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charliedawn · 4 months

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"Marry me."

How I think marriage proposals would go for those characters.

Sandor Clegane:

"…Wanna get married ?" You asked as both you and Sandor were sleeping side by side in the forest. Sandor blinked—half asleep. He had back pain and a headache. He had hoped that the wine would help him to fall asleep quicker, as to not have to hear you say any other crazy thing or request for the day. But, of course. He was mistaken.

"Huh ?" When the information seemed to eventually settle in his brain, his whole face seemed a perfect depiction of confusion. He finally turned around and you could see in his eyes that he wasn’t exactly sober either. You decided this was the perfect moment to ask—since he would probably not even remember you asked the next morning. It gave you courage to ask again.

"Wanna get married ?" You repeated with a little more determination and this time, he answered.

"No."

"Ah."

"…"

"…You. Wanna get married ?" He asked this time—more because he was curious than awaiting an actual answer. But, you took your chance and answered truthfully.

"Sure."

He was momentarily surprised by your confidence before he huffed a laugh and wrapped an arm around you.

"…Fine. We’ll get married in the morning. Now, hush."

There was then a moment of silence before you both bursted out laughing. Just two drunks having the most normal conversation ever. You knew that by tomorrow, he would have surely forgotten all about tonight. But for now, you were satisfied with the knowledge that his subconscience hadn’t said no.

Oberyn Martell:

"Would you like to marry me ?" You asked Oberyn while he wad writing and whose lips curved slightly into a small smirk at the request. He was used to your rather straightforward nature. He liked it even. It made him laugh and enjoy your presence at parties. You were curious and completely unashamed or afraid of any consequences your requests or demands would bring. This is why he always caved. But, he could also be playful and this is why he answered with a small grin:

"No."

He was curious to see your reaction, but his smile slightly faltered when he saw the hurt in your eyes at his rejection. It was the first time he had seen you so upset and he immediately regretted his words.

"Oh. Okay then." You were embarrassed and turned around quickly to get back to your own private quarters. But he was by your side in an instant and wrapped his arms around you from behind.

"I was only kidding. I would LOVE to marry you, sweet peach."

He then kissed the back of your neck lovingly. You let out a sigh of relief as you leaned back against him.

"…Really ?"

He chuckled.

"Yes. Really."

He then kissed your temple and you stayed in his arms for a while before he started nuzzling the back of your neck.

"But what brought the subject, sweet peach ?"

You sighed before closing your eyes.

"…You’re the only one who truly enjoys my presence. You laugh and smile at me, even when my words are nonsense. So I thought…why not ask ?"

Oberyn seemed taken aback for a moment before his smile widened and he pressed your back further against him to kiss your shoulder and whisper in your ear.

"Let me tell you a little secret. I would marry you for your nonsense, my dear. Because your nonsense makes more sense to me than this whole world does…"

Tyrion Lannister:

"Do you want to marry me ?" You asked Tyrion one night and the man was so stunned that he spilled his cup of wine.

"What ?"

Tyrion was the most decent between all the Lannisters. He had helped you more than once and there was no doubt in your proposal. You would never find better husband.

"You heard me."

He stayed silent again and made you nervous. Would he refuse ? Would he tell you that he has already found someone ? Would he tell you that he has no interest in you ? But, he didn’t. He simply sighed.

"…Why ?"

Why ? You could tell him a thousand reasons why. Because he was one of the few good men you knew. Because you had no intention of marrying any other. Because you knew he could be gentle. Because he was funny. Because he could be brave. Because he had the heart of a true lion…but no. You wouldn’t tell him like that. Because even if you did, he wouldn’t believe you.

"Because I want to." You settled for instead and his eyes widened slightly in surprise before he smiled a little and shook his head.

"Why would you want to marry an imp ?"

"It is not an imp that I am marrying, but a prince." You retorted. You both stared at each other and his gaze softened as he started actually considering it for a moment.

"You would be miserable." You frowned in incomprehension at his words.

"Why ?" He glanced away for a second.

"Because I am not a good man."

You huffed a bitter laugh at his words.

"Haven’t you heard ? There are no good man left, my prince."

Tyrion seemed taken aback, but he couldn’t deny the truth behind your words and drank a little of his wine.

"Tell me, Tyrion. If I was to become your wife/husband. Would you hit me ? Would you abuse me ? Would you lie to me ?"

He shook his head with a small smile. No. He wouldn’t. You smiled back and Tyrion finally nodded understandingly. It wasn’t about love. It wasn’t about finding a good man. It was always about finding the one who wouldn’t hurt you…And hence, he understood and maybe…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have a wife/husband ?

Jaime Lannister:

"Jaime…" You sat down next to him at the feast prepared for the Lannisters and even though you could feel Cersei glaring daggers at you—you grabbed his hand. He didn’t react, but you could feel his fingers slightly curving to hold yours.

"Hello, buttercup." He finally greeted you in a whisper and you couldn’t help but smile weakly. You knew of his heart and his loyalty to his sister. It wasn’t really your business to interfere, but you didn’t like how Cersei was treating him. And, you also knew that his heart could maybe be won over.

So, you did the most nonsense ever and challenged him. You stood up and faced him—catching the attention of everyone in the room as you declared loudly.

"Jaime Lannister. I challenge you to an arm wrestling competition !"

That ought to have gained his attention as his eyes finally met yours and what he found in there made his eyes widen in surprise. You were determined and even though he was a knight—you didn’t seem scared of losing. He tried to laugh and wave it off as a mere joke—but you didn’t back down and even provoked him.

"Are you perhaps not a lion ? But a scared chicken ?"

That oughta do it. He was up before you could even pronounce another word and the fury in his eyes made you smile. He had taken the bait.

"If I win, you must agree to one single demand of my choice without knowing what it is !"

"And if I win ?" He quickly shot back and you bit back a laugh.

"Then I will give you whatever you want."

In a matter of minutes, everything was settled and you were both in position. Everyone assumed you were mad or had consumed too much wine to challenge Jaime Lannister—but it couldn’t be further from the truth. You had planned it carefully. You had trained and trained your body and your mind. You had worn big sleeves to hide the muscles hidden underneath. This could be the most important challenge of your life and you wanted to win. More than anything.

The moment Jaime gripped your hand, his eyes stared straight at you as he realised what you had done. This was not the strength of the Y/N he was accustomed to…but it was too late to stop and in a matter of seconds—Jaime Lannister was on the floor.

Everyone was stunned.

But, you only gracefully stood up from your seat and looked down at him before smirking.

"…I will be waiting for that marriage proposal." And with that, you were out of the room—leaving a very confused Jaime and a very angry Cersei behind. But, you knew that a lion never backed down from his word. And Jaime would be yours.

Petyr Baelish (Littlefinger) :

"Marry me." Littlefinger didn’t even seem surprised by you sudden demand. Everyone knew that your father wished to marry you off to Ramsay Bolton. And even though Littlefinger wasn’t sure why you would come to him with such a request, he didn’t show it.

He didn’t even look up as he simply asked.

"Why ?"

You huffed a bitter laugh. The man would sell mother and father for a throne. And he dared to ask why ?

"Does it matter ?"

He licked his thumb to turn the page of the book he was reading nonchalantly, even though you knew that he was secretly weighing the pros and cons of such an alliance.

"Depends. What will it bring me ?"

You looked away.

"Don’t pretend not to realise how advantageous it would be for you to be a part of the Lannister family. You’d have an easy access to the iron throne."

He hummed and pretended to think about it. It was true marrying you would be a fast way to get access to all the nice advantages of being a part of the so-called prestigious Lannister family. But, it had its own set of disadvantages to consider. He would become more than just a little man in the shadows that no one would deem worthy of being a threat, he would become a lion. A black lion.

"…Tell me why you would lower yourself to such an alliance with me. Surely, there would be one handsome young man who would say yes to such a proposal without even blinking. Why go to me, princess/prince ?"

You hesitated before sighing in defeat.

"…Because if I am to marry a snake, better be one I know than one chosen by Tywin Lannister."

At that, Petyr finally dignified you with a glance. You held his gaze and after a few seconds, he smiled.

"Very well, my beauty. Lead the snake to the lion’s den then."

Sansa Stark:

You and Sansa had been longtime allies and friends. You were maybe the only friend she had ever had after the almost complete destruction of House Stark. You had developed feeling for her over time and knew that asking her for her hand wouldn’t be easy—but you were willing to try.

"Please, Sansa of House Stark." You knelt on one knee before her with a rose in your hand and the other hand on your heart. "Would you marry me ?"

Sansa was surprised by the proposal. She had married twice and both marriages weren’t a success. She had lived through nightmares and pain out of such a dream as marriage. She used to want to get married with someone she loved so badly, but not anymore.

"My heart is not so easily won by a rose and pretty words anymore." She replied instead—thinking that she would succeed in breaking your resolve. But, she was mistaken.

"I know. I know that I may never be worthy of even your eyes on me. But…I am a fool, and my heart beats for you. And if you want it ? Then it’s yours. And even if you don’t want it. Let me fight for you. And prove my loyalty to the most beautiful and strong lady the North has ever seen." You pleaded and Sansa was rendered speechless.

She looked into your eyes and saw only love and adoration. She then glanced down at the rose you offered her and after a moment of hesitation, she finally took it.

"…You may try to win my heart, Y/N. But, I cannot promise you success."

