the palm of his hand, until you spoke

>And then again, he looked at you.

>Jacaerys coughed, trying not to let his surpise show too much. "My brother, prince Joffrey of house Velaryon, second in line to inherit Driftmark, happens to be free of promise." He said, testing the waters, his kingly voice wavering.

>"A dragon rider as well, your brother, if I am not mistaken..." began lord Desmond, with the look of someone who won a good board game. "And I happen to have a young daughter. As well as two comely sons about your age."

#hotd x reader #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere jacaerys velaryon #yandere hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x you #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #platonic yandere rhaenyra targaryen #f&b x reader #asoiaf x reader

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blueberrypancakesworld · 1 year ago

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Omg, we need a emma d'arcy x fem reader! Pleaseee!!!

Let me help you here

Emma D'arcy x fem!reader

warning : fluff, flirting, comfort, nicknames, no use of Y/n, i really hope emma is not too ooc, i hope all pronouns are right

Summary : The latest season of House of the Dragon is about to start and final filming is underway. Emma as the Queen Rhaenyra finds themself in a quiet scene with a fellow actor and the two need some help from each other getting dressed…professionally of course.

info : normally i don't write for actors but i feel comfortable with it so i hope you like it anon and emma looks like the queen herself too. have fun reading ;)

ps : I love the gif not only a queen but Ewan in the background so sweet

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The acting group needed for the scene had already gathered at the slightly unfinished set. The lights over there were sometimes bright, sometimes dark, with a wide variety of flares and lanterns, some lit with real flames, of course, and some with no real light.

The sets, as you all knew, served mainly as backgrounds for the actors and for the special effects specialists as the big screen which, in addition to the scenery and the actors and props, brought them all to life, giving them that fantasy look.

The large set the hall of Dragonstone went almost to the ceiling thick walls some with steel thickness some finely crafted with foam served as a set. It was really impressive to see how they did it all thought the young actress and let her gaze wander only briefly knowing that the camera was still on her co-worker Matt who was discussing the war plans as Daemon as he had learned.

Especially in the final edit when they had all watched the greasy series together, it was really nice to be back. The camera on the table moved around it again from Matt to her as Daemon looked at the Nachirhct's delivery. ,,Be assured the sea route is supported by Lord Manderly. This also goes out to your ships Lord Corlys your safety is our concern" she said her sentence as scripted letting her eyes wander over the sea route and nodded to Matt and Steve in their roles as Daemond and Corlys who also gave her a nod and thanks before the camera panned back.

It was a few lines she had played a newsbringer a high lady from the lake house as she had done a little research on the internet and even read a little blood and fire. A really good book.

But then she knew her cue when it became quiet at the table and the guards could be heard announcing in loud voices on the set that a queen was arriving. Instead of the short hair, Emma's head was adorned with a long, light-colored wig, which made their face slightly pale, but the expression Simply incredible she thought and looked at the older one who Matt then placed next to her around the table.

There was silence as everyone looked at the Queen, who looked at the card with a broken look of hatred and after another shaky breath gave a determined ,,I will…Aemond Targaryen" everyone lingered like that for a moment before there was a loud ,,Cut!" and a clap was heard and everyone fell out of their roles. Immediately there was talk and laughter, and everyone was curious to see what the scene would look like, ,,What a cute curtsy my lady," she heard Emma say as they came over to her and mimicked the movement, making them both smile.

,,So much training," the younger one mumbled, pretending to strain before D'arcy took the younger one's arm and pulled her along, ,,Nice to see you having fun and everyone going so well," the taller one began, giving her an assuring look.

It was only a small role and she had been in a few smaller TV series here and there, but it was still something completely different, it was really exciting to be around movie legends and such good actors.

A possibility she really appreciated…and maybe she appreciated Emma even more. The English actor was really impressive, even though they only played a few roles, but the expression, the voice and just everything about D'arcy was engaging and so captivating.

,,Everyone take a break, later we might do a post-production but until then you can get out of your costumes!" they heard the head of the costume department say and most of the actors went straight to the dressing rooms and Emma to the caravans.

This time, however, the younger one, who was only a supporting role, was about to say goodbye when the older one took her hand again and pulled her along. ,,I promised you I'd have a Negroni Sbagliato with you, come on, sweetie," they said and before she knew it they were actually in the actor's cozy caravan. Yes, they had made that promise after they realized on the first day they had met that they had not only gone back to the same acting school but had also run into each other more often than they wanted to.

From auditions, to plays and in real life it was almost romance ripe. ,,So with Orange without?" they asked, still standing at the small bar in their full outfits, which made the younger ones smile, ,,As the Queen takes him, so do I," she demanded with a look that went over the actor's body. The dress and the coat and the hair it was so impressive to see how versatile Emma could be.

But she had noticed the younger girl's stare, not just the little smirk on her lips, but when she turned to her and put the drink in her hand, their fingers deliberately touched and Emma let them touch. There seemed to be something between the two of them.

She had often invited Emma to her small but pleasant apartment and they had spent the evenings doing all sorts of things. In return, Emma sometimes invited her to extraordinary restaurants or something, it was like a friendship, even if some of the looks went deeper.

The two of them talked for a while about the costumes and the stunts with the "dragons", how exhausting and yet beautiful it was. She had watched D'acry do some of the flying toes and it looked incredible. ,,I'm glad to see you're enjoying it so much…you see I knew it would do you good not to give up now that we're here together," Emma winked and stood up after taking a sip of the alcoholic beverage before turning around and standing with their back to the younger one.

,,I can get the wig off by myself, but would you mind taking off the dress?" the actor asked and the younger girl jumped at the sight of a slightly rapid heartbeat, slightly sweaty palms and suddenly the alcohol was pounding much harder than usual. ,,Gladly for you-I mean, of course I'll help," she mumbled, stammering, and slowly began to help the taller girl out of her jacket, the smell of Chinoto Dark's citrusy, smoky scent enveloping her now that it had settled on her skin.

She liked the scent strong and yet slightly sweet because of the hint of lemon it was really something nice. ,,All good sweetie?" came the voice of the older one who turned slightly and looked at the younger one who was still holding the jacket in her hand ,,Yes-yes all good" she shrugged and felt the warmth on her cheeks.

Pull yourself together, you're not a schoolgirl anymore, she admonished herself and put the coat away before tying the dress, but she heard the slight smirk and Emma's words, ,,Don't be nervous, you're just undressing the queen," Emma joked, giving her a wink. A wink that only made the younger girl's heart beat faster.

Maybe it was Emma's intention, maybe it was the actor's style, or maybe it was just for fun. Who knew, but as her fingers tightened on the laces, the taller actress held still and let her friend do her thing, stepping out of the dress before reaching for a robe.

The back was nicely defined by the light muscles, not just for acting, the underwear a quick glance and her cheeks almost got hotter. ,,You were a grateful help, sweetie," Emma said, standing in front of the younger girl, they towered over her with their height in addition to the boots.

Her wispy dark blonde hair was slightly tousled and she had to resist tousling it and greenish eyes were looking at her. But then suddenly D'acry reached for her hand and brought it to her lips, placed a grateful kiss on it and seemed about to continue. The moment deepened and the younger girl clung to the fabric of the robe, fearful of falling over in devotion, when a ringing from her cell phone threw her off balance.

,,Fuck," she muttered with a determined look and Emma just smiled again. She picked it up, ,,I'm um what-yes of course-yes I'm on my way," she mumbled as the voice of the debriefing leader at the other end called for her to go over the script again when a few changes were made.

Sighing, she gathered her things and had forgotten all about the actor when Emma held her lightly again, ,,I'll wait here honey," Emma winked and gave one last kiss on the hand before she let the younger actor out of the caravan with an embarrassed look, knowing that something was finally going to happen, just a dance of the actors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#hotd #house of the dragon #emma d'arcy #emma d'arcy x reader #reader is female #hotd fic #request answered

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maidragoste · 1 year ago

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The Sea Dragon, The Clubfoot and The Green Queen

main masterlist of the series

I had to make another masterlist just for the questions and headcanons

Answering questions, headcanons, etc

Reader's baby is still going to be a Strong?

It’s a game changer that the Reader is Velaryon?

There something between the Reader and Alicent?

Will there be a happy ending for Harwin and Reader? + The closest thing to a happy ending between Harwin and Reader

Does Rhaenyra and Daemon's relationship affect Harwin?

The consequences of Rhaenyra's actions

Reader taking Rhaena unders her wing + Reader wants Baela to inherit Driftmark?

The blacks don't stand a chance against the sea dragon, the master of whispers and the green queen

How Daemon sees Reader

Reader shutting Rhaenyra and Daemon's mouth + Reader being Alicent's sun + Larys being Reader's moon

A Little Bit of Everything (The Velaryon + Reader and Alicent)

Did the court ever suspect that Reader's children are Larys' and not Harwin's?

Rhaenys and Lyonel's reaction to Harwin and Rhaenyra's affair

Is the Velaryon Reader a dragon rider?

The physical appearance of the strong twins

How does the sea dragon affect the relationship between the green children and rhaenyra’s children + Did people suspect the bastardry of Reader's children?

Laenor is such a frigging clown + Rhaenyra lied to Laenor?

The relationship between Rhaenyra and Reader

Velaryons

Headcanons (about Reader, the kids and Rhaenyra)

Corlys's position before the bastard of the children of Rhaenyra

Is Lyonel Strong going to die in the Harrenhal fire?

Nightwing wanting to comfort Reader after Laenor's death

More headcanons of the green children, reader, etc.

More headcanons of Reader and the children + Were Daemon and Reader ever friends?

More of the children and Reader

Me and The Devil (a short edit with Larys and Reader)

Rhaenyra jealous of Alicent + Harwin realizing Reader is the queen's lover

The Manderly house taking an important role in the Dance

Strong Twins Headcanons

Alyn and Baela can go through an enemies to lover's phase?

Baela and Alyn

Corlys finding out that his grandson has the same name as his bastard

Harwin is going to die?

So sea-dragon reader is gonna sleep with Daemon at Laena's funeral...?

Talking about Daemon and Reader

Daemon x Reader edit

Harwin x Reader edit

Did rhaenyra ever saw moments between reader and alicent that made her go "she never was like this with me" ?

