#they are battle brothers your honour

[wafflesrisa]

Charles and Carlos x Icarus, The Crane Wives

[torchwood-99]

“All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honour, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more. But I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving-woman. I can ride and wield blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.”

I love Tolkien. I love Tolkien giving Eowyn this speech. I love Tolkien giving Eowyn this speech in response to Aragorn; noble, good, fair and just Aragorn, telling Eowyn why it's her duty to stay behind, lecturing her on the importance of valour without renown, gently chiding her for wanting the same thing that will never be denied him nor her brother and uncle, never acknowledging that the choices made for Eowyn are made for her because she's a woman.

And Eowyn not taking it. Eowyn confronting him and making it clear that even though he doesn't say "it's because you're a woman", no matter how he words it, it is because she's a woman and it's unjust. She is skilled, she is brave, and she deserves better than a lifetime of being left behind, being told to wait, living and tending to the house until the men need it no more.

Tolkien could have left it with Aragorn's speech about being brave without having glory, and left it there. It's not an unfair point to make in general. But to make it to a woman, the one warrior in her family who this being demanded of, because she's a woman, that is when it becomes unfair. And neither Eowyn nor Tolkien let Aragorn off the hook for that.

I love that the sexism in LOTR doesn't have to be overt or only shown by villainous characters, but subtly, by heroic characters who don't even notice it. And I love Eowyn gets to unapologetically point that out.

[troublesomesnitch]

Make Your Hands Unclean

Aemond x Wife!Reader - Period sex drabble

Premise and bits of dialogue shamelessly stolen from The Borgias.

Contents: drabble, pure filth. Menstrual sex, p in v, anal touching, graphic imagery. Internalised misogyny and harmful attitudes towards menstruation. Aemond is an asshole. Porn with weird plottish vibes.

Words: 2300

idk what this even is, this thing kind of wrote itself and I just went with it. It is kind of a mess tbh.

You were supposed to marry a lord.

That is what you were raised for, and those are the skills you were taught. To sing, to dance, to play the harp; to make yourself look pleasant. Your septa taught you to sew, and a woman from Essos taught you to weave, and in the afternoons the maester taught you history and linguistics, astronomy and arithmetic, and other things that ladies rarely speak about, but nevertheless must learn. 

For it is the lady, not the lord, who runs the castle. Who manages the household, and oversees the people it employs. Such a lady must ideally be both kind and commanding, generous and frugal. She must know how to handle serfs and noblemen alike, and she must be proficient in numeracy; able to record expenses and perform difficult calculations. 

To be a prince’s wife requires no such skills. 

This castle already has two queens, and besides it is not for royal women to concern themselves with practical matters. There are ladies-in-waiting for that, and stewards, chamberlains, maids and matrons; an army of servants hundreds strong to ensure that you may always be spoiled and idle. More than a lady, but less than a queen, left to twiddle your thumbs and wonder when, if ever, the oppressive walls of Maegor’s Holdfast will begin to feel like home.

You do not like it here. 

The days are long in King’s Landing, and the air is foul, polluted by the smoke of ten thousand hearths, by the stench of filth and unwashed bodies. It seeps through every crack and crevice, and you like the early mornings the most, when a cleansing mist blows in from the sea, and the ship’s bells ring over Blackwater Bay. 

Your husband rises early too, though it is for different reasons. Prince Aemond adheres to strict routines, to noble pursuits and rigorous discipline. He is exactly as people say: a stoic, severe in both temper and countenance, condemning indulgence and deriding depravity. 

Yet for all of his moral posturing, he does seem to have developed a taste for it rather quickly. 

You couldn’t say the exact number of times the prince has had you, but it has been many, and often, and in every position imaginable, and you dutifully report it all back to your family. As they have instructed you to do.

Before you were sent off to the capital, you were relentlessly reminded that there will never again be an opportunity such as this. That a marriage to a royal prince is a rare honour for your family, and one that was only made possible because the crown finds itself at war. Your house is not a great one, and your father is not the noblest lord, but he is very wealthy. And on the field of battle, wealth does tend to triumph. 

You do not know what other promises were made, what lands or titles were negotiated. Only that so much now depends on you; on your ability to please your husband and give him healthy children. Preferably male, but even a daughter would markedly strengthen your position. So you play your part as best as you can , and you pen your secret letters, divulging all the details of your intimate affairs. That the prince sleeps with you frequently, and seems to find great pleasure in it. That he performs his movements to completion, and expends his semen inside your body. 

It is a grave responsibility to have on your shoulders, and you were utterly crushed when you woke to find your insides churning, and your sheets stained with blood. 

They will be most displeased, your mother and father. Your brothers and uncles, and your cousins too. Prince Aemond's seed has not yet taken. 

-

In the evening he knocks on your door. Two determined raps, and you are thoroughly surprised. Your maid will have told his mother of your ailment, and she will have told him, and he too must be disappointed. But you know it is the prince, for there is no one else who would visit you at this hour. 

You know very well what he has come for, too. 

“We can’t tonight,” you sigh. 

“And why is that?” he says, amused, as if the idea that you would refuse him is ridiculous. 

“My blood - I am bleeding.”

Prince Aemond hums, but he walks to your couch and begins to undress himself, unbuckling his doublet and unlacing his breeches, tugging off his boots while you wring your hands. 

He can’t be serious. He can’t mean to take you like this. 

“It’s not - it isn’t proper,” you protest. “Our maester said it is ill-advised - most men find it unclean - “

“I am not most men,” he scoffs. 

There is no arguing against that, and he says it with all the confidence of someone who knows it to be true. Aemond is a royal prince. A dragonlord, a scion of a greater people. Second to no one but his king and brother, and if he wants to get himself all bloodied, then you suppose that is his right. 

He rids himself of his undershirt, and you reluctantly move to the side to let him join you in bed. It isn’t proper, but your insides flutter when he pulls you against his naked body, letting you feel the warmth of his skin, his manhood against the back of your thigh. It is hard, and twitching when he runs his hands over your figure, your breasts and your stomach, your waist, your hips, the tops of your thighs -

“No, you mustn’t - ” you squeak, but he rucks your gown up anyway and slips his hand in between your legs.

You are wet there, with blood as well as with desire, and you can feel the stickiness when he spreads your lips, curving his fingers and sliding them back and forth along your slit. His breathing is hoarse just from caressing you, from feeling your wet, your warmth, your little swollen nub begging to be touched. You whimper when he circles it with the gentlest of strokes, light and teasing, until you arch your hips up in frustration and breathe oh please. 

Prince Aemond likes it when you beg. Only then does he press down, but not enough to bring you to a peak. Just enough to make your insides tighten, and more blood gush from your womb.

You always did find it strangely beautiful, the blood of your cycle. Deep maroon, and scarlet red - but you are ashamed to see it coating the prince’s fingers when he withdraws them. It is thick, and clotted, and he takes a moment to study it before he wipes his hand clean on your shift. 

“Are you not displeased with me?” you whisper. He should be, given that you have failed to conceive. That there is no way of knowing if you can bear children at all. 

“One mere month is not cause for concern,” the prince says. 

You breathe a faint sigh of relief. It is a comfort to know that at least your husband doesn’t hold your failure against you - yet. 

He tugs on your shift, eager to expose your body, but you cross your hands over your chest.

“Let me keep it for tonight,” you plead. 

You can’t rid yourself of the thought that you are unclean, and you would feel so much more at ease if he didn’t see your heavy, aching body. But you don’t want to entirely deny him access to it, either. Seeing as you are bleeding, the chances of begetting a child are small, which means that his wish to sleep with you must come from genuine desire rather than obligation. And that makes you very happy, as you imagine it would any wife. 

You will make sure to include it in the next letter you send back home. Hopefully it will lessen their disappointment. 

The prince looks somewhat displeased, but he lets you keep your dress, resorting instead to bunching it up around your waist. He is stern, but never cruel to you, even if he does pull at the neck to bare more of your breasts. He pinches your nipple, and then his hand moves downward again, and you throw your leg over his hip to give him more room to touch you. 

This time he does it properly. His fingers find your pleasure right away, and he swiftly brings you to your rapture, impatient as he is to have you. It leaves his hand stained and tainted, and once again he wipes it off on your shift, but this time you don’t care. 

With the position you’re in, it is easy for him to crawl over your leg and take his place between them, and he kisses you as he presses against you, deeply and hungrily, rocking his hips, his manhood throbbing and leaking between your legs. 

Your parts are soaked, but he is careful when he pushes inside. Despite the prince’s relentless pursuit of knowledge, he must not know all that much about a woman’s blood, at least not in practical terms. Where it hurts, and how much, and whether this intrusion will make it worse. You can’t hold it against him - you don’t believe there are many scholars who would want to write about the topic, and how then was he supposed to learn?

“Harder,” you pant, and he obliges, moving faster and pushing deep inside. 

You let him find a steady rhythm, hooking your legs over his hips, and letting your hands wander over his body while he has his way with you. You stroke his balls, imagining that what he keeps inside will take root in you. You pinch his nipples, all hard with pleasure, and you slide your hands down to his lower back, to the base of his spine, where the skin is dusted with downy hairs. Where you can feel each of his thrusts; the rolling movements of his hips, the rhythmic clenching of his buttocks. 

Your dainty touch makes him shudder, and you move your hands to his arse, and then further still, slipping your fingers in between his buttocks. To where he is warm and tender, and where his skin starts to pucker. 

It is filthy, the way he twitches there. The way he throbs. A dirty place to touch, and a sinful thing to do, but you have found that the prince likes it. No added pressure or attempts at entry, just gentle strokes with the tips of your fingers. Soft caresses over his opening. 

He buries his face in your neck and groans, and you can feel that he is nearing his peak. His movements are fast and shallow, his chest heaving and slick with sweat. 

“Yes, my prince,” you whisper. “Fill me with your seed, put a son inside me - “

He likes that. He hisses loudly, gripping the headboard for purchase, and you look up at him when his hips stutter. Prince Aemond’s face is always handsome, but never more than when he is on top of you, in the throes of ecstasy. His brow is furrowed and his eye squeezed shut, and the tension in his body makes the damaged side of his face convulse, his lip twitching up towards the scar. 

He wouldn’t like for you to see that, but in this state he does not feel it happening. 

You lie still as he peaks, allowing him to rut into you wildly, groaning and grunting as he spills his seed. Hot, and wet, and adding to the mess inside you. He lies limp on top of you to catch his breath, and when he finally withdraws, the blood is everywhere. On his softening organ, on his sack, and crusted to the soft hairs on his thighs. 

“I’ve made you dirty,” you state. 

“Yes, you have,” he says. “In more ways than one.” 

You look the other way to give him some privacy when he rises to tidy and dress himself. On your wedding night he stayed with you until the morning, and he has done it a few times since, but it is not a common occurrence. Prince Aemond prefers to sleep alone, and your mother chastises you for that too. She says that to rouse a man’s desire is less than half the battle, and that you must make your husband love you.

Of course if it were really that simple, then there would be no unhappy marriages and no children born as bastards, and if you knew how to make a man fall in love, you would be the richest woman in all the world. 

But you must at least try. 

“Won’t you stay with me?” You ask. “It is - important, for a woman to be embraced - to be treated gently, afterwards…”

“Next time, I will,” he says. And that is the end of that, for you will not stoop so low as to beg for his company. 

He smoothes out his shirt and pulls on his breeches, and you sit up and comb your fingers through your tangled hair. When you look down there are stains on your sheets, and a thick rosy fluid trickling out between your legs. 

“You may want to abstain from riding,” the prince says over his shoulder. “It is known to upset the balance of the womb.”

You nod, bound to obey what is clearly a command posing as a suggestion. 

“Did you know,” you muse, “that the blood of the womb is the only blood that is not born from violence?”

Prince Aemond looks at you with a thoughtful expression, one that suggests he had in fact not considered that before. 

“Quite the philosopher you are,” he remarks, with a little raise of his brow. Coming from him, that is the highest praise. 

It does not change his mind about staying, but he does press a noble kiss to your temple before he leaves you. Sore and bloodied, but content. 

You did well tonight. 

Notes

“Most men find it unclean/I am not most men” is from S1E7 of the Borgias. 

“Menstruation is the only blood that is not born from violence and yet it’s the one that disgusts you the most” is a quote by artist Maia Schwartz. I couldn’t find any more information about her unfortunately. 

Tags. @arcielee, @targaryen-madness.

[sc0tters]

Always His | Jack Hughes

summary: you were always meant to be jack's even if he didn't deserve it.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, swearing, slight degradation, p in v, oral (m receiving, hints to f too), mentions of alcohol.

word count: 6.47k

authors note: this was literally all written today so sorry if it is rushed but I wanted it out before the game (yes we manifested a bit in it) but this is too feed all of the girlies who needed it after the jack content that has come with the stadium series. to the anon who wanted jack and lukes best friend I hope you like this! our honourable mentions today though are @babydollmarauders for picking this plot (cause I'm indecisive) so lets than her for this one coming when it did!

You knew it was stupid coming to New Jersey this weekend. 

Jack hadn’t stopped arguing with you since you arrived and Luke thought that he had woken up in some fever dream where his best friend and brother were at odds. You had been around the Hughes family for the last twelve years so it was no surprise that you and Luke grew so close. Being at Umich too it only then on solidified that friendship and everyone swore you were bound to be his one day. 

But what they didn’t know was how complicated your past was with Jack. He was always the hot older brother that probably put up with you for the sakes of Luke. So last year when you were at the lake house soaking up the much needed vitamin D, you seemed to finally break Jack. 

Not in the sense of emotionally, but you went from being Luke’s best friend to Luke’s hot best friend almost over night. No longer was Jack stopping Trevor’s little flirty comments to you because they were weird, now he wanted to be the one to say them instead. Yet Jack managed to keep his lips shut all the way until your final night at the lake house. 

Almost everyone was asleep in the house as the clocks struck 3:19 which meant that nobody noticed when you and Jack were down by the pool table “you are gonna get me in trouble Blossom.” Jack had called you that for years after a Halloween party where you and two of your friends ended up as the power puff girls. 

It made you smile as you looked up to see him staring “not doing anything wrong Jacky.” You pointed out as you shook your head “you sure about that doll?” He asked letting out a gasp as your ass went into the air as you potted the ball. 

A smirk formed on your lips as you stood up straight “pretty sure.” You watched him take two big steps across the table and before he knew it he was right by your side “think you need to change your answer.” He clicked his tongue when his hands clung to your hips. 

The power dynamic had switched as Jack had you swearing you were dreaming “you shouldn’t-” you warned as his lips hovered over yours letting any bit of self restraint leave your body.

Jack scanned your face as he looked for any kind of actual discomfort “tell me you want me to go upstairs without you.” He was amused as he knew he was pushing your buttons in just the right ways. 

As your silence made him think that he had gone too far so as he began to pull away it seemed to trigger your mind. Your hands were quick to cup his cheeks bringing his lips onto yours. 

Whilst your tongues fought in this needy battle Jack didn’t hesitate to push you onto the pool table letting his hands fiddle with the waistband of your shorts “Jack.” You moaned feeling his teeth graze over your lower lip. 

His pupils were blown as they stared directly at yours “I got you Bloss.” The hockey player mumbled as left a trail of hungry kisses down your jaw. 

Your legs swing as they hang over the edge of the table “if you aren’t gonna continue then I need you to stop.” You announced feeling yourself get hot under his touch “because I won’t be able to stop myself if you don’t.” Your breath hit the shell of his ear making him grunt. 

Jack used little strength to pick you up as your legs locked around his waist “I want you tonight, all of you.” He mumbled kissing your lips again before he walked you both upstairs.

That night caused a fire to roar in your chest as the memories of his hands on your skin plagued your brain. But what you could never seem to shake was the way that he had left you to wake up the next morning all alone. The little evidence that he had been in your room was gone as his T-shirt that had been in your pile of clothes disappeared.

To say you were hurt was an understatement yet the final blow to your heart was that Jack hadn’t just left your room, he left the house. The middle Hughes boy made sure that he was  out all day only coming home once he was sure you were at the airport. What made it all that much worse was that he wouldn’t even respond to your messages. 

So after a week of trying to get answers from the boy, you stopped caring. You hated how much you had to care about it. Nights were spent avoiding your friends and their nights out as you stayed in your dorm to watch the devils play. You tried so hard to hate him but you couldn’t, and that’s how your friends ended up pulling you out of your rut. 

It wasn’t pretty to put it lightly. You were a mess and needed a change which your friends were sure to give you. Jack watched from afar as things began to change. It started with your hair and then before he knew it you were in these tight outfits that had were flashed around your Instagram as you grew closer to the male athletes on campus. 

As much as, he wanted to be jealous Jack knew he had brought it on himself. Luke was confused as he watched you step away from him, avoiding all in person contact when you knew that Jack would be there too. 

That only worked for so long though as February finally came around and you were left out of excuses to send Luke as to why you were avoiding him. That’s how you landed up on the flight to New Jersey. Of course Jack had no clue you were coming as neither you nor Luke went to offer the boy the courtesy of telling him. 

Luke didn’t hesitate to pick you up the moment you were in arms reach of him “Lukey!” You squealed as you were thrown over his shoulder “put me down!” You groaned feeling him almost lose his grip on your legs. 

He laughed as he placed you back on the ground “gosh I’ve missed you so much.” Luke mumbled as he pulled you into a hug “too much.” It was the classic bone crushing hug that he loved to give you. 

The boy was quick to let you go as he smiled “you’re gonna love the boys.” Luke squeezed your hand as he dragged you through the airport not giving you a chance to respond. 

Nerves began to crawl through your body as you found yourself regretting leaving Michigan as you got to the door of the apartment. Jack’s laughter could be heard from inside and you tried your best to act as if it wasn’t terrifying you “you okay?” Luke’s voice was barely a whisper as he saw how your eyes were wide.

You could try to lie to him. You could have tried to say that you were tired or ready to see his family. But Luke knew you like the back of his hand and he would have seen through your lies “just thinking about this weekend.” You were thinking about seeing Jack again but thankfully Luke brought it. 

He squeezed your hand once more before he unlocked the door “you took forever!” Jack complained as he dropped his phone into the couch as he locked eyes with you “Bloss.” His eyes grew wide as you tucked your hair behind your ear. 

Luke lugged your suitcase into the apartment “hey Jack.” You chewed at the inside of your cheek as all of the emotions that you felt the day he left you come rushing back to you “why are you two being weird?” Luke had watched you both grow comfortable with each other over the summer so now as you stood in tension laced air it was suffice to say that the youngest Hughes noticed. 

Jack sat up as he shook his head “just didn’t expect to see her here.” The center wanted to pay little mind to the fact that the last time he saw you, the sun ran through your half drawn curtains and hit your sleeping face to make you look beautiful “think mom said she wanted to talk to you though.” Jack lied handing the youngest Hughes boy his boy before he grabbed you by your arm.

It made a level of panic set through your body “I’ll show you around though.” His tone had him clearly irritated as pulled you into the kitchen “what the fuck are you doing here!” Jack whisper yelled pushing you against the counter top as he sent you a glare.

Your palms grow sweaty as your brain disconnected itself from the rest of your mind “didn’t realise that I fucked you dumb.” He spat as your silence only seemed to piss him off more than “Luke invited me.” You explained crossing your arms as you sent him a scowl.

You watched him process your response as he rolled his eyes “and you decided to come to this of all things?” You knew Jack could be cruel but you had never seen it in person before “Luke started to think that I was mad at him.” You shrugged him off knowing that the answer was more than likely not what he wanted to hear.

As his laugh echoed in your ears you were proved right as you found yourself growing more embarrassed by the second “you start worrying about your friend?” His taunts came as a never ending attack “yes Jack because I’m not a total ass like you.” You spat quickly coming to terms with the fact that the night you spent with Jack was only ever going to be a mere memory.

The boy ran his fingers through his hair as he let out a groan of frustration “just stay out of my way this weekend?” You were unsure if he was asking or telling you to do that but as you saw heard Luke hang up on the call with Ellen, you didn’t want to wait around with Jack “don’t have to tell me twice.” You grumbled pushing past the hockey player as you hit his shoulder on the way out.

At the family skate session came along Jack had to watch you make good on your side of the agreement. Every guy but Jack were privy to your attention but it seemed that as you struggled to skate in a straight line Nico found his place next to you. The interactions were nothing beyond innocent as Nico wanted to know why this was his first time the team was meeting the girl that Luke wouldn’t shut up about. The questions then had to turn to the fact that that Jack had stopped skating as he was now staring daggers at his teammate “should I be worried that Jack is looking at me like that?” Nico’s voice was barely above a whisper as he whispered that into your ear.

You turned to see Jack until he locked eyes with you which made him quickly turn away from you both “Jack is just Jack sometimes I guess?” You let out an awkward laugh “thought it would have been Luke who would have had us all banned from talking to you.” Nico didn’t think much more of it and you were grateful for that as he was quick to pull your attention to Luke in the middle of a media session.

Thankfully for you that was the most you really saw Jack as he made sure to avoid you, the only interactions you ended up having were when he came into the kitchen for his morning coffee and you were still half asleep on the couch. It wasn’t a reality you enjoyed but you assumed that it was the universe’s way of sending you a bit of karma for sleeping with your best friend’s brother. And you stupidly thought that you would be able to get through the entirety of the weekend avoiding Jack, yet Saturday night brought a different story.

The team went out to celebrate the win with their family and friends but you ended up wanting your bed - or in this case your couch - as you wanted to make little effort in trying to communicate with Jack “you sure you don’t want me to take you home?” Luke honestly wanted to spend his time with you and he didn’t mind if that meant leaving the team “no Lu, you go have your fun.” You squeezed his shoulder as you shook your head.

Ellen and Jim were stood waiting for you both as Jack was nowhere in sight “I can get an uber back to yours if you give me your keys.” You held your hand out ready to get your way “I’ll take her home.” The offer made you freeze as the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

You didn’t even want to turn around as you knew he was looking at you “glad to see you can still be nice Jack.” Ellen teased as she hinted to the fact that she knew something was going on between you both as neither one of you could offer anything more than a glare to the other “you know me.” Jack placed his hand on your back as you chewed at your cheek knowing that Luke was studying your reactions.

He sent you a final look before he kissed your head “I’ll see you when I get home okay?” Fearing what you might let slip from your lips you nodded sending Luke your best smile “have good night you two.” Jim wrapped his arm Ellen before the trio walked off.

The moment they were out of earshot you began to walk off “where do you think that you’re going?” Jack asked as he crossed his arms “home.” You yelled back not daring to turn around.

Jack couldn’t help but roll his eyes “the car is this way.” He pointed to behind himself as it finally made you turn around “I am walking.” You quipped back making his eyes go wide as he took the short few strides to get back to you.

His grip around your wrist was sore “like hell you are.” Jack wanted to kill you for being so stupid. New Jersey at night in the cold was dangerous for anyone, especially for a girl who didn’t know the state. It made you grow angry as he acted like he cared “this is me staying out of your way so why do you care?” You let your brows form a fine line as you glared at him “look if I drive you home we can talk about it there.” Jack let out a groan as he didn’t think that you would be putting up a fight with him for this. 

Your mind swayed back and forth as you knew that Luke would want you home safe “fine.” You sighed as you raked your fingers through your hair “gad to see you can still use that brain of yours.” Jack mumbled as he was honestly relieved that he didn’t have to carry you back to his car.

The ride was probably the most awkward thing you had ever been through. Your eyes were locked to your window as you refused to look in Jack’s direction. He was also irritated as he gripped the steering wheel, Jack played the moments from the lake house over in his head.

It was barely 6:00 when Jack woke up, the foreign aspects of the room around him reminded Jack of the events from a few hours ago. Soft breaths left your lips as you snuggled into your pillow “why’d you have to go ahead and be Luke’s best friend.” Jack sighed as he stared at your sleeping state “could have made my life so much easier if you didn’t break his tooth.” You and Luke became the best of friends after you both ended up laughing once Luke got a softball to the mouth when he offered to help you practice for the upcoming season. Jack always did envy his brother for getting you and he buried those emotions through acting like you were irritating.

Quinn’s voice echoed through the hall as he was on the phone to Olivia who was in Europe awaiting her boyfriend’s arrival “thanks for the night Blossom.” Jack kissed your forehead, careful not to wake you up as you began to stir in your sleep. The middle Hughes boy did his best to ignore the way that guilt consumed his mind. With one quick movement he took his clothes off of your floor as he sent you one final look before he snuck out of your room. 

He felt like he was in the middle of a back and forth with himself as he sighed; this wasn’t something he could do again because as much as you might have been good for him, Jack knew he wasn’t good for you. And that was enough for him to make sure you didn’t have a reason to argue with him, it’s the very reason he made sure he wasn’t home when you woke up.

As you let the apartment door slam shut behind you Jack was pulled away from the memory, as happy or sad as it might have been. You headed straight to the kitchen “don’t walk away from me!” Jack dropped his keys in the bowl by his table as he scoffed “you did it to me first.” You were quick to quip back as the words rolled off of your tongue.

It made Jack scoff “that’s not fair.” He shook his head following you into the room as he was now ready to open the can of worms that you were angling to “you want me to tell you what isn’t fucking fair Jack?” You took a step closer to him as you swore that his words were cruel.

You felt tears form in your eyes even as you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you like that “having to wake up alone and get treated like the biggest mistake of your life.” Your voice broke by the end of your words as you didn’t think you would have the power within yourself to hold it together “so you don’t get to stand here and act like I’m being some brat for no fucking reason.” You spat as you went to leave yet you were pulled back by his hand around yours. 

Jack cleared his throat as he sighed “I did it to protect you and Luke!” It was no secret that Luke would have been heart broken if he knew that there was something going on with you and one of his brothers, that was a line you were never allowed to cross unscathed. 

Yet his words didn’t bring you the comfort he would have hoped for as it made you roll your eyes“don’t roll your eyes at me.” Jack scowled closing the gap to nothing between you both “or what?” You grumbled still agitated as you were left wanting to slap him. 

The middle Hughes boy clicked his tongue “I’m not against fucking this bratty attitude out of you.” He warned making you scoff “what about protecting Luke?” You weren’t against using his words from just a few second ago against him as they ran off your tongue. 

Jack laughed as he ran his fingers through the ends of your hair “seems like he can handle sharing you so well already.” His voice was laced with envy as he remembered watching you hold onto Nicos arm for dear life and Luke didn’t even bat an eye at it. 

You knew it was truly wrong to admit but you were now feeling flustered “so this is all cause you couldn’t handle me getting a little male attention?” You cocked your head as you fiddled with the ends of your sleeves “you got a lot more than a little.” Jack’s voice was barely above a mumble. 

Your eyes locked onto his as a smirk formed on your lips “not from anyone that mattered.” It seemed to be the line that got to Jack as he brought his hands to your cheeks as he kissed you. 

It wasn’t like the lake house when it was full of lust, this time it seemed that frustration drove that kiss. Milliseconds went by until you had your hands under his shirt trailing up his skin as if this was clockwork in your brains. He let his hand move to the nape of your neck afraid he might lose you if he didn’t hold you. A moan left your lips as his other hand squeezed your ass letting him slide his tongue into your mouth. 

He truly never thought he would be the kind of guy who could find himself obsessed with how sweet someone could be. No longer did you have the taste of the cheap beer that Trevor bought on your tongue and now you were like an addictive substance to Jack “fuck you’re such a pretty fucking girl.” He groaned pulling his lips away from yours as he picked you up letting the actions mirror those of the night at the lake house. 

A squeal left your lips as you steadied yourself on him with your arms around his neck “shame you had to not be in my jersey though.” The hockey player mumbled as he pecked your lips taking the short walk to his room with you in his arms. 

The moment you two walked in there you let your foot shut the door as you didn’t want to break the kiss “you get me in your jersey when you don’t act like a child.” You announced remembering the fact that Jack had been watching you in all of Luke’s merchandise and clothing all weekend. 

You were unsure if what you said was right when he practically threw you to his bed “was gonna treat you like a princess tonight but it seems like all you wanna do is keep on acting like a brat.” Jack sighed as he pulled his coat off of his shoulders “and we all know that brats don’t get rewarded.” He leaned down letting his mouth ghost your ear. 

Your gasps went straight to his cock as it grew hard against his jeans “then why am I here for you?” It was a blow that made him tug his fingers in the roots of your hair “god are you always this fucking talkative?” Jack spat as he rolled his eyes “really think I need to shut you up.” He mumbled to himself hating how you pushed his buttons and that he actually enjoyed it too. 

His nimble fingers undid his pants letting them drop to his knees as Jack let his hand wrap around his aching cock whilst he pumped it a few times “you remember our safe word?” The hockey player wasn’t a monster and make sure you had a word you could use if he pushed you too far “Ace.” You nodded feeling your mouth water at the sight of his precum oozing out of his swollen head. 

Jack watched you take some kind of initiative as you moved your hips closer to the edge of his bed only stopping when his cock was merely centimeters away from your face “you look so pretty down there.” The compliment made you squirm as your tongue began to do these kitten licks to his cock peppering kisses on the swollen tip “c’mon Bloss you know how to use your mouth properly so don’t start with this shit.” Jack warned as he reminded you about the last time that you had sucked him off.

That was all it took for you to force your lips around his cock beginning to take as much of him as you could “that wasn’t so hard now was it my sweet girl?” He spoke through gritted teeth as you began to settle on a steady rhythm with your hands going flat against his thighs “let me see your pretty face as you suck my cock f’me.” Jack cooed running his fingers through your hair as he made a makeshift ponytail up as his hands helped you take more of him.

Your tongue swirled around his cock as you looked up at him through your batted eyelashes “tried playing nice and like a good big brother when I could have had all this.” Jack grumbled letting his grip around your head tighten as he grew annoyed “cause you just know you’re my little slut ain’t ya Blossom?” Your thighs came together to suppress the desire that came through your mind as you hollowed out your cheeks.