You smiled and shook your head.

"Just having you acknowledge my feelings is enough for hope to enter my heart."

Sansa smiled back.

Maybe…romance wasn’t utterly dead.

Jon Snow: (Before the tragedy 😭)

"Marry me." It was said with such confidence that Jon himself was stunned as he looked up at you with widened eyes.

"What ?"

"You heard me."

There was a moment of silence before Jon smiled and he suddenly pulled you into his arms. There was no yes or no. Just a moment of pure euphoria as he couldn’t stop laughing as he buried his face in your chest. He was so happy, he forgot to form words.

When he was finally calm once more, he kissed you passionately.

"Yes. Yes. Yes, I will."

You both started laughing together and Jon even fell back on the snow as you held him tightly.

Daenerys:

"Marry me." You demanded and Daenerys looked back at you. She didn’t seem surprised or even mildly confused by the demand. She knew of your feelings for her—and she was more than happy to reciprocate.

But, marriage ?

Marriage meant boundaries. Marriage meant attachment. Marriage meant she would have to think about you and a possible future where she wasn’t all powerful.

She sighed before stroking your cheek and offering you an apologetic smile.

"My dear Y/N…If only I could, do not believe for a second that I would say no. But, as the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms…I cannot."

You closed your eyes and a few tears rolled down your cheeks. You had expected such an answer of course, but still…your heart ached.

"I…understand." You forced yourself to say and Daenerys nodded. She was a queen. A khaleesi. And you were just…human.

Ser Jorah:

"Please. Marry me." Ser Jorah was stunned at the unexpected request and turned towards you with widened eyes. He was about to answer when you quickly added.

"Love me. Hate me. I want you and you want her. But, I am not asking for your love. But for your protection, kind ser Jorah." He closes his mouth and seemed to think about it for a moment. He knew that you were a young lady/man who had left her/his family to join Daenerys. He had no idea you held such feelings for him…

"You can have my protection, but why go to such lengths to have it ?" He finally asked and you sighed before taking his hand in yours.

"Because it is not only physical protection I seek." You then laid his hand flat upon your heart and Ser Jorah seemed taken aback once more. He looked at you and you didn’t shy away from his gaze.

You knew Ser Jorah was honourable and even if he would never return your feelings, he would make a far greater husband than anyone you ever knew. He would respect you and your heart. And that was more than you could ever wish for…

Ser Jorah accepted.

After all, it was only his name that you were going to bear and his sword that would protect you. You would call him husband, but only in name.

#sandor clegane x reader #ser jorah x reader #daenerys x reader #jon snow x reader #tyrion lannister x reader #littlefinger #petyr baelish x reader #sansa stark x reader #oberyn martell x reader #jaime lannister x reader #got characters x reader #fandoms #imagine #got

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tessimagines · 1 year

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Hello, I’d like to make a request. 💥+Game of Thrones+ a preference about how they would react if you comforted them when they were crying/vulnerable. Feel free to pick the characters you want!

GoT Preference: Comforting them & their Reaction

Jon Snow

We all know Jon is broody

Therefore, he can have a bit of trouble accepting comfort

You can always tell when something is wrong, and will let him know you are always open for comfort

At night, that is when Jon can loosen up a little more

Comforting generally starts with small physical touches, like running a hand through his hair of placing a hand on his back and kissing his cheek

He will eventually begin to talk and accept more physical comfort

The night will end with Jon's head on your chest, you placing soft kisses to his forehead

He doesn't cry often, but knows that if he does in front of you, you will never judge him

He appreciates your comfort more than he lets on

He rarely verbally thanks you, but sometimes, he will leave a little thank you note for you to find in the morning

Robb Stark

Robb knows he can immediately come to you for comfort

If he has any issues or problems, you are generally the first person he wants to discuss them with

After meetings with the heads of other Northern Houses, they will be dismissed and you will stay behind to talk things over

If something is emotionally getting to him, he is the kind of person who wants to talk it over

You can stay up all night, talking over the things that are upsetting him

He also appreciates physical comfort, like holding his hand while he is talking

When he is finished getting all of his emotions out and hearing any of the advise you might have, he will take your face in his hands and kiss you

It's a deep and passionate thank you, one that shows how grateful he is to have you

Eddard Stark

Ned likes to bottle up his emotions

He knows he can always turn to you but it is hard for him to be vulnerable around other people

When things really get to him, he tends to become silent

This is when you know

You will comfort him with a kiss first, and cuddle up to him

He doesn't need words

If he cries, you don't say anything, you know he would rather you just remain physically close

You know he is beginning to feel better when starts to place kisses to your forehead

He doesn't need to say thank you for you to know he appreciates your comfort

The thank you is there when he finds peace and falls asleep in your arms

Jaime Lannister

Jaime is another one who bottles up his emotions

If you ever ask him if he is okay, the answer is always the same: "I'm fine."

Him knowing you care is generally more than enough of a comfort to him

Just asking and a kiss to his cheek is enough to make him feel better. Not completely better, but significantly

Jaime will never admit it but he loves head scratches when he is sad or stressed

He does find it hard to thank you, that requires a vulnerability he doesn't like to show

There are some nights, however, where everything just comes to a head

Tears, sobs, everything. He will start talking about whatever is bothering him with no limitations

In these moments, you just sit and listen. Just the idea of being listened to is perfect for Jaime

To thank you after those nights, he will run you a bath or buy you a gift as a thank you

sometimes, he will even sum up the courage to whisper a thank you in your ear

Tyrion Lannister

Tyrion knows he can rely on you

But when you have spent your whole life being unloved by the people who are supposed to love you most, it can be hard to trust

That's why he can become distant when he is upset

He doesn't like showing vulnerability in fear that you will laugh

He knows this will never happen, but he can't let that feeling go sometimes

When you kiss him though, sometimes you can feel him melt into it

He loves physical comfort

He appreciates that affection more than he could possibly put into words

In these moments, when he can feel you are there for him, sometimes he will let himself cry

And you will just hold him, slowly running your fingers though the mop of curls on his head

He is simple in the way he thanks you - "I love you"

Tormund Giantsbane

Tormund is very open with his feelings

He, of course, likes to appear strong in front of others, but Tormund doesn't seem to equate weakness as being emotionally open and vulnerable

No, to him, that is a showing of true strength

When Tormund is feeling sad or down, he will tell you he is sad or down

He seeks out your comfort more than most men would

If he needs you to hold him, he will tell you and then lie in your arms for as long as he needs

He is not much of a crier, but he is not afraid to shed some tears in front of you

Tormund's way of making it up to you, is a little more physical than others

He is not afraid to show you intimately how much he appreciates your comfort

Sandor Clegane

This man is the king 👑 of repressed emotion

He will simply refuse to accept that anything is wrong with him

If you offer comfort, he is simply not accepting

Dedication is key, however, and sometimes, rarely, Sandor will let you hold him

He might grumble about it, telling you that you are being "fucking stupid", but inside, he revels in it

That physical connection has the power to calm any emotional storm going through them

He will never let you know though, no, that would be way too vulnerable

Jorah Mormont

Jorah is a man who thrives off words of affirmation

The most effective way to comfort him is to reassure him through words

He can totally feel himself calm at your reassurances

Sometimes, all he needs to hear is that he is enough and you love him more than he could possibly imagine

Every time you comfort him, Jorah wonders how he ever ended up having a love like yours

Afterwards, all he wants to do is hold you in his arms and place kisses to your cheek

Sometimes, you have to stop him from continuously thanking you

Oberyn Martell

Oberyn Martell is an emotive man

It is very easy to tell when he is upset

He is honest and real about his emotions, always

He likes to talk them over with you and hear any advise you can offer

Sometimes, though, all he wants or needs is for you to listen

Some nights can be entirely full of him talking about his issues

This will always lead to talk of Elia

As these nights progress, Oberyn's mood always seems to improve

He slowly moves closer

By the end of the night, he has his arms around you and is placing soft kisses all over your body

Oberyn shows his appreciation through pleasure, letting his body do the talking

Gendry Waters

Gendry can get grumpy when he is upset

When he snaps at you, which is rarely, this is when you know something is wrong

A few moments of silence go by before he takes a deep breath and apologises

You don't ever say anything, but instead, you walk over and just wrap your arms around his body

He will always lean into it, taking comfort in the feeling of you holding him

Sometimes, this is all he needs, but other times he needs to talk about his emotions or issues in order to feel better

He will look into your eyes as he does so, their soft expression calming him down

When he is finished you will just smile and place a kiss to his lips

He will place a hand up to your face, running a finger across your cheekbone and thank you

Podrick Payne

Podrick Payne is not a man afraid of crying in front of you

Whenever he is stressed or feeling down, that is what mostly happens

To him, there is no more calming feeling in the world than having you hold him while he cries

He also likes when you just listen to him talk about whatever is bothering him

Your advise is always appreciated too, but he also just likes when you listen to his issues and don't try to solve them

When he feels comforted, his way of thanking you is through acts of service

This can include trying his best to make you a meal or running you a warm bath

You can make your own request for my Back-to-Writing Celebration

Masterlist | Game of Thrones Masterlist

#game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones preferences #oberyn martell x reader #jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jaime lannister x reader #eddard stark x reader #sandor clegane x reader #jorah mormont x reader #tyrion lannister x reader #got imagines #got x reader #got preferences #tessimagines

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thebookbutterfly · 1 month

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Hey there! Could you possibly write a Sandor Clegane x gender neutral reader where Sandor has a soft spot for reader and reader feels the same? He tries to hide it but one day reader get’s hurt and he patches them up and maybe confessions come out?