Larys as father

Corlys and Sea Dragon edit

AU with Male!Alicent

AU Sea Dragon as Viserys' wife and Alicent as Daemon's

Larys x Sea Dragon edit

Headcanons

Sea Dragon and Daemon edit

Daemon x Sea Dragon edit

Sea Dragon gave alicent a little seashell to make her smile

Family Day in Driftmark

Viserys & Sea Dragon (Queen AU)

#the sea dragon the clubfoot and the green queen #alicent x reader #larys x reader #alicent hightower x reader #larys strong x reader #harwin x reader #harwin strong x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader

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jacaeryssworld · 11 months ago

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masterlist ೃ⁀➷

this is the masterlist for this blog! it will contain x oc works & x reader works! i will make sure to label which is which to make it easier <3

request guidelines!

JACAERYS VELARYON

( x oc works! )

Of Flame and Flesh ➡︎ Published, In Progress ♡ | ☹︎ | ♢ | ♠︎

jacaerys velaryon x elaenya targaryen

trope(s): childhood friends to strangers to lovers, arranged marriage, he fell first & she fell harder, misunderstanding

warning(s): typical targaryen incest (nephew x aunt dynamic), main character(s) death, angst, family drama, blood & violence mentions, mentions of teen pregnancy

Heavy is the Head ➡︎ Draft ♡ | ☹︎ | ♢ | ♠︎ | ✧

jacaerys velaryon x viserra targaryen

trope(s): childhood friends to lovers, arranged marriage, extroverted boy x introverted girl, he fell first & harder, jace won’t have a good day unless viserra smiles at him, angst, tooth rooting fluff

warning(s): typical targaryen incest (nephew x aunt dynamic), main character(s) death, violence & blood mentions, mentions of teen pregnancy

( x reader works! )

As If!

jacaerys strong x fem!reader, modern au!

under construction…

CREGAN STARK

( x oc works! )

Skyfall ➡︎ Published, In Progress ♡ | ☹︎ | ♢ | ♠︎ | ✧

cregan stark x alysanne ii targaryen

trope(s): arranged marriage, they both fell first, love at first sight, “enemies” to lovers, happily ever after (of sorts), golden retriever in disguise x openly orange tabby, one step forward & two steps back

warning(s): otto hightower being a scumbag & a little bitch, bennard stark, angst, alicent is a bit obsessed with aly, violence & blood mentions, mentions of pregnancy

( x reader works! )

Sea Salt and Snow ➡︎ ♡

cregan stark x fem!manderly!reader

trope(s): childhood friends-to-lovers, arranged marriage

warning(s): short but sweet!

AEMOND TARGARYEN

( x oc works! )

Spool of Flame, Spool of Sea ➡︎ Published, In Progress ♡ | ☹︎ | ♢ | ♠︎

aemond targaryen x saera velaryon

trope(s): childhood friends to enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, caged bird

warning(s): typical targaryen incest (uncle x niece dynamic), aemond is very ooc in this, very angsty, blood & violence mentions

( x reader works! )

Rosey Eyed

aemond targaryen x fem!tyrell!reader

under construction…

BENJICOT BLACKWOOD / DAVOS BLACKWOOD

( x oc works! )

None yet!

( x reader works! )

Friends Don’t Look At Each Other Like That

benjicot blackwood x fem!reader, modern au!

under construction…

Fic Recommendations! <3

— None yet!

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mights-quills · 2 months ago

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“You’re Theon of House Greyjoy, of Pyke, of the Iron Islands.”, Marysa proclaimed, softly and secretive and she couldn´t stop, “You grew up in this castle, you're good at archery, You tell terrible jokes but I always laugh. laughed. You like sea shanties and you hate snow, and you sleep with the windows closed, and you like sleep in when you can and”

“ you’re crying, my lady”

Something stirred within him, something old and dormant.

Reeling from losing her husband, title and large part of her family all in one night at The Twins, Marysa Stark, or better yet, Marysa Manderly hides and tries to stay alive while in grief. She tries not to remember but memory is a funny thing and she might have to face her past before she finds any sign of peace.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64560448

#theon greyjoy x oc #oc: marysa manderly #theon greyjoy x marysa manderly #fic: worst sights than this #fic: we’re in love #fic: a butchered tongue still singing of ice and fire #theon x reader #theon x oc

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theredquill · 1 year ago

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MY ASOIAF OCS ( FEAT THE SEVEN GODS )

1. You pray to the Father for justice: leada tyrell  2. You pray to the Smith for protection: cassandra algood  3. You pray to the Warrior for courage : aryana stark  4. You pray to the Mother for mercy: aemma velaryon  5. You pray to the Maiden for beauty: marysa manderly  6. You pray to the Crone for wisdom : lainey hightower  7. You do not pray to the Stranger, because the Stranger is death : heistia umber

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rise-my-angel · 2 years ago

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Heart of the Great Wolf

25 - Sailing Through the Glow

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon Reader (Past)

Length: 18.1k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, discussions of warfare, strained parental dynamics, insecurity and trauma, smut, graphic sexual descriptions oral (m and f receiving), possessive tendencies

Notes: Just a normal chapter where nothing wacky happens at all. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

You had thought you arrived before him, the sun still low in the morning sky with the winds picking up more, as you and Theon rode into White Harbour. Countless times you had passed through the port city but it was the second time you would be here on account of war.

Only the pair of you, it hadn’t taken any time at all to reach there. Your mind occupied most of the ride with much thought of your father and what was to come. “We’re not fighting against the Lannisters. We lose this one, and we might not get any other chance. It’s the only thing we have and if we lose this, we lose the rest to come.” Perhaps it was the dreams and visions which left you feeling more haunted by the prospect, but you knew Theon was watching an intensity in you that grew increasingly agitated.

“How many times have the Golden Company tried to take our lands, and how many times have they failed?” Your jaw clenched, but he continued. “They’re sell swords not an army. The second the money stops coming, they’ll leave. With your father, we’ll have two armies against one of theirs-”

Your voice was tight as your eyes were trained on the approaching city. “More armies doesn’t mean you have a better chance. Only means you have two armies fighting for different reasons.”

Ignoring the curious gaze Theon was giving you, but he was quick on the draw. “If your fathers smart, he’ll wait until we get through the winter before caring about taking the Iron Throne.”

“If we get through it.”

He didn’t respond to that one. Only noticed the same distant look of something akin to a horror of unknowns deep in your eyes trying to pass off as indifference. It was the same one in Jons when he spoke of it, of the free folk who had seen what waited beyond the wall.

The Long Night was eight thousand years ago. To most Southerners, it was nothing more then a myth. Tales of cold and monsters that were dreamed up in a winter that never ended to amuse minds with little else to hold onto but their imaginations. The Northerners though, it was never quite only a story told to scare children. They had believed the cause without evidence, beacuse they knew it was real.

But Theon and many others still had no clue what was to come. They hadn’t seen it, in one manner or another they had no idea what waited for them. And no idea what would happen once they found way passed the wall. You had been reliving those dreams more and more at night, only seeing blue and the dead and cold. Every time you woke up you felt a chill flow through your blood knowing that what was to come was worse then any story.

But here you were, riding into the city knowing that if the North wasn’t ready to stop it, none of the kingdoms would survive. Someone had to be prepared for the storm, because the only other choice was death. None knew if the winter had lasted a generation because it was meant to, or if somehow the winter was brought to the lands with the Others. And only left once they did too. And none, knew how that happened either.

Some spoke of it as a great battle. A night full of darkness and death with one coming out as triumphant and ended it, but it made less sense the more you understood what you were to be up against. It wasn’t going to be that easy, it wasn’t going to be that simple. These weren’t dead, mindless monsters, these were living creatures. Creatures who wanted something you couldn’t comprehend.

Greeted into the city, they brought you and Theon to the main docks where you were to meet with Lord Wyman Manderly. Climbing down, and handing your reigns to one of the guards your eyes were kept to where the waters couldn’t be seen from that point. Too many buildings in the way from the outside as you were led in. Lord Wyman was in good spirits as he could be, turning from one of his men with a grin.

“Always a great pleasure to see you here, your grace.”

Raising an eyebrow, you nodded back to him. “It’s nicer to be here then you think, my Lord.” Shaking his outstretched hand firmly, “This was always my first stop coming from King’s Landing. I’d get here and know I could at the least breathe a little easier.”

There was a gratefulness in his eyes that softened a little. “Hopefully it’ll be just as nice when you come back this time.” Turning his attention to Theon, it still seemed to surprise him a little whenever the Northerners greeted him like normal. “Greyjoy.” No ire in his voice or tone it seemed.

You couldn’t help but wonder, if the understanding that he hadn’t killed the boys had eased the hate in their hearts towards him. If what he did, had finally been seen as a lesser evil then what many after him had done. “My lord.”

Turning to you once more, Lord Wyman beckoned you both into the building more. Mostly empty at this early of an hour, but that was also when you typically had been in there. “I’d offer you something to eat, your grace but I suspect you’d prefer to see exactly what we have before anything else.”

Nodding once, he led you through the main building and out to the main docks. You had seen this many ships before, but never were they yours to use in terms of war. Far more then sixty had sat in the waters as you stepped out onto the wooden platforms circling many of the main ships at command. “This looks to be a far more few then sixty, my lord.”

A glint in his eye, “Aye, it is your grace. Stannis Baratheon’s army arrived little over a day before yourself. Unpleasant man, your father. But he knows his way around a fleet.”

You swallowed harshly, keeping a stilled expression despite the pick up in speed of your heart, and the nerves which begun to flow once more. Your voice was tight and controlled as you walked beside the man. “I’d expect so, both of us were once in charge of the royal fleet at some point or another.”

“And trade,” That at least, got a small smirk out of you. Taking over his job had meant you learned the strange imports and exports that were not standard for the kingdom. Usually requests for certain highborns that were not accessible in King’s Landing, and typically the oddest ones always seemed to first ship in through White Harbour. “Was a game between me and my boys, guessing what was going to who. Never could quite figure out what was going to yourself.”

“Nor will you.”

He hadn’t been kidding about building these up in secret. Many looked like mere trade ships at first glance but you could see they had been built more study, something to hold and withstand feats more imposing then the tides. He clearly had been doing this for some time. Walking up and down the docks, you three went between the other with questions and suggestions. It was clear that Lord Wyman appreciated speaking to two people who understood the waters as he.

It was also nice to see Theon speak with something he had easy confidence with.

By the time you came across him, it had reached the better part of the afternoon. Those around noting how similar both looked to the other. In looks and demeanour, with the ways you worked around the fleet in the exact same kind of manner as the other. There was no escaping the comparisons many always made of your similarity to your father.

You had been the one to approach him. High up on one of his own ships, you stood down on the docks below. Looking up with a squint in the sun before your voice finally found the strength to speak out, louder then normal to catch his attention. “The last time I saw you like this, you were leaving for war then as well.”