Even if you had only slept with him once before this you knew how to get Jack to the point of no return and that was through turning your mouth into a vacuum of sorts “god you’re so fucking good at this.” Jack groaned as he shook his head as his eyes screwed shut “just like that and then I’ll fuck you real good.” The offer didn’t go missed even as you opened your throat to take more of him.

It was that gesture that sent him over the edge as his body began to shake “you gonna let me make a mess in that pretty little mouth of yours?” He asked surprising himself that the question even came out of his lips. All you could do was nod in response as the sounds of you gagging around him and the warm feeling of your mouth practically sucking him like a straw were enough to push Jack over the edge “right there f-uck!” The hockey player kept your lips wrapped around him for a few more seconds forcing you to breathe through your nose as he began to get control over his breathing again.

Your mouth felt warm as his cock slid out of your mouth leaving your jaw sore “lemme see you swallow that f’me doll.” He mumbled softly placing his hand around your throat so that he could feel you swallow before you stuck your tongue out. Jack watched in awe as a string of spit left his lips and landed on your tongue as you brought it back into your mouth pressing your lips shut “good girl.” He good bending down to peck your lips.

He was reminded on the 43 jersey you were in and that brought a scowl to his lips “think it’s about time I get you out of this.” He added as he shook his head still cringing at the fact that you were in someone else’s jersey “you jealous or something Jacky?” You teased as his fingers ran over the waistline making you lift your arms up.

Jack scoffed as he rolled his eyes “ya cause I’m gonna be jealous of someone else when it’s me who get’s to fuck you at the end of the night?” The hockey player could have laughed at the absurdity behind your words “I could have any man that I wanted.” Even you were unsure of your words as you were left in your bra.

It made him smirk as he crouched to be eye level with you once more “you could have anyone.” He nodded as he took in the sight of the lacey bra against your skin “but you choose to fuck me each time it seems.” You didn’t know how he did it, Jack could take your insults to him and fully flip them on It’s head.

The hockey player ran his finger up your chest from the valley between your breast “don’t go getting in your head now Blossom.” He pleaded as he hooked his fingers under your chin as he forced you to look at him “you gonna let me make you feel good tonight doll?” It seemed that his pet names for you were in full use tonight as if he feared that he would never get the chance to use them on you ever again.

Yet it was so much more complicated than that as you nodded “make me feel special Jacky.” You begged as your voice got caught in your throat “you are forever my special girl Blossom.” Jack mumbled as he stripped you out of your pants and undergarments leaving you fully nude whilst he still had his shirt on “this is mean Jack.” You complained making him smile.

He pressed his lips against yours as he his hands came down on either side of you “just like seeing how wet you get for me.” He confessed eating up the way you whimpered in response “don’t even think that I need to get you ready for me.” The boy confessed as you nodded before he leaned back up to pull the shirt off his body when he kicked his pants off “need your cock.” You begged feeling his fingers run up and down your slit spreading your wetness over your clit “when you ask me so nicely how could I say no?” The question was rhetorical as the sound of him ripping open the condom wrapper was like music to your ears.

Your legs on impulse came up as your heels pressed against your ass “look at you getting all ready f’me.” Jack cooed as he rolled the condom over hid hardening cock “been thinking about doing this all weekend.” He confessed as he ran the covered head over your slit and down your slit before he stopped it at your glistening hole. 

His eyes never left yours “yet you had to go act like-“ you were quickly cut off when Jack bottom you out leaving you both silent as your cunt stretched to hug his cock “I act like what?” Jack’s lips found your neck as he began to nip at the skin making you moan.

Jack gave you a few seconds to settle into it before he began moving again “like a fucking asshole.” You moaned bringing your hands up between your bodies as you went to tease your breasts “those are mine Bloss.” He shook his head “and since I’m such an asshole ‘m not gonna share.” It was a quick movement that had your legs over his shoulders as he arched his back allowing him to bring his lips to your nipple. 

The feeling made your eyes flutter as his cock hit parts of you that you truly didn’t think were possible “just like that Jack.” You whispered digging your shoulder blades into your bed as you moaned “why are you so quiet?” It was like he wasn’t okay with that as he rolled his eyes “got the whole fucking apartment to yourself so I wanna hear you tell Jersey who is fucking you like this.” Your cunt clenched around him as his words brought this new possessive sense over him.

It made Jack smirk as he brought his lips back up to yours “you enjoy it when I tell you you’re mine?” You weren’t sure if he actually meant it but those words from his lips made you feel like you were dreaming “so so much.” You nodded as he kissed your lips finally tasting his salty release on your tongue that made his cock throb all over again.

The chain that he was wearing from his pregame outfit was still on and it hit your chin as Jack began to quicken his thrusts “wanna make such a fucking mess in your cunt.” His hand softly slapped your thigh as you bit your lip “remember I wanna hear you or I stop.” His warning was all too serious for you as you felt your coil in your stomach begin to tighten. 

A flurry of moans and incoherent sounds left your lips as you panicked “you fuck me so good.” Was the only thing he understood before you let his chain get trapped between your lips “you getting close pretty girl?” Jack asked as he let his hand trail between your two sweaty bodies feeling your cunt practically suffocate his cock.

Your head bobbed as he took it as the chance to increase the pace of his thrusts only resulting in a cry that left your throat feeling raw when his fingers began rubbing at your clit “theres my sweet girl.” Jack cooed as the sound of skin slapping echoed in your ears “Jacky ‘m gonna come.” You announced as your legs began to shake trying to trap Jack in your grip. 

He shook his head “fucking hold it.” All Jack needed was a little more as he could feel himself not far behind you at all “please!” You begged not knowing how much more of this you could take as it felt like al of the air within your lungs had been taken from you.

His lips were rough against your jaw “told you to fucking hold it.” Jack spat clearly not interested in your complaints as your fingers tugged through his hair “fuck baby you are perfect.” He grunted as you tried to kiss him needing something to stop you from begging and pleading with him to make you come as you feared that you might then not come at all tonight.

You didn’t even stop to notice his words as they were shortly followed by “make a mess on my cock Bloss.” You didn’t need to be told twice and you felt your eyes roll back into your head as your cunt practically spasmed around his cock “fuck fuck shit!” You groaned letting your toes curl as tour body writhed against his.

Jack’s orgasm shortly followed yours as he tried his hardest to fuck you through yours “got you my girl.” He mumbled kissing your shoulder blade as he went to rest his head from a moment when his movements stifled. You both lay there for a few moments trying to catch your breath “holy shit.” Your chest heaved as he slid out of you making him laugh.

The sight of your release oozing out of your cunt made Jack feel warm inside “holy shit in deed.” He nodded in agreement pecking your lips before he got up “think you are up for a bath?” Aftercare did happen to be something that Jack was surprisingly good at but these were stops he only ever pulled for you.

You nodded as you sent him a soft smile “always.” As he picked you up and brought you into the bathroom it was no secret that you were close to falling asleep and Jack was honestly surprised you held out on shutting your eyes until you got dress and was tucked back into his bed where the warmth of his covers took over.

As you woke up with an arm still firmly gripped around your waist you couldn’t help but blink repeatedly gaining your bearings of this foreign room. A soft groan left your lips as you rolled over to see Jack smiling back at you “hey Bloss.” His words were soft as he ran his hand up your side. 

You sent him a dull smile as you yawned “think I need to get up.” You went to lean forward as the center stopped you “told Luke you went for a run.” Jack handed you back your phone as he didn’t want to lean over you again to continue charging it. 

The boy went to kiss your lips but you were only confused as you looked at him “you know my password?” You tried to remain calm as there were definitely a set of lingerie pictures that you did not want him to ever see. 

Your worries made him laugh “you’re gonna have to pick something a little bit harder than your birthday if you want to act shocked.” Jack teased making your cheeks turn red “you’re cute when you get all flustered.” He added delivering the compliment as though it was liquid gold. 

His fingers were rough against your jaw as he hooked them under your chin “what are we doing Jack?” You sighed pressing your hand against his chest as you feared not having the strength to say this to him tomorrow. 

He frowned as he looked at you “I was gonna kiss ya.” The hockey player pointed out in a duh tone “I mean this.” You motioned between the two of you as this was the second time you landed up in his bed in eight months. 

The boy sighed as it was clearly something he didn’t want to talk about “why does it have to be anything?” Jacks words struck you like a slap to the face “you said you liked me last night.” Amid all the arguing you still remembered his confession. 

Jack watched you sit up straight as you were met with his silence “let’s just keep things casual.” Jack meant what he said about being worried about hurting Luke and you were still in college and over an hour away by plane. He wouldn’t say this part to you but he was also scared of committing to you and having it stay that way. 

Your entire body cringed “so you can continue fucking every little puck bunny that lays her eyes on you?” It was a low blow but you were hurt “firstly I haven’t slept with anyone since the lake house.” He pointed his finger at you making you go quiet. 

He continued on “I wanna scream that you’re mine from the roof but now just isn’t the right time for us to get serious.” Jack knew how to make you turn to putty in his hands “you’re right.” You didn’t even know if you agreed with him.

But as he flipped you over leaving you on your back you couldn’t say no to him “of course I am.” Jack nodded letting his lips nip at your skin. 

It made a breath catch in your throat “now stop using your pretty little head and let me make you feel good.” He ordered pushing your shirt over your stomach “please Jack.” Your voice was airy as you felt him pull your legs apart letting him face your soaked cunt. 

You couldn’t help but wonder as you watched Jack lower his head, if he was truly stupid enough to think that you would wait for him.

But in reality, maybe it was that you craved his love enough to stay, so what would happen when a certain Wolverine began to play his cards right with you?

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Can I request a smutty fic for Aemond, please? The base idea I had is that he's been at war for a while and finally reunites with his wife, so it's quite passionate. I leave the finer details to your expertise ♡

Sacrifices with Intimacy

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x Wife!fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,805.

WARNINGS: p in v sexual intercourse, female oral receiving, praise kink, breeding kink, swearing.

A/N - haven't written for Aemond in a long while, so forgive me if this is trash! sorry about the long wait, Ez. I hope you genuinely enjoy this! all this new content for Aem/Ewan is stirring some deep feelings! thanks for being so patient and kind.

The toils of this war had felt like an eternity, and undeniably, you had missed your beloved husband dearly...

Aemond Targaryen, the second son of King Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower: your betrothed and in eager time, your doting husband, was called at arms to fight the war in the name and honour of his elder brother, the King now, Aegon II. Aemond expressed no hesitation to act in defence, even if this meant sacrificing sacred time with you. As much as his reasons were to defend the honour and dignity of his family, he fought in battle with intent of smothering all grounds of harm towards you by all means. He thoroughly intended to vanquish any potential enemy or ounce of threat, kin alike, if it meant that you live a life free from suffering.

A sacrifice needed to fulfil this meant his prolonged absence in your life. An absence felt too deeply indeed, like an open gash, exposed to the natural chill of the air. Until the familiar, thunderous roars and bellowing gush of winds roared across the daylight, roars and wings that could only belong to one great dragon...Vhagar.

"My beloved—"

"Aem!"

An embrace long overdue, like no other. Against your body, Aemond's hold felt constricting yet oddly comforting, pressing you as deep against his slim physique as possible.

"You've returned sooner than I'd anticipated—"

"Do you not wish me to be here, my dearest? Has my early return not pleased you so?" He huskily murmurs, his voice deep: warming your heart so, as it had been so long since you'd heard the familiar tone. A deep chuckle echoing to your ears, as you nuzzle against his neck, longingly inhaling his musky scent.

"Well now that you're here, I may never let you go again—," You faintly whisper, enough only for Aemond's ears, as the dragon-keepers urgently tend to the monstrous Vhagar.

"Have your duties in Harrenhall come to a close? Need you take your place now here in King's Landing?"

"For the time being, my beloved. For the foreseeable future, I am to remain here... Rightfully beside you."

Despite all fruitless attempts of his Grandsire, the Hand, and the Dowager Queen, Alicent Hightower, urging Aemond to attend council meetings to arrange further battle plans and to discuss progress: Aemond remained solidly adamant in his stance.

"I've sacrificed enough of my time fighting this war in the name of this family. An evening to spare with my wife, I should warrant at the very least."

He was to spend the entirety of the evening, every passing hour, minute and seconds with you, soaking each other up to make amends for such deficiencies.

Your bare bodies entwined against each other, feeling the heat radiating from his muscular body.

"You've grown leaner, my love... Are they not feeding their troops?"

His calloused hands take their sweet, precious time lightly tracing over the curves of your naked body: scoring goosebumps to course over your soft skin where he had hovered. His touch had become alien to you now, and yet you craved for him to never let go.

"They feed us, although not well enough... And not for the delicacies that I desire," his lowly voice made your eager ears prick up, excited to hear his every word, to listen to him speak mindlessly for hours on end. A growl etched as his good eye lingered over your calm, sensual figure.

Slowly, you kneel yourself up over towards him, straddling his chest: his rough hands gripping the outer flesh of your tender thighs, squeezing and tapping at the meat, nudging for you to move up closer towards him. A sly smirk stricken across his handsome face, a face now masked with lingering yet subtle scratches and marks, proof of his succession in battles. Your finger lightly tracing over their lightning-like marks, gently until reaching the infamous sapphire eye.

"Do you still find me handsome as the day we wed?"

"Always, Aem—”

"Do you still want your husband to eat that pretty cunt of yours out? Been craving for me, silly princess, even if you deny it... I can feel you throbbing against me now."

Now knelt, hovering ever so closely to his face, you slowly sink yourself down, feeling your cheeks now well rested comfortably against his broad shoulders. His ravenous tongue spared no second plunging itself into your walls, as his lips curled and lapped at your moist entrance.

"Hmm—" A deep, penetrating sound vibrating from his lips against yours, you felt your dead weight plunge deeper, the walls of your silky cunt feeling tight and tickly against his guzzling mouth. You felt your body bobbing subtly up and down, in sync with his heaving chest, as his breaths grew deeper and denser.

"My husband, the saviour of the Seven Kingdoms... A-And I have h-him a-at my beck and call, b-beneath me."

Breathless and exhilarated, your wetness stimulating beneath you, sensing just how drenched your inner thighs feel. Intertwining your fingers with Aemond's, releasing his firm grip from your thighs, guiding his large hands up over your hips and waist, planting his palms against each breast.

"Miss these, baby? Cause they've missed you... M-Maybe if you f-fill me up, these can get f-fuller, huh? D-Does that s-sound good?"

Earning another deep, muffled "hmm", his calloused, large hands kneading at your breasts, squeezing at the tender flesh in the cup of his palm. A teasing thumb, flicking at your perky nipple, earning a rapid moan. Sensually feeling you up, his precise movements and gestures receptive to your body: as though he had never left, not a day behind. Your mindless body now succumbed to his every move, a stirring feeling in the pit of your stomach desperate for more, it seemed as though Aemond could read your very mind subconsciously.

Nudging you to move down, released from your trance, his breathing heavy yet gradually began to compose itself. A slick, clear film saturated his reddened lips and mouth, although wasting no precious he lapped that up too, savouring your taste.

"Ask and you shall receive, my spoilt, little princess... Lay down."

Despite Aemond having done most of the work, drowning in his prized possession, the sensitive spot between your legs felt achingly weak though desperate to have more of its fill.

"Now let's see if my angel can still handle this cock, huh? You cannot even begin to fathom, ugh—"

Towering build over you, as he adjusted his position over you, you felt meek and feeble against him, yet wanted nothing more than for him to devour you whole.

"Just how fucking much, I've been waiting for this precise moment... To feel your walls swallow my cock, huh? Fill you so full and good of my seed."

His long cock had grown stiff since the moment you'd removed the last single piece of cloth, torn from your body. Feeling his tense, sprung member against every crevice and naked surface of your body was painstakingly feverish: like some taboo toy you had been separated from, eager to play with once again. Its veiny, blush tip tauntingly traced lightly at your entrance, etching deeper and deeper with each breathless word spoken, and every moan whimpered, until his mass was completely plunged into your velvety vanity.

"Seven Hells— Forgotten just how tight you were, baby. I can feel you clenching, missed me that terribly, hmm? Poor thing... Must've been going crazy without me."

"Y-Yes, A-Aem— Y-You have no idea."

Aemond was more often precise and cautious when it came to sex: his movements and pace often calculated and deliberate although a different side completely showed itself now. You had to give him praise. It had been far too long, especially for newlyweds since you had both been last intimate. He was desperate for you, just as much as you had. He had grown impatient now, yearning to be with you, to be inside of you: keen to take his please with you in this very moment, for who knows when he could be next called upon and needed, only to disappear once again.

"That's my good, good girl... Always doing so well for me, having waited so long for me. Deserving of all my special treatment—"

His harsh thrusts were formidable enough to sway you as you lay still. Aemond gripped tightly at your wrists, keeping you and himself steady. His breathing once again resumed a faster, more grunted pace, as his thrusts grew careless. Only having the one goal to fuck you senselessly full of him.

"Mayhaps I'll fuck a babe into you, princess... Does that sound good? Leave a part of me inside of you to grow and to hold."

"Ughh— Yes, Aemond. Fuck me full. F-Fuck me till I s-swell, b-baby."

"Your commands, princess," A breathless grunt uttered after each word bespoken. His once straightened, neat loose strands, now a mottled, sweaty mess of platinum locked, strangling against your fingers, as you keenly relished in pulling and tugging at.

Whenever he was close enough, your lips suckled onto his fair, pale skin of his chest and neck, leaving remnant, red marks shaped vaguely of your plump lips. The fury of the pain from between your inner thighs was undeniable, for it had been so long since you laid with your husband. Your walls at first foreign to the excruciating stretch, as his long, rigid cock plummeted and burrowed its way into your cervix.

The long-awaited high was surreal, Aemond taking his pleasure in shooting his warm, fresh load deep into you, as you felt your unison wetness coating him. The mess seeping through the gaps. He remained nestled inside until he felt sated that you had taken his seed.

Embraced in each other's loving arms, the beauty in the intimacy with Aemond was that it never ceased with the sex. He often took pride and initiative in taking care of you even after, an old habit that seemed he did not forget so easily...

"I'll have the maid prepare a warm bath my dearest, in the meantime you stay in bed."

Hastily wiping the sweat off, dressing himself once more, only managing to don his trousers, he seated himself down beside you again.

"You mustn't feel haste to care for me, Aem. You were the one that went to war... You must rest now."

His longer fingers reached out, soothingly brushing aside the loose strands of hair, away from your beaming face. Instinctively, a warm smile radiating from his face, as he seized your presence.

"I shall rest when you are safe. It is my duty as your husband to protect you, and as your lover, to love you. Those vows I spoke many moons ago, I have not yet forgotten, nor will I. Everything I do, I do for us... I love you."

general taglist - @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1

Aemond taglist - @megatardisbaby @harrypotteranna23-blog

credit for divider - @/pommecita

[gay-dorito-dust]

hi😼

so like y’know how bi han is like a rlly big meanie (i love him (๑╹ω╹๑ ) ) soooo can i pls request a bi han hurt/no comfort fic

like imagine the IMMENSE guilt he feels after something bad happens to reader like i live for that.

but please don’t feel obligated to do this request if u r not comfy!! thank u so much i love ur writing sm^^

Bi-Han is a big meanie for sure but then tell me why are his tiddies screaming at me to lay my head on them? Or squeeze them wait- also sorry if this is shit.

Part 2

Bi-Han had always made it apparent to accompany you on missions, regardless of it’s scale and his full confidence in your abilities to keeping yourself safe, seeing as he took it upon himself to train you in the most efficient methods he knew. However there was this constant need that ate away at the back of this mind, telling him that he needed to stay nearby in the instance where you would have him to fall back on to make up for your shortcomings in battle. Bi-Han had promised you this and you knew that he’d always honoured his word, especially more so with you and yet he had felt that in that very moment he had failed you within that regard as he sat himself down by your bedside.

His hand immediately finding your own, holding onto it as though you were going to slip through his grasp. He was fearful that no matter how hard he tried in keeping you close and relatively unharmed, you would inevitably slip through his grasp regardless of his efforts. Bi-Han feared that he was being shown how unfit he was to being your protector by fate itself. Bi-Han was stood outside at the time, awaiting patiently for your return to Lin Kuei with news of a successful mission upon your lips and a sparkle in your eyes, but something told him that it wasn’t going to be a joyous reunion and instead a somber one, and yet he pushed it aside for he had waited long enough for you to come home to suddenly become speculative of your condition.

‘I should’ve been there.’ Bi-Han said to no one in particular. ‘Had I knew beforehand of how bad things had gotten, I could’ve been there to prevent you from ending up in the medbay, where I await for you to awake.’ He adds on, feeling immense guilt, immense shame towards himself for your current predicament, as though he was personally to blame for you fighting for your life.

‘How were you meant to know brother?’ Kuai Liang had said from the doorway, unable to see such heartbreak upon Bi-Han’s face. Many had said that his brothers’ heart was encased in ice but Kuai Liang was lucky enough to say that wasn’t true when you came into his life, you had all but melted the ice that had once entrapped Bi-Han’s heart and nurtured it to embrace the warmth, and for that Kuai Liang was eternally grateful to you for being there for his brother when he couldn’t. ‘How were you meant to know this would happen and even if you did, how would you have been able to prevent it from happing.’ Kuai Liang then gestured to your heavily injured state.

Your wounds had mainly consisted of several lacerations, stab wounds and many other serious afflictions that when the medics had seen to you, they called it a miracle that you were still somehow alive. ‘The gods have their eye on this one, Grandmaster.’ One of the had told Bi-Han, who had been watching over the entire procedure with a watchful eye. ‘Had they been brought to us a fraction of a second later,’ they paused briefly as though to let the severity of the situation sink in, ‘we wouldn’t have been able to save them. We were extremely lucky that fate was on our side this day.’ Bi-Han had held his tongue upon hearing that you had been so close to death, instead bringing himself to focus on the fact that you had been brought back to the Lin Kuei just in time; For he wouldn’t know what he would do had you been just that fraction of a second late.

‘I could’ve saved them Kuai Liang!’ Bi-Han snapped, glaring at his brother and holding his gaze before looking back towards you where his eyes became warm. ‘I could’ve saved them.’ He said for a second time but it came out a lot more sombre, mournful even as he squeezed your hand, raising it raised to his masked lips before resting his forehead against it, his eyes clamped shut as he prayed that he would awake from this seemingly never ending nightmare, hoping to seeing you free of injuries and accompanied with a face full of life.

‘Get some sleep brother, they’ll want you at full health for when they awake.’ Kuai Liang said almost pleadingly but he knew Bi-Han was way beyond reasoning with now that the one person who could talk him out of his self destructive tendencies was laid out on the bed before him, unable to speak sense into him and to go to bed.

‘No. I must stay here, stay with them until they awake.’ Bi-Han stared firmly, keeping his emotions clearly concealed under a stone cold demeanour. ‘I must do better. I almost lost them today and I must.do.better. No.’ Bi-Han clenched the fist that rested in his lap, blunt nails digging into his palm so that he may feel something, anything instead of the numbing sensation that had already begun to spread throughout his chest, ‘I need to do better. So until then, my eyes don’t deserve to rest while they’re consenting fighting for the chance to open theirs.’

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

1 - Wolves of the Lone Stag

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (slow burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 16.1k

Warnings: Slow Burn, Strained parent-child issues, mentions of minor character death, secret relationship, arranged marriage, injured/sick child mention, smut, p in v, slight dom/sub dynamics, loss of virginity

Notes: Reader is firstborn daughter of Stannis Baratheon, based off the show but will include direct book elements, slight canon divergence. First Chapter is really long due to set up, subsequent future chapters won't be quite such a massive read. Chapter Two Here.

Travelling along the Kingsroad was far longer and more tedious with this company. Normally you would spend only so much time on here from White Harbour, most of the journey done on sea. Yet now, there were far too many people and it’s leader insisting on treating the journey as it’s own adventure. By the time you reached Winterfell it would be a month on horseback and no one to entertain your morose demeanour. Though perhaps you had to consider that it wasn’t just the company of the others that was less then ideal.

You had the supposed misfortune of being the daughter to the less favoured of the three Baratheon brothers. Robert, King Robert to those in public company, was a more complicated man. A mix of a man who successfully kept the peace for over twenty years but also was as unhappy on the throne and was unafraid to show it. He did however, have enjoyment in wine, hunting, and did hold a jovial laughter that kept people around him.

Your other uncle, was much more agreeable. Renly was the youngest of them and was charismatic and well liked. He was naive, not really a man suited for leadership but he did the best with what he knew to do. Closer to your age, you often found yourself spending time with him and it was right now that you were annoyed he chose to stay back in Kings Landing. A month with the King, his own family and the entire royal brigade and not one of them knew how to get a smile from you.

That was a trait from your father no doubt. Stannis Baratheon was the middle child, and he was easily the most disliked. He was cold, distant, unemotional and seldom allowed laughter at his table. He took his job seriously, more seriously then the King did his sometimes. In his prime, he was a proven battle commander and he never lost that. Robert was a warrior and he was happiest as such, but Stannis had never stopped being a commander and whether it made him liked or not, it taught you to be who you were now.

A Lady of the House Baratheon, firstborn daughter to Stannis and heir of Dragonstone was your current position and you were taught to uphold that name. Often found with a flat expression, close to a scowl as you walked the capitol you found nothing to enjoy there. Not that Dragonstone was where you’d find happiness either. The only place that had never been your home was the one you felt it in.

You had turned eight when your father had begun sending you out. Brought up, he ensured you had a Lord’s education as well as what all girls were taught. If you were to take up the mantle after him, he wanted you to learn from those that would teach you to be like him. That was when he sent you to Winterfell for the first time. Not a friend of Lord Eddard of House Stark, but your father did respect him the most. Two men both stern with upholding honour and justice, always doing what is right and what is honourable rather then what they wanted.

You spent seven months in Winterfell, and it was the first time your mother and father hadn’t been there for your name day. At the time, it made you sad but you had long since gotten over it. Over more then a decade had passed since your first stay in the north and many name days had been spent there with no word from your family. Well, at least your parents. The only family member you spoke too and more fondly with then Renly, was your baby sister. Shireen Baratheon was not just the light of your life but your fathers too. Some used to say that you were the only one who could make Stannis smile but you were nothing compared to how he smiled at that little baby.

You were fine with her being the favourite, she was your favourite family member as well.

Not long after baby Shireen had beaten a bout of horrific illness, your father had been summoned to Kings Landing. The King telling him that he was of no use to the realm shut away on Dragonstone, and he was to come to the capitol and sit on the small council as Master of Ships. He had taken you with him, and thus your new home was the wretched city full of backstabbers and manipulators.

Back and forth you went from Kings Landing to Winterfell, each stay growing longer and each stay you grew closer to the Starks then you did anyone in the Red Keep. Lord Stark was the perfect example of a good leader, warden of the North and inspired nothing but loyalty amongst the northerners and made you as welcome as anyone in his home. You followed him around most days, learning from him, watching how he handled diplomacy and made his lessons your own.

It was that how you got to know his ward, Theon Greyjoy. A rambunctious lad who listened diligently in formality and was crass and brash outside of that. You knew he would hate Kings Landing but often found yourself at your fathers side wishing the smart ass was next to you, nudging you with his elbow every time you were too closed off for your own good. It was easy to forget that he was technically the Starks prisoner, he fit into their family, the north as well as you did.

Not quite a leader as you were being taught to be, but you were confident once he had the chance to prove himself, you’d expect great things from him. You’d gotten a raven from him while on the road, and in his usual style he spent some time making fun of you for having to be “shacked up with the lamest of the three”.

Right. The reasons your company headed to Winterfell. The King had one, you were being forced into another though. The news shocking you as Stannis told you of your new duty the night before you left was double. That he was leaving for Dragonstone and you were to return to Kings Landing with Lord Stark and serve as acting Master of Ships in his absence.

He wasn’t just dumping his responsibilities onto you with no explanation of his distant behaviour and secrecy, your father had also dumped a marriage onto you and told you that you were to marry and come back. As if he didn’t just dictate your entire life to be like his. “You will marry the Stark boy, and with or without him you are to return in my place.”

Trying to reason with him, “You’re expecting me to have, what? A night maybe two with my new husband and then leave for however long you decide?”

Not even the slightest change of expression, but there was a twinge of regret in his eyes that was soon covered up. “I didn’t decide this alone. My brother, our king, has decided it with no room for question. I’m sorry, but you’re a Baratheon. You’re my daughter. And sometimes our duty requires us to marry not for love, but for the good of the realm.”

You had spoken to your betrothed since the announcement, but had yet to see him in person. A major reason as to why you wished Renly had come with you. Have someone to ease your nerves on the months ride, instead you were entirely on your own lost in what you were losing.

After all, you received a raven from not just Robb after the announcement. And it was that second one, and the finality of it’s contents that shattered the still remaining rosy dreams you once felt as if you had a lifetime to indulge in. Who your betrothed was, wasn’t the upset in any way. It was the unavoidable conclusion of the love in your heart that simply wasn’t allowed to be.

As the party approached Winterfell, your heart begun to race.

The crisp cool air on your face that once relaxed you, only stoned it further into a solid expressionless pose. Reminding yourself that you weren’t just here as yourself, you were to represent your father and you wouldn’t do so by falling apart. You rode into the walls right up near the very front alongside your craven of a cousin. He represented the luxurious royal side of the family, and you the steadfast duty and justice.

The House guard stood all around the courtyard as well as many people who simply worked close by or wanted to just see the King. Riding into the main area, you refused to look. The Starks all stood with their closest men behind them but you looked nowhere but above the heads of everyone with a straight back atop of your horse.

The carriage which carried the Queen and the other two of her royal children filed in and revealed the King following suit. Your eyes forcing to stay nowhere but him, and it struck part of you that his deep scowl seemed to just be a trait that was shared amongst much of this family. As your party stayed atop their horses, you watched everyone near kneel down as Robert was assisted off his horse.

Watching him make a straight line towards the Starks, he stood in front of the kneeling Lord Stark beckoning him with his hand to stand. Everyone around them rising in toe as you watched the two old friends look stoically at one another. The quiet in the courtyard as everyone waited.