🦋 Little Bird— Sandor Clegane x gn!Reader

Summary: You get injured in an ambush. Sandor carries you to safety and takes care of you.

Tags: #so much hurt/comfort, #a teensy bit of angst, #fluffy ending, #potentially OOC Sandor Clegane but personally I think he is pretty baby girl, #request

Warnings: Gender Neutral, no use of Y/N, descriptions of blood and injury, mentions of death, cannon compliant threats of violence, no beta and no ‘ragrets' [1,371 words]

AN: This is a request by @agender-wolfie. I really hope that this is what you were looking for! It came out a bit longer than I intended, but I am such a sucker for hurt/comfort tropes I really shouldn’t be surprised lmao. I wrote this all in one sitting and I haven’t done any editing so please excuse any errors. Happy reading! 🦋 Love BB

If you like this work my requests are currently open! So please give me your ideas ;)

You hissed a curse, gravelly and threadbare, as Sandor sidestepped another fallen tree.

A jumble of vulgar expressions that barely registered to you as they left your mouth. Almost all of them taught to you by the giant man holding you to his chest. The hound cradled you surprisingly gently, but his tension was evident. It was written all over him.

His scarred face, which you so rarely got the opportunity to study, was pulled into a broken grimace. The rest of him taut like a wire ready to snap beneath his armour. If you weren’t bleeding all over him, you might have reached up to prod the furrow of his brow. A silly attempt to smooth away Sandor’s permanent scowl.

The thought shattered as another wave pain tore through your ribs. Every bump in the path sowing fresh agony in the ruined skin and muscle.

Sandor ran a calloused thumb over the side of your knee in apology. Uttering clumsy noises of comfort as he picked up the pace.

“We’re almost there. Hold on just a bit longer, little bird.”

His gruff voice was cut with a noticeable amount of panic. Your brow scrunched at the unusual sound. You had gotten used to many things about Sandor as you travelled North with him. His rough sense of humour, bitter attitude, scarred face and huge stature were familiar to you by now. Underneath those things, his kindness and his softheartedness had become apparent to you too.

All the vulnerable pieces of himself that he smothered and choked beneath layers of vulgar humour and recklessness, had been presented to you in glimpses as you got to know him. But panic? Panic was new to you.

The farmhouse that Sandor had marked out in the distance finally drew into view. Up close it was a measly grey thing. The stone masonry looked haphazard at best but its chimney puffed with life. Behind it a barn lay with its doors open and rattling in the freezing wind.

You expected Sandor to head straight for the shelter of the barn but instead he strode to the front door. The family of four, seated around the dining room table inside, scrambled back as he slammed open the door with his usual subtlety. Which was to say— none at all.

You groaned as the sudden movement jostled your wound. Normally you would have chastised him for being so rude but your head was swimming. Too weak to lift your hand, you focused your energy on your eyes. Willing them to stay open, if not for your sake then for the sake of your worried companion.

An old man stepped forward to speak but Sandor cut him off, “One of you better be a healer, because if they die I will mount all of your heads outside on sticks.”

It was an ugly threat and they paled. The youngest boy whimpered looking suddenly ill. A younger woman with dark hair and a generous smattering of freckles stepped forward. She gestured a slightly shaky hand towards the table before him, before turning to her family.

“Clear the table, quickly. We can lay them down here,” her attention shifted back to the massive man standing in the doorway, “I’m not a healer by profession but I’ll do everything I can.”

Sandor seemed pleased enough by this answer. The rest of the family had been wise enough not to put up a fight and so Sandor stepped forward. He eased his grip and lay you down on the hastily cleared surface.

He moved to step away and let this stranger do her work but you whimpered. Fingertips clutching at air until he shifted back into reach.

A leather belt was stuffed between your teeth as your tunic was torn up the side. Unfamiliar hands grasped at your arms and legs. Holding you down with a bruising grip. All the while, Sandor brushed his bloodied fingers over your forehead and through your hair. The warmth of his skin a small consolation for the pain you were about to endure.

The woman lifted a needle and thread. With a glance at Sandor and his affirming nod she began to count down and you closed your eyes, unable to look.

Three.

Two.

One.

Fire. Your body was on fire. You arched off the table. Trying to escape the agony, the needle slowly piecing your flesh back together. The table shook as you thrashed but the hands holding you down didn’t falter. Sandor’s gravely words of comfort were the last things ringing in your ears as the world went black.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first thing that you noticed when you woke up was the lack of pain. Your side still ached, the wound tender, but it was a dull throbbing now. No longer, the screaming torture it was as Sandor carried you away from where you were ambushed.

The second was the warmth. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this warm since you and Sandor had journeyed across the border into the North. Sandor.

You opened your eyes slowly. The lighting was dim but from what you could tell you were inside the barn. The door was closed now though and soft orange candlelight illuminated the space.

You lay on your good side underneath a thick layer of blankets, and next to you lay the man your eyes sought for. His arm tucked you to him, large calloused hand resting somewhere on your lower back.

His heart thudded rhythmically beneath where your head lay on his chest. His even breathing and faint snores filled the quiet. Despite your inner protests it was the most comfortable you had been in years.

You gazed up at him, not wanting to wake him just yet. Sandor didn’t sleep nearly enough and you were content to watch the way the candlelight danced across his skin. It caught on his scarred cheek. Shadows flickering on the panes of his face.

Unable to resist you lifted a hand to his cheek. Your touch was featherlight but his eyes snapped open. Sandor’s gaze flicked to you immediately. Scanning you for distress and finding none, his body relaxed.

“Seven Hells, I thought you were going to die. Never do that again,” he said gruffly. His cheeks were flushed but he made no move to shift away from you.

Your voice was cracked from screaming but you still managed to mumble, “M’Sorry.”

Sandor sighed, “It wasn’t your fault, little bird.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a water-skein. Unscrewing the top he held it out towards you.

“Here, drink. Then you can go back to sleep,” he said.

“Thank you.”

The moisture eased the pain in your throat and soon you were snuggled back up under Sandor’s arm. The wind howled through the rafters and you both sat in silence for a little while.

Your thoughts broke the quiet, “Thank you for carrying me here. Thank you for staying.”

Sandor’s eyes met yours, they were unguarded and soft in a way that seemed reserved for you. Reserved for these conversations in the dark.

His voice was low as he replied, “I would have carried you to the ends of the earth, little bird.”

You studied him, the scars that mottled his skin, the cut on his brow and the curl of his mouth. Something deep within you settled, like a cat stretching out on a rug.

“You’re a good man, Sandor Clegane,” you said.

The conviction in your voice hit him harder than any blow on the battlefield ever had. The tidal wave of emotions that followed threatened to take him under but he swallowed them down.

You pretended not to notice his watery eyes and he lifted his spare hand to stroke your head. “Go to sleep, I’ll keep you safe.”

You nodded sleepily, too tired to fight it off any longer. A few seconds pass before you feel it. The soft press of his lips on your forehead. They linger there for a while before he pulls back, the warmth that they leave behind searing like a brand on your skin. You smile as you drift off, lulled to sleep by his warm embrace and steady breathing.

“Goodnight, little bird.”

#bbrequestlist #sandor clegane x reader #sandor x reader #sandor clegane #sandor the hound clegane #got #game of thrones #sandor clegane x you #the hound #tyrion lannister #sansa stark #oberyn x reader #prince oberyn #no use of y/n #hurt/comfort #whump #request #banners by cafekitsune

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k4marina · 5 months

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— Prologue || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: a trip to Dragonstone goes a little wrong, or does it?

game of thrones x modern!reader

4.5k+ word count

sereis masterlist || next part

"Why are we doing this during the hottest day of the year, again?" Daeron mutters, using the brochure that was given to us at the beginning of the tour as a fan.

If I could, I would've replied, but the heat was also getting to me, draining away my energy. And, on top of the scorching heat, I'd just finished the last of my water. I pursed my lips together, the line wasn’t that long and I’m sure I can buy another overpriced water bottle after we visited the caves.

The group tour guide turned back to us, just as exhausted, and somewhat bashful. He said something, but I couldn't be bothered with it as I was too focused to not tip over from the heat. It was probably something like “only a few more minutes and we’ll be outta the heat, folks,” with an awkward smile or something.

The line to the caves under the castles was stupidly long, but it's no surprise. So much history was in those caves and so many mysteries had come full circle there. And, the deeper they dug, the more they uncovered the history of the Targaryens that lived there from when Aenar Targaryen moved his entire family to Dragonstone after his daughter, Daenys “the Dreamer” dreamed of the Doom of Valyria.

"Who's idea was it to come here for our research trip?" I didn't bother looking over at him, knowing that I'd be blinded by the sun that shone directly behind his big head.

“Shut up. Your voice is giving me a headache.” I quipped. “Besides, almost everything on this island is connected to the Targaryens. It might come useful when we have to write our research paper.”

The line moved up until our group was at the front of the line. A small group of students, along with Daeron and I, were on Dragonstone for our research projects. Some of the other students had decided to stay in Kings Landing or go to other parts of Westeros for their research.