Stannis’s eyes narrowed as they looked down to you, gesturing to some of the men around him to take over. You stood still and quiet as he came down to your level. No doubt he could see despite the cleverness in your tone, the rigid stature in your frame as you watched him and didn’t approach further.

Standing a good few feet apart, he only nodded once with your name coming from his mouth. “Good to see you came through the fight with the Boltons in one piece.”

“With no thanks to any help of yours.” He tried saying your name in warning but you cut him off. A step forward as your eyes narrowed more to a glare that few could give to the man so blatantly. “Do you really think so little of my intelligence, that I thought you were only extending a truce for this occasion, and not expect anything in return?”

It was your fathers turn to step forward with a narrowed look in his eye. “Tell me, what is it you think I want from you?”

Those around you, had scattered to the wind with only your guard and his to stand by. It was common it seemed, to abandon all hope and flee once you and your father now came anywhere near the other. Like something was ready to implode by the weight of past hurt and contempt. You didn’t shift your expression once as your arms sat crossed over your torso. “He’s not your subject to command, father. Or do you want to tell me, how well it went last time you demanded the King in the North to bend the knee?”

You hated that it was your father’s turn to have his eyes shift down to where your scar was well covered up. Was there a single person who would look at you anymore and not peer down to something you couldn’t stand to even look at? Your father’s voice was as controlled and even, “If I was going to demand him to kneel before me, I would’ve gone to Winterfell myself instead of sending Ser Davos. But I apologize. I wasn’t quite ready to throw my men for another King’s cause right away-’

You didn’t yell, but it echoed in Stannis's head all the same. “So you show that mercy for Jon, but not Robb? Or Renly?” The quiet between you both was so thick you could feel it seep into your skin. First you spend years with a broken relationship with your mother, and now that you and her were attempting to find ways to mend that bridge? The cracks formed deep into the ones left of you and your father.

His jaw twitched a bit at the mention of his own brother, and you felt something unsettled grow. The memory of how drained of life he looked when you met with him that day at Robb’s side and how soon it was after Renly wound up dead. You never asked a soul about your fathers involvement anymore, but you never stopped thinking about it.

A shadow in the shape of a man that came in the appearance of Stannis Baratheon. What had you let that woman convince you of doing, father? How many more in your family were lost to darkness and flames at her insistence?

There were too many around, too out in the open for it. So he switched tactics to try and put you at more of an ease, in only a way he could manage. Speaking as dry and almost sarcastically condescending as possible. “Did I come all this way to argue with you like a child or did we come here to consolidate our armies?”

Your eyes flickered to the side somewhat, jaw clenched before relenting. Shoulders dropping a small tinge as you closed the gap properly. Stannis turning in place to walk beside you along the docks of his own fleet.

Relaying the plans made in Winterfell as your father listened quiet and intently. Knowing at the least, he could see the trails and maps in his own eyes as you spoke without needing to elaborate on the details. “Without anywhere to go on either side, we’ll have them trapped between us and then it is only a matter of surrender by then.” Glancing up to him at the side before looking forward once more. “Jon wanted me to make this clear, we aren’t going to crush their cause. If they were anywhere but Dragonstone we wouldn’t have even cared what they were doing.”

Smart enough to keep it to himself, you heard not a thought of his opinion on another fighting claim to the Iron Throne. If you searched deep enough within the caverns of your heart, it did find enough left to care about the weight he still had.

Stannis Baratheon was the one man with the only true claim to the Iron Throne, and not a soul in that fight but his own people, cared to help him get there.

Nodding, “I’ve known for a while we would be needing it for one reason or another, and I didn’t reach out to him beacuse I wanted another fight. Snow knows even better than we do what we will be up against. And right now, that’s all I care about.”

You hoped that was true. You really did. Fighting your father was proving to only weigh on your mind harsher and harsher as time went by.

His men were easy to work alongside, which made sense. You knew a good plenty of them. They listened, were well receiving to your command with respect, and some knew Dragonstone well enough on their own to vocalize their agreement of the plans brought to Stannis from the King in the North. It was also clear, your father himself was impressed with the details brought by you from Jon. He had thought this all through in great detail for someone who didn't know even a scrap of the complexity of the land he was sailing to.

One of his men speaking up, as he ran his hand across their own map. “If we come through here, we’re hidden by the hills until the treeline, come around closer to your men at this side that way and only the gates will cut us off.”

All gathered around a large table was a mixture of the Northern bannermen of White Harbour, and your father’s men, and yet not much of any issue had come up. Mostly working together easily, not quite realizing that perhaps the ease in which you and your father discussed things helped that obstacle. Your palms braced on the edge as you eyed the map once more with a sharp gaze as your father spoke.

“If it is Lord Jon Connington whose had him this whole time, then Snow is right. We get you to Aegon, and he will surrender no matter if we are winning or losing on the other side.” Theon seemed to catch his eyes with something of both confusion and curiosity. “Lord Connington knew Rhaegar Targaryean much of his life, and all but worshipped him right up until his exile. Man such as himself would do almost anything to keep the prince's only living son safe.”

Nodding mindlessly, you scanned over everything once more as another man around you finally broached the topic. “And what about getting on land in the first place?”

The table was quiet, and yet you found yourself raising your neck up to find your father’s gaze. Something deep and almost hesitant in them, and his voice turned more quiet as yours would some days. “I think there is something you should see.”

He should have sent Ghost with you. He hated walking these halls and having no idea where you were or what you were doing, if you were safe. There was nothing to suggest a hint of danger only going to White Harbour, but it still had put Jon increasingly on edge being apart from you.

If he thought about it truly, perhaps it was beacuse the last time you rode off in a direction opposite of him, was on the Kingsroad and you would not reunite until after a nightmare of blood, loss and far too much death. Jon had to tell himself that he could trust in the men you were around in the port city, but still what he wouldn’t give to be able to peer through Ghosts eyes and ensure you were still breathing. Instead his direwolf had spent much time out in the wolfswood, Jon’s tense energy having rubbed off onto him and Ghost too needed something to expel that onto.

Thankful at least, that being around a tense and agitated King was not an unfamiliar process for Ser Davos. He had stayed behind knowing helping Jon prepare for the war on lands was of more use then standing by two Baratheons. Both whom used to serve on the small council for the same job of the sea.

He didn’t hold back, but it was never in judgment or pretentiousness. Ser Davos brought a very plain truth to the world around Jon and each time he was around the man, the more comfort such things brought to him. Especially in a title that still was marred in an insecurity of worth and capability.

“I spent over four years apart from her, you’d think I would be used to this by now.” He was frustrated with himself. As the Northerners prepared their way for war and sea, Jon had found himself spending much time using the hard labour as an excuse to get out those frustrations.

Likely it didn’t help that he had no idea what was said between you and Maester Wolkan. The man had kept quiet as he said you had requested, and you had done an excellent job at portraying absolutely nothing. Whatever the truth was, it seemed you did not want it to weigh on Jon as much as he didn't want it hurting you.

Ser Davos on the other hand was as collected as ever, if not a bit on the side of amused. “And the last time you separated from her you both wound up dead.” Jon’s eyes turned to him sharp and glaring with a warning he was not in the mood for it. “I’m not saying that’s going to happen again, just that it’s why you feel so worked up over it. It’s normal to fear for the ones you love, especially with what you two have been through.”

Dropping his head down with more of a sigh, as he closed his eyes for a moment to collect him anger back inside. “What about you?” Davos raising an eyebrow as Jon elaborated, “You’ve been apart from your wife just as long, I can’t imagine she’s not worried sick over it.”

All he did though, was chuckle. A loving, fond smile coming over him in an instant. “We’ve been apart this long beacuse she knows the moment I step foot in our home again, I’m not coming back out for Stannis, nor any King. Don’t think I’ve ever known Marya to be as excited when I got her first raven back, sent her one before she found out I learned how to read. The boys too.”

The look in his eyes was sweet, the ease in which just thinking of his wife brought Davos comfort made him envious, when thinking of you anymore always brought Jon more fear. You had never had a chance to be together before, he didn’t know how to be with you now, without obsessing over your safety. “What’s their names? Your boys?”

Something however, flashed over his eyes that in a way reminded him of his own father. Something of deep pain that got pushed right back down as quickly as it arose. Jon moving to stand up and lean against the pillar, running a gloved hand rough through his hair to shove the loose curls that fell into his face.

“Two youngest are with her, Devan and Steffon. Devan wasn’t happy about going home, came with me to serve as Stannis’s squire once my oldest grew out of the position, but I sent him home when we were sailing for Eastwatch by the Sea. Oldest is Allard, used to say he was trying to become a Knight, but instead he chose to serve as Stannis's household guard.” Your name coming easy from his mouth with a memory of fondness, “Ended up serving as her personal guard once she was in Kings Landing.”

Jon could think back to some of the times when you were younger, arriving in Winterfell always accompanied by the same guards of your House. Would have no way of knowing then, but looking to his memory now he might be able to pick which one was Allard Seaworth in comparison to his father standing before him now. “What is he doing now?”

Moving to lean against the opposite pillar himself he smiled once more. “He's in Storms End. Selyse's older brother, Lord Alester was chosen by Stannis to serve as acting Lord and Allard and a good number of others went with him.” His mind travelling away, a dark glint flashing quick enough that he swallowed it back down. He had only brought it up in small doses, but he knew thinking of Allard was painful, as how close in age he was to Matthos compared to his two youngest sons. Perhaps if his last memory of Matthos wasn't what it was, he might be more able to stand in the same room as his other son who reminded him of the one he lost without issue.

But his mind switched the subject as quick as the pain rose and shoved it back down as he looked back to Jon. “Used to think that once Stannis had the Iron Throne, I might just give up being his hand, take the boys, Marya too, and go travel. Show them the world like I never thought I would as a boy. Now I’m here hoping Cape Wrath is far enough South, winter won’t reach them.”

Crossing his arms, with a softer look in his grey eyes his voice was also low. “How do you handle it? Being away from them?”

Truth be told, both men knew it was a little different. Davos hadn’t died and come back, neither had his wife or his boys. Something brought you back, and you brought Jon back. There was a bond there, some strange attachment Davos did not understand, nor did he want too. But he knew it left Jon feeling more protective then most men would ever feel. Jon certainly knew it as well.

“You just do. Can’t change that she’s not with me, can only think of them and pray that they’ll be alright when I finally do see them again. And if I can be honest, your grace?” Jon’s eyes shot up to his, not realizing how far in his own mind he had drifted. “You’ll be back with her in no time, White Harbour isn’t going anywhere.”