King Robert, it seemed, left posing the stoic formality of the Baratheons to you. Looking down at his friend’s frame and casually commenting, “You got fat.”

Two magnets, designed by the gods to be brought together your eyes met without any thought. His grey ones widened with a playful glint and a raise of the sides of his mouth as if to say, “He got fat?” You, broke just as easily. Quirking your eyebrows up slightly, trying and failing to cover a smirk as you flickered your eyes in gesture to the King, agreeing with his silence as you both instantly looked away from the other. Knowing neither would smother such a begging grin if you kept glancing at each other.

Robert greeting each member of the family, making polite chat with the Stark parents you climbed off your horse. Your head angled enough to see your cousin, Joffery, staring at the direction you just had with a smirk you would describe in private as slimy.

You weren’t the only one with a betrothal in mind for your King, but it was the other Stark which would suffer. Somehow whatever genes made the Baratheons so respected, had skipped Joffery in every single capacity. He was more Lannister then he was his father, and not even with the decency to be like the one lion which you could speak to without agitation.

You couldn’t say Sansa was the one you got along with the most, but watching the way the prince looked at her, you pitied what she couldn’t possibly know she was in store for.

“Take me to your crypt, I want to pay my respects.”

Cersei Lannister, the Queen, barley made an effort to toss any level of genuinity in her voice. “We’ve been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait.”

Her term of endearment sounding as fake to your Uncle as it did you, he ignored her and summoned Lord Stark anyways. The Queen glaring as they walked away, and directed it towards the youngest Stark daughter, Arya as she without any care of properness, asks where the “Imp” was. The Imp being the Queens younger brother, Tyrion.

Were you to be honest, as you unpacked some of your things from your horse you could only think of one place he would go. And he certainly would not find such a place inside the castle walls. Seeing the Queens twin brother, Ser Jaime of the Kingsguard to “go and find the little beast.” Holding another smirk back, you heard footsteps approaching.

Not the ones you normally would expect, he wouldn’t come to you here. Not now, not in front of the royal family, all these people, and certainly not after learning you’ve come here to marry. Instead, the voice that spoke behind you was the only other person you’d care to see, calling your name.

Robb Stark, Lord Eddard Stark’s eldest true born son stood tall behind you. His northern accent deep and thick, and drenched in a soothing warmth that always felt comforting yet unfitting of the cold he lived around. Turning to face him, you could still see the trailing remnants of the Queen and her children in the distance.

Play your part, your fathers voice told you. With a slight nod of your head and a smile you clearly amused Robb with such a proper curtsy. “My lord.”

A raise of his eyebrows, he had less care of hiding such a smirk. “Is that how we are playing it, my lady?”

You had to bite your tongue to keep from smiling, but still failed somewhat. Robbs smirk growing more playfully smug as he watched you lose your static composure. “I don’t know what you mean, my Lord. I am here with the royal company, we are nothing if not with our courtesies at all times.”

Dropping the act, Robb rolled his eyes and stepped closer. “Well if you’re people have a problem with it, they will just have to get over it.” Pulling you into a hug, you felt part of your racing heart and screaming nerves settle a bit.

You’ve known Robb since that first visit when you were eight. No matter what you were both being shoved into, he wasn’t anything near a stranger. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you to his chest as your face was snuggle tugged into the deep browns of his cloaks fur. Soft as anything, they helped sooth your heart more and he seemed to hold you for as long as it did his as well. His voice low in your ear this time, “We’ll talk in private.”

Pulling away with a deep inhale, you nodded. Face falling back into a stoic composure. It sometimes took you a little bit to drop the harsh demeanour you lived with once you got to Winterfell, but with this company in toe you felt bad that the Starks weren’t going to really get you in any relaxed form. Nodding at Robb you fell quiet, but he was happy to take up the mantle with enough volume for those around to be satisfied with. “Let me help bring your things up, my lady.”

In the corner of your eye as Robb slung the heavier of your bags over his shoulder and you insisting on carrying at least the lighter one, you caught sight of his mother. Lady Catelyn Stark, originally born to House Tully, was something of a complicated relationship for you. You admired her in countless ways, and you saw her more as a mother then you did your own for many years growing up. But there was no mistaking the slight rift that was caused by the only other member of the family you were closer too then her eldest son.

That one though, was nowhere to be seen. You both knew full well that such a meeting was going to have to happen in private, and you hoped you would find time to sneak away from the feast tonight to get it. You two had to talk, you needed to talk to him before you marry or your resolve might crumble.

She watched you and Robb politely walk through the court towards the main doors. Describing their home as a castle felt odd after living in both Dragonstone and Kings Landing. The Starks castle in Winterfell was home in your heart, not a fancy collection of stonework designed to impress. Robb had written that the news came as surprise to all of them, that Lady Catelyn had tried to protest saying that the King shouldn’t just force this on you.

Her husband had to remind her, that they married of duty and look where they are now. You hoped that your companionship with Robb’s brother had not soured her opinion of you being capable of being a good wife. Robb didn’t have your heart the way he did, but he would be the one to keep it from now on and you hoped Lady Catelyn wouldn’t hold it against you.

Falling in love with Robb was not the impossible, in fact he could make that quite easy.

Making small talk of the trip here as you and Robb passed a numerous amount of servers and maids scurrying about the halls, you were thankful for how well you knew him. That the tensity in his stature would only relax the second the door would shut and you both would drop this growing painful act.

Your room was in a corridor away from the main family, closer to where Theon stayed. Many times the main four of you would stay in either his or your room to drink, laugh and get into trouble all without the keen ears of the Stark parents. Your room in Winterfell was a place that you could stop being the daughter and first born heir of Lord Stannis Baratheon, and just be you.

The room had been freshly cleaned, new sheets draped on the bed frame as well as a cozy fur begging you to plop down onto it with a sigh and a nap to boot. Robb dropped your bag down by the window, holding his hand to take the one in your hands to join it. Turning to you, he watched as you let out a shaking sigh.

Your face dropping, finally free to shine in a tinge of shame and exhaustion as you sat down on the edge of the bed, your palms flat on your thighs. Opening your mouth to speak, he cut you off with a sharp edge. “Don’t apologize.” Your brows narrowed in question, but Robb paced over to lean against the wall across from you. His arms crossed casually in front of his chest as he looked into your eyes. “You were about to say sorry for all of this, and I don’t want to hear it.”

Head dropping, you bit your tongue more and nodded. Hands clasping together in a fidget before returning to rest flat on your thighs. His eyes shined blue, and out of the sunlight his hair looked far closer to a Stark brown then it did a Tully Red, if your heart didn’t weigh a thousand pounds you might have spent more time admiring him. “I just,” Sighing again you looked away, unable to cope with the unblinking seriousness in his eyes. “I only found out before you did. I don’t want you thinking I asked for this, or am trying to force you into this.”

Robbs sigh wasn’t defeated, but annoyed. You hadn’t the courage to look again yet. Your name slipping from his tongue with a seriousness. “No one here thinks that.” Glancing up at him, you felt your resolve slip even more. “No one.”

Not that Robb would have any reason to suspect it, but you were desperately hoping that one person in particular didn’t think that out of everyone. Robb took a few steps forward, hoping to beckon you to look up at him, but instead chose to sit down next to you. Enough space between you to not be intrusive. Your voice was small, quiet like a whisper and you knew this was not the words of a proud lady, but just a girl. “He hadn’t even brought up marriage in years. Not since..”

You faded off, both of you know what you were going to say but luckily Robb knew that reliving it would not make you feel any better. He leaned closer to you without breaking your personal space. “Your father has talked to you about marriage more then he has me, at least. In some ways you’re more prepared for this then I am.”

Laughing out, you didn’t turn to see the soft smile on his lips at the sound. “Oh I doubt that. You haven’t had the pleasure of meeting my parents. Between them, and being around the King and Queen’s marriage? It it weren’t for yours I’d assume every married couple is bitter and unloving to the point of near contempt.”

A breathy laugh leaving him, you were thankful once more that at least your husband to be was someone whom you didn’t have to hold you thoughts around. Robb leaned back on the bed, his palms outstretched to rest against the furs and look at you partially from the back and side. “We could get separate beds if it makes you feel better.”

Your eyes narrowed playfully at the mocking in his tone. Quick to turn around with the intention of snarking back he took you by surprise. Lurching forward to wrap his hands around your waist and drag you back with him, both of you laying now back against the bed as he respectfully moved his hands from you. His eyes shined with laughter however, and it loosened yours enough to laugh out loud.

Playful words sat at the tip of your tongue, but what came out was far from it. “It feels like he’s planning something,” turning to look at Robb’s profile against the light coming from the window. “My father. He and Lord Arryn have been doing something in secret, and he kept me away from it on purpose. Both of them seemed to be worried about something, and then...”

“Then he died.” Lord Jon Arryn, Hand of the King and a long time friend of both the King Robert and Lord Stark had passed from a fever that took him in one night.

You nodded. Glancing up to the ceiling as your hands rested along your stomach. “He was fine one day, and then he just...not even a day later was when my father called me to his office. Told me everything, about coming here, about your father, then just..ended the conversation with this.” Your eyes narrowed as you recalled the sternness of his rasp.

“You’re to marry the Stark boy then return here in my place. I won’t have any more questions on the matter.”

Robb was lost in thoughts of his own, tone light yet distant when he spoke up. “He wants my father to be Hand of the King. He hasn’t even been in Kings Landing since the war.”

You understood why. Not just the horrors inflicted on Lord Starks father and brother, but it was a den of vipers all wanting you to play a game that a man like him would want no part in. None of the Starks belonged there, too good for a disgusting place the capitol was. Sighing yourself, you shrugged. “He’ll hate being there as much as my father does, as much as I do. At least I’m the Kings niece I’m supposed to belong there.”

Robb turned onto his side and you followed suit. Your dress hardly made for proper warmth like his attire was, but the Queen insisted that you dress properly to impress your to be husband. As if the man in question hadn’t seen you covered in dirt, mud, bruises and knocked you into the dirt countless times over the years. You didn’t feel like yourself anywhere but here, and yet with the royals all here you still didn’t feel like yourself.

Just a plaything meant to look pretty and play the part. For once, you felt like a normal highborn lady you supposed. Born and bred to be a wife that's born to breed. You were looking at Robb, and yet you reminded yourself with a lurch of your heart to push back the other face in your mind.

Later you told yourself.

Robb’s voice was low, soft, and with an affection that at the very least, wasn’t unusual for him. “You haven’t belonged there in a long time.”

Your tone dropped quieter then his. “Where do I belong then?”

To his credit, it wasn’t with himself that he said. “Here. You belong here.”

By nightfall you still hadn’t seen him. You’d seen many of the others. Arya being the first, practically running past Robb into your room and leaping into a hug with zero sense of formality. You knelt down somewhat to meet her with a loud laugh. With a zillion questions about if you’re staying, did you know, does this make you her sister, you were blissfully reminded of the only other girl who held your heart like that.

Shireen wasn’t a trouble maker like Arya had a tendency to be, but they had a similar spirit. She felt as much like your sister as the one back on Dragonstone was by birth. Sansa had to call her away, annoyed as ever and with a fluster as she addressed you. The paintings of a crush all over her face from the blonde haired fowl faced cousin, and you wished it was any other boy Sansa was to be promised too.

Well, as Robin Arryn briefly popped into your mind you laughed to yourself. Maybe not any of other boy. Starling the handmaiden attending to your dress as you shook your head in apology. You could dress yourself easily for a normal night in the North, but alas the Queen insisted that you impress your husband to be. As if he wasn’t someone you had known for over a decade as one of your very closest friends.

You did however, stop them fervently as they reached for your hair. The Queen could dress and paint you up like a doll and you wouldn’t really fuss at the treatment, but you would rather cross the wall and throw yourself into a frozen lake before you’d let any of those southern up-dos go anywhere near your hair. If judging by the look you got from the Queen during the feast, she wasn’t pleased in any way, but then again she rarely was ever pleased by anything.

Sat next to Robb during the feast, you were thankful that he and the other guys at the table treated you like they always did. To a degree, it was a bit off putting by your much more distant attitude but judging by the glances you made to the Queen they gathered enough that you were more on guard. The hall was filled to the brim with people, ale, music and laughter.

Off in the distance you could see King Robert laughing with a group of men, and his hands happily exploring a woman who was most certainly not his wife. Most didn’t care, and the ones who did never would say anything. He was King he could do what he wanted. Lady Catelyn much to your sympathy was stuck up at the main table sat next to the Queen herself and struggling to find any conversation that didn’t make the woman utterly miserable.

“Out of all the Northerns, you get stuck with this one?” Theons voice rang out, a lightness in his eyes and ale in his veins. You leaned your elbow on the table and pointed at him with a playful raise of your eyebrows.

“At least this one’s pretty, Greyjoy.”

Laughter from all around the table, and even finally sneaking one from yourself. Theon would sometimes flirt with you, but never in a serious manner. It almost was a game. He would start with a flirtatious comment and it quickly spun into who could jokingly insult the other more after you deny him with a snarky remark first. “Aye, but you’d get some nice experience with me.”

Robb tossing a ripped piece of bread at him with a half hearted protest of his own experience, but you leaned back in your seat bringing your mug to your lips. “What experience is that, exactly? Paying women to pretend to moan for you isn’t exactly what I had in mind for my wedding night.”

Pushing it back down, if you joked about it you didn’t have to think about the reality. With no experience of your own, you weren’t immune to the whispers of girls and women of their nights with pain and blood. At least you would get one single thing right come time for that part of the wedding. You almost didn’t though, and the longer you kept trying to not think about it, the more you felt yourself looking for someone you knew wasn’t there.

You had to talk to him, but the first day in Winterfell was just far too busy for it thus far.

Opportunity luckily, arrived in the form of Arya being unable to behave. You and Robb had been joking and laughing about something when the sight of food flinging from another side of the room caught your eyes. The food in question splatting directly onto Sansa’s face as she yelled out indigently.

The quickness of Arya smiling and going back to pretend as if she didn’t do anything got a laugh out of you, but also drew the attention of Lady Catelyn. Gesturing to Robb over, his face fell more serious as he brushed a hand over your lower back as he stood up. Grabbing Arya around the sides and hoisting her up. “Time for bed.”

Glancing around the room, Lady Catelyns eyes elsewhere, as was the Queens. Lord Stark talking to who you recognized as his brother Benjen and now Robb gone you took the opportunity you really shouldn’t have. Standing up, you made your way slowly to the entrance, downing the last of the ale before slinking out unseen.

Or rather, unseen by all but the watchful eyes of a golden Lion.

Alone for once, you allowed yourself to be annoyed. The chill of the air hit you with a sting as you were entirely undressed for the cold of the night. Not even graced with a seat at a lower table, no he was put out here as if his existence was so offensive to anyone but her. His birth wasn’t his fault, and as much as you admired and liked her?

It never failed to chip away at something angering in you, how Lady Catelyn treated Jon Snow.

You heard his voice before you saw him, but it the second voice that took you by surprise. “Did I offend you? Sorry. You are the bastard, though.”

Lord Tyrion Lannister in your sights slowly walked up to Jon, who was faced away from you. There was a bluntness in his words but also a sympathy in his eyes. Leaning back against a stone wall, you watched in quiet.

“Lord Eddard Stark is my father.”

And yet, just as so many liked to remind him, Lord Tyrions words were those that many have said in response. “And Lady Stark is not your mother. Making you, a bastard.”

Watching him with narrowed eyes, you held back any defence in your blood. Likely he was the only Lannister which you didn’t entirely distrust towards him. Jon Snow had more then enough people ensuring him he would never be like his brothers and sisters.

Your arms crossed over your chest, and breathe visible in the cold you listened to the man tell him wear what he is like armour. Jon, however, did not seem to be in such a mood. His voice was low, a thick northern accent that came out more like an entrancing rasp then Robb’s warm soothing one. It also, was lined with that of a temper you knew the older Jon got, the more he struggled with. “What the hell do you know about being a bastard?”

Fingertips itching to reach out, but you stayed put. Listening to Lord Tyrion’s final comments before departing to whatever plans he had for the night. “All dwarves are bastards in their fathers eyes.”

Jon wasn’t heartless, nor stupid. Somewhere inside him, you knew he sympathized with the Lannister but being shut out of a feast in the cold, on top of what you knew was looming? Jon had little room left to care about simmering that temper.

Lord Tyrion caught your eye as he passed, a tilt of his head and question in his eye you simply looked flat and unblinking. He wouldn’t say anything, but that didn’t mean he didn’t store his curiosity about your sudden watchful appearance for later.

Slowly approaching, you called out only once the sound of doors closing behind you left the courtyard in silence from the muffled party behind you. “Think he’s dead yet?”

Spinning to face you at the sound of your voice, you hated how unable you were to quell your heart looking at him. Walking towards him, you saw Jon put the sword away entirely before circling around to meet you halfway. It took less then second for both of you to glance around, watch for the no eyes any could see before he closed the rest of the gap.

Scooping you up into his arms, almost spinning you in place as you both held the other tightly. “I missed you.” Your voice muffled in this luscious dark curls, he put you down gently on your feet. His hands on your upper arms still before glancing up. Changing his mind, he turned. Pulling you along with him with a hand on your lower back.

Jon was the only man who could silently drag you away into a dark corner in the dead of night and you wouldn’t question him in any way, shape or form. Neither of you said anything, but out of everyone Jon was the one person who you didn’t need it with. Both of you were always on the air of more quiet, and it was never more appreciated then alone with the other, never worried about having to fill the air with talking to be comfortable.

Once you had reached far enough away, Jon led you into a small building, mostly empty save for some storage and one lit lantern. Door closed, he turned to face you once more with silence. His eyes begging to say too much, but neither of you could handle it in that second. Once more you found the others arms. This time, the desperation was felt both ways.

Both of you letting your eyes shut, and your hands rest freely and yet far to intimate to be platonic as you stood together. It was minutes before he pulled back. One hand resting on your waist and the other back on your upper arm. He watched as your hands wrung together, afraid to touch him. You hated how gently he always said your name, forcing you to look up and meet his eyes.

One of you had to say something, and you ripped the bandage off first. “You’re really joining them?”

His nod was confident, and it broke your heart that much more. “The St-”

Shaking your head you felt your eyes sting, you hated feeling this way. “Don’t give me that.” Your fingers twitched wanting to reach out, and he caught the movement. “Don’t tell me what you think everyone else wants to hear.”

Was his response a diversion from the truth, or an answer you didn’t know for sure. “You’re marrying Robb.” Like no other, Jon could tell right away that you bit your tongue in anxiety. The hand on your arm moving up to gently trace over the side of your jaw until he felt you relax under the touch. “I’m not mad at you. Neither of you really had a say in it.”

Ever so slowly, you hesitantly left your hands drift forward until the very tips of your fingers rested against his stomach. Much like earlier with Robb, were you not wracked with too much in your head, you might have paused to enjoy the feeling of how sturdy and firm his muscles had grown. Instead you let your head hang, knowing he wanted you to look at him. “And you feel like The Night’s Watch is the only place you belong?”

Were you anyone else, Jon would have pulled away in frustration. But his time with you was limited, and his hands always ached to touch you when you were near. “It is now.” Head rising up to look at him, your brows narrowed. “You’ll marry him, go back to Kings Landing with my father and sisters, and leave me what? Here with the brother who gets the one thing that used to be mine, and his mother who hates me?”

Something rushed up, and an anger almost yelled out instead of reason. “Jon, I’m not trying to leave you behind.”

He sighed, jaw clenching as his hand on your waist held you a slight tighter. “No. You’re doing your duty, and I’m doing mine.”

For a while you both just stood there, looking at the other. In your heart, you felt stolen from, but your mind reasoned for the best. Just as the silence between you was too much, Jon slowly leaned in.

Your back pressed against the wall and he having moved to crowd you against it, his head dipping down enough as you exhaled shakily. The nerves in you, always managing to make him smirk. But just as you felt the others breath on your faces, a door in the distance opened. Music and laughter and the sounds of a group making drunken rackets paused Jons movement.

If it were any normal day, you’d just say not here.

But you and Jon knew better, in a few days, he would stand in the godswood and watch you marry his brother. And soon after that he would join a group that cut your love off from him for life. You couldn’t kiss now, and not ever again.

It didn’t stop either of you from seeing the other after the night was over. But with the royal company here, with you and Robb spending more time together, you only had time to see each other in the secrets of the dark. What made that much harder though, was how little suddenly anyone looked forward to a wedding.

Bran had climbed the walls and towers thousands of times with a firm grip. And yet, while climbing the one tower which no one use in decades, Bran somehow fell so far to the ground, no one yet knew if he would wake up.

And amongst all that, the Queen insisted, “We still have a wedding to put on.”

The entire family was on edge. Maester Luwin has monitored him closely, and Lady Catelyn even closer having not left his side. You didn’t blame her one bit. It was before anyone else was really awake when you went to go see her.

Slowly peeking in, asking if it was alright you come in for a moment and you were thrown back over ten years ago. Looking at your own mother, Selyse, and how broken and lost she was as Maester Cressen warned her to prepare herself for Shireen to be sent away for good.

Walking by her side, you sat gently on the bed beside Bran. It was cruel. Only a boy of ten, and with the softest, most adorable little face you’d ever seen and yet he lay in bed broken in too many ways. If he woke, he’d never walk again. You thought to yourself, maybe if you were to be a proper northern, you should start praying to the Old Gods. Because it certainly seemed like praying to the Seven had done nothing. It left your baby sister disfigured for life, and so far they seem to have left Bran a cripple should they even allow him to wake.

Laying on the other side was his yet unnamed Direwolf. Hardly more then puppies when you first arrived, you had been shocked to see how they had grown. Sitting asleep by his masters side though, you hoped he would bring little Bran any comfort.

Lady Catelyn was silent beside you, working away on something you hadn’t quite understood. You didn’t ask, you weren’t a mother and you didn’t want her to have to explain her grief to you. Your hand gently ran over Brans wrist, your thumb feeling his pulse weak but still beating if you pressed firm enough. “My sister had greyscale as a baby.”

You felt her look up at you, but your eyes were trained on the adorable boy soon to be your brother. “My father bought her a doll from a merchant, and next thing we knew it was spreading fast over the side of her face. She was just a baby she didn’t even understand what was happening to her, but we all did.”

You felt your eyes sting, but forced them back with a harsh swallow. “I’ve never heard my mother cry like that. She lost four boys in the womb, and yet that was the most I’ve ever seen her cry. And my father?” You stumbled. Voice coming out harsh, and cracked slightly from the pressure to appear steady. “People used to say the only thing that he would ever smile for is me, but they don’t understand. They didn’t see the desperation in his eyes, how far and hard he searched to bring people to Dragonstone just for a chance to save her life. And none of them saw the tears in his eyes when he was finally allowed to hold her again.”

Reaching up with your other hand you ran your hand over the side of Brans face, brushing some hair to the side. “I’m sorry. Me and Robb both tried telling them to put it off, but the Queen insisted that a wedding might do everyone some good.” She tried saying your name, but you interrupted her. “It’s okay if you don’t come. If I were a mother, I don’t think I’d leave him either.”

Looking back at her, there were tears in her eyes and a soft smile that broke your heart. Your relationship with her was always complicated, but in this moment, all you saw was what no one had given to your mother when it was Shireen.

Leaning over to her, you hugged her tightly. The pain in her heart evident in how both weak yet tightly she hugged back. Pressing a kiss to her forehead you spoke quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Passing by the busy servants and suspiciously watchful Queen you paid no mind to the preparations that were to be for you tomorrow. At first it had felt like you and Robb were to be wed for some unknown plot of your fathers, but now it felt like a distraction.

Don’t look at the broken boy in bed, look at the happy couple. For their own pain, you had to hand it to the three of them. Lord Stark, Robb, and Jon truly what Starks were made of. Strong willed, and keeping calm acting as a pillar for the much younger and more worried siblings. Arya clearly a big influence on her direwolf Nymeria, as the wolf was agitated and struggled to sit still the past days. On multiple occasions, you found the wolf almost trying to rile up her own siblings to varying success.

Her and little Rickons direwolf Shaggydog had the most energy. As if getting out their tension by chasing and play fighting. Sansa’s Lady was truly an apt name. Stuck by her side and was poise and put together, only getting in the way to provide any comfort to the redhead in what Sansa thought were moments no one was looking.

Grey Wind was as strong headed as Robb. Their mother gone, he had taken up the mantle of leader of the pack and seemed to be a calming presence for the others. Much like how Robb’s confidence in ensuring his siblings Bran would be alright, provided such comfort to them. The more time you spend with Robb during the day, the more used to Grey Wind you got.

He grew larger then the others, a gorgeous mix of greys and browns in his colour and the more comfortable with a new closeness which Robb grew with you over the past few days, the easier it was for Grey Wind to come to your side when not with his own master. Lord Stark had joked that they seemed to sense you were about to become a wolf yourself.

It was the final direwolf however that you enjoyed the most. Pure white with striking red eyes, Ghost was smaller then the rest but quick and silent. He made very little noise if ever, but was always aware of his surroundings. Keeping out of the way without sacrificing his watchful canine eyes from their view, and listened to his master better then any of them.

Jon and Ghost it seemed, were one in the same. From the same family, but not truly one of the pack as the others were. While the others followed their master like an animal companion, Ghost and Jon were almost like friends instead. Certainly he took Jons feelings around people seriously, considering that as you sat out in the godswood while the moon set itself up in the night sky, you were suddenly almost thrown off balance.

Looking down, the small white direwolf had leaped into your lap. Leaning up to give your cheek a lick before settling in. You scratched at his back, “I don’t know what you’re asking for, but I’m getting up in about ten seconds.”

“Maybe he just likes how soft you are.” Looking up, you utterly failed to fight back both the fluster in your eyes and the embarrassed smile that you tried to hide, turning away from him.

Jon’s curls looked more wild and free again, growing out quickly from the clean cut given before your arrival. The wilder look suited him better. His cloak around his shoulders had a bright closer to white fur around him that you knew first hand was warm and comforting. Coming to sit next to you, he reached over and ran his fingers over Ghosts ear, making him shake his head with a barley audible huff at being disturbed. You both laughed gently, were it not a wolf in your lap, a commoner would mistaken you both for that of a couple with their newborn.

You were to be married tomorrow, and in two days you and Jon would part ways for what could be life for all you knew. Two days, but tonight was your last. Tomorrow you would be Lady Stark, wife of Lord Robb Stark, and there was no room in that duty for another or fairness in your heart.

Leaning against his shoulder, you knew in the eyes of the old gods there was no judgment as you rested your head there. His arm coming to pull you into his side as he looked down to you, your own trained on Ghost.

More then once you and Jon had almost kissed, it would be too easy. To fall into it again. You didn’t fall into it the first time, it was just a bond that always existed. The last time you had ever kissed, was when you came close to giving him something else.

The opportunity was right there, and no one would have been there to stop you, but neither of you were people who could so easily push past the honour you were raised with. Deep down in his mind, Jon knew you could never just marry someone like him, not for who you were. He just didn’t expect to come to the finality of it all, only months after almost having you.

Not that he told it to you, but there was a smugness in Jon that said that at least if he had one thing over Robb, or two, was that he was your first kiss. Knew what your lips tasted like, and knew what a cruelly addicted sight your bare body looked like. Though, not if he asked you, you’d say that wasn’t a perk.

Reminding Jon that he was muscle and you weren’t. Only receiving a dark, undoubtedly lustful look as he muttered that your softness is exactly what he dreams about before kissing you, having pushed you back into the furs of his own bed.

A far off moment, sitting together now, cuddled with his cloak around you against the Weirwood tree for the last time. “We never had a chance did we?” Pulling back, Jon tried looking at you with a slight question in his narrowed brows, but you just continued to run your fingers gently over the slumbering Ghost. “I mean, being with you is easy. It’s always been easy, but being together?”

Resting his chin on the top of your head, he breathed in deeply. “No. No we never had a chance.”

The truth didn’t make it hurt any less. But you weren’t children anymore. You would marry Robb, return to Kings Landing and serve on the small council at the Hand of the Kings Side, in place of your own lord father and Jon would become a man of the Night’s Watch.

In what world did those two things have a chance at crossing over?

Turning your head, you rested further into his neck and his warmth was unyieldingly comforting. “You know right? Even if I don’t say it?”

Jon had enough, moving to pull your face up to look at him by your chin. “I know. And you do too.”

Your heart skipping a beat you smiled partially, “You know it’d be a whole lot easier not to kiss you if you weren’t so handsome.”

Smirking, Jon pulled you closer. Your back more pressed against his chest as he wrapped the edges of his cloak around your front, hiding the blissfully unaware Ghost from the cold air. “Oh I’m handsome, am I?”

Rolling your eyes, you relaxed in his touch. “I’m not blind, Snow. It’s an unfair thing about you Stark men, you, Robb and your father, all way too handsome for your own good.” You had always done that. Included Jon when referring to the Starks without question. It was something that only his youngest siblings would still do, and that's just because they weren’t yet mature enough to truly understand why he was treated different.

You were though. You knew why, but you and him were always the closest even before the messy feelings of early teenage hood started to take place, and since then you were only more steady in that belief. He was a Snow, but his blood a Stark. And no matter what he called himself, he would always have the blood and integrity of his father. “Should I be worried? Marrying my brother, and running off to Kings Landing with my apparently handsome father?”

Pinching your sides, you tried elbowing him but Jon was far stronger and held you still with a laugh, your voice high and defensive. “I didn’t mean- sorry next time I’ll call your family ugly, alright?” With a pause, it slipped out before you could stop it. “Jealousy another Stark trait I should be worried about?”

You could feel the smirk still plastered across Jons face in his voice at your ear, “When the girl looks like you, any man with half a brain would be jealous of letting you go.”

It was far later then you should’ve been awake, but peeling yourselves apart for the last time was too difficult. It was quiet for a while, nothing but the quiet hums of the woods to pass the silence. His voice rasped in your ear, a small shiver down your spine at its closeness. “Where’d we meet?” He chuckled at your blatant confused face. “If we had a chance, in another life where’d we meet?”