Everyone was to spend a week in their respective areas and gather all the information they needed before heading back to Kings Landing to write and then later present their topics. Some chose to do it themselves whilst others, like us, decided to go with someone else.

Today was the first day of our stay on Dragonstone. Daeron and I had decided to check out the caves and the island's beaches before we would explore the labyrinth-like castle.

I rubbed the side of my head, feeling a headache approaching. My hand reached up to my necklace that rested on my chest. The chain was long enough for it to hang in the dip of my breast.

Not only did I come here for my project, but also for me. The necklace around my neck has been in my family for generations, but no one knows from where. It’s made entirely of Valyrian Steel, which was rare back in the day, and even rarer now.

As a child, I didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t until I grew older and more curious that I started asking questions. First to my family, but all I got was even more confusing answers that led me nowhere. Then I turned towards the internet, scouring for hours until I had found it.

On the official Dragonstone website, I found pictures of the caves under the castle and possibly under the entire island. On one of the walls was a crude hand drawing of my necklace. Two dragons around a sword with a ruby in the middle –though, the ruby was replaced with a red dot. Regardless, the cave painting matched.

The line moved up and Daeron gently pushed me up while I was lost in my thoughts. “You good?” He asks. I nod, “Yeah. The heat’s just a lot.” He gives an understanding look. Once the tour guide is given the green light, he begins to lead up to the entrance of the cave.

"Ready?" Daeron asks. I nodded and we begin walking. Once we entered the cave, my jaw was on the floor. I had seen pictures of the caves, but seeing it in real life was far more beautiful.

The deeper we got we could see the cave paintings done by the Children of the Forest which Daenerys and Jon had found. As the guide droned on about the cave paintings, I could feel my headache intensify. Why was it so hot in here?

The deeper and deeper we went into the caves, the worse it got. My chest started to feel heavy. I struggled to put one foot in front of the other. The back of my throat burned and I felt like throwing up, but I pushed forward.

My eyes raked the the cave walls, Where was it? Finally, I was able to see it. The markings were next to a few unknown ones. A sign with some information was hung up next to it. Despite my head pounding I was still able to read the bold words.

Unknown markings made by who researchers believe are the Targaryens. The paint used seemed to be as old as when Aenar Targaryen moved his family to Dragonstone.

By the time I finished reading, I could feel my head pounding so loudly in my ear. It felt like an ice pick was being hammered into the side of my head. I could hear muffled voices call out, but to who I didn’t know. The room started to spin and a ringing sound filled my ears.

A hand, most likely Derons, reached out and turned me around. I could see his mouth moving, but no words coming out. My chest felt like it was overheating while my head continued to throb. Everything turned blurry and then it went black.

When I woke up, I was still in the cave. The cold stone floor had helped with bringing my body temperature down. And, my head didn't hurt anymore. After getting up, I looked around the cave. It was darker, and quiet.

Where was everyone?

Carefully, I made my way out of the cave. It was harder to walk out of the cave and the spotlights that were on the walls weren’t on. Once I was outside I was met with the night sky.

All the tents and other buildings around the beach were gone, as if they'd never been there.

Okay, this is weird.

"Hello?" My voice came out horse like I hadn’t spoken in a long time. "Hello? Is anyone there? Daeron?"

My feet moved on their own and I tried to find someone, anyone. But there was no one. How could a populated area with tents and buildings disappear within hours?

Retracing my steps, I found the stairs that would lead me back to the Help Center that were posted around for lost tourists, but like the beach, there was nothing. Matter a fact, even the lamppost that were posted into the ground, the banners, the signs –everything was gone.

"What the actual fuck?" Panic creeped up and I could feel my heart thumping in my ears. "Gods, If this is some kinda sick fucking joke..."

At this point, I was running towards the castle. For what? I didn't know, but surely there had to be something there. The grand doors seemed to be closed so I tried to find another way in. I guess you could say I found something like a side door that took a little force to open.

The inside of the castle was grand. High walls, banners held high, candles and lamps lit all around. Truly, it was amazing. As I was gawking at the architecture I failed to notice unknown voices walking towards me.

“Halt!” Two unknown men dressed in what looked like armor cornered me, pointing their spears at me. “State your name! Who are you?”

I stuttered out my name, raising my hands up so they could see I wasn’t a threat. “I’m not going to do anything, I swear.”

The two men shared a look and a few hushed words before one of them walked over to me, grabbing my arm roughly and pulling me along.

“Ow!” I tried to pull back, but his grip was too strong. “What the fuck dude. I said I wasn’t a threat.”

“Khaleesi will decide if you are or are not a threat.” The man who wasn’t holding onto me said.

Khaleesi? What Khaleesi?

“Oh please don’t tell me I just walked into those real-life roleplaying things.” I groaned, earning side eyes from both of the men.

They led me down a series of hall ways, each one intricate as the other until we stood outside of a set of polished stone double doors. Another pair of men dressed just like the cosplayers that brought me here stood in front of the doors. Without having to say any words they opened the grand doors.

Slowly, I could see the inside being revealed.

There, on the elevated platform stood the Throne of Dragonstone, where all the Targaryen heirs of the Iron Throne sat as they took the title “Prince of Dragonstone.” A light push brought me back as I was dragged closer to the throne.

“Khaleesi,” the guard called out. Before I could ask who they were speaking to, an unknown voice answered.

“What is it?”

Light footsteps were heard from behind a wall and a woman emerged from behind it. Except it wasn’t just any woman. Even a child would know who she was. Everyone around the world knows her.

She was Daenerys Targaryen.

Mother of Dragons.

The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea.

The Unburnt.

The Breaker of Chains.

I could feel time slow down as I watched her walk over to the throne and sit down. My blood turned cold as she sat in front of me.

No.

She’s dead.

This can’t be happening.

It’s not possible.

It’s not. I have better chances of reviving dragons than traveling back in time-

“What is this?” Daenerys eyed me, confused at my appearance and why I was even here before looking at the two men.

“We found this unknown woman wandering around the castle, Your Grace.”

She eyed me, as if wanting me to plead my case, but the words died in my throat. Why wouldn’t they when Daenerys fucking Targaryen was right in front of me. A million thoughts ran through my head, but I couldn’t rack my brain to find one answer.

Daenerys squinted before speaking again, this time directly towards me. “Who are you?” The High Valyrian rolled easily off of her tongue like a true Targaryen. Those three words held so much power and conviction, like a true Queen.

“Y/n Vellarys!…” I rushed to reply in Valyrian.

“You speak good Valyrian.” She praises, but it's quickly pushed away. “But that doesn’t explain what you are doing here.”

What should I do? I bit my bottom lip as nervousness filled my body.

Knowing that if I lie, I’ll be fileted, I took a deep breath before responding. “I don't know. I.. I,” I paused, not knowing if I should continue. If this was real then I only wanted her to know, “Can we be alone.. please?”

The two men besides me visibly tense up, but don’t speak up. Daenerys looks down at us, seemingly in thought before she nodded. The two men bow before turning around to leave. The double doors closed with a loud thud.

“We’re alone now, you may continue.”

I nervously swallowed. Here we go. “This might sound weird, but.. I don’t know how I got here. I.. I woke up in the caves under the castle… alone.”

Daenerys’ face stayed neutral as I relayed the information. She seemed to take some time to process what I had just said. “Do you think I’m a fool?”

I could feel my heart fall all the way down. Fuck.

“You woke up in the caves alone?” She repeats. “Not even a child would come up with such a stupid story like this.”

“N-n-no, Daener- I mean, Your Grace. I swear to the Gods that I’m telling the truth. I have no reason to lie to you. Especially when you could get rid of me with your dragons in a second.”

She seemed to mull over my words, as if weighing her options. “Alright, let's say you’re telling the truth. Your story still doesn’t make sense. How do you just “wake up” in a cave?”

Now or never, I guess.

“Actually,” I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. “I’m not from here. I come from-” The future. Fucking hell, how cliché. “-I come from a different… time.”

Daenerys squinted and I could see the clogs in her brain moving. “You mean you’re from the future?”

Jeez. Ripped the bandage right off.

“Well –uh, yes,” I say. “I was touring the caves and then I –I fell unconscious or something, I still don’t know, I just know that when I woke up I ended up here.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. What if this was just a dream and that all of this is just my imagination running wild.

“That necklace.”

Huh? What is she talking about?

I looked up, confused. “What?”

She pointed towards my chest. I looked down and I could see my necklace was out. “What about it?” I asked.

“Where did you get it?”

“It’s mine.” I replied. “It’s been in my family for generations. Why?”

Now it was Daenerys’ turn to look a little nervous.

“I’ve seen it in my dream.”

“Your dream? Like, one of those Dragon Dreams?” I ask. She gives a nod, “While we were sailing to Dragonstone I had a dream of a woman with silver hair and that necklace. Because I couldn’t see her face, I thought it was me. I’ve turned the treasury over looking for them; however, it seems that I dreamt of you.”

Ho-ly Fuck. Daenerys’ dreamt about me. What the hell. I’m about to throw up.

“What?” Now it was my time to be skeptical of what was being said. “You dreamt about me and my necklace?”

She nodded. “It seems odd, but a Dragon Dream has never been wrong.”

“Ture, but that still leaves a lot of blanks.” My hand subconsciously went up to hold my necklace while I tried to think back.