Jon was quiet for a moment, before a more far away lightness returned. “I’ve never been outside the North.” Both men now finally moving to walk through the courtyards of Winterfell, “I’ve only ever gone up, never down.”

It still was odd to Jon to have people he’s known his entire life show him the respect of a King as he would pass by. How long did it take for Robb to get used to it? Did he ever, he wondered. Ser Davos walking tall beside him with a casual air of him in almost amusement, “I apologize the first place you’ll see is Dragonstone.”

Jon’s brows narrowed, your name on his lips. “The way she always described it, when I was a boy I thought she was making it up.”

Davos was a bit more amused this time. “I’m afraid it’s no joke. Dark, depressing, not a place you’d want your child to grow up in. First time I ever laid eyes on it, thought I had been at sea too long, just seeing nightmare’s in the distance. But that’s just what it looks like.” Jon still couldn’t imagine it properly, it never sounded pleasant. He hated as a child, the idea of his best friend going back to somewhere like that, when you fit in perfectly in Winterfell already.

“What about King’s Landing?”

Shaking his head, Davos had to search a little further in his mind for that. “We didn’t exactly come from the same circles, me and her. She and Stannis both lived in the Red Keep, and I was from the poorest of the poorest streets in Flea Bottom. Used to envy the other children who lived in nicer poor areas then I did, even.”

Yet here he was, Jon thought. The man had done better for himself then many men could be capable of in multiple lives. Then he thought of his brothers, the ones that didn’t make it. Grenn and Pyp didn’t come from the life Jon did, but they ended up in the same place, fighting for the same causes at each others sides and he wished they were still here. Given the same chance like the man beside him.

“Think Edd came from something similar. Could never quite figure it out, though I think he wanted it that way. But he had next to nothing sometimes, and now he’s the one running Castle Black.” Tilting his head slightly in his own wincing amusement. “Can’t tell if he hates me for giving him that one or not, though.”

Both men chuckled that time. “I think all of us hate our duty just a bit, your grace. It’s what makes us want to do better, be good enough at it that it doesn’t feel like a duty anymore.” Gesturing lightly with his chin around them. “Not that I need to tell you that. You’re King in the North now, and you still are spending your days in the muck with the rest of us.”

Those final days in Winterfell weren’t ones he liked to look back on. Goodbyes that would now be forever, and the memories of cold and loss that Jon still struggled with. “Maybe a good King shouldn’t enjoy being one.” He could still see the man, and the strange thought of how little he looked like how he thought he would. “When King Robert came to Winterfell, all he did was drink, eat, and flirt with any woman but his own wife. If that’s what being a King who enjoys his title looks like, I think I’m better off not.”

“I never knew the man much personally, had no reason to but I know I heard enough from Stannis that he always was that way. Just now as a King, no one could say a word of it anymore. Though, he also said the same about Renly before..” You had talked more of him then you did Robert. Closer in age and matching better in a distinct Baratheon kind of charm they all seemed to keep somewhere in them, Robert met his end of his own doing.

Renly was a story he to this day, didn’t like to think about. When he did, Davos would have to think about that day in the cave and the horror he saw that shook him to a core that never went away. Davos seemed to sense the question on Jon’s mind, and his tone was low and gruff with something pushed back in his mind. “I don’t know exactly how it happened. I- all I know is what I saw..and then the next day Renly was dead. But I don’t know how or why, just that it...”

“Sounds as impossible as being stabbed in the heart and living?” Jon had him there. The longer into these wars the man got, the more his views of the world were tested in the strangest of manners. Both of them in truth.

The details were fuzzy, the sudden urgent secrecy of the request, the uncomfortable manner which the red woman spoke to him as if she was in his head when the truth was far from, the fire burning bright on it’s own, and the shadow which came from her. That was all he had seen, but the next day, Renly Baratheon was dead and no one could quite get the story straight on who had done it.

Jon was silent the entire time, but not once did he feel an ounce of skeptical. Brows narrowed as he listened and felt a conflict in his mind at the connecting answers being made in his mind. He suspected he was coming to the same one you had. “Starting to feel as if I don’t know anything about Stannis.”

Davos looked with sympathy. “I believe I once told you he is a complicated man.” Jon nodded. “I didn’t agree with a lot of what he did, of what he let that woman do in his name. I tried putting a knife in her myself, and I went against the King’s own orders and helped his nephew escape beacuse I couldn’t stand by and watch him let that woman sacrifice more of his own blood for her means.”

Jon didn’t quite catch it at first, but he later would realize, he had no idea who the nephew Davos had spoken of could have been. As far as he had been aware, the only family left to you were the ones Jon already knew of.

“But he also didn’t argue when learning finally his daughter had sent the red woman away. Didn’t try to seek her out again, beacuse he’s seeing the bigger picture. He’s stubborn, but he’s doing what’s right, even if we don’t like how long it takes for him to figure out what that right meant. And I think losing his daughters were a something of a painful wake up for him.” The words sat heavily in Davos’s mouth just as it felt in Jon’s heart.

Jon had no strong concept of memory in that point in the night, when it happened to Shireen.

There had been no words to explain what finding his mind after death in Ghost had felt like. He had fleeting memories, but none that made any sense until he had found his way with down to the ice cells with his brothers and free folk finding his body. It certainly had hit him then what truly happened and took hours for him to feel any control at all.

Then you and Theon had come through the gate, and every second Jon wasn’t at your side, felt like he’d lose more of himself to wolf then man. Then the pull, the call to his body that he didn’t understand but listened to as if in a trance and then as his eyes opened, it was in his own body. He was in his own body and mind once more and he could recall Ghost coming to him, both almost burying their faces in the other as Ghost seemed to so strongly react to what happened between them as Jon felt it.

He had done it by accident before, mostly in his sleep and he always tried to tell himself it was only dreams.

But he knew better, and he had seen the truth once before of what happens to a warg upon their death. Jon once had gotten in Orell’s face. Confronting him condescendingly about what happens when, after the man had pushed Jon another step into anger.

“What happens to your eagle after I kill you? Does he drift away like a kite with his strings cut, or does he just flop dead to the ground?”

Then he finally did kill him, and that same eagle flew in almost in an instant and attacked him, leaving scars that one of which, still sat pale but visible down across his eye all the same.

Because it was Orell now in that eagle. Still out there somewhere flying beyond the wall, Jon hoped he was miserable and alone. Just as he did the red woman for what she had done. Left to wallow in their sins with no purpose to comfort them.

It might have been a heartless thought he knew, but Jon had no time to spare anymore for people that would only ever harm in this world. He had enough of that, and the realm wouldn't stand a chance if everyone saw the world as people like that did.

They didn’t care the cost of life to survive, but it weighed on Jon a lot, too much. The constant ask of, if what he has to do makes him a good man, or just throws him down in the waste with the rest of them, and how much does the pain of those lives cost in his heart make up for it?

Would his father see the man he has become and be proud, or was Jon someone he would not recognize? Would Robb feel the same? Who was he to them anymore, he wondered. But he had to focus, look at what was in front of him first and deal with it. There would be a time to wonder later, but it wasn’t right now. The longer it took them to prepare for battle, the longer it would take to get to White Harbour and Jon just didn’t have the patience to feel this sort of conflict alone now.

He didn’t even sleep much since you had left. He probably could only count on two hands how many nights you’ve slept in his arms in his bed together since being in Winterfell again, but it felt cold and too alone without you there now. Many nights finding himself in the godswood with Ghost, wondering if the old gods had any answers to the life you breathed into him and why they gave it back to you in the first place.

Then he would ask if they had even a hint of your answer. Was not telling him what Wolkan said a good sign or a bad one, he could handle either, but it ate him up not knowing. Not wanting to let his dreams mock you if they would never be true, that was a truly sickening worry.

But then the next day would come, and the cycle started all over again. Once more Jon would think, he was grateful Ser Davos was used to quiet and sullen King’s at his side to not take offence.

You had to do it no matter how monstrous it made you feel. “If Connington wanted this for King’s Landing-”

Your father finished for you, the quiet in the room something neither of you had in a long time. The small inn nearby serving as housing for some, and in the smaller dining hall only the pair of you sat in the quiet. Space for a King and Northern Queen to plan. “Of course he wanted it. He was a Targaryean loyalist if I had ever seen one. Spent a year as hand of the King during the rebellion, knew Prince Rhaegar most of their lives and never once apparently saw anything wrong with that.”

You both had not sat with a meal in front of you since your own days in King’s Landing. Still in his quarters, training to do his job as the nights were mostly spent in quiet as you both worked too long and too hard in between the dullness of the daylight. Now though, was war outside. And you took a good moment to chew on your own before finding the right words. “If we do this, truly, that is going to be a lot of lives on my hands.”

Narrowing his gaze slightly, “Does that bother you?”

Yours wasn’t quite a slight narrow, more of a rolling glare. “Some of us have not quite gotten used to slaughtering people, your grace.” He chose to ignore the mocking tone. You hadn’t quite had the freedom to give him attitude in many years, and he knew now claiming to speak to a King like that would not be a proper excuse.

Not that he blamed you either. He and Selyse didn’t exactly make you feel welcome in your own family for a long time. So much to the point it seemed you only dared finding home in the Starks anymore, or what was left of them at least. “You know as well as I, you either do this, or let the same number die, only you lose over half of yours, instead of all the causalities being on their side.” Your elbow rested on the table, hand coming up to rest partially against your forehead.

“I know, it just...” Your hand thumped back down onto the table as your eyes drifted to the dark skies out the window. “It never gets any easier.”

It was quiet for a while, and yet just like with your mother, you desperately wished your father just let that silence sit between you instead of finding something to bring up. At least his did not have tone in disapproval or judgment. Just stating facts as he saw them. “They still call you Queen.” Glancing up at him with a warning cutting through your eyes he paid no mind too. “Does that mean you two have married?”

You looked away with wide, but irritated eyes. “Father-” Trying to cut in saying he was only asking out of curiosity. “Since when do you ever just ask me about my life beacuse you wanted to chat about it? And no, we’re not married.”

Not reacting much, he leaned back in his seat. “Betrothed then?” You only sighed as you continued to not look at him. “Strange to attach yourself to a King, and rule beside him as a Queen unmarried. Not what I raised you to-”

Turning back to him with a stern rigidness, “You never raised me to be a Queen, nor be in love so I don’t quite think your expertise on the matter is applicable.”

He raised one eyebrow, and you narrowed yours. “You’re not married, but you love him.” You waited for him to try and come to a point, only to regret it almost right away. Much less tact then your mother, and yet, at least, far less embarrassing. “I assume he's bedded you already.”