“Are we not still us?”

You enjoyed hearing him so light and casual, it felt like I’d been months long amount of days since you’d seen such casualness. “No, well I mean I’m still me and you’re still you. But we’re not highborns, no titles or duties. Just two people somewhere in the kingdom, where’d we meet?”

Eyes squinting in thought, you considered something that was the opposite of the horrible paranoia of Kings Landing, and far from the darkness of Dragonstone. “I hear Highgarden is beautiful in the summer.”

Jon nodded against your head, “Alright. So you’re a bar maid in Highgarden, and I-”

Laughing loudly you tried pulling away, “Excuse me, why am I a barmaid? Isn’t this a fantasy?”

With such a tone of seriousness you felt light at how easily it came to him, as if it was something he’s thought of before. “Yes, and if you’re a bar maid it means I have an excuse to pull this pretty little bar maid in Highgarden down onto my lap as she passes by.”

“That’s aggressive of you.”

“Maybe this particular bar maid makes me aggressive.”

Back and forth you went, what is job was, how you’d fall in love, if you stayed in Highgarden or travelled the realm elsewhere. How many kids you’d have to which you certainly had protests as to how easily Jon kept raising the number each time he mentioned it. By the time you had planned out a new life, it was late enough that you needed to go back.

You needed some sleep, and Jon wasn’t the only brother who you wanted to talk to before this was all over.

Ghost lept out of your lap and shook his fur out on the ground as you both watched him with a fond smile. Looking back at him, you held onto his wrists and he your waist. This time, neither moved in or even tempted the idea of a kiss.

Raising a hand to cup the side of your cheek, he ran a thumb over the soft skin. “Don’t look for me in the ceremony.” Before you had a chance to spiral, he leaned down to meet your eyes more level. “I’ll be there, but don’t look for me. You’re going to be Robb’s now, and I want you to be okay with accepting that.”

Nodding, he made you promise out loud. “I promise.”

He nodded once. “You’ll be each others tomorrow, and I’ll be at the wall. I want you two to be there for each other, no matter what. Besides, it’ll be easy.” You tilted your head. “Robb’s easy to fall in love with, and I think it’s impossible not to fall at least a little in love with you.”

The hug you shared wasn’t the last before you departed, but it was the last one just for you.

He sent you off first, not wanting you to linger with him on your mind. Jon needed you to be okay with being Robb’s, and he himself, needed to just get through these next few days. He had an entire life at the wall to grieve about you.

The handmaiden was quite mad at how you ignored her. Something about the Seven, not seeing the bride but you went towards Robbs anyways. You were to be married at the Weirwood under the eyes of the old gods, it didn’t matter what the Seven wanted anymore.

Not quite dressed up, Theon looked you up and down as he opened the door. “Didn’t think you were that much of a bore.” You pushed him out the way with a roll of your eyes, he laughed as he closed the door behind him. You were glad that the northerners weren’t so dramatic.

With his mother tucked away with Bran, he escaped what would’ve been her insistence of shaving and another trim. His facial hair growing thick and his curls much more Tully Red in the daylight. “I want to ask you a favour.”

Nodding once, he said anything. Taking a step to you as you sighed out shakily, hands ringing together, he said your name as he came into your space. Looking up at him, you sighed out again. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Taken back, his eyes narrowed in curiosity. “That’s not a favour.”

Somewhat flustered, you pulled away. Sitting down on his bed, unable suddenly to send away the thoughts of the very next time you’ll be in this room. “I- I don’t want you thinking I don’t want this, or you, but we didn’t plan this, or talk about it before it happened, and now we’re here and,”

Robb knelt down to your level, not yet touching you in your panic, but speaking slow and in a low, comforting tone until the edge fell from your lips. His steady energy slightly bringing you down a little bit as you tried again. “My parents are miserable together.” Your hands started to wring together in front of you, “They barley tolerate each other, I’ve never seen any love between them. And same with my Uncle. He and the Queen basically hate each other I’m shocked they could stand each other long enough to have three kids together.”

His brows narrowed as you put it all together. “Everyone I know whose married for duty, married because they had to...I think your parents are the only ones I know who ended up happy, who actually love each other.”

Robb leaned in slightly, “Are you worried you’ll never love-”

Shaking your head you felt the anxiety in your chest boil up like never before. “Robb, look at me. I’m Stannis Baratheons child, daughter of the supposed most miserable man in Westeros in the most loveless marriage, are you sure you’re okay with marrying me?”

There it was. The first true hint of insecurity that you’ve allowed yourself to be honest with since you had been told of this arrangement. Two out of three Baratheon Lords were in miserable marriages, and when you looked at Robb, you hated the idea that you were forcing him into just another of that cycle.

The girl in you wanted to cry at losing one love, and the woman in you hated yourself for possibly dragging another into something he’d come to hate. You’ve known Robb for as long as you’ve known Jon, and you watched him grow into the man he is now. Both of you could do great things together according to Lord Stark, but what if you were too much like your father to ever inspire love?

Robb stood up, sitting down next to you as he turned his body close. Your name falling easily from his lips. “You’re not your father. No- look at me. You are not him, you’re not any of them. I’ve known you since you were eight. You’re stubborn, and strong willed and always willing to do what duty asks but that isn’t all of you. I’ve also seen you laugh, get into trouble with me more times then I can count, you care about my little sisters and my brothers like their yours too. My father already sees you like your his own, and despite everything, I know my mother does too.”

Running a hand over your hair, he watched tension in your shoulders deflate ever so slightly. “I’m not worried about marrying you, because I know what I’m getting myself into. And no one can tell me to be happy about it, but I am anyways.”

Gently you raised your hand, enough to slightly lay over the arm Robb had flat on the bed, your thumb finding this pulse, unlike little Brans, his was steady and strong. “You shouldn’t be. You get told your marrying me, and then the day after I get dragged back to Kings Landing with half your family for who knows how long.”

Your heart raced, as Robb twisted his arm, holding your wrist the same way you were his. An easy, charming, boyish smile on his lips. “And we’ll have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

Deep in your mind, you wished Robb would make this harder. You wished he wasn’t so easy to be charmed by, but you knew him too well to trick yourself into thinking he wasn’t being genuine or honest. “So about that favour...”

Narrowing his eyes, there was a flush in your cheeks that you hated was making him smirk. “What about it?”

You sheepishly tried pulling away, but he yanked you closed by is hold on your wrist. Looking down anywhere but his face you felt like a little girl again, only that time you didn’t have to be the one to ask for it, Jon kissed you before you knew what was happening.

Robb though? Oh Robb knew exactly what you were trying to ask, but was almost sadistically enjoying the process of making you say it out loud to him. You flushed more at what other implications this potential side of him would bring. “I, okay I’m not some innocent flower.”

He raised his eyebrows and you smiled indigently, “I mean, I’m still- I haven’t- shut up.” Robb was flat out laughing at that point but let you fail at getting this out with composure. “I know you’ve been with women before, physically..”

“Does that bother you?”

Shaking your head no, it was no lie. You may have to get used to the idea of being married to him, but again, you weren’t blind. You had eyes, you knew exactly what women saw in Robb Stark. “What I’m trying to say, I’ve kissed someone before but not you.”

Much more serious, Robb clearly did know what you were asking, but watched with his gorgeous comforting blue eyes intensely as you whispered. “I don’t want our first kiss to be in front of all of them.” His family, the royals, all those you didn’t know, the old gods, and even Jon. A first kiss in front of him felt too personal, to intimate.

Moving close, you felt his breathe on your skin. “Do you want me to kiss you? Here?”

The room slipped away though, Robb’s voice was so warm and so was he. The hand on your wrist moved to rest at your waist while the other hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you firmly. His lips would brush against yours if either spoke, but he waited for a single nod before kissing you.

His kiss was different. Soft, but coaxing. Like he knew what was holding you back, and just let you fall into it on your own. It was simple and gentle at first, but as soon as you let out a tiny sigh, something in Robb slipped for a moment. Kissing you again, harder this time. His hands tighter and his kiss a little deeper.

Leaning into his front, your hand found the back of his neck and into his curls, and your other against his chest as if they always knew what to do. It wasn’t until you let out what might just have been a small moan, Robb close to pulling you into his lap did he pull away. Pressing a kiss to your forehead and running his hand once more over your hair.

“Can you live with that? For the rest of your life?”

Robb smiled softly at the very new venerability in you. Pressing one more kiss to your cheek, he knew you didn’t mean only having a kiss. But was he happy with such a kiss was your question. “Wait until tonight, I’ll tell what about you I’ve been fantasizing about living with.”

The grin on Robbs face as he pulled away wasn’t the charming boyish one earlier. No, this one was far more that of who he was really, a wolf. A wolf who looked you up and down and made you realize that Robb Stark just might not be as dashing and honourable as he’s led you to believe.

A thought that should’ve made you nervous, but as you walked back to your room, ready to let the girls doll you up and argue about not touching your hair, you started to think that maybe that wolfish grin, actually excited you.

Just when you thought you were going to die of a heart attack, your to be lord father gave you a reason to have a whole new panic. The ceremony was more fancy then any of you involved wanted, not the Starks nor you, but your own father insisted on marrying you off with the royals in toe.

He wasn’t here. Your mother neither. Both of them, Lady Catelyn and Selyse were either sickly or caring for the sick and weren’t here, but Ned Stark was. He was here, and your own father wasn’t. Stannis was not a consistently comforting father, but part of you felt hurt that he wasn’t here to see his oldest daughter, his own heir, marry for the first time.

Instead, the man who had seen you raised half your life here, the one who would be your father by marriage once this was done was the one who approached you. Looking out into the distant woods as you clearly struggled to hold your nerves back. “I didn’t think this was the thing that’d worry you so much.”

Spinning around, Lord Stark reached out to steady you with a chuckle. “I’m sorry, I just...this is a lot..was it this nerve wracking when you married Catelyn?”

Not pushing you towards the woods, he stood beside you an arm around your shoulder as he rubbed your upper arm gently. “Terrifying. I’d rather face a thousand armed men then get married in front of all those people. I certainly wouldn’t have wanted someone as delightful as the Queen at mine either.” You huffed a single laugh out and swallowed the rest. “And I know I certainly wouldn’t want the person I love watch me marry someone else.”

Blood in your veins froze, your heart stopped and nothing but nausea flowed up your lungs. “I-”

He wasn’t even angry, or disappointed. He chuckled with a fondness. “I’ve seen you spend half your life here, sweet girl. Watched you grow up alongside my own sons, and I’ve watched Jon be in love with you since the first day you ever arrived.” If you cried, you’d mess up the annoying amount of makeup they insisted on, but you felt a sob in your chest. “You made him happy, and he made you happy. For a time, a long time I thought that was enough. But I also know for a fact that Jon never saw marrying you as an option. He always was painfully aware of who you were.”

You felt the stinging, and you stood still in his hold. Forcing deep breaths to push away the panic.

“There’s a good number of things I regret about how I raised him. It doesn’t feel good knowing that he’s always felt inferior to Robb and now the woman he loves is marrying him too. If I could do it again, would I even be better. Force Roberts hand harder, be more honest with Cat, let him just be a Stark and there’d be nothing in his way for you. But I didn’t do that, nor do I know if I ever should’ve.”

Looking down, your arms crossed over your chest. “I don’t want you to assume I’m just thinking of Jon while I’m with Robb, it’s not that. I’ve known Robb for just as long, and we’ve always been just as close, save for, you know.” His hand was soothing like a true fathers comfort running up and down what he could reach of your arm.

“Here’s whats going to happen. I’m going to walk you out there to my son, you’ll kneel together before the Weirwood and pray and when you rise you’ll be a Stark. Part of you will always be a Baratheon, but you’ll also be our family now. And no matter what, wolves always protect those in their pack. I’m not going to assume the worst of you, because I know you better then that. You and Robb will be good for each other, and just because losing Jon hurts doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re not willing to love Robb.”

Looking up at him you frustratingly wipe at the tears, and he pulled you into a hug. One that you hadn’t felt in a very long time. It had been too long since you felt the hug, the love of a real father. Muttering into your hair, you could feel the same smirk that you could always sense on both brothers. “Besides, I can tell you for certain, having one night with your spouse before being dragged halfway across the country will do wonders for your heart.”

You laughed a lot at that one. Pulling away he looked you over, gently wiping away the rest of the tears on your cheeks. “Come on, sweet girl. You have a wolf waiting for you.”

If you were being honest, it was a blur. There were so many people, and most of them you’d never want present at your wedding in any lifetime. The golden hair of the Lannisters mocked you, the bored and judgmental sneer of your cousin annoyed you, and the silent watching of an Uncle who you barley knew anymore, but you were thankful that this wasn’t in a sept.

The crowd silent, no words spoken by anyone except you and Robb. He looked tall and fierce, curls shining more red in the peeking sun through the leaves, eyes bright and blue like the sea as he looked at nothing and no one but you. The fur around his shoulders making him look large like the wolf he was said to be, and soon it too would be yours.

Whatever small words you exchanged, you heard none of it but the blood in your veins. Thankful when Robb took your hand and knelt down with you, facing away from the crowd. The Seven was what you were raised to pray too, but you were a wolf now. And the wolves answered to the Old Gods.

A fate you were perhaps always meant to have, feeling much more heard in your silence of the Weirwood then you ever did in a sept. Eyes open, looking up the carved face at the same time, the crowd was silent, Robb grabbing both your hands to stand as he kept your eyes.

Draping the very fur he wore over your shoulders, he gently pulled you in with two fingers under your chin. This kiss was far softer and fairer then the one you shared in private, but this was also all your anxiety could handle. And Robb knew it.

Were it a more jovial occasion, it was tradition for a northern groom to carry the bride to the feast but Lord Stark had the sense to give you two a moment alone and King Robert was more then happy to direct the crowd to where the wine and food sat.

Your heart racing, Robb gently held your waist with his forehead pressed to yours. Eyes both shut as your hands rested on his chest. You left tomorrow, so all you had was now and tonight.

It’s what he demanded of you, and what he wanted, but it didn’t change the fact that it hurt Jon Snow a great deal to watch you marry his brother, and not once did he ever see the transfixing beauty in your eyes.

You didn’t look at him once, and Jon couldn’t get to the wall fast enough.

Truth be told, the first big laugh you had was at the sheer idea of your father here. Meals with him, there was no laughter or rambunctious behaviour. Just silence, diplomacy, and the mind numbing dings and clogs of Patchface. No joy in a meal under Stannis’s watch, except for the fool himself. Patchface there who was only lucky enough to be in a job, because gods help her, for whatever reason the fool made Shireen laugh.

You couldn’t imagine your father here. The drinking, the laughter, the never ending line of food, talk, and fun. Truth be told, you and Robb spent little time there. You glanced nervously at him more then once, and in your bubble of privacy he would rest a hand on your thigh firmly and a whisper in your ear to at least eat something.

Arya tried many times to come and talk to you, but Sansa yelled at her each time. Telling her to leave the two of you alone, the three of you girls would be in Kings Landing together anyways.

King Robert, on now one too many drinks made an innocuous comment about beds, or sex, or something vaguely incoherent and you and Robb looked to the other. You wide eyed and nervous, but there was something in his that settled it. Leaning to your ear, his voice felt like a rumble. “Normally I’m for tradition, but I’ll be damned if I let this lot see any of you like that.”

One of the men in the crowd had seen you like that, but with the way Robb looked at you, for once, Jon hadn’t crossed your mind. Too much nerves, too much wine, and a fat load of worry about being in a mans bed proper for the first time.

By the time the crowd noticed, Ned just chuckled at Roberts comments about the bride and groom slipping away before a gods honest tradition. “I told Cat I wasn’t going to let their be a bedding ceremony because I didn’t want to hurt someone on our wedding night.” Shrugging one shoulder, he grinned almost proud. “Glad to know my son’s the same.”

The worries of what was to come, ended up being broken slightly by the fact that as soon as Robb opened his door, Grey wind was sat in the middle of the bed. Large body splayed out like it was already bed time. Rising his head up at the sound of the door, you ended up bursting into laughter at Robb having to tell him twice to go.

Shutting it behind the growing direwolf, Robb shook his head something snarky on his tongue that died as he looked to you. Draped in his furs, furs that made you look far smaller and the gentle almost innocent look as you stepped around his room. You’d been in here countless times, slept in here countless times, but never like this.

Trying desperately to hold back your nerves, you looked out the open window focusing on steadying your heart. But the warmth of Robb enveloped your back as he reached over you, closing the windows and sealing you both alone. The crackling of a fire almost enough to hide the shaky breathe as Robb gently ran his hands down your arms.

Resting both on your waist, Robb wrapped one around your stomach, pulling you into his chest. He didn’t let you ruminate on the worry, dipping his head to level his mouth with your ear. “If you don’t want this, I need you to tell me.” Freezing in his arms, he spoke almost quieter but it raged so close to your ear. “We don’t have to do anything, but you need to be honest with me about it.”

You felt light on your feet. You’ve never heard this tone from Robb before, never so intimate in your ear and the deep rumblings of his voice felt as if something strong inside was being held back. The act itself scared you, it always had. But another part of you wondered if you should be fearful of the young wolf behind you, or if that fear excited you.

The arm around your stomach rose up, tilting your head to turn slightly to the side, enough that part of him was within your sight as he murmured your name. “I know you’ve never done this before, is it just that, that scares you or is it me?”

Shaking your head fervently, you startled him. “No, no it’s not you. It’s just- I should know what to expect by now but,” Taking a deep breathe you shut your eyes. “The girls in Kings Landing all talk about men and their first time like it’s painful, violent.”

Robb chuckled deeply, vibrating through his chest into your back and down between your legs. It was a dark laugh, and you felt overwhelmed at how little you really considered what he might be like. “It’s only painful if the man is a worthless, brute who thinks getting off is better then getting their lady off.”

Was your chest heaving with you hard you felt yourself breathing, your eyebrows raised and lips slightly parted you felt more waves between your legs and having it all be because of Robb was more then enough to leave you speechless. Reading your body like a book, Robb leaned down more, brushing his lips against your neck. Grinning at the sigh you unknowingly let out.

Turning slightly more you could see him a bit better. “Will it hurt?”

Smiling like a predator, he pulled you closer to him. “Only if you want it to.” Laughing at your breathless expression, asking why some women would want it to hurt. He moved a hand to your hip and pressed his lips closer to your jaw. “Don’t worry. If you want it, we’ll get there. Tonight’s not about that though.”

Suddenly pulling away he yanked his cloak enough that it slipped from your shoulders and pooled onto the ground. Turning you in his arms, Robb gripped the sides of your dress tightly in his fists before pulling it up and off you. The fact that you let him do that, not telling him how little you had on underneath might have been a dangerous idea.

Usually such a dress was worn with layers underneath, and yet, all that remained on you was that which covered your most lower regions. Your softness, plush skin, and tits all on display. Holding your hips, Robb closed his eyes breathing deep for a moment. “For a girl whose never done this before, this is awfully naughty of you.”

Indeed was the charming boy no longer here, but a man, a wolf looking at his mate like prey.

Swallowing the pounding in your heart, you reached up to Robb, slowly pulling layers up and off of him for yourself. His hands were much more confident then yours were currently, but he stood still watching and letting you undress him at your own pace.

Staring was impolite, and yet Robb didn’t mind as you looked at his chest now totally free. Just as your fingers reached for his pants he snatched your hands. Raising them in the air as you gasped in surprise.

“This is about you. Lay down for me.”

Watching you with dark eyes, you couldn’t ignore how intensely he looked you up and down as you lay back on the top of his bed. Your palms bracing you up before being tossed back down as Robb suddenly climbed up the bed and over top of you. A hand on each side of your head as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Do you trust me?”

Without even considering it, you answered the raw truth. “Always.”

One hand reached up, grabbing your jaw roughly as he pulled your lips back to his. This time he kissed you nothing like before. His kiss was rough, demanding and deep. Guiding your every move and commanding that you obey. He tugged your hip with his other hand up to press into his own and as you gasped, he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

Lightheaded, you surrendered to his touch. As if all will of your own bled out onto the bed leaving nothing but Robb to command you as he pleases, and yet the idea didn’t scare you the way it was described by others. Your hands reached up and grasped his waist, a small sound leaving your mouth into his.

Switching between tasting you with his tongue and biting at your lips it, Robb let go of your jaw and ran it behind your head and grasped your hair tightly. Pressing his body down firmly, his hips naturally rutted into yours. He smirked as you gasped.

The rougher he kissed you, the more your hands moved on their own. Reaching behind his neck and wrapping around it to sink into his hair he ground his hips into you harder. A gentle moan leaving you, Robb left your lips, running the same ferocity down your neck. His lips and teeth no doubt leaving marks that a proper lady should be ashamed of.

He didn’t quite stop, kissing down your neck more until he reached your breasts. Grinning at how hard you were breathing, he stopped that right in it’s tracks as his hands cupped your chest. A needy cry left your lips, turning to a longer moan as Robb ran this thumbs over your nipples. Just as one hand grasped one, did he lower his mouth to bite at the other.

Pleasure shooting through you, your back arched into his body and limbs felt like they seized from the pleasure. His teeth switching between a gentle nibble and a harsher bite just to pull a gasp from you, he played you like an instrument. Getting every sound from your pretty lips that made his cock that much harder.

Pulling away, he hovered over you looking down at the almost in awe expression. You weren’t used to such a side to this man, and he seemed to reveal in your innocence over it. Leaning back more, you followed the sight of his dark eyes, parted lips and down his chest to where he hands slowly pulled at his pants.

Swallowing hard, he tilted your head up his a hand firmly at your jaw. “Keep your eyes on me.” Not letting you look down as he stripped himself bare. “Good girl, keep them on me and only me.” Slowly moving down the bed he pulled your hips to, grabbing your underwear and pulling them down.

The coolness of outside did nothing to take away how warm and wet you were between your legs, and Robb forced you to stay on his face. Making you look at his eyes, greedily pushing your knees apart and expression turning dark as he stared at you. A slightly whimper leaving you, he leaned back over you, one hand running over your thigh, first on the outside, then inside, and slowly upwards.

Just as he reached you, Robb bit at your bottom lip. Using the chance to slip his tongue inside you just as he ran his hand over you. Cupping you entirely and already he smirked into the kiss at how soaked you were. Lips brushing yours as he pulled back enough to speak, his fingers gently running back and forth across your soaked slit. “Good girls don’t get this wet, do they?”

Shaking your head no, all you could do was hear his voice. Eye slipping closed as your legs shook and a coil within you twisted at such an easy touch. Robb continued. “No, good girls are sweet and innocent. This doesn’t feel very innocent to me.” Two fingers now soaked danced up and ran across your clit.

Jumping at the shock of pleasure, you grasped him by the shoulders with a whine. “It’s all for you-”

Stammering the words out as Robb now rubbed tight circles against your clit. Your muscles tensing and his own hips refusing to let you close them you had to just take it. His other fingers still soaking up whatever you drenched him with. “I know it is. You ready for me to open you up? Make you cum before you take me?”

You’d say yes to pretty much anything Robb asked of you right now. Nodding, you leaned up to kiss him, making him smile into your lips as he slipped two soaked fingers deep inside to his knuckles. You gasped so loudly, were the windows not closed no doubt the outside world would’ve heard you. Sinking them deep in one go, you writhed in his touch.

Robb slowly slid them out and back, the wetness between you making the sound obscene, but it was the only music Robb could stand to hear. He never picked up the pace, but he did, right as you tensed in his touch? Stopped rubbing at your clit, and slit a third finger down to sink inside you with the others.

You cried his name and he kissed down your neck as he slowly pumped them inside of you. Clenching around his fingers he bit your skin harder trying to force his cock to shut up. Screaming at him like a howling wolf to just take you already.

Pulling back from your lips he looked you in the eye, feeling you clench around him as your sounds grew higher. Something burned hot inside of you as the other twisted and turned so tightly. One free hand, Robb ran over your lips, and something sweet inside you, pressed a gentle kiss to his fingers as he did so.

In return? He ran his thumb roughly over your clit as pumped his fingers slow and deep into you as you came around them. You moaned his name, but muffled it as Robb gently sunk two fingers into your mouth at the same time. One hand grasped his wrist, and yet even as you came something inside you obeyed like you were a submitting prey.

Robb almost snarled at how well you sucked on his fingers, and how he wished you two had more time then tonight. He couldn’t stop the thought of how beautiful you would look on your knees before him, obediently sucking on his cock with his hand guiding you up and down his length tight in your hair.

Pulling out of you Robb pulled your body up to press against his bare one and kissed you full of tongue and a greedy desperation. A desperation you yearned for back. It was a strained rasp of your own in his ear that had him shudder. “Please, Robb. Please fuck me.”

It didn’t even occur to you to try and be sweet or innocent about it. You could feel his cock pressing against you between your still shaking legs and you felt lightheaded at how thick it felt against you. Kissing your ear, he murmured much more gentle, “Are you sure?” As you nodded he bit your earlobe and hissed into it. “Out loud.”

Nodding again, your hands wrapped around his neck as you kissed him. “I’m sure, I want you.”

Kneeling up on the bed, Robb ran his hand gently down the side of your body. His dark eyes soft for just a little while longer, as you felt something in your chest at him. Pulling your hips more up into his lap you think you understood why he kept his eyes on you.

His chest led down to coarse, rough hair surrounding a long, thick cock that you wondered if it would even fully fit in your hand. Your chest heaved as you stared, and he slipped into a deeper tone. “It’s not polite to stare.”

Slipping a hand behind your head, Robb kept you looking down, watching as he ran the tip of his cock over your entrance, up brushing against your clit and back down. Barley sliding in each time until you begged his name once more. This time Robb watched your eyes, as he kept your head looking down to watch him slide his cock inside you.

He was thick, and the stretch itself stung in a way that made you gasp but not a pain that you had feared from it. No, the deeper he sunk the more you soaked his cock. Only halfway in, Robb tugged your hair to look up at him before he in a much more punishing thrust, bottomed out.

His face snarled at how tight, how warm and soaking wet you cunt was and he pulled you right back into an equally as rough kiss. He didn’t go fast, but part of him reasoned to go more gentle, and yet?

Your cries, your begs of his name as each slow, rough fuck had your arching your back into his body all the more. Each pound of his cock inside of you slapped loudly in a way that had him grip your hips so tight, you could already feel the bruises.

Sweat built up on both your bodies and you ran your hand through his own increasingly damp curls, scratching his scalp with your nails that had him fuck into you harder each time. For all his talk, little thoughts came to his mind as Robb fucked you.

Like something of an animal took over and all he could think of was how much he wanted to fuck you more, harder, faster, fill you until his cum spilled out of you and then fill you more. You cried out, nails scratching down his back without even realizing you were doing so, but muffling each sound as you bit into the meat of his shoulder. Robb, fucked you harder and struggled to stay slow.

You clenched tightly, enough that he had to pound into your cunt roughly just to sink as deep as he could inside and pulling away enough he could see tears at the side of your eyes but you rather then begging for mercy, begged for more as you kissed him.

His hands held your knees, pushing as wide as possible as Robb lost composure. Fucking you faster and just as one hand moved to rub at your clit you came around him. Robb leaving your other knee to press his hand against your mouth at how little you could contain your cries.

Fucking into you once, twice, five more times he pushed inside as deep as he could sink and filled you with him. His cum warm and thick, it felt like there was so much more of it then a normal man would have but you let Robb pull you into another kiss, this one rough and sloppy as he filled you with his cum as his tongue did your mouth.

Never leaving, his hands eventually turned soothing, his kiss softer and his voice not commanding but assuring. Telling you how good you did, how perfect you were. Holding you in his arms and him yours, it was just the two of you in that moment and nothing more.

It was only when you started to laugh, did Robb laugh. Yanking you into his chest as he flopped onto his back with you on top of him. Kissing you gently as he ran a hand over your hair. “Aye, a man could get used to this.”

He should’ve let you rest, but he took you once more that night. This time, far less able to hold back how fast and greedy he wanted to be about fucking you. The only downside, was how exhausted the night made you.

Slipping into a deep sleep, that only meant morning would come quicker. And too quick it did.

That morning, you both stayed in bed as long as you could. Robbs back against the wall and you against his chest, far less worried about the lack of clothes either of you still had. “You were born for this, Robb. It’s not in you to fail.”

Kissing the side of your head, things were feeling a bit easier, a bit more normal between you even in such an intimate manner. “Everyone says that right up until they fail.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned. Leaving his grasp to gently face him, your body in his lap. Hands on his chest, your eyes often trailed over him. He didn’t question your gaze, you had to get used to him as much as he was getting used to you. It was still new, no matter how much a decade and a half of friendship had formed the foundation.

No joke was in your face though. “I’m serious, Robb. Even if you don’t believe in yourself?” Shrugging one shoulder you smiled softly, “I’m your wife now, so I’ll just do all the believing for you.”

Squeezing your hip, he rolled his own eyes. “And let you do all the work? We’re a team, remember?”

Saying goodbye to Robb however, was easier then what waited for you outside.

Packing up your hose, you heard the two of them in the distance. “My mother?”

“She was very kind.” You tensed slightly, hoping no one noticed but you very much doubted kind was the genuine word Jon should be using. He didn’t deserve her ire, not now, not ever.

“Next time I see you, you’ll be all in black.”

“It was always my colour.”

Your eyes closed, trying to tune their goodbye out. You had no right to invade their privacy.

Part of you hoped he would ignore you. You wouldn’t have to handle this and you could ignore it, but Jon knew you way better then that. You’d hate yourself if you left it at this. Reaching over you, Jon pulled part of your things up and secured it without even saying a word. Looking up, he was closer then you thought.

Looking at each other, the responsible thing would be to nod, shake hands, say a cordial goodbye. But Jon stood with his bright eyes, a grey so deep they looked black at times and you wanted to cry. You felt pathetic for being hardly able to hold back such a display of emotions, but the love that Jon had looked at you with for so many years was as strong as it always was.