The deeper I walked into the cave the more my head started to hurt, but that was most likely because of dehydration… probably. But then there was a burning feeling on my chest when I looked at the symbol on the wall that matched my necklace and the burning feeling got even more intense and it felt like it was about to burn my skin-

“Fuck.” I groaned, letting go of the necklace. The outburst made Daenerys frown, “Are you alright?”

I looked down at my hands and at my necklace before looking into her eyes. “I think my necklace tried to burn me, like last time.”

“Last time?” She frowned. “How can a necklace burn someone?”

“I don’t know. It happened before I passed out in the cave.” I let out a sigh. “Gods, what is going on.”

“It seems that this was the God's doing,” Daenerys says, as if it was a fact. “They’ve brought you here.”

“The Gods?” I repeat. Sure, in some sense they did bring me here. “But why?”

“That may be something for you to find out.” Daenerys stood from the throne, walking down the steps until she was right in front of me. “I was lost once, but then the Gods gifted me my children to show me my true purpose.”

“The Iron Throne.” I thought back to my history classes where I learned that for the fight for the Iron Throne, Daenerys lost her life as she fell into what historians said was “Targaryen Madness,” but I’ve always felt that there’s more to it.

“It’s late, I’ll have the servants bring you to a spare room for you to rest in for the night.” As if on cue, the guards from before stepped up to us. “We can talk further tomorrow morning.”

Daenerys turned to leave from where she came from. The guards bowed as she left. Once she was gone they brought me to a spare room somewhere in the castle, this time without having to pull me around.

The hallways were nearly empty, meaning there weren’t a lot of people living here or servants working in the castle. The most I’d seen was guards posted around. Once we were in front of two thick double doors the guards stepped back waiting for me to open them.

It took a little force to open the door, but once I was inside, my jaw was on the floor. Despite everything being made of stone, the walls were covered in rich tapestry. There was a giant bed with lavish looking furs laid atop the bed and maroon bed sheets.

Behind me, a servant walked in with a few sets of clothes and laid them on the bed. “We’ve prepared you some clothes,” she said. “Would you like to change now or take a bath?”

As if on cue, I could feel how dirty I was since I was practically on the cave floors for Gods knows how long.

“A bath would be fine, thank you,” I replied. It honestly felt weird watching servants work. Not that it was bad, just the fact that in the modern day you don’t have them. Sure maybe someone who cleans your home or makes you food, but servants?

Once they had pulled out the massive tub and manually poured in the hot water they led me to the tub. One of their hands went up to my shirt's edge and the other to my pants.

“W-wait!” They all looked at me confused.

“Is everything alright, My Lady?” One of the servants asked.

No it’s not. You’re taking my clothes off. And sure, it’s your job to do practically everything for a highborn, but that ain’t me.

“Uh, there’s no need for… all of this. I can do it myself.”

“Are you sure?” Another girl asked. “It’s our duty to serve you.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” I replied awkwardly. “Just not really used to all of… this. Um, anyways I can take it from here. You guys can go…”

I internally cringed at my words. Gods, I sounded like an idiot, but could you blame me?

The girls reluctantly agreed, leaving me alone in the room. Once they were gone I let out a sigh and began to undress myself. The water was hot, but it was fine since I practically liked showering in lava every morning.

Settling into the tub I finally relaxed. This entire thing was just so… bizarre. At first, I thought it was some sort of dream, but that searing pain I felt wasn’t something I could just imagine.

My necklace burned me.

And it burned me when I first saw the markings on the cave walls. I looked down at my chest and hand, but saw nothing.

Okay, weird.

That aside, why was I even brought here? Why me? What do I have that made me so special that I had to be flung into this era of time?

“Think, y/n, think,” I muttered to myself. The dream. Daenerys’ dream about the necklace. But wait, no history books said anything about her having a dragon dream. Could this maybe be connected?

For the next hour, I mulled over my options while I soaked in the tub that had turned lukewarm. Having enough, I got up and grabbed the towels that the servants had thankfully set close for me.

The clothes that they had laid out for me were a bunch of nightgowns. Thankfully, they were my size. I decided to wear a simple white nightgown.

Laying under the mountain of covers and blankets, I finally let myself completely relax, falling asleep. Hopefully tomorrow’s discussions can help this situation get better or at least easier.

I woke up to the sun glaring down into my face. Groaning, I turned to my side, hoping to get some more sleep. But the damage was done.

I could hear light shuffling in the room and things being moved around. When I opened my eyes, I was nearly flash-banged. All the windows (that are floor to ceiling length) were opened and the curtains were drawn back.

A few servants from last night and a few new faces worked around the room. I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes, catching the attention of one of the girls.

“Good morning, My Lady. Did you sleep well?”

“Morning,” my voice came out a little low and rough. “What’s going on?”

“We’re getting you ready for the day,” the girl replies, matter of factly. “You will be having your morning meal with the Queen. We’ve already drawn you a fresh new bath and arranged a new set of clothes.”

I looked at where the tub was last night, nothing that was gone, along with my clothes.

“Where are my clothes?” I asked.

“We’ve sent them to get washed,” the servant replied. “My Lady, if i may…”

I nodded for her to go on. “We’ve never seen such clothes like yours before. They remind us of what the men wear however, yours are a bit more.. different.”

“Oh, that. They’re just something that I made.” I lied. Thinking back to last night, I’m confused I didn’t get as many weird looks as I should have wearing my jeans and shirt. It's not really the typical Westerosi fashion for this time.

“The bath is ready.” Another girl says.

Reluctantly, I got out of bed, following them to another room adjacent to this one. The room was a massive bathroom that could function as a bathhouse.

There was a massive tub nestled into the floor. The windows were also huge but a little higher up, letting in some natural light. I could tell the water was hot just by how much it was steaming.

Carefully, the servants began to undress me. They led me into the water and began adding what I can only assume are oils and salts. Truthfully, it felt like I was at some fancy spa with how they washed my body and hair.

Once that was done, they helped me into a beautiful white dress with a dark teal and gold design. I felt like a model wearing such a beautiful dress. I let my hair down, not wanting it in any style (or knowing any styles of this period).

A servant walked me to the dining room where Daenerys was waiting for me. She wore a light blue dress with her hair braided and her three headed dragon pin.

“Good Morning,” she greeted.

“Morning uh, Your grace.” I replied. “Sorry, I’ve never called anyone “your grace” before.”

She brushed it off, motioning for me to take a seat next to her at the table where the food was already prepared.

“How did you sleep?” She asks, beginning to eat.

“Fine, surprisingly.” I reached down to grab a fork for my food. “How about you?”

Was I really making small talk with Daenerys Targaryen?

“Mine as well,” she smiled. “I was hoping we could talk a little before I had to go meet my small council.”

“Okay, what did you want to talk about?” I wanted to smack myself. Every time I spoke it was full of nerves and anxiety.

“Let’s start with you. Your name and where you’re from.” Daenerys says confidently. “Judging by your looks, you’re of Valyrian descent.” She says, eyeing my silver hair.

“Yes,” I nodded. “My family moved from Volantis to the Eyrie. My family is known to be of the Old Blood in Volantis.”

“The Old Blood?” Daenerys says, surprised.

The Old Blood are a group of people in Volantis that have proven to be the last remaining families of Valyria. They live in a perched area of the city that only they can walk. All the families in that area still continue their Valyrian traditions and practices, just minus the dragons.

I nodded, “My father is the youngest of four sons, so he thought ‘why not move to westeros and start something there?’ knowing that he wouldn’t have to really carry on the family name.”

“And your family name is Vellarys?” She recalled from last night.

“Yes. We’re known for our jewelry making in Volantis. That’s why my father moved to Westeros, to open a shop there without having to take over the business and stress like his older brother.

“As for myself, I have two older brothers. One is working to be a doctor,” Daenerys frowned at that, confused, “uh, it’s like a Maester. The other is helping my father run the shop.”

“And what about yourself?”

“I’m in school. I go to the University of Kings Landing.”

“The.. University of… Kings Landing?”

“Well, after the monarchy was sorta let go, they turned certain parts of the Red Keep and other castles into Universites -places to go for higher studies, like the.. Citadel for example.”

Daenerys nods, understanding some of it.

“I study the era of The Game of Thrones as well as Targaryen History.”

“The Game of Thrones?” She repeats. “What is that?”

“It’s, uh, what we call this time period. It ranged from the death of King Robert to,” the death of Daenerys Targaryen, “to now, and a little later. We look into how the events after Robert’s death played out and how people fought for the Iron Throne.”

“Like a game.” She says.

I nodded. “Yes, like a game. There’s this quote that Cersie Lannister said to Ned Stark that summed it up, “When you play the game of thrones, You win or you die,”.”

“I see,” Daenerys looks down at her plate in thought. “And what about me?”

Oh fuck.

“What about you?” I say, acting innocent.

“What happened to me?”

I purse my lips together. Should I say it? I mean, it’s a good segway to what I want to really say… if this part goes well.

“You…” I nervously swallowed. “You die… before you could even claim the throne.”

The fork in her hand hits the ceramic plate with a loud clunk.

“What?”

Nervously, I looked into her. “You were killed… after you burned Kings Landing to ashes.”

She frowned. “You're lying. I would never do such a thing. Me? Burning down Kings Landing?

And the Red Keep, but I’ll keep that to myself.

“I’m not lying, Daenerys. After you died, Drogon picked you up and flew you away. We still haven’t found your or his body.”