Oh how much less humiliating and somehow more awkward your father had made this. “We’ve slept in the same bed if that’s what you are asking.” Looking down to a mindless spot on the table, “Why are we even discussing this?”

The look he gave you almost bordered on amusement, and there was little patience within you for entertaining that. Acting almost casually which seemed unbefitting of him, he barley moved, directing his attention back to the meal you had all but forgotten by now. “You are my daughter, and people will talk. I am only looking out for your best interest.”

Head shaking slightly, you rested an elbow on the table as your hand came up to dig your nails slightly into your lips. Willing your foot to not start tapping against the ground in nerves, why was spending time with either your mother or father feel like such a test of your own emotional endurance? Thankfully, he let you change the topic with no issue. “Do you think it’s true? Aegon?”

His eyes narrowed in thought for a moment, “I don’t deal in rumours, you know that.”

Your father undoubtedly caught you almost rolling your eyes. “Alright, that’s your answer as a King, now tell me what you truly believe. You knew these people, you must have some idea if they’d be lying or not.”

He seemed to think long and hard about it, going through what the options could have been in multiple ways before answering more quietly. “I believe Lord Connington think’s it true, but I would be hard pressed to think that any could hide Rhaegar Targaryeans own son, and keep him a secret this long, without anyone knowing. And I also don’t think Aegon’s face being smashed in was part of any plan.”

You almost felt woozy trying to not think of what happened in that room.

Clearing something painful from your throat, you reached for something to wash those unsettled thoughts right back down. “It would be a rather lucky coincidence that the one child who was swapped out, was the same who Clegane left unrecognizable.”

Leaning forward a small bit, he spoke quiet but with a bit more confidence that he rarely had. “A sure truth however, Connington will be afraid. Robert Baratheon’s niece, and Lyanna Stark’s nephew sailing together for a battle with him? Not sure he could think of a more terrifying duo to come knocking at his doors.”

You could. You knew exactly what would be worse.

Neither you nor Jon were heading there with intentions of a slaughter, but were it another? Aegon would be powerless to flee from Robert Baratheon and his blood thirst. As far as he knew to be true, an infant boy and a little girl were butchered like animals and all he could think of them, were they were Rhaegar’s children, just dragonspawn. Their deaths were all that mattered, beacuse they had a single essence of the man in their blood and it was enough to condemn them as evil.

Losing Robb hadn’t made you look at Walda, and wish she was dead for her grandfather’s crimes. Moreso, you had spent much effort in those first few days back in Winterfell trying to not consider what would’ve been done to her. To her own unborn son, that no trace was left behind. She was not you, and Ramsay was not Roose Bolton. It was unlikely the gods saw fit to return her to life, and even less so that Ramsay would have kept her alive had that been the case.

Walder Frey's actions were not her fault, and even though you had not been kind to her, she deserved a life with her son as much as Robb deserved a life with his.

In the quiet as you and your father sat there, the scar in your stomach felt like it burned.

Theon had told you on the ship when sailing for Bear Island that he had not seen you that at ease in a long time. The relaxed state of your muscles as you were perched on the edge of the ship, the calm in your eyes that had not been there since before the very start of war. It was hard to take the love of the water out of those having grown up on islands and ships.

During the long summer, the moat in between the bordering walls of Winterfell was quite warm. The hot springs which the castle sat atop of kept the water from being freezing in winters, but made it extraordinarily nice in the summer. Many occasions the older Theon and you had gotten, you both would find increasingly competitive things to challenge the other at.

Trying to see who was the better swimmer, and both barley recognizing who had won. It had ended with both of you laid out on the wooden platform both heaving and laughing about how at least you both knew if you shoved the other overboard, you both would likely manage just fine for long enough to reach some kind of land.

Bran and Arya had found you both at that point, and after teasing you both for being “old” and “out of shape”, each Stark had been snatched by you two and held just over the water threatening to drop them in, day clothes and all. As their feet touched solid ground once more, both had then begun to debate which of them was the better swimmer themselves.

Now, there was a little less on the side of competition, but just as much confidence and ease in both of you. Walking the docks himself, as you were perched high up on one of the ships, having dived right into the same work you had your men doing simply beacuse you knew too well how to do it, and Theon was confident in watching the rest of the lot from a command.

He knew you were tying to keep yourself busy to ignore something, but you enjoyed working with this new Northern fleet and so that was what mattered. He too, were he honest. Both of you kept most of your days out on the docks putting every inch of preparation and plans in place and hardly noticed much else in the rest of White Harbour outside of your world’s right by the water.

The North had finally caught up, and it wasn’t until the greetings of “King in the North,” begun to hit his ears did Theon realize it. Coming up to the docks, Lord Wyman walked beside Jon who’s own eyes were narrowed taking in the bright sights of the amount of ships all around. The small group accompanying them all followed as the King in the North was given a catch up of details.

Gesturing over to where Theon himself stood, he made his way over finally. The dynamic with Jon wasn’t as sure or confident as he knew his dynamic with you was now. But, the two men were working on it. Just as Robb before though, hearing such a natural “Your Grace” from the Greyjoy was not something Jon was clearly used too as they shook sturdy hands. “Good timing, most everything’s near ready by now. Just a few details to iron out.”

Glancing around, Theon could sense he was looking for one Baratheon, and not the one in question which came from his mouth. “And Stannis?” Theon gestured to a squire, beckoning him to go find the Southern King for them before turning back.

Once upon a war, his own command tended to have a tint of attitude or snark within it’s words, but now it was as respectful as any had seen him. In some ways, Theon was far worse off then any man could conceive, but in other ways, who he was on the inside, was making a little bit more sense then the boy he used to be. “Your plan is all in place, King Stannis has agreed to the terms.”

Both men noted that another present here at ease in this scenario, was Stannis himself. With what was a tense greeting between father and daughter, both Kings now greeted with nothing but calm respect between them. Perhaps it was just not to discuss in public, or that you had been the one to make it clear there would be no fighting over crowns here between the two of them, and it was never brought up.

The group begun discussing certain aspects of what had been planned since, and Jon knew the men here had yet to broach the obvious. “And how we’re getting through the breach onto land?”

This time, it was Theon and Stannis who shared the look. It would be both easier, and perhaps smarter to show him before trying to explain it all right here and now. The later man gesturing for Jon to follow, “An opportunity presented itself that may serve to be the most efficient coarse of action, but we have taken great discretion with putting it into place.” Your name coming from Stannis’s mouth with little to hint at it’s grander meaning. “I left it as her call to make, but she has held off on any decision until could see it yourself, for approval.”

In the simple days of Winterfell, there had been times Theon assumed Jon was giving him a certain kind of look, because it was a brotherly instinct to keep his best friend separate from Theon’s sharp tongue and wondering eye, no matter how little it was real. You and him always joked and teased over his flirtatious nature back then knowing it meant nothing between the both of you, and mostly was used as a jumping off point for a back and forth sparring of increasingly sarcastic insults.

Theon back then had no idea it was, in fact, a look of jealousy Jon had been giving him in those days.

Now though, Theon knew for sure the look his own eyes were flashing towards Jon, was genuinely that like a brother. Coming up to what was to be your own ship, Jon looked up to see you at ease and even with a smirking laugh as you were perched on the higher deck speaking to the crew.

Perhaps it was the time the pair of you spent trapped in a hell of Ramsay Bolton’s making, that made Theon grow more protective of you against men with hints of a lustful gaze towards your way. Theon had seen you suffer horrendously and more then ever he felt the call of what a brother wanting to keep his sister safe really was like.

Jon was no way of a threat, but just briefly, Theon’s eyes almost narrowed sharply at the need in the grey ones looking up at you.

Up high on the deck, you had been sorting who was to be in charge of what during the longer days along the waters before reaching Dragonstone. Knowing that the Northerners were less used to such seafaring manner of travel and giving some of the less appealing jobs to those with heartier stomachs.

Leaning against the base of where the wheel of the ship stood, you had one foot perched on a small wooden platform behind it with the hand on the same side reached up to grasp loosely at portion of rope by your head. Your tone was jesting, not entirely loud but it didn’t need to be as you spoke to those on deck. Half a smirk on one side of your face, you felt more at ease then you had been in a very long time now. The sea was easy, commanding a ship on the waters was easier. It was all the rest which was the problem. “Which means one of you will be in charge of cleaning up after that lot. Make sure they all throw up anywhere but on my clean deck-”

Such a facade however was broken easily as your attention was drawn by a squire, saying that your presence was requested by the Kings. You nodded before a pause, not realizing immediately the plural only to catch on and knowing it meant it was almost time. Gesturing for one of your other crew members to take over for you, you climbed up onto the edge of the ship by the platform still laid out to reach the wood of the outside.

The amount of time in which you saw Jon even was next to nothing, as it was the nodding of your father in a specific direction that was what he clearly needed you for. Swallowing heavily you nodded, and before any could say a word to you, you had turned and moved back out view on the ship. Slipping into what would be your small quarters just below, you rummaged through the scattering of things inside an already locked chest, to find the item in question, and slipped it to sit safely along your waist, the wrapping, thinner cloak around you doing enough to hide it once you returned out to the windy sea.

Nodding to some of the men as you passed, they were no longer waiting as you made your way down to the shoreline. Multiple guards stood outside the platform leading up to it and as you stepped on the ships deck you glanced to the preparations already behind made. You had every faith in Jon, but he needed to have faith in you to get to the island shore in the first place, and this was the only way to do it without losing more men then you should have to, then you already have.

Your numbers would not soon mean anything if they were forced to dwindle in battles that did not need to sacrifice it.

The steps down were quiet, your footsteps not heard as in one hand you had begun to pull out an old set of keys, separated from the rest where they came. You could hear the voices speaking, and walking through the same things you had heard upon first seeing it for yourself as the muffled voices grew clearer with each step.

“...burn so fiercely until it is no more, and not a second sooner.”

There seemed to be a long pause before you once more could hear a disbelief and uncertainty in Jon’s voice as he asked, “If it’s this dangerous, why carry it over the Narrow Seas instead of making more of it when they land?”

The man was almost excited to tell him, and it made you move a few steps slower as your eyes narrowed sharply. “Wisdom Hallyne has been concocting much of it under the orders of Cersei Lannister, but it is far from given form. It’s potency grows with time and is more able to be controlled this way.”

Almost on the edge of a rougher frustration, Jon asked, “How would he even know where to find any of this?”

Your father had the answer to that, “After the war, what remained had been sold and shipped off to get it out of Westeros, but now Connington has Lord Varys at his side. There is very little the spider doesn’t know about.”