You had no doubt that you looked just the same.

Jon pulled you into a hug, one too tight and too emotional for the company around and yet neither of you cared. Neither of you knew if this would be the last time, and both of you resented the world for forcing that as a possibility. His hand held you to him from the back of your head as you sunk your face partway into his neck and the other into the fur around him. “I miss you.”

“I miss you.”

Already, even in the others arms, the grieving already begun. Pulling back, you held at his shoulders and he shamelessly cupped the side of your cheeks. “Think I could get to the wall before they catch me, if I kiss you now?”

You burst into a laugh, one bordering too close on a cry. But you tilted your head. “Now or never, Snow.”

The kiss was pressed to your cheek, slow and unrushed before hugging you once more. For too many years you and Jon ignored the inevitability of having to separate like this, and it sat deep and uncomfortable in your stomach to do so. Like leaving the other behind would be a mistake in the long run, but you couldn’t understand why your soul screamed at you to not make it. You knelt down, kissing Ghost on the forehead as he licked at your cheek, whispering to him. “Protect him, no matter what you hear me? Next time I see him, you better make sure he’s as healthy as you are now.”

Seeing the other Starks approaching, you two looked at the other one last time so close you could feel the other. You took off with the company as they all headed out to the Kingsroad, giving enough space for Lord Stark to speak to his son alone before they too parted ways.

You couldn’t hear what they talked about, but you knew Jon Snow better then anyone to guess. As his father turned to leave, you and Jon looked from the distance at the other once more. You said nothing and neither did he. His life was up north now, and yours is both by Lord Stark’s side and your future with your husband. A future you wanted, and one Jon didn’t want to get in the way of. But as you both rode off in opposite directions, that sinking feeling in your gut just screamed louder, the further away you both got.

Neither of you having any idea, what horrors would bring you two back to one another.

[thebadboyfanclub]

What Are You Waiting For Then? (Daemon x Reader)

Hey guys sorry for keeping you waiting, one of my friends was visiting so I was all day doing tourist activities, this was actually so exciting and refreshing to write!

-

“Nathaniel! Mother come quick Nathaniel is back!”

All Daemon saw was young woman ran barefoot heading towards his fellow soldier, Nathan was a man that got recruited to fight alongside Daemon to the Stepstones, he was a brave and honourable man that was shipped to the Stepstones under the fellow banners of the noble house resided in Lys named “Fyresteel”, they were the first to respond to the call for aid, the young strong man truly embedded their words

“None shall be left behind”.

The woman crushed her body to the knight almost knocking him over, she had wrapped her arms around him like her life depended on it, her clothes were semi tarnished and the hem of her dress dirty from the mud.

A few moments after she pulled away in arms length, examining Nathaniel with her eyes, the look she had on her face showed how close of a bond they shared, tears clouded her eyes as she gripped on to his biceps.

“You are back, safe and sound”

“If I died there would be no one to mess with you dear sister”

The woman did not respond, she only hugged him one more time to which the knight responded with the same warmth. Daemon was astonished by the tremendous declaration of emotions, he loved his family yet he had never been that close to his brother, if Daemon were to be back Viserys might share a hug however there would be no engulfing nor tears shed for his safe return.

“My boy! Oh my boy is back!”

A middle aged woman paced in their direction with her arms wide open. The younger woman reluctantly pulled away from her brother to make room for what Daemon guessed was the boys mother, she wiped her tears with her hands as she sniffled.

“I apologise, it is just we have not seen our brother in such a long time, I am (y/n)”

“Daemon and no need to apologise, you should be proud of your brother, he fought fiercely and was one of the most trusted soldiers in battle”

“You should thank me for that, Nathaniel always liked to wrestle with me in the mud when we were children”

“Come on, don’t stand there they are probably hungry, come inside”

Daemon was stunned by their hospitality, they had no idea who he was, no clue of his heritage yet they welcomed him with open arms to feed him just because he appeared with their family member.

It was a small cottage, mostly made out of wood and stone, it was warm from the fireplace that burned under a big pot, the smell of home made food hit Daemons nostrils like a brick, his stomach rumbled with anticipation and his tastebuds begged for something warm.

“Does your friend like goat?”

“Goat is excellent my lady”

“Oh bless you young man, I have not being called lady since I gave birth to Nathaniel”

“Mother please!”

“What? This tall handsome boy was at the same size of a little kitten when he was born, he gave us all a fright we thought he would not survive”

Daemon chuckled at the comment that made Nathaniel hide his face behind his hands. Nathaniel was the only man that followed Daemon at his crazy plan of invasion, now he had to withstand his mother ruffling his hair and pinching his cheeks with endearment.

To be honest Daemon did not care much about that, his eyes were set on (y/n), the girl had the same energy of her brother, noble, altruistic, bright, as supper was served he got caught in a trance that was her voice, he could listen to her speak about anything all day, the affability that radiated off from her was addictive to say the least, if you combine it with the earthy scent he was in true bliss, surrounded by people that took care of one another and honoured the word “family”.

Daemon had stayed with them until the moon turned, he would go around the farm with (y/n), not allowing her to lift a finger or doing her daily chores, to see a Targaryen prince milk a cow and gather chicken eggs was truly a surreal sight for anyone, Daemon felt at peace with being just Daemon, he was not “the rogue prince” nor “prince Daemon Targaryen”, his name sounded the best when it rolled off (y/n)s tongue.

“I will marry you one day”

“Will you take me back to the castle? be a princess of the seven kingdoms while I twirl in pretty dresses?”

“No, I will give you your own castle, you will be the queen of my heart and the ruler of our family”

“What are you waiting for then?”

-

Daemon flew to Kings landing at dawn, to bend the knee in front of the iron throne and beg for his marriage to be annulled, to humbly request to wed another now that he proved himself worthy and honoured the kingdom.

“Annulment? I thought you were a bit loose in the brain but this is a new type of madness even for you brother”

“I won the war against the crab eaters, I led the army to victory”

“And you assumed that it would make you invisible, you swore to be with this woman until the end of your days”

“Your grace, I am sure you are aware that the wedlock I am under was not a burden I chose to carry”

“Burden!? The lady Rhea is a respectable lady, you stand there and ask me to make Runestone our new enemy so you can marry a common beggar?”

“She is not a beggar”

“She is nobody!”

“She loves me! I do not know why but she chose to love me”

-

“My starlight, you are ravishing”

“Daemon, we are to attend a funeral”

“You will be ravishing at the funeral”

“I hope so, this is the only dress that fits me”

(Y/n) had given birth to 5 children already, to squeeze out children one right after the other meant her body had changed since they got married, her breasts had swell from breastfeeding their youngest son and the weight had managed to get comfortable.

Daemon could not keep his hands off of her, he found her new curves to be tempting, she looked like a well taken care of woman, the woman that blessed him with creating a home and children inside her, the goddess that put herself in danger to expand their family.

After moving to Pentos to elope against the kings wishes Daemon wanted to fulfil his promises, give her a castle and make her his queen.

(Y/n) was a marvellous wife and confidant, Daemon had spend all his life fighting for a place at the table, to be seen as worthy as his noble brother, the heavy weight of competition was suddenly lifted by (Y/n)s magical touch that showed him what it truly is to be accepted, to be nurtured and cared for with compassion and respect, Daemon would often watch her sleep while she rested her head on her pillow and just admire her, how could she be so… good to him?

“You are the most wonderful woman I have ever laid eyes upon”

“Seems like you are the only one that thinks like that, they are all eye balling us like we are their lunch”

With that mention from how beloved wife Daemons focus shifted from the diamonds (y/n) held for hues to observe what was behind him, to his displease he found the people from his bloodline gawking at his family, to the point that the eldest son Maelor of theirs clung a little closer to his mother, grasping her clothing with his fist for comfort and protection.

“Listen to me, stay close to your mother and myself and everything will be fine, understood?”

“Yes father”

The second born child, their first daughter Melody responded, Melody had a soft spot for her father, ever since she could walk she would wobble behind her father and wait for him to pick her up and spin her around. Daemon pinched her cheek before he took his wives free hand -since she was holding their youngest babe Aelor with their other arm- to lead his family to the place the ceremony would be held.

Daemon had promised his wife that he would not leave her alone, he guarded his partner and offsprings during the whole ceremony, choosing to stay far back than get close to his immediate bloodline members Viserys and Rhaenyra, he was content with sitting down on the bench and play with their fourth child their daughter Hera on his lap.

“I know my sweetling, I know”

(Y/n) cooed at the babe that was starting to get fussy, (y/n) had done her best to keep the babe comfortable however no one can predict when the babe wants to feed, only thing we know it’s babes are hungry often and they do not like to wait.

“What is the problem starlight?”

“I must feed him”

“Go on then”

“Daemon we are not home, if I start feeding him-“

“You will be a mother that is taking care of her babe and does not scoff in the natural way by having other woman nurse your kin”

“We know that stands true, they do not”

Daemon puffed out a breath before he reluctantly let his daughter off his lap to stand up and take (y/n)s cape to create a little curtain around his wife, as a way to assist her with putting her mind at ease so she can breastfeed that youngest member of their family.

“What is happening?”

“She must be feeding the babe”

Ottos face squirmed up in disgust at the sight of the babes own mother pulling her breast out for the babe to suckle on and in such a prestige setting, Alicent on the other side was certainly intrigued to say the least, not for the feeding part but to how attentive the rogue prince was to her, the man that had a heart made of steel was now pulling silly faces to make his children laugh and shielded his lover from invasive looks of disapproval like the one her father had.

“I think he is finished”

“Let me do the rest starlight”

Daemon had done this multiple times, their children had been very close in age so sometimes Daemon had to do the digestion process while the older one was in their “I only want my mother” time of age, so in order to relieve his wife he gracefully took his youngest son in his arm to pat his back so he can digest his food.

“Father, why is mom a starlight?”

“Often times I had to travel at night with Caraxes, the light that came from the stars gave me hope and guided me to safety”

Their daughter was a sucker for fairytales, so to listen to her father talk in such a poetic way for her mother compelled a weak smile dance on her lips, (y/n) reached to tuck a small strand of the toddlers dark hair out of her face until Melody wrapped her arms around her mother to hide her face in her mothers neck.

“What a beautiful scene, you have grown to be a wonderful father”

Viserys interrupted the precious moment by slowly approaching with his cane. Daemon instinctively took a step to stand in front of his wife, his natural need of protecting her kicked in and even though Viserys was his brother he did not take the chance.

“You honour me your grace”

“we are brothers Daemon”

“Mayhaps, long time ago we were”

“Daemon”

“Maelor why don’t you take your mother and siblings to play at the shore? I’ll be with you in a moment”

“Oh yes! Come on mother let’s go”

Maelor was smart but not witted enough to figure out why his father allowed him to lead his mother away from this interaction, the young boy was too excited to notice the stern look (y/n) shot to her husband as she took the small babe from Daemon to give him and his brother some privacy.

“I know we had our differences howbeit I come with good intentions”

“I am sure you do, until Otto whispers accusations against me”

“We mustn’t hold grudges, I am here to offer a sumbol of peace”

“Which is?”

“Your children are unfortunately considered illegitimate, I own up to the mistake of not treating your lovely wife as equal, after the funeral I shall announce to the court that we affirm your wife and children as such, let us become a family again”

“My children are my family, my wife is my family”

“And your brother is willing to acknowledge that”

Daemon let his gaze fall upon his children, (y/n) was chasing around their children while they laughed along, all of them adored their mother, every time he would watch their faces light up and (y/n) smile it was equivalent to floating around the clouds, that was the reason he took them to Pentos, to ensure they were safely tucked away in their own world, no harm, no ill minded people, just pure and utter bliss.

“I would deeply appreciate that, I however have nothing to offer you in return of that favour”

-

Daemon was rudely awakened by his wife bursting in their room, clearly disheveled she stared at him as tried to catch her breath, (y/n) would often wake up in the middle of the night to make sure her children are alright, this time it seemed she was right about it.

Daemon was on his feet in no time, silently he followed her and she was making it difficult since (y/n) was basically running.

“Maelor!”

“I am alright mother, I cannot say the same for Aemond”

“What happened?”

“I wanted to go for a ride and I found them fighting so I called for help, I did not get involved I promise I just called the guards”

“I am not mad at you sweetling you did the right thing”

“Right thing? He ran away when my son was been beaten”

“He called for help”

“It was too late for that”

“What would you rather have him do? Fight off all the others and risk his own life”

“So it is better than my son is the only one that got injured?”

“I did not say that-“

“Stop! All of you. We are family”

“It was my sons that were forced to defend themselves your grace”

The young woman spoke up as she stood in front of the two brunette boys and one of them was also stained by blood. If she had to be honest she did not care about what happened, only that her children had no part in any of it.

“He called us bastards”

The young one explained, the room grew cold all of a sudden, like someone had stolen the light out of everything. Daemon stepped a tad bit closer to his wife, the word scratching his heart enough to irritate him, it stand true but unfortunately his children could technically be called such ridiculous words.

“Where did you hear such lies Aemond?”

“It was Aegon”

All eyes were on the boy with the king white hair who was somehow dumbfounded by the accusations. The king, even though he was frail and had almost withered away approached his son, Daemon could detect some type of fury on his weak and dissolved face.

“Now you tell me… boy, why did you say that? Aegon!”

“We know father, everyone knows. I do not understand why is there a problem with it, prince Daemons children are also bastards”

“Careful now young man, we do not want you to miss an eye as well or a tongue”

Daemon was taken back by his wife threading a prince, he also noticed how her hand clenched Maelor shirt compelling him to get closer to her. (Y/n) was his wife, his love, his body, mind and soul belonged to her, she was aware of how devoted Daemon was to their family, still to hear such vile insult made her blood boil.

“My father offered for your children to become legitimate, so for the time being and the past few years they were considered b-“

The only thing that interrupted the prince was Daemons footsteps that approached Aegon, he did not touch him, he just stood right in front of him and eyeballed him right into his soul. Aegon by just pure instructed had shrunk as much as he could and avoided making eye contact with Daemon.

“Finish your sentence, go on”

“Daemon I can handle my son”

“I disagree brother you can allow your children to dig their claws into one another until the only thing that is left of them is bones but I refuse to let this idiot speak like that about MY children. With that, we shall bid you goodnight, we will be departing at dawn and hopefully we will not hear from you ever again

Requests are open!

[circeius-invidioso]

I do not get why the Red Corsairs are not a popular choice.

Like.

Like here is the elevator pitch for the warband and then we can come to some justified conclusion.

What isn't there to love?

You want me to turn into an infomencial and make a top 3 reasons why the Red Corsairs are great?

Cause I can.

And I will.

The Diverse Working Enviroment

Here in the Red Corsairs we might have started as Ultramarines but the barrier for entry is on the floor. So anyone can join.

You are Night Lord with a bad rep and no ship.

Buckle up we got you covered.

You are a Fallen and have 20 Dark Angels all up in yo business? Trying to shoot down the boss babe you are?

Fear not, or in our case. Know no Fear. We are strapped and don't get clapped.

You are a traitor that likes their Legion but sadly you got in our way?

Tough luck buddy, you will join or die and your geene seed will join our cause. Nothing personal battle brother. Just business as usual.

Everyone is welcome as long as they follow Huron's guidelines and don't aggitate the topless sweaty Khorne worshipping Ultramarines in the basement.

Sustainability

Unlike the corrupt Imperium of man and the corpse Emperor our leader is powered by miracles (which is trully a miracle how he survived but that on the next section), and we use 0 psyckers to power our crap.

Our carbon footprint is also minimum as we use salvaged goods and don't indulge in toxic industries that destroy worlds.

The Red Corsair base of operation is in the Eye of Terror and from there we expand our scope. A place greatly known for its constant shifts, and horrible conditions but the tan our serfs have are spectacullar from all that cosmic radiation.

Finally we are commited to recycling. As in we take from our victims benefactors and put those stolen goods to some great use. Nothing goes to waste, neither mortal, nor static object. If something is not nailed on the floor we will take it.

In fact we might take the floor too and the nails used to set it in place.

Nothing goes to waste!

Unmatched Leadership

Last, but certainly not least.

The man.

The myth.

The Legend.

Huron Blackheart.

Aka Lufgt Huron.

Aka what would happen if we gave a compressed Guilliman a daemonic familiar and left him to ferment in a warp storm.

Not only the name is so edgy you might cut yourself by saying it out loud. But also it's complex enough that if you say it quickly three times without twisting your tongue theres is a chance furniture might start levitating.

The man has put his Ultramarine brain to use and amased enough influence and power to put the Black Legion to shame.

Huron went from 0 to 100 in no time, he is a self made Warmaster. With no daddy issues or troubles in the world, he goes into battle blasting Alestorm in the voxxcasters.

He does not care.

He probably wears this when he wants to relax.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

He has a biker gang specifically organized to hunt down those who have betrayed him.

They slap those things on their armors not for the usual biker reason

(which fun fact the meaning is, 99% of the bikers are law-abiding, where the 1% are not. That's where the 1% comes from. The more you know 🌈)

no they wear that 1% because that's how high are your chances of escaping from them are.

Is that a bit extreme?

Yes.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

The dude once gathered his buddies and decided...

to you know. Have a casual outing. Nothing too serious, it was a sunday afteral.

So they decided on.

Kidnapping Guilliman.

Which they almost did if not for a Fallen of all people getting in the way.

But still.

The mad lad took Macragge's Honour and went on a joyride/ mini civil war.

Who in the galaxy can turn and say.

Yeah, I stole Macragge's Honour, almost captured my old Primarch. Told a daemon prince they are irrelevant on my way there. Anyway after crushing a fool who thought he could take my crown as king of the space pirates, I went to the home planet of the White Scars and kidnapped and tortured their Chapter Master. What did you do this week? 💅

Who wouldn't want to be a part of that?

You tell me I can be an immortal, gorgeous chaos Ultramarine goth boy going on pirate adventures across the galaxy?

Where do I sign up?

I don't need ink for a signature.

I will use my own blood.

[our-happygirl500-fan]

In the episode Battle Nexus New York, there’s a scene where Leo gets defensive on Donnie’s behalf

Carl Sandro: I don’t care about your brothers! They’re stupid!

Leo: [Gasps] For Donnie’s honour!

Something that I found out about this moment that I think is kind of fun is that in a scrapped scene found on Ashe Jacobson’s twitter, it shows that Mikey was also supposed to get defensive on Donnie’s behalf as well

Meat Sweats: Who cares what your brother wants! You’re all idiots!

Mikey: What!? How dare you talk about Donnie that way!

It seems as though originally both Mikey & Leo were supposed to have moments where they got defensive on Donnie’s behalf & Mikey’s scene was probably scrapped due to not needing to make the same joke twice but I thought it was kind of fun how both Leo & Mikey are defensive of Donnie & it also fits with how in Rise there are times where Mikey will say similar phrases to Leo.

[emeritusemeritus]

Turn back the hands of time. [Weasley twins x Reader]

Title: Turn back the hands of time.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader, (George Weasley x Reader later)

Timeline: Set six months after Fred’s Death.

Summary: What if you got the gift of time just to relive a moment with your deceased beloved one more time?

Warnings: Fred does the big sleep. Death. Grief, tears, emotional trauma. Use of a time turner (setting my own rules here). Mentions of marriage and kids. So much pain. McGonagall being a queen. Reader is implied Gryffindor.

I apologise, this one hurts. 🥀

The six months that had passed since the love of your life died had been the most intolerable, excruciating months of your life. Nothing brought you comfort anymore; every single thing in your life was attached to memories of him, bittersweet and painful memories you were forced to relive each and everyday by simply existing. Each day from the second you woke you were reminded of the painful fact that you had to carry on living whilst he couldn't. There was no future for you anymore, no more dreams of small weddings and long honeymoons, no blessings of little ones or fantasies of being an author, holed up in a small little cabin hidden away in the forest like you'd always planned with Fred.

He would aparate into the shop each day and you would have a home office with a big, fancy writing desk placed directly in front of a large window to view the scenery around you as you wrote. After closing the shop and settling up for the night, Fred would return home and you'd cook together, spending evenings on the decking under twinkling lights as you appreciated your simple life. You'd had it all planned out in fine detail, the future you were no longer destined to have.

George was naturally devastated too, utterly broken by the loss of his twin brother. You two, being the closest people to Fred, had found just a smidge of comfort in each other initially but over time Fred's loss had built a wedge between you both, each of you only serving as a reminder of what you had both lost.

You'd not only lost your soulmate but also your best friend along the way and the family that had taken you in and loved you as one of their own.

You'd pulled away from them all the same week of Fred's funeral, finding it unfathomably hard to be around them all, the missing piece constantly highlighted in the sea of familiar red hair. 

A good day for you these days meant accomplishing something as mundane as showering or eating some sort of meal. You knew you'd lost weight, the clothes you always wore hung off your body now the same way Fred's clothes used to. But you couldn't seem to stomach anything, the lingering pain and grief creating a sickness in you that couldn't be soothed.

The pain never truly ever left you but it did come in waves. Most the time is was like a background noise, a constant humming that ran through you like a curse but sometimes it was panic inducing pain, taking away your ability to breathe and function as haunting sobs wracked your body until you were crippled with agony, regret and hopeless longing.

You'd had a good day, as far as they went, managing to crawl out of bed and into the shower before trying to distract yourself with some muggle tv when a simple letter, delivered by owl, took your breath away once more.

Dear y/n,

I hope this letter finds you well, my thoughts have been with you each and every day since the battle. In Dumbledore's honour, we are conducting a memorial for the fallen and I would like to personally invite you to celebrate in the life of the loved ones we have lost. Fred's life will be celebrated by his staff, friends, family and fellow students as we pay respect to their bravery and sacrifice.

I would be honoured if you would join us.

With profound sympathy,

Minerva Mcgonagall.

You couldn't breathe again, tears streaming down your face as you read the letter through misty eyes, having to blink away the tears constantly to refocus your vision.

You didn't want to go. Your initial instinct was to burn the letter and hide from it, isolating yourself further and further until no one of your past life could ever find you again, lest contact you by owl. But you couldn't do that to Fred. He deserved everyone he loved and that loved him to celebrate his life, to tell stories of his triumphs and notorious endeavours in his time at Hogwarts. You couldn't be selfish this time, not for your Fred.

——

As you stepped into the all too familiar castle alone, you felt a dichotomy of feelings barrage you all at once. This had been your home since you were 11 years old, the place where you finally had a sense of belonging, where your best memories had been made, the place that you had met and fell in love with Fred Weasley and the place he'd died.

The castle had undergone extensive repairs and looked better than ever since the destruction from the war. Walking through the halls you felt both soothed and conflicted, the trembling of your hands never once leaving as you anticipated seeing everyone again.

"Y/n/n?" A familiar voice called from behind you, making your eyes close momentarily from the pain in their voice. You turned to see Ginny stood there, staring at you with a worried look on her face. She looked well, pretty, in sharp contrast to you.

"How?" She began to say as she walked towards you, thinking better of the statement before throwing her arms around you, "I'm so glad you're here."

You hummed a reply, already feeling an invisible weight tugging at you as you held your friend, the sister in law you'd once anticipated.

"Everyone's through here," she says, taking you by the hand as she led you towards the great hall, before you could protest. Your stomach roiled with nerves as you tried to keep your eyes down, not ready to see everyone again.

"Y/n?" A voice called out, the tone of shock and worry so intricately laced in the maternal tone it was hard to hear it. Molly. You raised your eyes just in time to see her move quickly towards you and embrace you tightly, the all too familiar smell of her and their home encasing you entirely. You bit your lip hard to stop the tears from falling, already succumbing to your overwhelming emotions as hard as you tried to deny them. Each Weasley took the time to give you a warm hug, even Arthur who had cradled you in his arms surprisingly tight.

When the last hug didn't come, you looked up with tear stricken eyes towards the body that had made no effort to walk towards you, George. He looked just as haunted as you, tired and frail as he looked upon you with sad eyes, tears silently falling down his face. You stared at each other for a moment, unsure of how to proceed until your lip quivered and a small sob escaped you. George rushed forward and pulled you straight into his chest, neither of you caring about the tears and sobs that fell from you both, too fixed upon each other to give a single care about the onlookers.

"I'm so sorry," you both said at exactly the same time, earning a little chuckle from you both at the ridiculousness of it all.

You and George never left each others side the entire  time, clutching hold of each other's hand as you navigated the painful memories and eulogies, each giving a squeeze intermittently to let the other know that you were still there.

Mcgonagall had called you away some time before the official memorial had began, walking with you towards the office she now held that was once Dumbledore's. George had reluctantly dropped your hand with a quiet, frantic whisper that you'd better be back soon.

"It's good to see you y/n," she says, gesturing for you to step towards the desk. You'd always felt a kinship with you previous head of house, both of you having a flair for transfiguration and underneath the sometimes harsh exterior, she had a wicked sense of humour.

"You too professor," you replied, trying to force an honest smile onto your face, not having used those muscles in months.

"Oh professor," she laughs, "call me Minerva," you says, scandalised at the notion of you calling her professor. You smiled warmly, this time not having to force the smile, feeling surprisingly comforted by her.

"You know, I always knew you and Mr Weasley would become an item, right from the day he turned your water goblet into a rock," she smiled, taking her seat as she gazed up at you fondly, "I am so sorry for your loss."

You chuckled at the memory, for once not feeling complete anguish at the thoughts of you and Fred. It was your first transfiguration class and you'd been tasked with turning your pets into water goblets as every first year is expected to do. You'd succeeded first try and Fred had then turned said water goblet into a small rock before your very eyes. To his surprise you had barked out a laugh instead of cursing him out for the ridiculous prank and you'd been firm friends with both the twins ever since. Only in your third year did you begin to catch real feelings for him and by your fourth year you were completely smitten. Before fifth year began, just before the Weasley's trip to Egypt, you were officially dating, finally saying I love you and the rest was history, never parting from each other once you'd found your person. You'd attended the yule ball together, been hand in hand for every task, even as the twins gambled their way through the games. You'd spent hours upon hours inventing, perfecting and packaging their inventions with them and had been been included every step of the way in designing and opening the store. You smiled in pure nostalgia as Mcgonagall's comment triggers a pool of memories for you.

"I've never told anyone this, except for Albus, but when I was a young woman, I lost the love of my life too," she says, bringing you back to the present. You look at her with a sympathetic look though with wide eyes, shocked by her revelation. "He didn't die so it's not exactly the same but he might as well have." Her eyes begin to cloud over as you can see painful memories coming to the forefront of her mind.

"I was a much younger woman then, having graduated from Hogwarts and securing a position in the ministry, the department of magical law enforcement. Before I left for London, I returned home and met a local farm boy, a muggle. Fred Weasley reminded me a great deal of him, perhaps that's why his passing has been so hard for me aswell. He was handsome, clever and so terribly quick witted he even gave me a run my money".

You huffed out a little laugh, knowing how fierce and funny she could be underneath the professional exterior. She sent you a warm smile as you listened intently to her story.

"He proposed not long after our whirlwind summer, right in the middle of a ploughed field owned by his father. I didn't hesitate for a second and said yes straight away, blindsided by love. After I'd accepted, I realised that the future I would be creating for myself would cut me off from the Wizarding world completely, just as my mother had when she married my father. I realised I couldn't live a life the only place I felt like I belonged, having to lock my wand away for ever, unhappily drifting through a life in which I'd rejected the gift I'd been given. Three days later I left for London alone though I never stopped loving Dougal."

"What happened to him?" You asked quietly, not wanting to upset her. She sighed in return, looking down at the desk.

"My mother informed me years later that he married the daughter of another farm owner in Caithness, I never heard anything else after that."

"I'm so sorry Minerva," you said honestly, feeling a tightness in your chest at hearing her story. Truthfully it had been your own form of distraction from your own pain and you were immensely thankful for that.

She sent you a sad smile, nodding her head gently as she looked up at you.

"You're probably wondering why I told you all of this," she says with a smile. Before you can protest, she raises her hand warmly like a mother would and smiled, "I have two points to sharing this personal story with you. The first, is that time truly does heal wounds. You may feel as if you will never be rid of this pain, not knowing how to go on or feeling as if you don't want to, and that my dear is perfectly understandable but every month will get easier, every year you will begin to feel less pain and more pleasant nostalgia until you find a version of yourself that had bloomed from the pain."

Your eyes had filled with tears again at her kind words. Something in her tone made you truly believe that this was true and that you did have a chance of healing eventually, but nothing was comforting enough to immediately relieve the pain, nor set your mind at ease.

"The second, is a gift of sorts," she says, reaching into the top drawer of her desk which she unlocks with a wave of her wand. You frowned gently, not knowing how to respond as she pulls out a little wooden box. She casts another spell and the box opens with an intricate unravelling of the wooden box.

Your breath catches in your throat at you recognise the contents immediately; the time turner that Hermione had been given by Dumbledore all those years ago.

"I'm sure you remember this, as I believe yourself and miss Granger made excellent use of this in your third and fifth respective years." You could do nothing but nod, overwhelmed at the sudden implication of the possibilities of the gift.

"As you know, nothing can be altered by reversing the time, everything will always happened exactly as it always had. I know how tempting it could be to try and fix the projection of our lives, but consider this a gentle warning as to why it is not practical to do so," she says, handing you the time turner. You feel the cold, heavy weight of the time piece in your palm as you inspect it, remembering every detail.

"I always wish I'd gotten more time with Dougal, even just to relive a singular moment or to see him one last time but I was never brave enough, never wanting to jeopardise how far I'd come in my healing. But for you, the gift of time could be invaluable."

You began to cry silently, tears unable to be held back any longer at her kind gesture.

"Thank you, so much," you said through the tears, struggling to hold back your sobs. She immediately stood and moved to wrap her arms around your shoulders, her cape falling over you as if she was protecting you entirely.

"You always were one of my very favourite students," she says, rubbing your shoulder. "Despite the trouble, the mischief was usually rather funny," she admitted. Both of you laughed for a moment at her words, your free hand coming up to wipe at your eyes.