Daenerys' hands started to shake at the information I had just thrown at her. Carefully, I placed mine over hers.

“Daenerys,” I said softly. “Breath. You’re fine, nothing has happened so far.”

Slowly, I could feel her hands stop shaking and her breathing seemed to steady.

“What do you mean so far?”

I gave her hand an encouraging squeeze although, I can’t tell if it was for me or her.

“Meaning, I can help you.”

She looks at me, puzzled.

“Daenerys, I can help you take the Iron Throne.”

okayyyy so it's finally here after many rewrites. let me know if you guys liked the first person POV. its my first time writing it like this, typically i do second POV. more to come in later chapters. also, i will be changing a few things, nothing major. one personal head cannon that i have is that jon isn't really named aegon, but jaehaerys. makes a lil more sense in my brain. also, i'll maybe be using some info from the books. and if you guys have any suggestions with y/n's character and other stuff please feel free to let me know. don't worry there will be more story and character development in the coming chapters.

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feyhunter78 · 22 days

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Description: During your Uncle Robert's Royal Procession, you find yourself enraptured with Ned Starks' bastard son. While Jon has never dreamed so vividly until your arrival, a thread seems to exist between you and him, pulling you together. Luckily for you both, your father Tyrion sees the need for a sworn sword in his beloved daughter's life.

Ch 2

You should know better, truly you should, but you’ve always had a weakness for pitiful-looking creatures, or at least that’s what your father has always said. He stands a pace ahead of you, watching as your uncle, the King Robert, embraces Lord Ned Stark with a boyish joy you have never seen in your uncle. Your Aunt Cersei stands to the side of them, smiling politely at the Lady Catelyn Stark, Joffery all but hanging from her skirts, demanding attention. Usually, you would scowl at the back of the boy’s head, but the sight of Ned Stark’s bastard son has you quite distracted.

He is pitiful, even his name, Jon, it’s so common, so often used it cannot differentiate him from others. He stands stiffly, with gray eyes so dark they almost seem black set beneath thick brows. He has curly dark hair that frames his face, an unchanging frown upon his face, and his hands clasp and unclasp nervously as he watches the mingling of your two families. Jon’s dressed like all the other Starks, but somehow lesser, as if he has chosen only the drabbest of colors in an effort to blend into the dreary landscape. There’s a solemn softness to him that intrigues you. What secrets does he keep? Why does he look so mired in grief? He notices your gaze, and his face tints pink as he ducks his head further into the fur collar of his cloak. You bite back a laugh, for a moment he looked like a turtle.

The boy beside him, Robb, stands an inch or so taller with cornflower blue eyes, and auburn hair. The clear son of Lady Catelyn radiates confidence, nearly bordering on arrogance, as he surveys the servants unloading your family’s belongings from the wheelhouses. Beside him stands a boy whose arrogance you wouldn’t mistake for confidence, even if you were less astute than you are. But the arrogance rings false, you can see the cracks in his bravado, the insecurity leaking from every pore. It’s in the way he hovers so close to Robb, as if he fears to be away from him would be his undoing. This one you know inside and out; your father had drilled you on everyone you were going to meet before you even stepped foot outside King’s Landing.

Theon Greyjoy, last surviving son of Balon Greyjoy, a war prisoner disguised as a ward, the closest companion to Robb Stark, both accepted and held at a distance, Lord Stark’s sword an ever-looming threat should his father ever revolt once more. Theon has eyes like the sea and tousled hair the color reminiscent of the mahogany desk in your father’s study. He is lankier than the other two, hungrier, and when your eyes meet his, he winks. You resist the urge to wrinkle your nose in response, you were a lady, a Lannister, you were not so easily swayed. Theon is handsome, but if your father’s reports were true, he spent much of his time in brothels. The tactics that worked there would not work on you.

“And this is my eldest daughter, Sansa.” Lord Stark says, motioning to a girl that was perhaps two or so years younger than you. She is beautiful, with fiery red hair, eyes like Robb’s, and high, graceful cheekbones. She curtsies with the air of a Southern lady, and smiles when you do the same. This is who you are meant to befriend, and it does not seem it will be too difficult, Sansa’s eyes eagerly drink in every aspect of your being, as if she wishes to glen all she can of Southern life before it is ripped away from her.

“She is as beautiful as her mother.” Your father says, giving her then Lady Catelyn a smile.

They both thank him, Lady Catelyn beaming at the praise, while you notice Sansa’s cheeks flush with color. She is easily flattered; you must remember that.

“Allow me to introduce my own daughter, Y/N Lannister.” Your father introduces you, putting emphasis on your surname, the very fact that you have one. You are not a bastard, no matter what awful Joffrey likes to say. Your mother and father had married in secret, she died giving birth to you, it was tragic and left your father quite saddened, but you were not a bastard.

Your eyes dart back to Jon taking him in subtlety. You wish to see him blush again, but you will not make your actions so easily observed.

“It is too cold, why must we stand here all day?” Joffrey whines, crossing his arms over his chest and stomping his foot resoundingly.

Your aunt fusses over him, and Lord Stark leads you all inside, talking jovially with your uncle as you hurry to catch up with your father.

It is loud in the Great Hall of Winterfell, made of gray stone and smelling of smoke, meat, and a hint of dog, which you must assume is from the Direwolves. It is well lit and filled with people, all enjoying the bountiful feast set before them on long wooden tables. You’re seated away from your father, something you despise. He is closer to your Uncle Jaime, nearer to the King and Lord Stark, while you have been seated with the other children. It has only been you and your father for so very long, a part of you feels anxious to be separated from him, but you are a Lannister, if you cannot charm the strangers around you then can you truly call yourself such?

“Will you tell me more of King’s Landing, Lady y/n?” Sansa asks, looking enraptured by the mere thought of it. She is dressed in a gown of blue silk, her fur lined cloak on the back of her chair, her hair done up in a style you’re quite familiar with. She is very beautiful, and you spot many men staring at her, one of them being Theon who is seated at the lower tables. You catch his eye and smile knowingly. In response, he scowls and ducks his head.

You must mention this observation to your father.

You smile and return your attention to Sansa, regaling her with tales of festivals and feasts, of tourneys and services in the Great Sept. Her siblings either listen as well or turn their attention elsewhere, which you don’t mind. They are not who you are here to befriend.

Sansa sighs dreamily and turns her gaze to Joffrey, who is seated next to his mother further up the table and is staring down at his food as if it has offended him. “And what of Joffrey? Surely you must be close?”

Your cousin, and closest companion, Myrcella snorts into her drink, and you shoot her a look. Myrcella was meant to be sitting next to Joffrey but had convinced someone to switch with her so that she could be next to you.

“Joffrey is a…spirited boy, he has many…passions.” You say carefully, running your finger along the rim of your glass.

Your father suspects Robert will wish to wed Sansa and Joffrey. It’s a strategic match, but your cousin is a horrible bully, you have marks hidden beneath your sleeves to prove your words, and you do not wish to see innocent Sansa suffer in such a way. True, you have not spent much time with her, but she has been warm and welcoming, her innocence shining through like the sun on a spring day.

“Does he enjoy tourneys? I have heard the King was quite the warrior, he and father fought together.” Sansa continues, resting her chin in her hand.

You smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles in your skirts. “Joffrey has not competed in any tourneys quite yet, Lady Sansa, he is too young.”

“He is three and ten, is he not? Most squire by one and ten, why has he not been sent to one of your bannermen like his uncle?” Robb says, taking a long drink from his glass.

“My mother does not wish for him to get injured; he is heir to the throne, after all.” Myrcella chimes in, saving you from coming up with another excuse for why Joffrey has not been allowed to leave King’s Landing.

Sansa nods and gazes longingly at Joffrey once more. “That seems most wise, what a dutiful mother Queen Cersei is.”

“Where is your mother, Lady y/n? I did not see anyone else arrive.” Bran, one of the younger Starks asks, his round innocent face not dulling the sting of his words at all.

Myrcella takes your hand under the tables and squeezes it. She has been privy to the nights of crying, of mourning the mother you would never know.

“Bran, that is not polite.” Sansa hisses.

You shake your head, a soft smile on your face. “My mother died giving birth to me, but I am told she held me in her arms before the Stranger came for her, that she named me and spoke of how dearly she loved me.”

Bran makes a soft noise of apology, and the conversation lulls, until finally you have finished your meal and are free to retire to your chambers.

You wave off any offer to escort you, telling them all you wish to admire the architecture of Winterfell in solitude.

It’s not wholly a lie, though you cannot say you ever wish to be alone , you enjoy the company of others, are invigorated by it, but tonight feels different. Perhaps it is the mention of your mother, or the false face Joffrey is putting on for the Starks and their bannermen, the sound of his laughter ringing about the hall. You wander the halls of Winterfell with a faint knowledge of where the guest chambers lie, when you find yourself approaching the training yard. The night is quiet, snow falling gently, the brisk air seizes your lungs, purifying them with an icy chill.

You are not alone, the thud of blunt metal upon wood, the sounds of exertion, the turn of boots in snow covered dirt. You slowly move towards the sound, knowing your father will scold you later for such carelessness. There are countless people here, and you cannot be assured they all wish you well.