There was a shortness to Ser Davos that you suspected hated every second of this conversation, and you had no inclination if you wished to know why. He was not a man easily set off. “This is the plan? Use this but it’s alright because it’s on their side of the shores this time? This is a bad idea, your grace.”

Once more there was quiet, before Jon spoke with a weighted low tone. “Either we use it here, send it off to gods know where across the narrow sea where anyone could get their hands on it. Or, we let it sail right up to Kings Landing to get smuggled into a city with a population of what?”

Davos was quiet, but a controlled tone with out any attitude on the matter. “A good million by this point.”

A pause sat as you knew the number had somewhat taken Jon back. His voice a low rasp that sounded as exhausted over the issue as you had felt looking at it with your own eyes for the first time. “More people are crammed into one city then the entire population of the North. Why would anyone want to live that way?”

Davos answered with a conclusive ease. “It's where all the works is.”

Deep in thought for a moment, you could hear the difficult weight debating in Jon. “We use it here and we know what the causalities are. What will they do with it, if I let them leave? Either they bring it to Kings Landing anyways, or someone else finds this and sell it to the highest bidder. How many innocent people will it hurt then?” Jon was quiet, but the room was quieter as they listened. His voice low and yet a determination with a smart confidence in trying to pick the lesser of only evils.

You hadn’t even noticed, you had just stopped to listen to them speak. Did you not want to interrupt, or perhaps was it the fear of coming to Jon with such a tactic in the first place which scared you. Your father spoke up next, “We can use it all, get the wretched substance off any of their hands out there.”

The man sputtered an offended rebuttal when none cared for it. “It is not wretched, it flows through my veins. And the hearts of every one of us who create it, we respect it’s power. My work would not be dared questioned while Aerys Targaryean lived.”

It was then, when you walked in. Having enough of it and losing the patience to let him go on about what you felt sick on the inside, for even allowing anywhere near the North in general. The keys in your hands loud as they clanked together while you turned to slink in between the man and Jon. “Well, he isn’t living anymore.” Turning partially to your father who seemed to sense on his own to toss you the other set kept on him as you knelt down to the double set of locks on the door. “And a lot of good all this did to help him survive a sword in the back.”

The room almost was tense just as you winced to shove the heavy doors open, before Jon came up to much more easily yank the other side for you. Neither but only you two walked in, he had to say yes to this plan or you needed to figure something else out. It didn’t matter how much Davos hated it, how sickening it made you feel.

Standing beside you, there was as much of a fearful awe as their was a terror as you felt but shining in his grey eyes. You were both quiet for a good while as your heart raced more and more out of your chest that he would turn to you and yell about how you have lost your mind. Maybe you would prefer if he did.

Instead, he was quiet as he always was speaking with you. “If we do this, I’m not letting it only be on your hands. We do this together, remember?” You didn’t answer as you stared at it all, until he gently murmured your name. Turning to find his eyes, leaning much closer to you this time trying to reassure you with almost a leading question. “Is there any other way?”

You swallowed, turning away again and shaking your head no. “No way that gets our people onto those shores alive. I know what I’m asking of you..what happened to your Uncle and Grandfather..and now I’m asking you to do the exact same thing-”

But Jon was sure in his whispering, no doubts or breaks to linger. “We don’t do this sort of thing in battle beacuse we like it, we do it because we have too. I don’t like it either, but you came to me with this idea, and I trust you.” Were the others not behind somewhat, likely with their eyes on you, he would’ve ran a hand down your hair comfortingly, been a little softer with you.

Jon hated the unsure in your eyes over using this, but that was how he felt knowing you were going into a battle on the other side of a castle and Jon couldn’t protect you. This fight wasn’t for a home or an island, or power. It was for the one thing Jon knew would keep the North just a small bit safer then none at all.

It was only in the few quiet seconds as the others stepped down from the ship before you, that you gently reached for Jon’s arm. Turning to you with much brighter eyes then before, but still, you were aware of how many people could see you both and you wished it were far darker to get away with it.

He looked so handsome and you hated how easy he made it. Hair once more pulled all back, something it seemed was a sign of war now on him. Longclaw sat proud on his person with the white wolf pommel finding new meaning once more. Carved to look like the pure white of Ghost, but also now was the symbol as well as the King they called the White Wolf. A Stark in blood, but a Snow in name.

There was something new though, something that only solidified such a thought. His attire was well made, fit him perfectly. Against the long, dark armoured leather on his tunic was more plated around his chest to be more more sturdy metal. But right in the middle, was something you hadn’t seen on a Stark in a long time. Carved were two Direwolves both facing the other.

He was gentle in watching your eyes trying to focus, finding the details on him that you hadn’t been there to see made. Jon also however, decided not to tell you he made a few things, and requested a few others, for you back in Winterfell. You didn’t like when he went out of his way to get you things, make you things, or fuss over you, you hated it with everyone.

Robb had once speculated it was a result of being forced to have handmaidens attending to you while in King’s Landing. When they had learned the royal company was coming to Winterfell, the two of them had discussed how you hated having people and servants doting on you. How despite her own daughter verging on ten at that time, the Queen would still find time to pester you about dolling up like a proper lady.

The day you rode into Winterfell with them all, clearly you had done your own hair, never once looking a single thing like the other styles the Southern women who came wore them in. But they had much more done to paint your face to look elegant. He remembered seeing that beautiful yellow dress that framed you like some kind of bright siren, and the thin but elaborately designed shawl around your arms drenched in a rich brown with ornate stags stitched into it.

Jon could remember thinking, he thought you were as beautiful as he had ever seen you. And he also remembered hating it, beacuse he knew it was the Queen’s doing to try and assist you in impressing your husband to be. To impress Robb. Which it did.

Before he could spiral, looking down at you with a darker armour that seemed to be specially designed to move easier. Not great in protecting you from a harsh swing of a sword but he had taught you to be fast, not strong. A black cloak hung around your shoulders, itself was stitched once more with stags hard to see unless as close to you as Jon was.

He knew it was hypocritical, but Jon couldn’t stop the thought of he wanted these wars to be over already so he never had to see you in armour ever again. He still didn’t understand how Robb handled this. How he let you fight like this, and it didn’t tear him apart. If they got through this, got through winter, Jon would have a new pretty dress made for you every single day if it meant you never wore anything to set into battle for ever again.

Just the long, flowing dresses you looked beautiful in, and his own white fur draped over your shoulders to keep you warm. He too was thankful it was not presumed the Queen in the North wanted anything near a handmaiden, beacuse at the very least, he in the mornings now, got to be the one to gently run his hands along your skin doing the laces or clasps of your dress up, or selfishly take over to do your hair for you. Beacuse as much as you recognized keeping his own curls up and out of his face was something he did during times of war now, he knew the same for you. As long as you kept it tied very simple against your back he knew you were keeping it out of the way for a fight, instead of having the time to let him handle it in whatever style he thought you looked the most beautiful with.

Maybe he could undo the lace keeping your hair up together just before you landed on shore and it would keep you busy enough redoing it that he could get Tormund to drag you back onto the ship until it was over.

So much swimming in your heads looking at the other, but you opened and closed your mouth a few times to find the right way to express it, before swallowing and letting out a breathily quiet settled, “I missed you.”

Jon let a gloved hand reach up, gently cupping your cheek as his thumb ran slightly over the skin while he stepped closer to let the other drift innocently along your waist as yours gently rested on his. Eyes speaking such voluminous truths of light and relief that made you feel like the waters around would melt you should they interrupt this moment. It had only been a little less then a fortnight, but you still felt like something heavy returned and you didn’t know how much all you had focused on was this until you could breathe in front of him.

Leaning down so your eyes were level to his with a hint of a smile behind the grey. “I always miss you.”

Too many people, and even though you were weak to let him, Jon wouldn’t kiss you here. He preferred to keep your softest to himself in private, and not let others see what he wanted only for him. Even if just the gentle touch of your hands running up his chest with a gentle peck to your lips. He kept it all to himself.

His eyes narrowed the slightest as he asked, “When do we sail out?” Answering a day or two he pulled away from you, respectfully moving you to walk first with a hand on the small of your back. “Good. I think I need a night with you all to myself for once. I don’t like being away from you this long.”

Neither did you, but it was only known between the hearts of you both how strong that felt now.

It truly was Jon’s fault. He was the one who taught you the importance of being the quickest one in the room. Of course he meant holding a weapon, but then again your soft hands running through his hair may as well be their own weapon. You both had made your leave to the room you were staying at in a nearby Inn, and as soon as the door closed you took the quick liberty of turning to Jon and taking things off for him.

Armours, blades, leathers, leave him only in the basest of his clothes, grabbing his hands to pull his gloves off and neatly putting them aside one hand at a time, before running your hand along his shoulder to move around him, and reaching up to let his hair out. Letting your fingers give it’s shape back while your nails scratched lightly at his scalp. He had followed you in here with the intention of being the one to take care of you, but you wasted no time to do it all for him instead.

Turning to put his weapons gently away with the intentions of making sure they were clean and sharpened for him later, you almost instinctively moved to do something else as Jon finally stepped up behind you. Rasping your name out low twice in a row, before he caught your attention only as he let both his hands move to your hips, pressing his chest against your back and leaving slightly over you where you could feel his breathe dance across your ear with a chuckle. “Can you stand still for me just this once?”

Your head turned slightly enough to the side where you could see his curls drape along the side of your vision as your lips parted slightly in a high breathe, “I’m sorry-”

His chuckle was deeper that time, and vibrated against your back before he turned his head to press a kiss to the side of your head, partially resting his forehead in the same spot. “I don’t want you to be sorry, I want you to let me do things for you sometimes. You’re always rushing to take care of everything for me, and then rush out the door before I can do the same for you.”

One hand on your hip slid across your stomach, pulling you just a tad closer so most of his front pressed to your back like a perfect fit. You leaned into his touch with an ease that both had your heart want to race and skip at the same instance, leaving you a bit more out of breathe. Your hands gently wrapping around the arm at your front, slightly pushing the sleeve up just to run your fingertips across his skin.

“I know, I- I’m just used to being the one to do these things.”

You knew he didn’t mean it to come out sounding the way it did, but you also couldn’t blame him for not knowing that dynamic the way you recalled so naturally. “Robb didn’t take care of you?”

Your brows furrowed as your head dropped a little, the memories right behind your eyes as real as the small fire in front of you. The ease which Robb would give you that all encompassing boyish grin, scolding you playfully for never giving him the time to do so either.