"If I were you, I'd chose a memory that you weren't originally around for, you'll get more time with him. Unless you want to watch from afar," she says, straightening herself out, though keeping a firm hand on your shoulder.

You wracked your brain for a time that you weren't around Fred, finding it hard to think of any specifics. Showing up randomly at the burrow would only pose deep, unanswerable questions that you couldn't explain, everything had to fit to the exact projection of exactly what had happened.

A vague memory of Harry popped into your mind, a tale he'd told about the twins that had been endearing to say the least. You remembered him telling you about seeing Fred and George comforting a young boy in the courtyard that had been victim to Umbridge's unorthodox punishments whilst you were in detention with Snape. Perfect. There was no chance of you accidentally showing up, knowing that you'd gone straight to the common room after that particular detention and it wouldn't interrupt the greater timeline.

You closed your eyes and estimated how many turns you'd need, settling on a little over three full turns, praying it would be enough as you fixated on a certain point.

Immediately your sense of space and time began to shift as you broke through whatever dimension you were entering as the time turner rumbled in your hand.

You were immediately met by the sight of Snape's classroom door which was thankfully sealed shut. You ran immediately out to the courtyard, desperation and adrenaline coursing through your body as you fought to get to your destination quickly, not knowing how much time you'd have.

Your knees nearly buckled upon hearing hushed whispers around the corner from you, tucked away in one of the corridors.

"It's not as bad as it seems, see, it's fading already."

"You can hardly see ours anymore and the pain stops eventually,"

"Yeah."

You walk around the corner and your lip instantly quivers at seeing him. You had to act strong, be strong for him so he wouldn't worry, knowing you couldn’t change the trajectory of time but it was so hard.

He was crouched on the floor beside the stone bench where the young boy sat sobbing with George sat next to him trying to comfort the sad boy, showing him his own scars on the back of his hand.

Fred's hair was a little longer than it had been when he died, something that you had always loved on him, secretly preferring when his hair looked a little overgrown and shaggy. He wore a blue striped polo shirt with a mustard yellow long sleeve shirt underneath and his dark trousers, all of which complemented him so well. In the time between the current events and his death, you'd rarely seen him wear anything other than a fancy suit when he worked at the shop or a simple pair of sweatpants when he got home, usually exhausted. It was so refreshing to see him look so perfectly Fred, reminding you of the boy you'd fallen hopelessly in love with all those years ago.

George also looked great, wearing a matching outfit with contrasting colours that complimented him just as well. He looked well and happy and you had to hold back another quiver of your lip at seeing the boy you loved like your own brother be so different to how you knew him now.

Fred noticed you almost immediately as you walked around the corner, stood silently observing him beside the stone pillar and the wickedly playful grin spread all over his face upon seeing you. He sprang up from his crouched position and raised his eyebrows at you in surprise.

You immediately flung yourself into his arms and he caught you seamlessly with a little 'oof' at the sudden impact. Your eyes filled with the tears you were trying so hard to stop as the familiarity and comfort of being in his arms surrounded you. Nothing felt like this. You fit so perfectly into his arms that he had once mentioned that your body must have been moulded from his own, your head resting perfectly on his chest, directly over his beating heart. His scent surrounded you like a delicious fog, the familiar scents of sweet marshmallow and dark notes of whiz bang smoke clung to your nostrils as you took deep breaths in trying to fill your body with his scent so that you'd always remember.

You felt like you could finally breathe again, finally home where you belonged.

His arms had locked around your shoulders, keeping you firmly against his body, no doubt sensing your need for him in that moment. His hand played with the strands of your hair as he bent down to kiss the top of your head.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" He asks quietly, only loud enough for you to hear, considering you still had an audience. Hearing him address you, calling you sweetheart had your world shattering and you could no longer stop the tears from falling down your face.

"F-Fred?" You said with a shaky breath, trying desperately to hold back the sobs that built up within your body.

"I'm here, I'm right here," he said soothingly, rocking you both back and forth gently as he pressed another kiss to your head.

"What's happened? Did Snape do something? Umbridge?" He says, pulling you back slightly so that he can look you in the eye, his worry clearly evident on his face, the protective side of him coming out as he considered that someone had hurt you.

You shook your head quickly, knowing you couldn't say anything that would work as an excuse.

"No, I just, I just needed to see you," you said honestly, the innocence and the weight of your words tugging at your heart, knowing he would never know how much you meant it.

His brown pulled together quickly in a slight frown before it disappeared off his face as he reached up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

You tried to push away all the intrusive thoughts that plagued your mind, things that only propelled you to feeling sadder, things you wanted to tell him and all the things you missed about him but you couldn't.

"I love you Freddie," you said, looking directly into his eyes, watching as they sparkled and an honest smile pulled at his lips.

"Not as much as I love you sweetheart," he replied, pulling you in for another hug, though this one was more playful as he squeezed you, making a laugh erupt from your mouth.

You suddenly pulled away and looked towards George who looked on in equal parts confusion and worry. The young boy had gone, no doubt feeling awkward about the whole interaction, leaving you with just the twins. 

You broke away from Fred and moved towards George who stood instinctively as you approached him. You threw your arms around his neck and he fumbled awkwardly for a moment before moving his hands to wrap around you, holding you to him.

"I love you Georgie," you said. He chuckled against you.

"What the bloody hell happened in that potions room?" He jokes but suddenly squeezes you tighter and replies that he loves you too.

"Trying to steal my woman brother?" Fred says from beside us, his tone just as joking and playful as you'll always remember it to be.

"Maybe, I am the better looking one after all," George jokes as you slip out of his hold.

"My future wife disagrees, don't you sweetheart," Fred says, pulling you back over to his side.

You felt your heart shatter at his words and you tried desperately to act neutral under the circumstances, knowing that he had referred to you that way since fifth year. It had always filled you with pride and giddiness each and every time he would call you his future wife, the butterflies in your tummy fluttering wildly at his determination to marry you.

Somehow you found your strength and like magic you slipped into the moment, casting all thoughts aside as you spent your time wisely.

"Sorry George," you smirked, turning back to face Fred to really look at him, knowing that your time would soon be up.

"You think I'll make a good wife?" You ask Fred, who beams down at you with a smile as he slips his arm around you again.

"The best, only one I'll ever need," he smirks, his hand wandering on your waist to reach down and pat your bum.

"I'd do anything to marry you," you said, your voice breaking slightly towards the end as your emotions overcame you once again at the deeper, more painful meaning of your words.

"I have to go," you said to Fred, knowing that you couldn't linger around much longer. "Don't mention this again please, I don't want Snape to know I snuck out of detention," you lied. He nodded in understanding and you moved forward to give him a kiss, pouring your heart and soul into it as you clutched onto to the collar of his polo shirt, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

"I think you should get detention with Snape more often," he says, still holding you tightly to him. You laugh and nod enthusiastically as you spend your last moments really looking at him, trying to commit every inch of his skin to memory.

The little scar above his eyebrow, the mark on his nose, the curve and little bump on the bridge of his nose, the way his hair shaped his face perfectly.

His greeny brown eyes, always glittering with mischief, that's what you'd always remember of him.

"Bye Freddie, I love you" you said, barely able to contain your tears as you walked quickly away, hiding around the corner as you started to sob. You flicked the time turner back just the right amount and tolu felt yourself once again being pulled in every direction until you landed back in McGonagall’s office.

She’s still sat at the desk, signing some papers when you return and she offers you a kind smile, seeing your tear stained cheeks.

“Thank you,” you said, owing her all the gratitude in the world for gifting you the opportunity to see your beloved once again as you placed the time turner delicately back in the box on the table. She nodded warmly and smiled again.

“It’ll be here for you whenever you need it,”

She says, placing it back into the drawer desk, “now, shall we begin the ceremony?” She stands and gestures for you to join her and you do, already feeling stronger by the minute, like your brief visit with Fred had recharged you and given you enough strength to continue.

George slipped his hand into yours the second you were reunited, both of you sitting together as Mcgonagall lead the remembrance ceremony. It was hard to hear Fred’s name and the memories of him shared around the room, but you’d found a strength you didn’t know you had. You cried, you laughed and you celebrated him in every way you could, in the way that he had always deserved.

Epilogue

As the years drew on, you’d visited McGonagall’s office numerous times to visit Fred as it were, only doing so when you felt you desperately needed to, which happened to be less and less over the years as you found your strength. Sometimes you watched from afar as you both interacted, seeing the love between you and sometimes you intercepted memories so that you could interact with him, smell him and feel his skin against yours.

You never dated, feeling no pull or desire for another man in your life, never able to commit to anyone else, knowing that they would always come second to your true love. George had become something to you which you could never explain, a love of sorts which teetered between friendship and more, though it was hard to cross that line, knowing that anything you did would be irreversible. Years passed with you both stuck in limbo, until one day the line was crossed and you found no guilt or pain on the other side of the line but instead found comfort and love. You’d moved in together to a little cabin in the woods, the dream that you’d once had with Fred that George fulfilled for you and one sadness filled night had changed everything when you both sought comfort in each other, needing to feel like you weren’t alone anymore.

It was a natural progression to love George, and you both found that the only way of moving past your pain was to accept that Fred would always be the other half to both of you, with the rest completely dedicated to each other. You both knew you were the only ones that would be able to have this together, that somehow the gap left by Fred would remain but it would be comfortable, like an additional blessing to your relationship. No deciding between the two, no competition and no guilt at loving both.

You married a year after moving in together and you were happy, finally a Weasley just like you’d always wanted. You’d expected to be conflicted and initially you had been, but you and George were perfect for each other and you started a new life together, always keeping Fred in your hearts but finally putting yourselves and your relationship first.

When your first son arrived not a year after your wedding, you’d both cried tears of utter joy when he was born with fiery red hair and little freckles, a complete clone of both his daddy and his uncle Fred.

You didn’t name him after Fred, nor Gred or Forge as George had somewhat jokingly suggested throughout your pregnancy, but instead chose to give him his own name, letting him forge own legacy in this calm world, one where he would always know about his uncle Freddie and how he died a hero.

[little-diable]

Ragnarök - Sihtric (smut)

This was written for @whitedarkmoonflower since they won my 15k celebration as a reader! I hope you enjoy this as much as I do, lovie! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading his, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: After a brutal fight Sihtric can’t find his lover in the crowd of knights he fought with, praying to the gods that the female warrior he loved was still alive.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, a bit of angst, but mainly focused on their relationship

Pairing: Sihtric x fem!warrior!reader (1.8k words)

Picture from Pinterest, credit to the original owner

„There the dim dragon will come in flight, the glittering serpent, from Dark Mountains below. Bearing corpses in its feathers, as it soars over the plain, the Dark-Striker. Now she will sink down.“ - Völuspá: The Prophecy, Ragnarök

The battlefield was muddy, blood stuck to Sihtric’s features, arms, and armour. A sight that would leave any person who had never stood on a battlefield frightened, a sight Sihtric was all too used to. The fight had been brutal, no longer held back by rules, laws even knights would follow in battle, no, it had been awfully primal, watching men choke on their blood, swords and axes piercing hearts, stomachs, and lungs. 

But even though Sihtric found a sick sense of satisfaction swapping through him whenever he killed an enemy of theirs, he no longer managed to focus on the victory he should be celebrating with his friends and brothers. All Sihtric could focus on was trying to find her amongst the still-breathing soldiers, praying to his gods that she was alive. 

Panic began to swap through him as time kept ticking by, without any sight of her, the one his heart called out to, the one that had claimed Sihtric as hers many moons ago. (Y/n), the one he shared his bed with, the female warrior that had stolen Sihtric’s heart the first time their paths had crossed. He had instantly been drawn to her, admiring the fire burning in her eyes, the teasing words rolling off her tongue all too easily, she had been one of them from the first moment on, a warrior others looked up to.

Sihtric didn’t pick up on the call of his name, not caring about the way Finan tried to hold onto him, all too aware of his friend’s panicked state. The Irishman kept murmuring his name, hands covered in mud and blood, just like Sihtric, grasping his leather armour to stop his friend from carelessly stumbling over corpses of once honourable men and their horses. 

“Sihtric, look at me.” Finan eventually managed to catch Sihtric’s frantic gaze, allowing the man to catch his breath as his heart raced in his chest, urged on by the fright clinging to him. “What is with you?” 

“(Y/n), I can’t find her, I-” a cry wanted to claw through the once so fearless man, not used to being guided by his emotions like he was in that very moment. “Finan, where is she? She can’t be dead.”

“We’ll find her, I am sure she’s also trying to find you.” Finan let go of his friend, turning towards Osfeth with his head tilted towards his right, wordlessly trying to tell the young monk to follow the two. No further word was spoken as they combed through the endless seeming blanket of corpses, flipping some that had a similar build and hair colour like (y/n), praying every single time that it wasn't her. 

“What if she was taken? Gods, Finan, I left her alone, I wasn’t there for her.” Neither Osferth nor Finan was used to hearing Sihtric speak words this uneasy, clearly struggling with the fear he was held hostage by. No reply was spoken as Finan focused on something, or rather someone, unable to bite down his smile as he forced Sihtric to look in the same direction.

With a gasp rumbling through Sihtric, he took off running, pressing his sword into Finan’s hands before he left them behind. His body collided with (y/n)’s, pulling her into his chest with a relieved sigh leaving him. Sihtric’s lips kept kissing her forehead, trying to prove to himself that she was alive, held close to his heart, not leaving him any time soon.

“I thought I’d lost you, don’t ever leave me like that again.” His murmured words left (y/n) chuckling, shifting her weight to meet his lips in a bruising kiss. They could taste one another’s emotions, tongues tangled, hearts beating in unison, finally able to breathe through their fear, their pain. 

“I am sorry, I don’t know how I got lost in the crowd. I’m alright, I promise.” Her eyes flickered to Finan’s and Osferth’s approaching frames, shooting them a quick smile before she pressed another kiss to Sihtric’s lips, whispering a soft “I’d never leave you like that”.

……

The moon stood high in the dark sky, reflecting in the cold water currently teasing their limbs. Sihtric held (y/n)’s naked frame to his equally bare skin, still shaken up by the way he had looked for her hours ago, unable to let go of his uneasiness. 

No words were spoken as they cleaned themselves, removing the reminders of a brutal but successful battle. Another victory men, women, and children would talk about for centuries to come, they were sure of it. 

But even though the others had tried to pull the two lovers into their traps, wanting to celebrate their victory with endless pours of ale, neither Sihtric nor (y/n) had been in the mood to spend time with those they loved like their family. Sihtric had pulled (y/n) away from the crowd at the first chance, needing to feel her close with a sober mind and clear thoughts. 

“I have never felt more frightened than today, the thought of finding you dead because I wasn’t there to protect you-“ Sihtric choked on his words, having to force his teeth into his lower lip to stop his cries from clawing through him. A facade (y/n) saw through all too easily, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss.

The kiss wasn’t as heated, as forceful as the one they had shared on the battlefield, but it had something equally emotional to it, transmitting their every longing. A soft moan left (y/n) as Sihtric’s strong hands found her behind, pulling her against his hardening cock. She held a special kind of magic over the man, making waves of lust thump through his veins at any given chance, his very own Ragnarök, the chaotic end of his world, and those the gods had crafted for themselves.

“Sihtric,” she mewled his name, movements slowed by the river, needing a few moments till their legs finally found their way around his waist. His cock rubbed against her folds, making both hiss in anticipation, knowing that this night would yet be another one filled with endless orgasms, with their insatiable desire for one another driving them on. “I need you, need to feel you, need to make sure that you’re still here, with me.”

Sihtric forced her into another kiss as he started walking towards the meadow leading up the hill, shielded by the darkness from any drunken men and women that may find their way down to the river. A gasp managed to leave (y/n) as he placed them down, pinning her against the ground with his weight on top of hers, not leaving any space between them. 

“You’re mine, my woman, my warrior, till the day I die. I’ll never leave your side again, just the thought of losing you makes me want to end my own life. No day is worth living if I don’t get to share it with you.” The words Sihtric whispered against her swollen lips drew tears to (y/n)’s eyes, staring at her man with love and longing swimming in her pupils, only ripped out of her trance as she felt his calloused fingertips on her pulsing bundle. 

Expectedly he circled the soft flesh, finding enjoyment in the sounds she let go of, begging him for more, needing to feel him buried deep inside of her. There was no need for any words, nothing would ever manage to describe what they felt for one another, what they needed to do to give in to their longings. 

With his eyes burning through hers, Sihtric aligned his cock with her entrance, slowly pushing into her after he coated himself with her arousal. He took his time, wanting to savour every moment, wanting to hear the gasps leaving his lover as he sank even deeper into her, still having to adjust to the stretch after all these months. And only after (y/n) managed to choke on his name did he allow himself to properly take care of her, set on a ferocious rhythm that made both their hearts race in excitement. 

Profanities left Sihtric as he interlaced his hands with hers, pinning them over her head to keep her in place. He needed to control the moment, especially after a day like this, a day where he had gotten a glimpse into a future he wanted to avoid at every cost, needing to change their fate as he still had the power to do so. She was his end and his beginning, a story that had found its beginning in Muspell, the place not even the strongest souls had managed to endure, but no matter the biting heat, he’d walk through it all if it meant getting to love her. 

“Look at me, Sihtric.” (Y/n) forced his piercing eyes to focus on her, feeling his thoughts start to wander as the speed of his rough thrusts momentarily began to falter, needing to catch him before he could slip into a realm filled with darkness. “I’m here, with you. Nothing and nobody can ever change that, I’m with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

With her head being lifted from the ground, she kissed him, taking over the control to flip them around, straddling his lap. Both were desperate for their release, needing to feel that blinding sensation they were aching for. Sihtric kept watching her, marvelling at her, admiring her with his hands wandering up her frame, cupping her naked breasts. 

The way he pinched her hardened nipples forced her to arch her back, head rolling back to let go of a deep, gritty moan. Sihtric could have come from the sound alone, having to stop himself from giving in as he felt her walls flutter around him. He watched her fuck herself on his twitching cock, sneaking one hand down her frame to rub her bundle. 

And with the call of his name, (y/n) came, scratching at his naked chest with the intense feeling racing through her body. Once again she found herself pressed to the ground as Sihtric searched for his high, fucking into her even faster than before. He came with a gasp, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted. A sight so beautiful (y/n) wanted to freeze the passing by moments, forever needing to remember this very second. 

“I love you, and nothing will ever change that Sihtric Kjartansson.”

[axelsagewrites]

Absolutely love your writing would you mind doing another Robb Stark one where it’s kind like the Brienne Of Tarth one where y/n is Robert and Cersi daughter very nice and innocent and it an arranged marriage but they fall in love but this is set just when they meet and the royals arrive in winter fell and they’ve had a couple of conversations and maybe it’s their engagement party and y/n very overwhelmed so she goes outside and Robb follows her out worried. She’s nervous for the bedding ceremony cause Cersi has filled her head with these horrors of what it’s like wanting to protect her daughter in her own way so y/n is very clueless when it comes to anything concerning sex and being intimate.Y/n asks if they can kiss now so it’s like their first moment on their own without people watching them and he agrees and it’s starts off innocent but all y/n knows is that she likes kissing Robb and the way it feels so she just lets herself get lost in the moment as does Robb but when he gets a bit ‘exited’ he had to stop her wanting to be honourable to her but she’s like confused and Robb promises he’ll explain and show her when they r married so like kind of smutty as kissing can be a fluffy ending 💕

Robb Stark*Sweet Girl

Pairing: Robb x Baratheon F!Reader

Warnings: talks of sex, suggested assault, Cersei being herself

Word count: 4129

Masterlist Here

Everything was about to change. And if your mother was right then this was then Winterfell could have been a fate worse than death. For years your father told you stories from his life. In near everyone he would bring up the same name. Ned Stark. His brother in spirit, almost in marriage. The way your father spoke about Lynna was so beautiful that it almost made you forget he had a wife. His stories of the Starks were filled with honour and pride and love. When your father had first brought up the betrothal between you and Robb Stark for the rest of dinner you were excited. Then your mother invited you to her chambers for tea.

She poured it in silence before dismissing the maids and servants with a silent wave of her hand. The smile she wore was filled with sadness, anger, and a hint of love. Your mother tried to love you, she tried to love all her children, she just didn’t know how. The thing she always did was try and protect you, however.

The silence clung to the room like fog. Raising the cup to your lips, you took a small sip of the strong-smelling tea with a forced smile. “The teas lovely. Thank you, mother,”

Cersei smiled, not even picking up her own cup, “You have always been a sweet child,” You smiled at the compliment, but it was replaced with confusion as your mother continued, “Its one of my biggest regrets. My sweet girl you are to be married,” Cersei took your hands as your stomach bubbled with a mix of emotions, “And it is time you learned the truth of it all,”

“Your husband will not love you. he may like you; he could try love you, but he won’t,” as she spoke you felt your heart shatter in your chest, “The only ones you can count to love you are your children,” Cerci placed a hand over yours, but it was cold. “My sweet girl marriage is our war, and we fight the battles every day,” You knew there was no love lost between your parents but to hear her so crudely describe your future made the floor spin, “Sadly you’ve already bled but we’ll discuss the…details of what comes after another day,”

“What details?” you pressed.

Cerci sighed and looked off to the ceiling, “Men want one thing darling,”

“What do they want?” you asked, still clueless to what she was implying, “The septas always said I was a quick study, I can learn.”

Her hand dropped from yours with a hollow chuckle, “Oh sweet girl. Sweet, sweet girl. You really don’t know what you’re in for,”

You were to leave for Winterfell in less than a week and the whole week you spent listening into the whispers of lady’s gossip. It was also around this time you began to listen to how the men spoke. It made your skin crawl. Whenever you were in front of your father or siblings you did your best to seem happy for the wedding. You tried your best to be happy yourself. But your mothers’ words flashed over your mind every night. Maybe Robb would be different?

Travelling with your mother didn’t help much since she continued to tell you tales. She told you how to dress, how to act, how to conceal marks, how to flirt, how to act interested, how to lie. When you tried to ask how the deed was done, she did not have the heart to teach you. “Just lay their sweetheart. He’ll do the rest. Just don’t let him hear you cry,”

When you arrived at Winterfell all the joy you felt when your father first told you of the marriage was long gone. Despite this you tried you best to at least look happy. Maybe your mother was wrong after all. Anything was better than being trapped in this stuffy carriage for even another day. Clambering out of that carriage cage was like seeing sunlight for the first time.

The sight of people other than your mother and siblings made a smile appear on your face that for once wasn’t forced. Tommen clung to your side as your mother approached the Starks. Tommen tugged at your sleeve, and you pulled your gaze away from the tall walls of Winterfell to crouch down to him. “Which one are you marrying?” he whispered.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words. “Take a guess,” you whispered back, still crouched, as you finally looked at the row of Stark children. You knew which one was Robb in an instant. He had gorgeous curly hair and blue eyes you could see from even this distant. The clean shave showed off his strong jaw and even under the fur you could tell he was strong. Tommen’s eyes scanned the children before he sheepishly pointed to Robb. “What a clever little prince,” you whispered, ruffling his hair as you stood. A proud smile fell on his face causing you to grin.

When you looked up from your brother you noticed the piercing blue eyes were now on you. you felt yourself flush at his gaze and quickly turned your attention elsewhere. It didn’t last long as your father soon excited the courtyard with the lord of Winterfell. “Perhaps its time the children finally long met,” You heard Catelyn Tully say.

She seemed kind despite the Norths reputation for harshness. Your mother had drilled it into you recently that looks could be deceiving, however. You tried to ignore how your stomach flipped as your mother silent nodded before approaching your siblings. She merely gestured her head at you before disappearing to talk to Uncle Jamie.

Taking a deep breath, you took Tommen and Marcellas hands and led them over to the Starks. Joffrey was dragging his feet behind you, and you knew he would be no help in this awkward introduction. “Lady Stark,” you greeted with a bow.

“Your graces,” she said, bowing further down. The children did the same.

When a couple moments passed you cringed before realising you had yet to tell them to stand. You quickly gestured for them to do so, glancing behind to look for your mother who had likely disappeared to find a case of wine. “Lady Stark I-,” you paused, glancing at the expecting looks before whispering, “I have no idea what im supposed to do in all honesty,”

The laugh she let out warmed your cheeks but the chuckle you heard from Robb made your stomach flutter. It was deep and hearty and made your skin tingle, “Its alright sweet girl,” Catelyn said, taking your hand, “Its an honour to have you here,”

“The honours your grace. I’ve never seen a more beautiful castle,” Joffrey scoffed at your words, and you turned to glare at the snotty boy who quickly shrunk under your look. “My siblings,” you tried to return to polite conversation, “Joffrey, Tommen, and Marcella, and I are grateful for your hospitality. Perhaps Tommen and Bran I believe would make good play mates. Marcella and Sansa and Arya as well of course. I did get the names, right?” you asked.

Catelyn smiled a wide motherly smile, “Yes, my dear. Then I also have my youngest Rickon,” she said gesturing to the small boy clung to her furs, “and my eldest, Robb,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Robb looked even more handsome up closely, a fact that made it hard not to flush red.  “Princess,” Robb bowed his head as he reached his hand out. You paused for a moment before quickly realising he was reaching for yours.

“Sorry,” you muttered, now sure you were blushing, before quickly reaching your hand out. Robb chuckled again as he took your hand and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. His lips on your skin made a shiver go up your spine. “We meet at last,” you said with an awkward smile. The warm smile that spread on his perfect lips made you internally die at how dumb his looks alone had rendered you.

You quickly moved your attention onto the next Stark, begging silently for your awkwardness to fade. You could feel Robbs eyes on you, but you didn’t yet know how your forgetfulness and sincerity had charmed him. Robb struggled in fact to keep his attention off you since your arrival.

Tommen and Bran had indeed got on well, a fact you were proud to have predicted. It surprised you slightly that Arya played more with Bran and Tommen than Sansa and Marcella, but you were just happy to watch the children get along. Joffrey was likely off tormenting or gloating while Sansa and Marcella had stayed inside to learn embroidery. Tommen and Bran practised pretend swords in the courtyard while you sat a few feet away watching on a bench.

You clapped as Tommen finally began to get a hang of the glorified stick and grinned at his dopey smile. “Who’s winning?” a thick northern accent said from behind you.

Jumping slightly, you turned to see Robb had approached you without you even realising. “I’d like to say Tommen,” you said lowly, “but that’d make me a liar,” you grinned. Robbs laugh still made your heart flutter after your first week in Winterfell. “Would you like to join me?” you asked.

“It would be my honour princess,” Robb said before joining you on the bench with a small smile.

You laughed lightly, “You don’t have to call me that,”

“I kinda do,” he chuckled.

“Well as your princess im ordering you not to,”

“Is that so?” Robb laughed at your fake seriousness, “What happens if I do? Will you poke me with a pin?”

You thought for a moment before grinning “I’ll get Tommen to duel you,”

As you said this Tommen was struggling to even swing the wooden sword he had. “You’re cruel,” his laugh warm as he watched your brother’s spar.

“The cruellest,” you grinned. “Its my reputation. Everyone at Kingslanding fears me,”

Robb couldn’t control his laughs, but you couldn’t help yourself from joining in, “No offence princess but I don’t think you could scare a fly,” you gently stomped your foot on his, “Hey!”

“I told you not to call me that,” you fake glared at him.

Robb held his hands up in fake surrender. “I take it back. Very frightening. My shoe is terrified,” the dopey smile he wore was far better than the serious face that had first greeted you. Robb looked out to where the boys practised. “I could teach him if you’d like,”

“Would you?” You asked, grabbing his arm without thinking, “Joffrey teases him horribly and it makes him not want to try. Before we left, he could hardly hold it let alone spar. He would only practise with me in private and im afraid im not a very good teacher,”

“You can use a sword?” Robb asked, eyebrow raised.

“Not very well,” you grinned, which was partly a lie. You could use one, but you were no Jamie Lannister.

Robb grinned, “Well after I teach Tommen maybe I could teach you,”

“Maybe you could,” you said with a small smile. Robb grinned before getting up and joining the boys. You bit your lip as you watched how careful he was with Tommen as he taught him how to swing the sword. For a moment you couldn’t help but imagine what Robb would be like with his own son. Your son.

You clapped as the boys sparred, laughed as they failed and succeeded, smiled the whole time. the perfect afternoon. Robb bid you farewell when you had to leave to prepare for dinner.

When you arrived at your chambers it wasn’t long until your mother arrived. “Go,” she told the maids as she snatched the hairbrush from them, “I’ll be doing her hair,” she smiled at you in the mirror, and you did your best to smile back as she began to brush it. “I hear you and the Stark boy had fun today,”

“He taught Tommen how to spar properly,” you smiled softly.

Your mother did not smile however, “We have knights for that,”

“Yes, but Tommen gets nervous,” you said, and she just hummed as she began to braid sections of your hair, “Robb was really good with him,”

“He was trying to impress you. it wont last,” she said.

You ignored the tugging and pulling off your hair. However, when your mother began to pin the braids up you spoke, “Robb likes it down,” you said.

Cerci paused for a moment before continuing her pinning, more harshly this time, “You’re a southerner. We wear it up,”

“Of course, mother,” you said unable to stop your eyes prickling.

As Cerci was almost finished your hair she spoke again “I just don’t want to see you get hurt sweet girl,”

“I wont mother. Robb has been nothing but kind,” you tried to assure her, but she just scoffed.

“For now. Trust me my sweet girl. He will hurt you and you will learn to endure it,” she said, starring off to the side, “it gets easier with time. with wine,” she chuckled as she looked at you in the mirror, “You look beautiful,” she smiled with her hands on your shoulders. You didn’t thank her.

“I don’t like wine,” you said.

She dropped her hands from your shoulders, “You will,” she said before leaving to prepare herself for the feast. You looked at yourself in the mirror and it felt like a stranger dressed as your mother stared back.