Jon Snow, the ever so distracting bastard, stands in the middle of the yard, training alone, the moonlight shining down on him, making his pale skin glisten. You rest your hand on the stone archway, one foot on the dirt, the other still firmly planted on the stone. You should leave him alone, you know it, but you’re mesmerized by the sight, the tension in his muscles, the expanse of his back, the strength in his arms. He is a little older than you, six and ten to your five and ten, both old enough to be married, yet both remaining unbetrothed.

There had been offers for your hand, even though you were the imp’s child, and many wondered if you would sire broken children, if you would pass on your father’s curse. But for the gold that backed your name many were willing to risk it. You didn’t like your suitors, they were too brash, too lewd, too old, or simply just not right.

Jon stops and lifts his tunic to wipe the sweat from his brow. His stomach is toned, his skin mostly smooth, though there are some faded scars.

Yes, they were simply not right, they did not look like that.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks and you avert your eyes. What were you, a child? A lovesick maid? You have spent no more than mere minutes in his presence, and already you are lusting after him like some silk street whore? It must be the chill that is muddling your mind, yes, the chill. Not the kindness that you saw within him as he played with Arya and Bran in the courtyard earlier in the day. Or the way he stood stiff lipped while Joffrey threw barbed insults at him as he passed him in the hall, or the stack of novels you had overheard the maester say were to be set aside for him. Merely the chill. The chill and the flights of fancy all young girls are prone to.

With that in mind, you wait until he has returned his tunic to its rightful place and step fully into the snow.

He turns on his heel, weapon at the ready. He is perceptive, you note, good reflexes, excellent hearing, fine form, carved from marble, glowing like a god in the moonlight.

Gods y/n, pull yourself together.

“My apologies, I did not mean to startle you.” You say, wrapping your cloak tighter around you. It is thin, far too thin to wear in the chill of night.

Jon lowers his sword. “Lady Lannister, why are you not inside at the feast? Are you lost?”

“Yes.” You lie, batting your eyelashes at him, crafting your expression into one of helplessness. “I wished to return to my chamber, but I lost my way.”

Jon stows his sword and retrieves his cloak from a nearby rack. “I will escort you, if you do not take offense?”

You tilt your head in faux confusion. “Why would I take offense?”

He shuffles his feet and busies himself with his cloak. “You are a lady of a great house, and I am…” He lets the unspoken words hang in the air, and you have the grace to act surprised.

“Oh, yes, right, you are a Snow.” You say, taking a step towards him and extending your hand, waiting to set it on his arm. “Well, I care not if you are a Stark or a Snow, I am sure you are more than capable of escorting me to the guest chambers of your home.”

He ducks his head, that delightful blush returning to his cheeks, and he holds out his arm for you.

You take it gratefully, allowing him to guide you back towards the way you came. The wind blows through the yard as you walk and cuts straight through your thin cloak, a shiver shooting down your spine.

Before you can blink, Jon has draped his cloak over you, clasping it shut with a surprising boldness. “It is far too cold for such a thin cloak; you must remember to wear your furs if you find yourself wandering out here once more.”

You look up at him through your lashes, your heart skipping a beat at the proximity between you and him, the depth of his dark eyes. “And if I were to wander out here again…might I be able to count on you to escort me? I must confess I find the halls of Winterfell quite confusing.”

He lingers for a moment, drinking you in, his head nodding almost imperceptibly, then he wrenches himself away, his gaze set forward. “Anyone in Winterfell would be more than able to escort you, My Lady.”

You nod, feeling the sting of rejection. It’s no matter, this is only the first night, there’s still plenty of time.

Yes I used a Hozier line bc it's perfect for the vibe of this fic

#meg's writing #jon snow x reader #jon snow x you #jon snow x oc #jon snow imagine #jon snow #tyrion lannister #lannister!reader #new series alert!#I know y'all don't want this but I wanted to make the title thing so bad #tyrion's daughter #theon greyjoy x sansa stark #theon greyjoy #sansa stark #got fanfiction #robb stark

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crownedtargaryen · 1 year

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Headcanons for Your First Time With Aemond, Aegon, Jacerys, Bran, Robb and Podrick

A/N : I’ve never written a headcanons post before so I have no real promises this will be any good. Please feel free to go to my ask box and recommend some ideas!

ALL NOTES (SHARES, LIKES, COMMENTS) ARE APPRECIATED!!

18+ NSFW content

Aegon

Without hesitation I can tell you this man is a switch

He would definitely start off harsh

He’d immediately go to tear your clothes off like you’re a whore h’s bought from a brothel

He looks at you like you’re a fresh piece of meat and he’s been starved for ages, absolutely craving every inch of your skin

You push him back and he’ll stare at you in shock, but then calm down

I’m assuming since you’re reading his you have a “i can fix him” mentality, so you’ve fixed him in this

he feels guilty at first, but you reassure him it’s alright and to be gentle, that you’ve never done this before

at you admitting he’s your first, he starts to rile up again, but is obviously swallowing it down

he’ll lift your dress and slip his hand beneath your undone corset, kissing over that fragile neck and leaving the filthiest bites on your skin

”You’re mine” he’ll demand against your earlobe “And I’ll make sure the whole castle knows that by the end of this.”

He’ll slip his fingers in, working your insides hesitantly. He’s not used to pleasuring someone else, more doing all this for his own pleasure

His movements are sloppy and reckless, but it feels good either way

It’s almost awkward, he stares at you at moments, trying to see if you’re feeling good

eventually you have to take charge of the situation, pushing him onto the sheets and working your way around his body

putting his dick in your mouth, watching as he whines and bucks his hips while panting like a dog in heat

you slip him in, your head tilting back. He mewls in pleasure, sitting up and guiding your hips, you stop him and tell him it hurts.

he listens, something you wouldn’t expect. You smile, petting his white hair and then locking lips with his, your bodies smothering each other as you ride him

you both are noisy, and he starts getting rougher with you, but you don’t seem to mind.

by the end of it all, he’s fucking you senseless until you’re on the verge of losing yourself, making a mess all over him as he does inside of you.

as for aftercare, he knows nothing of such. He merely gets up, wipes himself off, then lays with you and lets you cuddle close as he strokes your hair

honestly, the sex was good but he doesn’t seem to be educated enough. It’ll take a lot of it to get him perfect. ;)

Aemond

He’s a top and would NEVER let you overpower him

The entire experience is like a power trip, he tells you over and over that he owns you, and you believe it

but it took forever to even get him into bed

you’ve been set to wed for quite a while, but he’s so focused on the war and everything else that he won’t pay you ANY attention

and you HATE it

so, when the wedding comes around, you specifically request a bedding ceremony, which pleases his mother after some hesitation

at first he weirdly hesitates in touching you, instead he commands you strip in front of him.

as your corset and gown drop, a sly smile comes to his face as he licks his lips at the sight of your figure

he’ll move over and run his fingers down your stomach and to your lower lips, rubbing in a circle

where he learned this? God knows, but it feels so good you can’t dwell

your legs turn to jelly as he slowly strips himself from his garb, smacking your hand away when you attempt to assist

he’ll lower you on the bed with one arm, kissing down your collar bone and chest, licking over your nipples

”You’re gorgeous,” he’ll whisper in a deep and lustful voice. “All of this is mine.”

he’ll then push inside you without warning, stilling and looking into your eyes forcefully, his eye patch still on

”Isn’t that right.” He’ll growl, thrusting unto you with slow and rough smacks of his waist to your inner thigh

”Come on, baby” he’ll coo, holding your hands down and smiling so sly

”say it.”

you swallow hard then can’t utter any words, it feels amazing, like you were made for this very moment

he slows to a stop and chuckles at your whimpers, shuffling ur hips

”Say. It.”

“I’m yours” you��ll whimper, his smile growing. “I’m yours and yours alone, Aemond.”

You reach up to take his eyepatch off and he flinches, catching you off guard

”I don’t want to scare you,” he suddenly says, making you flush and smile.

”You’re perfect, a scar couldn’t scare me.”

He hesitantly let’s you take off the patch, his sapphire eye now visible. You hold his face and kiss the scar, feeling him twitch inside you at such a gesture.

He starts moving in and out, panting and letting out low grunts but not loud enough for it to trail outside of the room

He’ll grow into a pounding, enjoying pulling your hair and flipping you around like you’re a play thing

He’d degrade you, mixing them with praises and leave red hand prints from smacking your ass and thighs

He’d go for about 2-3 rounds before finishing up inside, and making sure you finished as well.