“No, he did, but it was..we were different. Robb and I. We were at war, and some nights if I didn’t try and guide him to bed myself he would just stay up working until the sun rose and I’d have to try again the next night.” Your nails scratched a bit into Jon’s arm as you felt something of an insecurity rising, your voice no longer as confident. “I’m not explaining it well..we never had a lot of time to ourselves, and usually I think it was easier for me to do things for him, since there was always something bothering him. I didn’t mean to make it sound like-”

Leaning his head against the side of yours more, Jon’s voice was softer and soothing against you. “I wasn’t trying to upset you. You’re the only girl I’ve been with. I don’t exactly have a good idea for what others are like.”

You leaned back more only to realize you couldn’t quite reach him the way you felt yourself starting to need. Gently twisting in his arms without pulling away, you rested your hands on his chest, Jon now pulled back to look at you with both hands back on your hips. Before saying a word, one of yours reached up, tracing his facial hair along to his jaw and around to entangle gently into his curls. You leaned up on your toes to press your lips gently against his.

Jon’s hands tightening more and more, despite the tender kiss barley anything deep. Before it could get off the ground, you pulled back only to give one soft peck before speaking close enough to his lips he could feel every passing word. Your hands innocently moving both to play with his curls. “I liked doing these sort of things for Robb, and I really like doing them for you. Especially now that..”

Trailing off, one hand tilted your chin up more so he could hover more over your lips with intent, “Now that we’re allowed to be together?” You nodded, and Jon closed the gap between your lips once more. The hand still at your hip pulled you in close to his front as your hands stayed locked behind his neck. Jon’s other hand cupping your jaw as he deepened the kiss almost every passing second until he could sense you shivering from being too lightheaded. Only giving enough space to let you gasp for a tiny bit of air before kissing you the cycle once over again.

The room was quiet, muffled yelling outside fading to the only crackling of the fire and Jon’s soft lips coaxing more out of yours. Not taking command, but more imploring you to do what he was trying to tell you. Let him do the work.

Let him nibble at your bottom lip until you granted him just enough room to gently slide his tongue into your mouth, tasting your own. Pulling you close by the small of your back, you shivered down that very spine as you no question could feel his hardening length through the soft material covering him.

Your hands danced down, unlacing the middle of his shirt until you could press your palms flat. Only, as you felt the jagged scars littered about that you had long since memorized, even if just out of horror, you pressed against his front more. Kissing back now with more need as your other hand found the same scars.

As your touch grew more firm and almost desperate for something, Jon begun moving up to cup your cheeks, keeping your lips as pressed to his as possible. Stealing the little breathe you were able to gain as if he wished for you to hand it all over for him to control. Gentle nibbles to your bottom lip that both had you part your lips slightly, but also pulled a small whine from your throat as your hands clutched his shoulders. Jon stepping forward to press himself against you firmly again as you now more obviously, felt him properly hard as his kiss grew greedy.

One of those hands slid back to entangle themselves in your hair to angle you up to him, while the other slid slightly down to cup your jaw and part of your neck with a light hold. If he could feel your pulse race slightly as he did so, he responded by once more increasing such greed. No longer asking your permission to glide his tongue along yours but doing so the second you even tried to pull back for air. The hand on the back of your hair, just as a few times before, grew strong enough you couldn’t pull from his kiss, even as the lack of air made you weak and dizzy.

It made you whine into his mouth, and something akin to a growl vibrated through his own chest.

Finally beginning to trace down his chest again, you blindly searched for the laces of his breeches and slowly undid them. Holding steady on his waist with one, you managed to slide your hand down quick enough he couldn’t react quite in time. A deep growl this time was unmistakable, his kiss bit harshly into your bottom lip as he held you, only to finally send the hand on your neck flying down. Snatching yours right as your were wrapping your small hand around his cock and yanking it up, holding it tight in the air.

Pulling away from your lips as saliva trailed between your panting breaths as he kept you held by your hair close to look at him. “What do you think you’re doing?” Your lungs still heaving for air, you stared agape at him, your bright and unsure eyes looking to his growing more and more black with every passing second. You had nothing to say, unsure if he was angry until Jon sighed out frustrated.

His hand loosening the tightness in your hair to rake through the strands with tenderness and his face softening a bit from such a harsh intensity. Pressing a much more gentle kiss to your lips, then standing back from you entirely before spinning you to once more let your back face him.

This time, his hands begun to undo everything covering you up as well. Carefully draping your hair off to the side as he undid each layer. His voice was almost a murmur speaking low behind you, “Don’t do that.” Your face frowned in a slight confusion as he elaborated. “I don’t want you skipping everything and going right to trying to please me. What pleases me, is being able to take my time with you, not making you do things for me.”

You felt something heavy in your chest, but you stood quiet and obediently let him take everything off of you, until finally you felt the cold hit your entirely bare skin as Jon let the last layer of all your clothing to drop to the floor. His hands finding your hips as he pressed against your back once more, his hard cock still hidden behind his own layers pressing into your ass as his hands roamed up your bare frame.

Your breathe stuttering as both large hands took a greedy handful of your breasts and almost used the position to force you back into his chest more. His touch rough and fingers sparing no kindness as they ran over each budding nipple until they were perfect for him to grasp in his fingers. A mixture of twisting and pulling before letting his hands knead the soft skin of your chest once more, you threw your own hand back trying to steady yourself at his waist while your other uselessly let your nails dig into the skin just below your stomach.

Jon leaned down more, just as his hands yanked on your nipples rough and harsh to make you gasp, he sunk his teeth into a sensitive part of your neck. Deep and painful bites that stung just as he let go, running his lips and tongue over to soothe the area before sucking deeply against it to force it to bruise and colour against his teeth imprints.

All the way down the side of your neck he never let up, all the while his hands on your breasts were rough and twisting pleasure sparking along each bud between his fingers, and the desire flooding your veins to down between your legs. You bit your tongue trying to keep from all the building hearing you. It didn’t occur to you in the moment, but the marks on your neck come morning wouldn’t be able to be covered up even with your hooded cloak around your neck and shoulders. The bruises and teeth marks would be a clear message to any and all who you belonged too.

The White Wolf marking his mate against any eyes looking your way that weren’t himself.

You felt the rushing warmth through your veins burning with every touch and every small growling sound that slipped as a grunt from his mouth, his covered cock hard as could be against you, only made worse when one hand finally left your chest. Moving right down to cover your own scar, Jon pressed your hips firmly back into his as he bared his teeth in a pant against your neck, his covered cock grinding into your ass more, keeping you pressed right against him.

Just as you were about to find the strength to ask Jon to let you touch him, he moved the hand keeping you against him to slip down between your legs. Finding nothing to even work up, he growled. Knowing were he to choose so right now, he could slip his cock inside of you with no resistance, but it wasn’t quite enough for something more depraved in his mind. You were wet, but something in him demanded more, demanded you were soaking and begging for reprieve.

Rolling your nipple between his fingers just as he ran his other hand along your clit, you jumped in his touch with a small crying gasp as he pulled from your neck, rasping deep into your ear with none of the harshness his touch held. “Shh, shh. It’s alright, darling. Just let me explore you.” You nodded obediently and it make his brain feel more of a mess.

Exploring was to then sink one of his fingers deep inside you, right to the knuckle in one smooth go before gently running it along something terribly sensitive. Jumping more in his touch, Jon pulled you closed by the hand groping at your breast still. Not going fast or teasing any slower, just a smooth, almost gentle pace he let it slide in you before moving to pull it out. Pressing a kiss to your cheek then resting his own cheek against yours, to watch as he sunk a second thick finger right along with the first as you both tensed and whimpered more in his touch.

Your free hand moving to hold meekly onto the arm lower to you, your eyes struggling to figure out what to do, wanting to watch almost in an innocent awe as Jon would sink two think fingers deep inside you. Only to get overwhelmed and close them again with a hitch in your breathe when he would pull them out just the perfect amount so he, himself, could watch with pitch black, mesmerized eyes at how soaked you were making them.

But just when you tried to calm your heart, Jon’s hand on your breast tightened to the point it almost hurt, his teeth baring as he buried his face in your neck and not so gently, moved to roughly add a third finger as he shoved deep. His palm now flat almost covering you as the heel of his palm ran harshly over your clit.

Two was a lot, but three was really a lot. Thick and stretched as he ran them along your sensitive walls and refused to go anywhere but shallow thrusts deep. Making you soak his fingers as he panted into your neck, leaving another occasional bite along with a hiss as you clenched tightly around him.

You felt out of breathe, like nothing longer could give you enough to stand on your own but there was nowhere to go but to lean more against Jon’s touch, only he was holding you up and you had to rely on him to not crumble. His own body behind you was almost overwhelmingly warm. The longer he pushed you to an orgasm, the warmer he grew and your front close to the fire making you sweat despite the cold.

Filthily enough, something in Jon preferred it that way. Wanting you to be overwhelmed, give him everything of yours. Grunting deep in his chest, he roughly had to fuck his fingers past your soaked, tightness clenching around him as your voice breathlessly high pitched cried his name, pleads and pleases to follow that only made that dark, possessive feeling worse in his head.

Then finally you felt the coil inside you, twisting and bending almost at a snap as you gasped a his name did Jon pull his hand down from your breast to your waist, and pulled his fingers from you completely. A refusal of an orgasm at the very last second, it felt almost painful to loose it. You almost fell in his arms with a weak sound of painful protest, his hand on your waist holding you tight as he let his other push against your stomach to keep you against him firmly.

That was, until he slowly brought his hand up gently, drenched fingertips tapping at your mouth as he rasped into your ear. “It's alright, you taste so good, darling. I promise.” His dark curls enveloped part of your vision as he leaned over your shoulder to watch with blackness in his eyes. Slowly you opened your mouth as he sunk three of his soaked fingers in, overwhelming you in one smooth push as he, just like in your cunt, sunk them to the knuckle.

Your hand flying up to almost grasp in a panic at his wrist, but your eyes still slid closed and sucked his fingers. You felt your eyes sting at the pressure of him so suddenly deep in your mouth, but you almost fought as more of the very wetness you tasted leaked from between your legs, at the wish it was his own seed you were tasting instead.

He didn’t remove them, even when there was little of you left on them as he mumbled, accent thick as he lost his composure once more. “This-fuck, this is why I can’t have your mouth around my cock.” The hand on your waist shamelessly moved to rub tightly against your clit as he kept his fingers deep in your mouth. “I can’t- can’t control myself if you do. I’ll push you too hard, I’ll be too rough with you, and I don’t want that.”