“I love your hair,” Sansa squealed as you took your seat with the Stark children and your siblings, “Will you teach me how to do mine like that?”

“I could,”

“I can’t wait to be sisters,” she squealed again. You forced the smile onto your face as you agreed with her but for the whole of dinner you could not bring yourself to look at Robb.

You noticed his looks and acknowledged his questions, but you kept moving the conversation back to another person. Robbs face grew duller as the night continued and his attempts lessened. Sansa and Marcella kept asking about the engagement celebration happening tomorrow and you did your best to seem happy however as soon as the dinner was over you excused yourself.

In your chambers you hastily took out all the pins your mother had shoved in and tried to untangle all the knots. It did little to help, however. No matter what you did your mothers words ate away at you.

With the betrothment terms scheduled, part of which included you staying in Winterfell as a ward on the lead up to the wedding, your father had insisted on an engagement celebration. A feast filled with drinking and dancing and eating and singing and noise. So much noise. From the gossip to the slurping to the giggles and music; you were drowning in a sea of noise.

You couldn’t understand how it was a celebration of you and Robb when you had only greeted each other since the festivities had started. Part of that admittedly being because of your avoidance of the Stark boy. “When I said you had to dance, I assumed you understood I meant with him also,” your mother whispered sharply in your ear before plastering on her smile again.

All you could do was nod as you drank more wine from your cup. You thought the sweet wine would sooth your stomach, but it only made your head spin more. When Robbs eyes locked with yours over the crowd you felt your stomach burbling but not with, he excitement it had before. Your gut said one thing your mother another. Who was right?

When you saw Robbs smile you couldn’t help feeling the butterflies but when he began to cross the hall, eyes on you, it was as if the butterflies had suddenly lost their wings. “I’m going for some air,” you whispered to Clegane who had been set to guard you. when he nodded and stood you shook your head, “Alone. I’ll be back before anyone notices I left,” You were glad he wasn’t much of a people’s person and did not question as you slipped out of the hall.

Once you were in the corridor you were able to let out a sigh of relief before quickly navigating the now familiar corridors to find the courtyard. You took in a deep breath of the cold Northern air before pressing forward in your journey to sit on a bench just out of sight of the windows. Despite hearing the noise of the festivities, the space made it less overwhelming at least.

The cold wind on your cheeks helping your flush from the crowded hall. You had assumed everyone had been too wrapped up in their own drinking to notice however when a hand touched your shoulder you jumped as you realised you were wrong. “Are you okay?” Robbs face was filled with worry as he stood over you.

You opened your mouth to speak but words stuck in your throat. Robb moved to sit on the bench beside you, taking your hand into his. “What’s the matter?” his thumb stroking over your knuckles.

“I don’t know what im doing,” you whispered, closing your eyes, and leaning your head back to rest on the stone wall behind the bench, “And im scared,”

“Scared of what?” Robbs eyes were filled with warmth despite the icy colour.

You sighed as you weighed up whether to tell him. “My mother has told me stories. Of marriage,” you said. Robb sighed, his eyes dropping into a sad smile, “Of how some men treat their women. Of what I should expect,”

“And your scared?” Robb asked and you nodded your head. Robb took both your hands into his with a gentle squeeze, “I don’t blame you. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be dragged halfway across Westeros for a new life. But I promise you this; I won’t let anything hurt you as long as I live. I couldn’t live with myself if I was to hurt you in anyway. Im sorry that I have frightened you princess,

“Its not you,” you sighed, sitting up properly, “Its just. I’ve heard a lot about the things. Like you know. that man and wife do,” you said, and you couldn’t help the flush on your cheeks, but Robb did not laugh or mock your nerves unlike others would, “People keep talking about the bedding ceremony,”

“We won’t have one of them,” Robb cut you off, “I respect you far too much to have some old creep in the room,” you couldn’t help but chuckle at his brashness. “We won’t do anything like that until you’re ready. I wont force myself on you,”

“My mother says you will,”

“That woman has said two words to me since she has met me. She does not know me,” Robb said. “When we are married it will be our marriage. Not hers, not my parents, ours. And we make the rules of it,”

“I’d like that,” you said, a shy smile finally returning to your face. Robb had a dopey grin on his face as you raised his hand to kiss the back of it. “Thank you, Robb,”

“Anything for you princess,” you slapped his shoulder at the name, “Okay fine,” Robb laughed. “I’m sorry,” he held his hands up in fake defence.

You laughed and took a moment to enjoy the comfortable silence, “Can I ask a favour?” you broke the silence. Robb nodded and you sighed. “Could we kiss?” You said, face flushing as Robb raised his eyebrows confused, “It’s just I know we will have to eventually and- “you began to ramble, “I just don’t wanna do it for the first time in front of everyone like it’d just be nice if like maybe we had like a moment like between us and I know its dumb,”

Your rapid-fire sentence was cut short when Robb lightly grabbed your chin, “Its not dumb,” he said softly, “I think its sweet,” his hand moved to hold your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek, “And if im honest I would quite like to kiss you,” he whispered.

“I’d like to kiss you too,” you whispered back.

Slowly Robb leaned forward, his hot breath fanning your face as his warm fingertips brushed your cheek. You shuffled forward slightly, your hand moving to rest on his shoulder. His lips, grazing over yours, waiting for you to close the gap. You did.

Your lips pressed together softly, moulding together for a short but sweet kiss. It broke after a couple of seconds and for a moment you gazed into Robbs eyes which gazed back at you. his lips were chapped but had felt so soft against yours. The seconds they had touched yours had already made you addicted to the sweet taste.

Your lips crashed back onto his, more needy than before. Robb did not stop your movements, instead his hand slid back to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer to him. Your hands gripped into his shoulders as your lips moulded with his. Air no longer felt important to your lungs when you felt his tongue brush against your bottom lip. You opened your mouth slightly, almost moaning when he slipped his tongue in. the sweet taste of his tongue made your head dizzy as his other hand gripped your waist.

After a few moments Robb suddenly pulled back, “We should stop,” his breath was heavy and uneven, but his lips were too far from yours.

Your hand moved behind his neck, “Not yet,” you said, pulling his lips back onto yours. Robb almost groaned into the kiss your tongue joined in, moving perfectly in sync. The kiss was hungry like with first love, and it only stopped this time when you heard Clegane call out your name. you pressed your finger against Robbs slightly swollen lips until you heard Clegane sigh and storm away. You couldn’t help but giggle.

Robb let out a soft laugh at how you were acting, “Did that help ease your nerves?” He asked.

“Very much so,” you grinned, “We should do it again sometime. Lots of times,”

Robb grinned and shook his head, “Don’t worry princess,” he said, and you rolled your eyes with a smile, “we will later,”

“Why not know?” you asked, and Robb let out an awkward laugh as he glanced down at his lap. Your eyes grew wide as you saw the bulge fighting against the fabric of his trousers, “Oh!”

“Sorry,” Robb pulled away from your grip.

You quickly took his hand, “Its okay,” you assured him, “Besides we are going to be man and wife so in a way it wouldn’t be so bad if we were to you know,” you said with a chuckle and a blush.

Robb laughed lightly as he took your hands into his, “As much as I would love to. And trust me I would,” he said squeezing your hands making you blush more, “I wont dishonour you like that,” he said, and you frowned. “We’ll have plenty of time for it once we’re married,”

You paused for a moment, “What exactly is it?” you asked, and Robb laughed, looking at the ground, “It’s just I’ve heard stories, but I don’t know if I believe them,”

“Good stories or bad?” he asked.

“A bit of both,” you confessed, “Mother said it’s like a battle, but I heard another girl talking about a kind of kiss some men give women further south and she got all giddy about it,” you said, and Robb couldn’t help his laugh, “What? Don’t make fun of me!” you protested.

“Im not it’s just,” Robb shook his head, “I just don’t know how to explain it to you without sounding like a creep or offending you,” Robb laughed as you sighed and pouted at his refusal, “Tell you what how about once we’re married, I show you how it all works?” He offered with his own flush on his cheeks.

“Fine deal. Only if it includes that thing she was talking about,” You said and Robb laughed again, “Hey! The way she was going on about it made the whole marriage thing seem far more appealing,”

“Well in that case it’ll be the first thing I show you,” Robb said, placing a kiss to the back of your hand, “and that is a promise,”

“Good,” you said, sitting triumphantly, “Well in that case I hope the weddings soon,”

Robb couldn’t believe how lucky he had gotten with this betrothal as he laughed at your sudden eagerness, “Neither can I,”

Sequel kinda thing here set during the war

Game of Thrones Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy 

[middle-earth-mythopoeia]

There are about a million reasons why I love Faramir and Éowyn’s relationship and why I think it’s one of the most romantic relationships that Tolkien wrote, but do you want to know what isn’t talked about enough?

‘Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart, Éowyn! But I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten; and you are a lady beautiful, I deem, beyond even the words of the Elven-tongue to tell. And I love you. Once I pitied your sorrow. But now, were you sorrowless, without fear or any lack, were you the blissful Queen of Gondor, still I would love you. Éowyn, do you not love me?’

A lot has already been said about Faramir’s confession that he would still love her if she were the Queen of Gondor—and rightly so, because he’s basically saying he’s so hopelessly in love that nothing could ever change his feelings—but what REALLY does it for me, even more than that, is Faramir saying that she is VALIANT. He admires her bravery and her accomplishments in battle, and he says she has won RENOWN. Yes!!! YES!!!!!!!!!

Look, part of the reason Éowyn doesn’t want pity is that she doesn’t want to be looked down upon, and that’s what she associates with being pitied. But this isn’t really about another person’s pity—this is about how Éowyn sees herself. All her life, she’s been held back from participating in battle and from doing great deeds. In her conversation with Aragorn at Edoras, in one of my favorite scenes in the book, she delivers these searing lines: ‘All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honour, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more. But I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving-woman. I can ride and wield blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.’ Aragorn asks, ‘What do you fear, lady?’ And Éowyn replies: ‘A cage. To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.’

But at the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, she DOES great deeds! She and Merry slay the Witch-king of Angmar, Sauron’s MOST POWERFUL SERVANT. When you think about the power of fear that the Nazgûl had over most mortals, it’s absolutely astounding how brave this was for them to do. But even afterwards, Éowyn doesn’t appear to know the value of what she’s done. Part of this may be her grief for Théoden, and part of it may be the Black Breath, but the point is she doesn’t know what she has achieved. Because in the Houses of Healing, she says to Faramir, ‘I wish to ride to war like my brother Éomer, or better like Théoden the king, for he died and has both honour and peace.’ Éowyn still does not believe she has won honor—and so she does not have peace.

To this Faramir says, ‘It is too late, lady, to follow the Captains, even if you had the strength. But death in battle may come to us all yet, willing or unwilling. You will be better prepared to face it in your own manner, if while there is still time you do as the Healer commanded. You and I, we must endure with patience the hours of waiting.’ It’s important that Faramir doesn’t tell her she’s wrong for wanting to go to battle, only that she must heal, and battle may still come for them yet—and he says WE must wait. Éowyn didn’t want to be left behind to wait for the men to return, but with her and Faramir both waiting, it no longer has that meaning.

This is all important context for the confession. Because days later, in the most romantic conversation of all time, Faramir says these magic words: ‘For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten.’ LISTEN TO ME, IT IS SO IMPORTANT THAT HE SAYS THIS! THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT ÉOWYN NEEDED TO HEAR. It’s the FIRST THING HE SAYS IN THE SPEECH! Before he says she’s beautiful, before he says he loves her, he tells her she is valiant.

This is it. This is why this scene is peak romance to me. Because Éowyn desired to do great deeds and to win honor in battle, and she actually HAS DONE SO, but she doesn’t know it. And Faramir understands her, and not only that, he ADMIRES HER! ‘For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten.’ I don’t know about you, but that line ALONE would make me fall in love.

[themotherofblood]

mene payi taabahiyan | d.t x reader

part one | masterlist

synopsis; inspired by the song O bedardeya. The aftermath of Baelon being engaged to reader, you and Daemon battle through the fall out and the agony of it all

smut warning: unprotected, hate fuck (kinda? more like sad fuck) exhibitionism, against a tree.

There was no air left in the Throne Room, your hand clammy against Baelon’s hand clasped over yours. You were sure that if your hand had not rested against the larger palm of his - you would fall, face flat - a deer learning to walk again, your legs had begun to lose its function. How were you to bow with honour and nor could you look at your brother. Baelon pulled you down with him, as the static noise of applause finally filled your ears, the madness that was to follow lingered in your mind. Lords and Ladies took turns approaching both Targaryen princes, Daemon shuffled his way out of the Throne Room, leaving his new bride to be flushed and irked. Baelon received appraisals on your behalf as people simply put your blanked nervousness as you being overcome with emotions. 

Your own lack of breath might have left you looking maniacal, your brother Quentel followed you out, his larger legs easily catching up to your hasty steps, his palm yanking you back. While his own heart ached seeing your distraught face, your broken pleas finally graced your lips. “wh- why wasn’t I told?” your bottom lip quivering “I won’t fight this, but why?”

“It was always the deal, my children would have but my sons cannot, sweet sister,” he tucked a piece of your hair behind, “You will be Queen-” his eyes coated with concern “it would end the wars, once and for all,”

“I wanted Daemon, it was Daemon,” you nibbled at your lip to stop your tears, “I love, Daemon,” you pulled yourself away from him, finding no strength within yourself as you ran for the stables. Whisking past all attendants and guests, fleeing from the turmoil that wasn’t just the Red Keep but within you. The gown you wore pushed against your chest as you looked for Nysa, the stable boy looked startled as he knew no better than whether to help you or stop you. You raced past the gates, Nysa galloping with all her might as you tore through the streets of King’s Landing to its exit. 

Even with all the air whistling through your hair, your body found it lacking there of, all you knew was you couldn’t pretend to be shy nor accept congratulations for something that should have never happened to either of you. Baelon wanted no woman(very verbally), you  knew of this; why would he? If your devotions for Daemon were any testament, how would you find one to bring your skin ablaze like he did yours. For once, perhaps in the goodness of your heart you thought of Rhae Royce, Daemon would chew her apart if he acknowledged her presence in his bloodline at all. Your heart aching for all four of you, tied to a bargain that neither of you benefited from. All for the Realm, all for the King. All for peace. 

The moon’s milky light lit the damp leaves lining the woods, the darkness was no challenge nor fear to you than the turmoil you already were in. This time you wanted to run, truly run and yet you couldn’t ride Nysa all the way to Dorne, you couldn’t hide behind the viper’s nest if you wanted to. For all you know, it might ruin Dornish relations with the Realm for good, as each Prince or Princess made of hot Rhoynish blood would find something to squabble over. You could stop this once and for all, no more dragons blasting fire on your homeland, no more dead brothers on pyres. 

You stopped right at the edge of the Kingswood, shuffling off your saddle as you twisted Nysa’s reins on your palm. Leading a much confused animal to the dark forest, she an animal yet found herself aware of your sorrow. Smaller fireflies along with the moon gave you a sense of direction as you walked deeper in the darkness, your gown catching onto twigs that you paid no mind to, you wanted away from here, you wanted to go far away…with Daemon. Oh, Daemon

He might have beaten his hands bloody against a sparring dummy, which in truth he did. After weaning himself away from his new betrothed, he stomped down to the courtyard, screaming and shuffling off weapons to the ground as in rage he punched a dummy. The pain tearing through his knuckles. Much of his attention was occupied by brutalising a sack of leather and cloth, nothing mattered to him. You stood there, shoulder against his father and refusing to look at him as if you knew, perhaps you knew. If you didn’t, he knew you, your rage and your heart. You would have pulled away but you never did. 

You walked along him, you were no longer his, his lover, his princess. You were the princess royal now, you would be the Queen now. Sat below a man who swore to never touch another after Daemon's mother died, his mother. All the rules he broke yet he couldn’t understand what he did to deserve this, like air pulled from his own lungs - he knew not how to breathe, how he was without you. 

The sound of hastened anklets echoed past the halls, very distinct anklets, the only anklets in all of King’s Landing. You hurried fast, a blur of yellow silk hurtling past the dim walkway towards the stables, it took a while for Daemon to realise who it was but when he did. His eyebrows pulled to a tight frown as he found himself mindlessly following behind, you long gone until he mounted a brown mare of his own. Galloping towards the Dragonpit, hoping to catch a glimpse of you from the skies, no horse could ever outmatch the affliction for speed Nysa had. 

Caraxes swayed in the air like the Wyrm he was named, flying lower to find his rider’s lover. The shuffle of trees below, lining right under the green of the Kingswood, Caraxes landed himself right at the edge. Daemon lit a torch, you should have never ventured into these forests alone. Even in the pain, he couldn’t not worry, you were his responsibility until you said the words with his father at the Sept. You would always be his responsibility. Daemon waked into the dark, much aware that his dragon looked behind to prevent any harm coming to him, he knew where you would be. Where you’d always sit with your legs tucked together, only this time he wasn’t sure you were of yourself. 

You sat at the edge of the hill, tears coating your face. The silence in you had engulfed yourself and began to cause you more pain, so far lost in the relentless hammering of your heart against your chest you couldn’t pay mind to rustling in the woods. Perhaps it was a boar, waiting to have you pummelled to death so your physical body would be just as mangled as your mind was. Instead out poured the silver of your lover’s hair, eyes weary as he looked around to find you, and found he did. You waited for his eyes to soften like they always did when he saw you but they never did, the tight frown his eyebrows curled to never ease. Even in the darkness, the glow of his anger that glimmered within the purple of orbs was apparent, violent and unforgiving. 

The cries you wanted to form words now were long gone and the angered lecture Daemon was to present you with, too was long gone. With many stressors felt, not a word shared between the two of you. Such silence wasn’t comfortable, nor was it seductive. It was painful, like a white hot iron rod met human flesh, it stung and it stained. Daemon resorted to pacing as you turned back to the blackened scenery, rustles of his footsteps against the leaves and the night call of grasshoppers within the bushes only added to the comical misery of it all. 

“We refuse it, we refuse it and we wed each other at Dragonstone,” Daemon rambled, groaning the harder he thought “grandsire cannot wed us if we are already wed to one another, he won’t compromise his deal with the Seven.” He scoffed at the thought of it, it sounded bitter, resentful. 

“And have you, exiled? Much less my head on a spike,” you said, speaking only the truth of the matter for King Jaehereys had done much worse to his own blood for evading his orders. It was a fine thought yet a foolish one, to be wed and then be exiled away to Essos to live your lives as you see fit. Though you understood Daemon, if not his grandsire he would come to resent you for the pain of losing his family would eat at his wounds sooner than later. 

“What do you propose we do then, huh!” He yells, full throated, it echoed through the woods. His eyes wide and breath hot, his frustration bubbling to a tipping point. “Do you want to be Queen, forsake us for this…this farce?” 

“Do not yell at me Daemon!” You scolded him back, finger pointed hot at his face as you stood up to approach him. The Gods themselves would have found this argument rather entertaining, for their evil devices have now put you in this predicament: “this… marriage was a political arrangement, my brother gave his word!” 

“Oh fuck his word, you cannot mean it,” he groaned approaching you with much haste, his fingertips digging into your forearms “he is my father, father!” Even in the glow of the moon, gloss over the lilac of his eyes remained apparent. 

“Don’t you - I,” you rambled, yanking yourself away from his turmoil because to thicken the air around you “don’t you think I know that, I know that!” you shook your head, there wasn’t a way out of this. Not without hurting your family and by extension putting your House in jeopardy. “It would soften over many political troubles, Daemon truly.” 

“Just keep your mouth- you are mine, you are mine and I am yours,” his eyes furious and glaring, his already bleeding heart being gaped open of its wounds by your words “say it, damn it.” he reached forward once more to yank your head back, he couldn’t handle you not looking at him. Yet he regretted seeing the torn frown spreading on your face, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. There was a vicious sense of destruction covering the anger his sorrow was turning to. The words that fell after weren’t him, but perhaps the fires within him “we could let them talk, couldn’t we princess? Let them know the sweet Martell flower sullied with dragon seed? Hmm,”

“Who would want a soiled Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,” his nostrils flared, his words rarely sounded sharp in his own head until a sharp slap rang down his ear, the sting radiating through his cheek. You pushed him away, on the verge of losing any last shred of composure holding your body on your feet. 

“Fuck you Daemon,” you scoffed, chest heaving as the two of stared each other down, the moments away filling both your souls with such harrowing empty, a punishment worse than the black cells of the Keep. You wouldn’t survive this, you couldn’t. This time you charged at him, fingers digging into his jaw as you stood on your feet. Pressing your agony onto him through your lips, his own weight directed you backwards to the bark of the tree behind you. 

Your lips never once left one another, the tasted of salted tears mixed with the taste of spiced wines on both your lips. Palms wet, as you pulled one another closer, not close enough - it wasn’t enough. That if you were to end this love, let it destroy you both once more. Daemon’s hands shuffled lower, skilled and hasty he felt the silks of your small clothes. His fingers swiped over your clothed core, perhaps your conscience swatted your moral back into you as you protested. You couldn’t, not her and not with the apt protection of lemon heads. 

“Please,” Daemon whimpered, whimpered. Something you had never heard, when you pulled away you realised it was not just your own tears you had tasted. His forehead rested against your own, his breath hot against your lips. 

You rested your head back on the bark, stroking the back of Daemon’s head. “Take me, take me Daemon,” you said, what other consequences were left to suffer than the fate you now had to face. You pulled at your skirts, bunching them at your hips as Daemon returned to lay his salacious affections upon your neck, letting his fingers yank down your small clothes as your fingers did his trousers.

You upper back nearly rubbed raw as you indulged into the arms of your lover, his head buried in your shoulder with your legs wrapped around his hips. The sweet sensitive tingling between your legs only made you cry harder as you pressed your lips against his temple “I’ll never love again,” you weeped, choking on your words as another moan ripped through your body. 

“I’ll never live for anyone but you again.” he groaned, rutting his hips harder against yours as he chased his completion. His fingers rubbing tight circles upon your pearl, hoping to perhaps feel your cunny clench him empty one last time. The small yelps of pleasure echoed through the woods, the rustling of the leaves in the wind shielding this moment, frozen and intimate. You were sure search parties would be sent out to find you in no time. Your teeth sunk into the velvet pad upon Daemon shoulder, muffling the pleasure moans mixed with your tears as he snapped his hips to completion. 

For the days to come, you succumbed to the orders of courts. Picking flowers and fabrics, being told what you liked, in which Baelon visited once to agree upon the fabrics of his doublet for the wedding. His late wife’s signet ring still adorning his little finger, you weren’t sure how any of this might take place. Were you to kiss at the altar and never see each other again? Baelon spoke of having you sailed to Dragonstone, said you might find comfort there but not once did he speak to you. 

You had been summoned to the Small Council chambers once, to discuss a sensitive matter, one that wouldn’t have come to pass had the Old King not been so incessant about the number of heirs he had, with merely four left on the roster, your duty had only just begun as the Council demanded of a bedding ceremony. Their words had been far more colourful, painting all the reason why a room full of men should witness the deflowering of a young princess. Your body was rigid, there was nothing to deflower, you were no maiden and they would know. Baelon protested, palms slamming into the Council table with his fingers pointed at his father. This ordeal, painful as it is, he defended you, spoke of your honour and yet refused to let his soon to be wife suffer such humiliation in the name of customs. 

You supposed the temper Daemon inherited had been apparent in that moment, as the proper Prince Baelon, spewed tinted words of his abilities to couple and create a child. The discussion dwindled to this, they wouldn't watch but remain in the chambers to ensure the deed was done and inspect the sheets. There wasn’t going to be a fight about this. You monotone motions as you followed your routine of lacing your arm with his as if you were to entertain together. You stopped him and he still escorted you to your chambers, you couldn’t look at him. They would find nothing. 

“Daemon and I,” you began with a stutter, pulling yourself closer to step away from any onlookers “we -“ you shook you head, willing the words onto your lips “they won’t find blood.” 

“They will,” Baelon’s voice stern yet understanding, you opened your mouth and closed it yet again. His silence willing you to believe whatever he might have devised to save your shame. “I have yet to apologise to you,” he hung his head. 

“And I you,” you said moving away from the doorway of your chambers, Baelon looked to you confused. “It is no easy thing, you are forsaking much for the Realm,”

“You are wise darling,” he patted your palm rested on your knee. “I’ve watched you grow in these halls, you will be my wife in name, yes. You needn’t be afraid of me,” he gave you a tight lipped smile, a broken giggle tore through you and perhaps in weeks someone finally saw the pain you were in. After your night in the woods, Daemon drank himself silly in the tavern’s of Flea Bottom, with a fortnight he earned the title of the Prince of Flea Bottom. 

Daemon’s wedding was to resume first, while his bride to be still seemed aloof to the tensions around her, Jaehereys had the City Watch contained to keep his grandson from running away, though hidden somewhere deep in the city. Daemon returned the night before his wedding, only to tear apart his chambers in a drunken rage, refusing to marry Rhea Royce still, how you often wished you were a Prince or Lord, then even you could exclaim you distaste in such a manner. Baelon tried to contain his son, rumours swirled that one could hear the proud Prince weep to his father, the reason unknown and many speculated that Rhea was too old for Daemon's tastes. How you wished it were true, that age is what kept Daemon so curt to his betrothed.

The night before the wedding, you couldn’t sleep as you paced or lounged staring at a wall the entire night, you were willing him to come to you. He never did, having fled to the brothels once again, you picked apart the embroidery on your shift the entire night. The sun peaked through when you realised sleep hadn’t visited you once. Your handmaidens took much care in dressing you, the hems of gowns dropped, more conservative. You looked at yourself and you couldn’t find yourself, merely the shell of the lady you were meant to be, the Queen. 

The procession had gathered in the Iron Throne, parts of the court divided between the Throne Room and the Grand Sept where Daemon should have been an hour ago, the people of King’s Landing flocked to the streets to witness yet another royal wedding. Perhaps catch a glimpse of the bride to be or their notorious Prince. The halls called to you as you ventured towards Daemon's apartments, your own betrothed away from the feasts and sure to be barking sense into his son. The thrashes and sound of darkened protests could be heard from three floors below. 

“Get your fucking hands off me!” Daemon bellowed, jangles of armour followed after as he screamed and fought. Jaehaerys too had been in his rooms, the King ordering his grandson be hauled to Grand Sept. You hid behind a seated section, watching as the King slowly descended the steps. How could a man cause such strife within his family and continue on? 

For much love that you adorned each other with, instead of earning each other’s names, destruction came knocking down your door. You regretted it, the second the image of Daemon’s face reddened with anger graced you, the urge of running away creeped up with bile around your throat. Jaehaerys already departed for his wheelhouse, leaving just you, Daemon and Baelon in the corridors. The small interruption of your figure popping from behind the curtains allowed Daemon to truly yank himself off the Kingsguard men. 

It felt merciless, far too merciless as you stood in front of him. Bound to duty instead of him, yet you wanted him still. Daemon had wanted to hate you, for nights since your last encounter in the woods. You were deceitful, you were merciless in your decision. Fucking away any memory of you on painted whores and yet he couldnt, noting was soft enough, nothing was you. His lover, his cruel lover, you were subjecting him to this misery while you quietly lingered on your own. Heart of stone behind the yellow of your dress but your eyes still wet, he didn't need your pity as he shook his head, praying that seeing him in his maroon doublet would fill you with sense, mayhaps flee why you still had the chance. Even at six and ten, for you? He would cut through his grandsire’s Kingsgayrd like meat. You approached him, cautious and stiff, your arms engulfing him once more, just once more. 

“Please go Daemon, without anymore quarrel,” you whispered in his ear, squeezing him harder. Even in the warmth of your embrace, his heart shattered, scattering to a million tiny pieces. Taking the final honour, he never expected you to, he expected you to fight for him, fight for your love and here you twist the knife harder in his green wounds. He went rigid, he lifted his head from your shoulder. Purple eyes, lifeless purple eyes looking over your face with one sorrowful smile. He pressed his lips to your forehead pulling away, the Kingsgaurd stood ready once more to drag Daemon to the Sept but this time he walked, his princely stride thudding down the steps without a second look to you, his tyrannical lover with your black heart. A decision of much political gravitas, your loyalty to your house, earned you nothing but the carnage of black burning bodies of what was you and Daemon. 

Having witnessed the worst of it, the words Rhea and Daemon shared, their hands wrapped together, the gold and red woven cloak of House Targaryen upon her shoulders, the kiss that sealed their union in front of the eyes of the Seven, “cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder” the High Septon had said, could your future be anymore cursed then it already was? What was the next worst thing, your death? Mayhaps his? The feasting said and done, Daemon not once made any efforts to dance with his bride as he revelled in his cups, Rhea, the poor lady made an offer and attempts to perhaps ease the scowl settled on her husband’s face to no avail. His daggered eyes steadily remained on your figure, conversing and laughing, laughing with other ladies of the court. Many of whom flocked around you to perhaps make your roster of ladies in waiting. 

The worst of it was Daemon resuming to his bedchambers to find Rhea, dressed in her corsage, dressed to stir his loins. A good bride awaiting to be bed by her noble husband, he didn’t mean to be curt but all he could do was scoff at her, a beautiful maiden and all he could think of was you. He couldn’t bed his new wife with the same indelicate manner he did with the whores of Silk Street. As he turned to leave, Rhea, annoyed by right, held onto his forearm “please, it is improper not consummate- we have to,” she urged him, feeling the brunt of what she had shrugged off for weeks. Her husband did not want her. 

“I don’t have to do anything,’ Daemon yanked his hand free before leaving Rhea alone to sleep through her wedding night. 

The days after followed the same, ships loaded in for the royal wedding for every inch of Known World. Your gown finished and resting in your receiving chambers, you too rested under the loopy haze of Nightshade prescribed by the Maesters, the misery apparently resulted in you forgetting to eat, or even having much water or wine. Your head pounded for days as you were thrusted up like a doll in front of the mirror, your gown being altered, the veiled being fitted and the gowns for formal receptions after. As ladies in your bedchambers giggled and gossiped, feasting on candied lemon cakes, your mind so heavily focused on the lace across your waist. You fell, gasps and attendants rushing to your aid as you laid unconscious on the stone floor. 

Baelon was the first to be informed about his bride to be’s condition, your brother Quentel there after, when Daemon finally returned from the brothels, stinking of ale and far more salacious than when he left. As Daemon heard of your fall, his feet were quick towards your chambers. The curtains pulled to shield away the light of day, you laid rested against a mount of pillows. Aemma sat next to you, a book comically rested against the hard swell of her belly as her other hand caressed your head.  Daemon curled his lips inot his mouth as he approached your sleeping frame. 

When Aemma spotted him, she gave him a sympathetic smile as she kept stroking your head. Even in your sleep a frown framed your angelic face, Daemon wanted nothing more than to soothe it away but his heart still held its resentments. He looked up to his good sister, opening his mouth to speak but she knowing all too well of his queries, filled him in. 

“I hadn’t realised she was hurting so,” Daemon whispered, your palm clutched in his hands as he stared up at your face, the frown, the darkening under your eyes. He should have seen the agony but in his own selfish ideations he didn’t. “We don’t have much liberty in these matters Daemon, she cannot whore or break things as you do,” Aemma lectured Daemon, tutting at him as he shuffled a little too hard.  

“I was so consumed by her decision, I didn’t see why she made it,” he said sadly, still rubbing circles onto your palm. Aemma lightly chuckled. 

“Us women never have a choice, it was already made for her she had to adhere to it with a stiff lip,” Aemma said, looking down at you with melancholy. 

Daemon returned to his own bedchambers that night, still lingering in the thoughts of the conversation he had with his good sister, a woman learned and wise that lectured some sense into the prince. “Us women never have a choice,” any other prince of reason would respect the predicament their lover had put themselves in but Daemon was going to make a choice for you. A choice maligned by all the laws of Westeros, his name forbade him to do so, but he wouldn’t be his mother”s son if he didn’t. He dressed himself in armour and armed himself with Dark Sister. A boy, making the choice of a man as he pushed open the passage door from his bedchamber and made hasty steps towards yours.

Your sleeping form, just as warm and dazed as he left your moments before. This time he bent down down to kiss away the frown on your face before wrapping the black blanket over your body and scoping you up. A darkened bundle of bones and flesh in his hand, his love, his heart he smuggled through the walls of the Red Keep. His heart hammering against his chest, as skirted past the watchful eyes of the night guard. He walked with you in his arms, a hood pulled over his head to shield away the glaring blonde of his hair. 

“Ñuha dãrilaros?” the dragonkeeper questioned as he looked at Daemon with you covered in black blanket, he would question some more until Daemon glared at him 

“If you do not wish to be fed to Caraxes, get the fuck out of my way,” he sternly whispered, though the strong effects of nightshade kept you under, he didn’t want to test his luck any further to night. With much care, Daemon bundled you closer to him as he fasten you to his saddle, and tightened the blanket around his waist “sovetes,”

Come morning, the private council called was a rage,a missing prince and princess. Daemon, though finding comical responsibility, left a note. Jaehearys in his old age coughed orders of bounties, as Baelon read over the written note by Daemon, one written with haste and yet with perfected penmanship. “Forgive me father,” Baelon began to chuckle, putting away the parchment as he couldn’t process the hilarity of the situation. All he could think of was Alyssa, Daemon was her son, through and through, defiant, fiery. A dragon. Jaehaereys began to bark at Baelon over the fit he had been in, “come now, father,” he coughed to halt his laughter “what did you think would have happened?”

Jaehaerys near the end of his life might have passed right there, having felt the rage he did with Saerra he never understood why his kin must always go beyond his orders, always. “My son has become more a man than I am, there throw a feast,” 

“He has a wife, he must return!”

“Unless you wish to outlive Viserys and I, this is one crime you must let go unpunished!” this time Baelon raised his voice, “for once, think about my boy and not about the Realm,”

Daemon had not planned where he would head, but Westeros wasn’t his home for now. You were, just as you always would be. 

[b00kdiary]

Unexpected (Part I)

Aemond Targaryen X Betrothed Baratheon reader

Aemond Targaryen is sent to Storm's End to secure a marriage pact to gain the Baratheon's alliance in the war. And yet, when he discovers Y/N Baratheon, the black sheep of her family, hidden away at his arrival, he knows that fate has predestined their meeting. He has to have her.

Warning: long chapters, swearing, eventual mature content (18 +)

Masterlist (Aemond Targaryen)

“Prince Aemond Targaryen”

My name was announced as I entered the dark and macabre hall of Storm’s End. My eye quickly flickered to the round and dark-featured male sitting upon his chaise, watching me as I moved towards him.

The room was silent besides the pattering of rain against the stone walls and the click of my heels against the floors.

“Prince Aemond” Ser Borros Baratheon greeted, his head dipping in respect, though he did not stand from his chair.

I didn’t particularly care for the impertinence, but my boredom at this tedious affair was pushing me to end this quickly and fly home.

“Lord Baratheon, thank you for extending your welcome to me. You have a fine home.” The words were still and passive as I stood before the man. He observed me, eyes weary at the eye patch adorning my face and the various daggers and swords strapped across my body.

They were not for him, I reminded myself, trying to ease my posture to not be honed for violence and battle.

“It is an honour to have you here Prince Aemond” Borros replied, his deep voice echoing in the large space. “The raven your mother previously sent was persuasive indeed, a rather beneficial alliance for my house should we choose to ally with your brother instead of Princess Rhaenyra.”

He chose his words carefully- brother, not King and Princess, not Queen.

“I don’t see any downfalls to joining our cause, Ser” I raised my brow, scrutiny across my tight face. “King Aegon has the allyship of majority houses and their men, and should you too ally with us not only will you be on the winning side of this war but your grandchildren will be both of Targaryen and Baratheon blood.”

The idea slithered across me in disgust, the prospect of marriage and children one that brought a scowl to my face.

Though I did not show it, I would do my duty to my family and marry.

But that did not mean I had to do so with a smile on my face.

Lord Baratheon considered, his large chest rising in a deep exhale as he nodded in agreement.

“Right you are Prince Aemond.” He said, and I nodded my head in thanks, victory filling me at the notch in our belt against my whore sister and her bastard children.

“Bring in my girls” Borros called, his dark eyes shifting to the left doorway, a mixture of pride and uneasiness etched across his face. My lips thinned and I hide my gloom as four ladies strode in, each beautiful, tall and thin with dark hair and eyes and lovely gilded skin.

I wouldn’t pretend that they were unpleasant, but as my eyes ran down the line, ignoring the hopeful and pleasing smiles etched onto each girl's face, I frowned.

“I was told that you had five daughters, Lord Baratheon.” The room shifted at my words, Borros tensing as each girl's smile faltered. “There are only four here.”

“Indeed Prince” He rustled out, rubbing at his beard with annoyance. “My youngest daughter is… not suitable for this arrangement.” The words came out in a hesitant, strained tone.

“Her age?” I asked my brow-raising, curiosity filling me.

How unsuitable could she be that her father would deny her the chance to marry a Prince?

“Ten and eight,” He said frowning “But that is not the issue at hand. There are four of my very beautiful and endearing daughters before you, you may choose between them.”

My eyes narrowed at that command and Borros stiffened as I stepped closer, the light above cascading over my severe expression.

“What is wrong with her exactly?” I demanded, my voice slipping into that calm storm that had most men shaking, and though Borros contained himself, fear flashed in his eyes.

“She is not particularly trained for the challenges of marriage, My Prince” One of his daughters, the girl in the middle stated, her eyes bright and lip quirked as she beheld me. “ We consider her a bit… simple and strange in our family.”

The other girls giggled, hands covering their mouths delicately as she spoke and my eyes tapered, silencing their teasing.

“I will choose my betrothed upon seeing all of your daughters, Lord Baratheon, as is my right” I mandate stoically, eyes falling back to the rage and ire that shines on the Lord’s face. He looks as if he will protest and even the young women beside him look outraged, but no one disagrees.

“Mary” Lord Baratheon calls to the Lady-in-waiting standing by the door, his voice a sharp slice “Call for... “

“No need for the trouble Lord, I will follow Mary to the young ladies' chambers and return with my answer. The walk will allow me some needed time to think, I’m sure.” I tried not to show my distaste at the girls before me, but still, they seemed stiff with indignation.

I didn’t wait for the Lord’s reply before strolling over to Mary, and her face flushed and auburn hair fell to shield her face as she bowed to me in greeting. I nodded, tilting my lips in what I hoped was not an intimidating greeting and she calmed marginally before turning on her heel to lead me through the doors.

To the unwanted daughter that lay beyond.

***

“Gods, I am going to throttle Floris for touching my things. She never puts them back where they belong” I mutter, growling in anger as I grabbed my discarded book off a completely random shelf, a place it had not been before.

The doors of my chambers click open, and with eyes firmly on the novel in my hands, I turn “Mary, tell me, which of my miserable sisters did the Dragon choose as his prey” I tease, chuckling.

“The Dragon is yet to decide which prey suits him.” An amused and deep voice rasped.

I gasped, my book clattering to the floor as my eyes beheld the silver-haired, one-eyed Prince before me. “Shit!” I whispered and then winced at the profanity as I ducked to grip the book back into my shaking hands.

The Prince watched me with a wide and surprised eye, his lips twitched slightly at the corner as he observed my rattled form and obscenity.

“My Prince” I bowed quickly, discarding my book and attempting to recall how the Septa would scream at me to bend my knees lower and straighten my back. “I express regret, I had not been expecting your presence in my chambers-“

His eye glosses over the room at my words, taking in the books littered carelessly across the floor and tables, the clothes scattered in a heap at the corner of the room and I close my eyes in humiliation as his eye finally falls to my white and fitted nightdress.

The one I had adamantly not wanted to change out of.

I fiddled with my fingers, nerves wrecking through my body as I beheld his scrutinising watch, his face tensed with contemplation as he looked at me. His face revealed nothing of what he thought though, that angled and strong face a wall of impassivity.

My gaze flickered over him, having never seen him before. I took in the tight and form-fitting leathers that clung to the toned body beneath obscured by his long coat, the assortment of weapons strapped to him before tracing over the thin line of his pursed lips, the smooth texture across his severe face.

And that eye patch.

He hardened as my gaze fell upon it, as if in expectance, as if in interest at my reaction. Though when I merely cocked my head, curiosity and gentleness filling my eyes at the soft scar and brown leather, he seemed to relax, huffing quietly.

“It would seem that you were neglected from the introductions today, Lady –“ His brow raised in expectance and I stepped forward, arms folding over my body to hide from him.

“Y/n, Lady Y/N” I replied quietly and he nodded softly in acknowledgement.

“I was told that you were not suitable for this arrangement Lady Y/N, despite being of age and your sisters implied that you were not appropriated with the requirements for marriage.” He drawled, observing my reaction as he spoke.

“Let me guess” I muttered, biting back the bitterness in my tone “They described me as simple and odd, a cordial way of calling me a freak and unparalleled to them as a Lady and woman.” I scoffed out a laugh at that tired dialogue, and the Prince's eyes seemed to light in response, his body now leaning against the chest of draws at his side.

“Indeed” He hummed, curiosity and intrigue beaming in that sole eye.

***

The girl before me was not what I had been expecting.

I suspected that the fifth daughter had some kind of abnormality, a deformation that had marred her as unpleasant or made her act out.

And yet, as I stared at the blushing girl before me, it didn’t quite make any sense.

She was lovely, not like her sisters but unique from them.

Her chocolate brown eyes were wide and doe-like, intently watching me as I considered. She had thick and flowing straight mousy hair that was untamed as it fell down her back and shoulders, laying across the nightgown she had clearly not cared to remove.

It told me that either she had not been expecting company, or she did not care to impress said company.

My lips quirked at that, amusement filling me at, indeed, the strangeness of her character.

My gaze trailed lower, grazing over the supple breasts prominent below the white gown and then over her soft and curved hips and the stomach that sat out against the cotton material.

Unlike her sisters, she was much shorter and curvaceous, her body shaped with flesh and softness that went from the roundness of her blushed cheeks, to her breasts and ass, and I imagined filled at her hips, stomach and thighs.

She flushed slightly at my wondering eye, her hands clasping and unclasping before her, her restless feet rocking back and forth, as if desperate for me to either speak or leave.

She didn’t appear frightened of me though, besides the initial shock that had her jumping and swearing at my entrance, she hadn’t so much as stuttered as we talked.

“What do you think Lady?” I asked suddenly, my arms folding over my chest. She quirked a brow at me, surprised that I was asking for her opinion.

I imagined that very few cared to hear her thoughts in this place.

“I-“ She paused, swallowing as she looked down for a moment “I understand their sentiment, I have never been one for embroidery or etiquette classes, not particularly amenable. Especially not for a Prince. My sisters have excelled in that department and they are better suited to marry into the Targaryen family and bring honour to the Baratheon name.”

The words were quieter and tamed in comparison to the girl I first found when entering the room. I bit back my ire at that shining insecurity, that familiar ache of understanding running through me at the displacement she felt.

“Tell me about yourself” I demanded and she balked at that. I chuckled, low and throaty and she bit her lip in weariness. “Tell me more about what you like Lady- if not etiquette and embroidery then what?”

She contemplated for a moment, her hands rubbing against her thighs as she still gnawed on that plump lip. I begrudgingly dragged my attention away from her lips as she spoke.

“Reading,” She said nodding, her eyes lighting as she looked at the endless books scattered across the room. “I enjoy reading. And being outside; in the garden, the neighbouring villages… I used to train with my father as a little girl, wooden swords and then eventually a bow and arrow.”

I quirked my brow at that knowledge “Not many young ladies find interest in weaponry and fighting.” I say, though my words hold no judgement and she smiles slightly in appreciation at that.

“No, they don’t. And, such in my case, even if they do the unspoken laws of society deem it inappropriate” She rolled her eyes with ire and I hummed in response. “ But still when I can, when no one is watching and I have the time, I will practice archery and occasionally mimic what my father does with a dagger or sword.”

Her words held purpose, that shine of passion and delight flashing across her eyes as if in memory.

I don’t know why I did it, what came over me but before she could begin speaking again, I tore my dagger from its sheath and with imperceptible swiftness chucked it toward her.

Most women and some men would have recoiled, and rushed out of the way in instinct.

And yet, she caught it.

Her fingers wrapped around the handle, slightly off-kilter, knuckles white as she panted, her eyes wide in disbelief.

I smirked slightly, nodding to myself as I stood up straighter. My arms linked behind my back as she gaped at me, her large eyes flickering from me to the shining dagger in her right hand.

“What if I hadn’t caught it?” She demanded, a trace of anger lacing her words.

“But you did,” I replied simply, and her eyes narrowed down at that nonchalance lacing my tone.

Gone was that shy girl.

Good.

My face fell back into neutrality as I began to stalk toward her. She stiffened at my approach, her hand still holding that dagger before her as she watched me with weariness. I stopped an inch in front of her, that dagger's edge pressing into the leather at my rib.

She exhaled sharply as her uncertain and anxiety-riddled eyes observed me and she audibly inhaled, her hand shaking as I grazed my thumb against her palm, the dagger falling into my awaiting hand.

Y/N remained silent as I sheathed the dagger back in my belt, her breath a hot and shaky caress over my chin, her eyes looking up at me with perplexion.

“Lady Y/N,” I said calmly, my lips tilting at the corner in a lazy smile “ Please pack a small overnight bag with some clothes and necessities.”

She froze, lip pulling into her teeth as she hissed.

“Why?” She whispered back, hoarsely.

“Because you will be returning to Kings Landing with me.” I said, a low and carnal rumble “as my betrothed.”

***

I gaped, my mouth falling open in utter shock.

As my betrothed.

My heart was hammering in my chest so loud that it was all I could hear, all I could comprehend as I stared dumbly at the Prince before me.

“What?” I spat, noticing his eye spark in humour at the lack of formality and propriety behind my baffled tone.

“Pack whatever you wish, the rest can be brought over in the coming weeks.” He ignored my horror and trembling body as he stood back, his gaze shifting towards my door with veiled boredom. “I should go and inform your father and sisters of my choice.”

My sisters.

Oh, gods. My sisters.

I had just stolen their chance with the Prince, unwittingly yes, but they won’t see it like that.

“You worry about their reaction?” He asks, his jaw clenched, and I can’t form the words, so I merely nod in reply. He scowls, lips curling back from his teeth, “Not even the Gods could deny me what I want my Lady, your father and sisters stand little chance.”

My heart stuttered at the cruel and downright possessive tone and before I can even respond, the Prince is turning on his heel and coolly walked through my room and out the door.

Oh, dear Gods.

My hand was clutching my chest as I panted, desperately trying to gather myself when my eyes lifted to Mary, my lady-in-waiting, standing hesitantly by the door.

“The Prince chose me” I whisper, shock and horror present in my stiff body and wide eyes.

“I know” She nods, her face grave and she rushes towards me with a shaky sigh. “It is ok, Lady. You must breathe… here, sit” She pulls me over to a chair and my body collapses against it with a thud.

“Ok?” I choke, my voice and alarm rising “I am not suited to marry anyone, never mind a Prince of the Targaryen family!” I spread my hands over the cold wood of the table, digging my nails into the roughness to draw myself out of the hysteria.

I gasp, chest heaving up and down, up and down as I begin to hyperventilate. Mary rushes to kneel beside me, her golden eyes bright with worry as she rubs soothingly at my back.

“Y/N” she calls and snaps her fingers before my eyes to bring my attention back to her. “Do your list, tell me… tell me what are the pros and cons of this marriage” She beseeches with a straight and calm face.

Pros and cons.

My mind focuses, pushing out the blur and begins to flick through them, beginning with cons per usual.

“He’s said to be a very terrifying and ruthless man, I’ve heard some terrible tales about Prince Aemond.” I shudder, but she ushers me to continue “His family is in the middle of a civil war, I could get caught up in that nonsense and knowing me I’d probably get killed.” I whimper.

“And the pros?” She urges, nodding to me.

“He didn’t… he seemed normal, a little icy but not cruel or scary like I had thought he would be.” I say, nodding along tentatively as Mary does, a small smile gracing her lips “And… I suppose that Kings Landing would be rather beautiful, full of culture and experience. The opposite of Storms End.” I feel that clenching pressure in my chest begins to ease as more and more positives start to outweigh the negatives.

“One more.” She stresses, smiling encouragingly as my breathing evens out.

“And my sisters are going to cry with fury when they realise that their freakish, unpleasant little sister has snagged the Prince that they were desperately fighting each other for. They didn’t even consider me a contender, had bad-mouthed me, and yet it is I who will become a Princess.” I snorted, a giggle escaping me at the thought and its absurdity and as Mary chuckles along, I can’t help the endless and overwhelming bellowing of laughter that rushed out of me.

I bellow, clutching my chest, tears leaking from my eyes and Mary reciprocates, her slightly more mature skin, creasing.

“What is the meaning of this?” A stern female voice demanded.

The laughter cuts off abruptly at the sight of my mother’s fury in the doorway, her blue eyes glaring harshly at the two of us. Mary stood apologies falling from her lips, but my mother didn’t even glance her way.

“It seems that Prince Aemond has chosen you as his betrothed, Y/N,” She said coming towards me, her eyes softening as she beheld my apprehension. “You must fulfil your duty to our family, this alliance, this marriage will secure our place for centuries to come.”

“But mother, I didn’t intend-“

“It matters not what you did or did not intend, Prince Aemond had chosen you as his Lady wife, quite adamantly, and you will leave with him today.” Her sharp eyes snapped to Mary. “Begin packing her things, only necessary garments, only her best and some fine jewellery too.”

Mary bowed and rushed off, moving swiftly around my room to pack and organise for me to leave.

Leave my family.

Leave my home.

“Come” Mother called, her hand gripping mine and helping me up before pulling me along and sitting me before my vanity. She was wordless as she began brushing through my long hair, careful as she yanked out the knots in them.

She had not done this for me since I was a little girl.

My heart clenched and throat tightened as I beheld her frown, not at the wildness of my hair, but as she looked at me, knowing that I would soon be departing.

No one expected that this would be my last day at home.

I sat silently, my eyes taking in every feature, every touch, every smell of her as she pulled back the silken locks, pinning and half braiding the hair to fall in an extravagant fish-tail plait against my back. Her soft hands tugged at the front pieces loosening them, and the dark coffee strands framed my face.

I begrudgingly allowed her to rub a pink-rose petal extract against my cheeks and lips to bring some colour to them and even while flinching, I allowed her to adorn my eyes with the black kohl. I turned to her, my hands fidgeting relentlessly as she gazed at me.

“Beautiful” She whispered softly and I nearly sobbed at that pained tone, at that word that rarely had ever left my mother’s lips when regarding me.

I focused on my breathing as I was stripped, rubbed, cleaned and then oiled with jasmine and lavender before a few more servants came to help dress me.

Unlike my usual loose and unrestricted garments, my mother chose a dark green and cream embroidered gown, the neck low and laced as it went straight across my shoulders and back, revealing the bare skin there and my collarbones. The pearls adorning the clasps at my breasts revealed slight peeks of the flesh underneath, as scandalous as my mother could allow.

The dress fit tight against my chest and waist, hugging the stomach that was not at all flat. My mother frowned as she ordered the dress tightened, and I gasped in pain, my hands flying to the wall to hold myself up as the servant pulled the laces at the back, more and more.

By the time she was done, breathing felt like inhaling glass, but indeed, my waist and stomach were snatched in and looked much smaller than it truly was. I levelled out my breath as I beheld the way the dress flared out at my wide and fleshy hips, unchanged in shape, before cascading down in soft open waves around my simple flats.

I looked pretty, delicate yet womanly, and more polished than I’d ever been.

But I looked nothing like myself.

And The Prince seemed to notice that immediately.

I followed wordlessly behind my mother as we entered the Great Hall and as my eyes locked onto Prince Aemond’s, he frowned, his eyes falling over my hair, and face and then resting on the waist that was too small.

I blanched at his stare but quickly was saved from any further scrutiny as my Father came to stand before me.

“Father” I whispered tenderly and his eyes melted as he beheld me.

“My little girl, all grown up.” He said quietly enough that only I could hear. I choked, tears now welling in my eyes, and I did not care who was around as I threw my arms around his neck and buried my head in his chest with a sob.

He sighed dejectedly, his large body engulfing mine in a hug that was too much yet not enough. I shook slightly as he rubbed my back and pacified me, and after a few moments, he pulled back, sadness in his now-red eyes.

I wiped at my face, not caring at how the cosmetic had smudged there as I regained my composure and evened my breathing. He nodded gravely at me and as he kissed my palm with a father's love, it took everything in me to not begin sobbing again.

I sniffed, my hands clasped against my stomach in pain as he moved from my path and I beheld my four sisters.

And suddenly, crying felt bizarre to do.

They glared at me, accusation and bewilderment in their brown eyes, even as they beheld how I looked. I could see that writhing jealousy a mile away. I sighed wretchedly and bowed my head slightly with a frown in goodbye.

They seemed to pause, their faces faltering as they glanced at one another. I turned to move away and before I knew it, I felt several arms wrap around me at once.

“Oh, you absolute pest, how can you leave us” Cassandra scolded against my neck, even as a gasp of a cry escaped her.

I laughed in surprise as my sisters hugged me fiercely, and was even more surprised by the small cries and wet tears that I felt against me from them all. “Take care of yourself Y/N, don’t forget ‘Ours is the Fury’,” Floris said, tears shining in her beautiful eyes as she pressed a gentle kiss to my cheeks.

I nodded back firmly, no longer crying, yet dumbfounded and unable to speak. They all stepped back from me, retreating to the side again as I closed my eyes and braced myself before turning to walk over to Prince Aemond.

He was frowning uneasily as he watched me, his arms behind his back and his body straight but his face did not hold any cruelty, any mocking as he beheld my tears.

My breath caught in my throat as his hand lifted, steady and sure and so very gently wiped away a tear that fell down my cheek. I bit my lip, my hands clenching as he watched me and my body grew hot under that neutral look.

“Prince Aemond, perhaps you should consider your journey, the sky seems to be darkening.” My father roughly cut in, a harsh and protective glare thrown at the Prince. He looked at my father, irritation lighting his face but he simply nodded, looking once at me in confirmation and then walking towards the front doors.

I followed behind with shaking hands and trembling feet but I tried to maintain my control as we stepped out into the courtyard.

Where a Dragon the size of a castle stood, baring its teeth and growling in all its glory and horror.

“Vhagar” I gasped in amazement and Prince Aemond’s eyes locked with mine, his lips parting.

“You know of my dragon?” He questions in intrigue.

“Of course,” I say, my eyes returning back to the beast in complete awe “She’s the largest in the world, Visenya rode her during Aegon’s conquest- well their conquest, I suppose. ”

Silence followed and my eyes moved back to the Prince, but he was already watching me, an expression of respect playing on his strong face.

“Well, considering you already know so much about her, riding her shall be little difficulty then.”

“What?” I snapped but then cringed in apology at the horrified look my mother threw my way. He snorted quietly before walking forward towards Vhagar and I trailed, my stomach twisting into knots.

Never mind dying in the war, I’d probably get eaten by the thing before I even left my home.

“Don’t worry my Lady” He said, noting my paleness “ Vhagar will not harm you, not when she sees you with me and you won’t fall, because I won’t let you.” His stare held conviction, utter conviction, and I merely nodded reluctantly in reply.

“I suppose that dying while riding a Dragon is quite a worthy death” I joked, and despite my family's indignation and sighs, Prince Aemond merely huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. He held out his right hand as he stopped beside the ladder descending down Vhagar’s back, patiently waiting for me to take it.

I exhaled harshly as I neared the obscenely large and terrifying creature, the low growls and snarls reverberating across the ground and into my body. I nodded to my sisters and then to my father and mother in a final farewell.

I look away quickly at the bitter sadness that seems to suffocate the air, my eyes already burning. Instead, I place my shaky hands in the strength and solidity of the Prince’s and I’m glad for the reassurance in his sapphire blue eye.

He takes my hand and places it against Vhagar’s rough skin, and I shudder at the scale and indents of hundreds of years’ worth of life as the beast groans but doesn’t falter. I nod once and Prince Aemond hoists me up, my hands coming to grip the ropes and lift my gown so that I won’t trip.

My chest aches in fear but as I glance down, Prince Aemond is already right beside me.

“You won’t fall, I won’t let you.” His eye seems to say in a reminder as he watched me.

I inhale and exhale deeply and without too much thought, I begin my climb up the side of the beast. It takes some time and exertion, my weariness and gown obstructing me and a few times, I would slip a step and cry out, only for a hand to instantly be at my ankle or shin, guiding me back to the step.

I pant as I eventually reach the top of Vhagar, my fingers digging into the seat placed there and I use that hold to drag myself up and onto the very top. I rasp as I take in the view, so much higher, far more surreal atop the writhing beast than it was through the window of a tower.

“Well done, My Lady,” Prince Aemond rasps beside my ear and I blush as I notice how close his body is to mine as he kneels beside me. He didn’t look nearly as winded, in fact, his body seemed to calm and breathing evened from the familiarity of his dragon.

He takes my hand and helps me onto the front of the seat, his hands fixing my skirt so that my legs could hold against the sides without issue. I shiver as his nimble fingers lift the material and he caresses my legs up to my knee, readjusting and strapping a tie around the sides.

 I don’t speak, nor does he, as he ties another around my waist, the rope attaching to the seat.

“In case you lose yourself in the air, the rope will ensure that you don’t fly off of Vhagar,” He says, noticing my stare, but when I blanche, he adds “ But I will already be there to ensure that none of that happens.”

“Thank you,” I say softly as he finishes securing me in place and then with swift and easy movements, the Prince moves behind me and mounts the seat.

I hiss in harshly at the feeling of his chest pressed to my back, though he doesn’t comment, instead his long and toned arms reach around my waist with efficiency, securing a tie all the way around the both of us before hooking it into place.

I tremble against the heat of his body, his chest and thighs like fire as it presses against my thin clothes and I bite my lip as the cool caress of air brushes my right cheek as he speaks lowly to me.

His hands fall to my waist as he says “ My sight is limited as you know, I rely on my right to steer Vhagar” He shifts my body to his left side where the eye patch is and rests my back against his chest there so his head is peaking over my right shoulder without any obstruction.

I nod absently, my body still tense and stiff at the foreign feeling of him and his hands that are grazing across my waist and hips, and perhaps unwittingly, but the sides of my breasts too.

“Should you feel you need the extra support, for fear or whatever else, you can grab onto these handles here, they will keep you firmly rooted in place.” He says seriously as if it were a crash course in Dragon safety.

“What about you?” I ask quietly and his eye glances over my shoulder to my weary face “If something happens… have you ridden with someone else on your dragon before?” I question and he shakes his head slowly, but his hands grip my waist in reassurance.

“Vhagar has never acted out without provocation and I do not expect that we will find any in the skies as we fly back home. I will be fine, as will you.” He reaffirms and I nod gently, my body relaxing against him slightly.

Once we were completely strapped in, I gazed down towards my family, much smaller as they stood at the doors of our home- no, their home now. I felt my chest constrict and tears burn my eyes as I lifted a tremoring hand and waved, their answering waves back a dagger to my heart.

Prince Aemond frowned at my teary sight but did not say anything as his hands snaked around my waist and he clasped onto the ropes there.

“Vhagar! sīmonagon se ivestragī īlva sōvegon” Prince Aemond bellowed out, and I crooned in wonder at that authoritative and accented tone, even more surprise filling me as that wild beast, listened and purred in response, stretching out its endlessly long wings.

“Ready, My Lady?” Prince Aemond whispered with a grin beside my ear and I couldn’t contain the thrill that wrecked through me as I gripped the handles before me.

“I’m ready, My Prince.”

He huffed, a hot breath beside my ear before he commanded “Sōvegon!”

And we were shooting up to the sky.