He was just rambling at that point as he gathered more of the utterly soaking wetness between you to coat your clit more. Would rub tight against it only to lose more of his calm and slip two of his fingers deeply back inside you. Pumping roughly, almost too fast for you to handle, and solely out of his own greed before sliding out and up to your clit again before sliding inside again, and repeating the pattern.

Feeling like you were there, being dangled on an orgasm for a long time. The sounds of how wet you were, to you, was downright humiliating. Yet you suspected Jon wanted to hear it louder, hear more and more of it. “You’re so beautiful, but I can’t handle it. I can’t be kind to you when you take me in your mouth like that, like this.”

You cried against his fingers as you felt another approaching attempt at an orgasm only to grasp his arm with both hands desperately, tears spilling from your eyes as he ripped his touch from your cunt again, letting the pain fill you from losing another orgasm.

Moving away from you a bit, both hands flying tightly to your waist as Jon rested his forehead against the back of your hair. Your heart feeling both full and too heavy at not having the right senses to tell him it was alright to treat you the way he wanted to. You wanted him to feel safe with you to let it all go, but you couldn’t find the words. “Jon..”

Shaking his head, you could sense his face was twisted in angry conflict as his voice was strained against the husk of it. “No, you don’t understand. I,- I need you to tell me to stop.” Your face twisted as as his tone was more upset this time. “Tell me to stop right now, please.”

“Why?”

Jon ran his hands more soothingly up and down your waist, and you couldn’t tell if it was for you or for him. Staying quiet for a good moment as he collected his voice enough to not snap. “I’ll be too selfish to stop on my own.”

It wasn’t in a seductive move, more of that desperate feeling in him, as Jon wrapped both strong arms around your front tightly while his lips trailed up your neck to rasp deep in your ear, as he all but rambled. “I want to fuck you so badly, darling. It’s all I can think about, having you in my bed and keeping you on my cock, letting my seed spill so deep inside of you over and over. Until you pass out and then taking you again the second you come back to me. But I can’t, and if you let me do anything else right now, I won’t be strong enough to stop myself.”

You so badly wanted to turn in his arms, so desperately wanted to wrap your own arms around him just as comfortingly as he did you, but there was a heavy conflict in his heart and mind that he was struggling with and you couldn’t escape his strong hold enough to soothe it easily with a gentle touch he deserved. “Jon, you are allowed to want me the way you do. I don’t want you to feel as if you should hide your needs from me. If you want that-”

He shook his head against you, voice rough and almost a bit angry at himself. “Its not normal, the way I want you. Most of the time, all I want is to keep you safe and happy. Just be with you the way I always dreamed of, but then I get you alone like this..” Moving to almost nuzzle against your jaw before pressing his lips to just under your ear as his voice slipped back deeper. “And all I can think of, is keeping you pinned to my mouth, letting me taste you all night. Sliding my cock deep inside you, as often as it takes to get you-”

Jon stopped himself, but you both instantly realized what he meant.

His voice changed, it was rough but something much more upset behind it this time. “I shouldn’t be treating you like this.”

You felt a weight in your throat turn to more of a choke that wavered your voice. “Jon, let me see you? Please?” He considered it for a moment before loosening his grip. Turning in his arms, you ran your hands up his collarbones to run your thumbs along his facial hair.

The black in his eyes was starting to fade, and a wide, watering sorrow filled the grey which was returning to them. Yours on his, his hands back to your waist as you both looked at the other, and nothing was said for quite a bit. None needed too, not with the two of you.

His heightened, too raw of a feeling simmered down in your gentle touch and trusting eyes to calm himself. Leaning in with a gentle smile, “Listen to me, now. I love you. I love you, and I always will no matter what you think. If you want me here and now, that’s alright. If you want to wait until we are back safe in our own bed, in our home, then we wait until this is all over. But nothing about the way or how much you want me is wrong. You have me, all of me, however you want. There are no conditions to loving you, Jon Snow.”

He swallowed heavily, the conflict a little less painful in his eyes. Instead an almost boyish softness fell over his features trying to come up with anything. But for now, what he landed on was so quiet, so soft and unsure with wide, bright eyes almost like a child. “Can we just go to bed? I need you in my arms for a little while, right now.”

You smiled softly, and luckily Jon let you lean to give him a small, innocent kiss. His hand reaching up to gently run along your hair once more as you pulled back. “Anything.” Tracing his nose along the length of yours before he nudged it playfully, leaving another soft kiss to your lips.

Neither of you said anything else. Laying gently in the bed, Jon once more traced along your nose with his as his hand came up to cup your cheek. Thumb doing a similar smoothing touch on the skin there as only small times did he pull you close, to give a small kiss to your lips then one to your forehead.

At some point, you finally fell asleep before he did. Eventually as he felt himself growing tired, he turned you in his arms, pulling you back against his chest as he buried himself in your hair. The hand running along your waist, slid under your own arm to press flat against your scar as sleep found him too.

Calmly and slowly walking through the crawling darkness, the emptiness of the corridors only filled with more corridors echoed by gentle torches draped along the walls between each chasm. You knew exactly where to go, exactly where your feet were taking you. You could hear those whom would describe such a place as dark and depressing, and grim and unsettling but you found no reason to buy into such a notion.

Generations of Starks lay here, safe in the crypts beneath Winterfell and they would stay there unharmed by the world that unjustly took so many of them from each other. Had it been a very long time since you had been in here though? Or was this just their states as they were normally alone in the pitch black of night? They were wolves after all.

Each statue sat tall but instead of stone, each was longer and held a living wolf. Colours alive and eyes following with nothing but rumblings as you walked. Not an inch of fear, as each one looked to you and making sure your feet found the right paths, only small growls if you got off track.

Wasn’t that what Willem and Martyn Lannister had asked you that day in Riverrun? If Robb turned into a wolf at night? Clearly the answer was yes, all of the statues of Starks in the night right now followed your path as living wolves keeping each other guard and keeping you guarded safely to him.

His statue was as you remembered, he was not yet a wolf as you looked to him at first. It must take time to return to life. The final moments you last saw the other were as painful and regretful as it was to learn it was the final.

Being dragged away from Ned Stark by the City Watch, accused of a treason which was the truth, and it would never be anymore. His statue stood tall and firm as you recalled in the best of his moments, and you stepped forward to- but no, he didn’t stay a statue to run your hand along.

Before your eyes, he was a wolf. The largest you had seen of them yet, only he didn’t stay in place. Before you knew it, Ned had leaped from his peak over your head and landed with a snarling growl onto the ground. Turning to look where he had spotted something, except the room was small and harder to move around.

A smaller wolf sat on the bed, smaller and less large and a weak whimpering instead of snarling. Their face looked like Neds, but their fur was a mixtures of sticky red and toxic blue as the two stared at one another. The one you had not previously seen, looked to you with a curious tilt of their head and the second you gently stepped forward you felt a muffled but overwhelming sound that pounded horribly in your mind.

Neither wolf sensed it, but you fell to your knees with the agony as it sounded almost upset. The wolves in the crypt behind all growled and snarled, deep and protective as the sound in your head increased and the two wolves by the bed did not react to either. They only paid attention to the other as the screeching in your mind sounded like crying, a high pitched crying that was not wolf nor adult.

It was a crying that increased as the wolves of the crypt begun to howl in warning.

Only just as the crying and snarling stopped, the second wolf at the bed had turned to look at you. The smaller one with bright eyes that seemed more expressive then the held back of the other. They looked like you could read them like a human’s mind but their attention was snatched back by the gentle nipping of the bigger wolf as it to pay attention.

The strange looking one, snuggled further down into the sheets of the bed, despite the thick and heavy smell like copper that started to coat the air. It was tasted on your tongue and it felt vile to sit in your nose it was so overwhelming, as the colours of their fur melted into the sheets until there was no wolf, just the bed now coated in red.

The larger one was no longer looking where the other had been. It was looking at you. Coming to snatch you by the edge of your dress the wolf pulled you to them, and as the torch fire along the crypt walls grew hotter, they inflamed so much it overtook the edges of the room.

Leaving only you and the large wolf left as the rumblings above were so loud it hurt. As the torch fire seemed to explode in a flash of green, a larger fire came tearing along the ceiling and pulled away the roof exposing the bright sun, clear, blue and warm as it heated the crypt.

Something rumbled in that sky so loud both you and the wolf hurt in your ears. You tried to cover yours, but the shock wave of the sound had you fall to your knees, covering the ears of the wolf whining now beside you. As the sound grew too loud, your eye grew wide as a shadow flew across the floor in a large shape.

Before your eyes followed back to the sky, the wolf beside you nudged you. Dropping the tiny wolf pup in his mouth into your hands, the pups fur coated the exact colours as the sheets of the bed the smaller wolf melted into. It was a tiny little rumbling of a growl in your hands, but as soon as you tried to look at it, instead the large, loud creature which tore the warm room off the crypt overcame your sights. But the second it hit the clearest part of the sky, you saw a wing before nothing more.

The more you walked out onto the docks, the more crisp the cool air refreshed you. It was early, very early and your father was sailing first. He had longer to sail and it would take more time.

Not much words but that of wishing luck and to see the other again. You shook hands, but it for a second felt strange to do so instead of anything else. Maybe a hug, but you were both not quite sure that would be appropriate. For you two at least. Get through this battle and maybe you and Stannis might have a conversation which would make something better. There was something in his own eyes that seemed to sense the same conflict in the other.

Only for a second did a flash of concern come over just as one sharply of determination come over your eyes. His voice low, “Who else knows?”

Yours was low, and nothing in your face changed. “Just you.” Your father commenting on the risk you were about to be taking, but you didn’t waver. “I’ve always been good on getting on people’s wrong sides. This time might just be a little bloodier.”

You knew it was hard to tell for him if he was proud or wishing to scold you for this idea, but you were determined to make this work no matter the cost to you.

Like a girl when he left to sail for war, watching him go to take on the Iron Fleet you had stood on the shores of Dragonstone and watched him sail off, until there was nothing left to see. Only this time, you would follow not long after.

The dream you were torn awake from bothered you, but with war approaching you hardly had time to think about how you've had that very dream for days. It wasn’t until sometime later as the sun rose to a point more would climb up from their sleep too did Jon come find you.

There was a lot of work to be done before you left, a lot to put into place. But as you both stood there for only a moment before the rest of the North would wake and join, Jon pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Letting it linger before beckoning you to follow him, saying he needs to make sure you eat now or else you would forget by the time you all set sail.

It was during the course of the day that you recalled the last time you had such a shockingly vivid dream. It was that final one you had over a year ago, which felt more like a vivid warning then a random assortment of images in your sleep.

It felt just like the ominous dream you had, right before you and Robb left for the Twins.

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