He’ll then clean you up with extra cloth and even give your cunt a few licks, then kiss you and make you taste both of your juices and the love you made.

then, he’ll arrange a bath and take it with you, not caring to clean up the mess on the sheets, urging a servant to do it for him as he holds you close in the water and says nothing

just rubbing your thigh and kissing over your shoulder with relaxed breathing as you wash his hair and face with peppered kisses between each other

Jacerys

A top. For sure.

he definitely likes to take control after you think you are, another power trip but much gentler

hes also like Aemond with he doesn’t do anything sexual until the bedding ceremony

but not because he’s too busy for you, oh no he’s made SO much time for you

he just has fun doing romantics rather than sexual things with you

every day is a new adventure, you almost forget your desires

but once the bedding ceremony starts, he’s got his hands on you in ways you didn’t think were possible

of course, he starts off slow, taking you from your garb without any haste

he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, but doesn’t seem all that interested in your body

no, he loves that pretty face of yours

he loves the expressions it makes, the noises that come out of those beautiful parted lips

he loves it with so much of his being that he’ll do anything to see those faces

so, he picks you up with a heated kiss and places you against the wall, looking to you eagerly as his kisses trail down. He keeps you up with just those strong arms on your legs

he loves how surprised you get when he places your thighs on his shoulders

oh he definitely knows his way with his tongue too

he’ll know all the right places, looking up to you as his tongue dances on your cunt and inside

he smiles, you can feel it in those lower lips of yours, when you tilt your head back and say his name

he LOVES it when you say his full name

not Jace, but Jacerys

he removes himself just before you can finish, kissing you and making you taste yourself on his tongue

he’ll place you on the bed so gently, his hands feeling over your waist and a giddy grin spread on his face

”You’re all mine,” he’ll whisper, raising a brow. “I want you to remember that. My wife, the barer of my beautiful children.”

unlike Aemond, he sticks to praises and loving terms

”Love” “Beautiful” “Pretty” “My goddess”

and you definitely feel like a goddess

he doesn’t insert just yet, rubbing it on the base of your lower lips and slit

he teases you, but not in painful way

you softly beg him

he loves it, he loves when you speak. Your voice is like honey to him, he wants to eat it up and drown in that beautiful tongue of yours

”Since you asked so nicely, Princess” he’d tease, shoving inside of you before running still and gentle

he def moves his hand down to work the clit. No questions asked.

he’ll kiss you only a few times, not wanting to silence you

he’d work you well. Slow at first, then a steady rhythm. Not too fast, but not insanely slow

he’d leave marks on your chest, in places only he can see

and when you’re done, he’d bury deep inside and let it out

as for aftercare, he’d pick you up once he’s recovered and whisper about how amazing you did

he’d clean you up and see to it you’re bathed. He doesn’t mind being sweaty and heated, so he doesn’t get in the bath with you

no, he instead bathes you like a servant

he’s so gentle with his touch, it almost feels ludicrous

then, he dries you off and takes one last moment to admire your beauty

then, he dresses you. He doesn’t let you do it yourself

he has trouble with it at first, even if it’s just a night garb

But once he’s got you clothed, he’ll take you back to the bedroom and get the sheets changed before holding you close and drifting to sleep after you

Podrick

hear me out, a soft switch

he LIVES to please you

Definitely has mommy issues and a mommy kink

since he isn’t of royalty he’d probably act on his desires when you show interest

he’d definitely only do it when you want to, but that doesn’t stop his tempting gaze

he finds you gorgeous, eyeing you down and smirking slightly to himself as he thinks the nastiest thoughts of you

and oh you love it. So much.

When you finally admit your desires, he’ll ask if he can kiss you

he seems shy at first, gentle with his hands and movements

then, you show eagerness and desire. It drives him crazy

he’ll open your legs and work your cunt with his tongue

he loves. LOVES. When you scream and shake

he’ll pet your thighs and pump his tongue in and out at a steady pace while sucking on your folds and clit

he’d have to hold your legs down as you cum in his mouth, and he loves it

he’d try to get up and leave for a moment, but you stop him and plead for him to lose himself with you

he’s SO hesitant, but then strips from his clothes and gets on top of you

as he’s on top of you he’d softly go “Are you sure?” And wait patiently for your consent

when given, he’ll push in, and the sigh he lets out as his eyes roll back is mesmerizing

he’ll bite his lip, hard, and move slowly in and out, groaning and looking in your eyes, loving the sight of you

your faltering expression gives him confidence as he presses his hand on your clit and works it as he quickens his pace, making you roll your eyes back as well

he’d be too nervous to kiss you, just working you like he’s don’t this a million times over.

he’d cradle you after he busts outside, and finger you until you softly plea him to stop.

he’ll wipe you off and clean himself off, not thinking of bathing, just holding you close and not wanting to lose this moment.

he’ll leave soft marks on your shoulders and chest, obsessed with your breasts, and admire you with so much love

”I love you” he’ll whisper “I hope I can marry you soon.”

Bran

A bottom. I will not take criticism.

he doesn’t know where the clit is, and it’s not necessarily a bad thing. He’s just too inexperienced

When you first present the idea of exploration into sexual territory, he’s hesitant

he’ll look at you with a “me? You want to try with ME?”

When you insist that you want him, he’d flush and kind of pull away

when you ask why he’s so scared, he tells you “I’ve never tried anything like that before.” And then look at you, so lovingly and worrisome “I’m not even sure if *it* works.”

his eyes will widen when you say “There’s only one way to find out.” And he nods then verbalizes consent to trying.

He’s shaking as you help him lay comfortably on the bed, his eyes trailing you. He loves when you tease him.

you sit on his lap and roll your hips as your garb is stripped, and he eagerly reaches for you, but you stop him. He obeys, looking at you with pleading and innocent eyes

his eyes start on only your face, then his thoughts best him. He looks lower, eyeing your chest and sighing, a new hardness under his clothes. Then lower, and he lets out what almost sounds like a pitiful whimper

you’re flushed at his reactions, taking his hand as his gaze snaps to your face with a guilty look. You move his hand and guide it to your clit, where his breath hitches at the wetness below.

”Rub in circles, Bran,” you’ll whisper, watching as he swallows hard and licks his lips as he works you insanely well, surprising you. You whine and moan softly, his eyes blowing wide and his cheeks blood red.

he LOVVVES your noises holy shit

and he adores the way your breasts bounce as he pleases you

he would be fine doing this and only this the entire time, but is surprised when you move his fingers to your entrance and adjust them, then push them in.

he keeps them still, then you guide them in and out, his eyes going to your face as you sigh and groan. He moves faster, picking up the movement amazingly.

As you strip him from his clothes, he looks adorable while he’s flustered. Shuffling and eyeing your chest once more then your face.

he does NOT know where to look

you’ll reveal his cock, and it’s big. Much bigger than you expected on a man, it’s stands up straight and eager, twitching slightly. He looks HUMILIATED.

you reassure him, moving to his side and holding his head to your chest, he kisses over your breasts and groans, moving and licking over your nipples. He LOVVVVES this.

you jerk him off, seeing if he feels it. And oh he definitely does.

he grabs you, shuffling and moaning under his breath, it almost doesn’t make you wanna stop

but you steady to a stop and ride him, his eyes rolling back and his breathing heavy and uneven. He holds your waist, moaning your name over and over as you hold his arms and tilt your head back. He sits up all the way and kisses you

he loves how your lips taste, groaning against your mouth and even moving into a sloppy make out to muffle his pathetic whimpers.

he softly tells you he thinks he’s about to burst from the inside and you tell him it’s you being close to cumming. He doesn’t even think about it and without warning bursts inside of you.

hes definitely apologetic after the high wears down, but you shush him and cuddle close, not caring about a cleanup. You just want to be close to him, and he wants the same.

Robb

He’s a hard read, but I feel like he’d top you after being a bit unsure about his place in the bedroom

he’d definitely know where the clit is. I take no criticism.

he’d do it whenever you seem to show a lot of interest in it, and would sacrifice anything to keep you as his

he starts off slow, getting excited at just the sight of the garb sliding down your shoulders

his eyes are EVERYWHERE. At first, your face, in need to feel like he isn’t disrespecting you somehow, but once he sees your body he’s done for

he loves when you pull his hair, especially when you kiss him.

he’d finger you until you can’t function, smiling so wide at just the sight of your desires

he’d never push you into anything, just kissing down your body and leaving love bites all along your skin

he’s OBSESSED with the way your body follows his hands, and how you lean into him with such desire

he’s definitely a doggy style type of boy

dont get me wrong, he LOVES looking at your expressions, but he loves pulling your hair and seeing the way your back arches

he’d start off slow, rolling his hips in a gentle and easy rhythm, but when it’s not enough for you he hastily pounds you into the bed

he’ll bite. 100% he bites you and will whisper “Such a good girl, my pretty little thing… You’re all mine.” And would grip your ass, groaning softly in your ear

no hesitation or apologies, he cums inside and ENSURES you’re over your limit before he’s done

he’d take such good care of you. Washing you off, kissing the sore spots, massaging you, he’d even offer to give you some… “after treatment” with his mouth ;)

def eats you out after too, after he washes you off he goes for another round but only for your pleasure, letting your ride his face

he’ll then wipe you down and pepper you with kisses, dressing you and refusing to let you help

he’d then cuddle you so close, promising to love you forever and that he’d never let anyone hurt you, refusing to sleep until you’re sound asleep and he knows you’re safe.

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lovedandliving · 7 months

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the lack of x reader fics in the GOT fandom is horrible 😔

#fanfic #game of thrones #got #hotd #daenerys targaryen #littlefinger #petyr baelish #bran stark #joffrey baratheon #robb stark #petyr littlefinger baelish #ned stark #arya stark #tywin lannister #tyrion lannister #jamie lannister #x reader #self insert

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ladywinterwitch · 2 years

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Game Of Thrones (Headcanon) - Crushing/Jealousy

Y'all I really hope this doesn't suck because the tumblr page literally refreshed as I was almost done writing so it saved NOTHING and I had to re-write every single word so. Ngl I might've shed a tear but we're not gonna talk about that :). I mixed the 'Them having a crush in you' and the 'Jealousy trope' for this one. Also. I don't know how many of these Headcanons I'll write but regardless even if I do switch up the characters or format for the posts every now and then, don't panic lmfao If I stopped I would tell you. Apologizing for any eventual errors! They'll be fixed.

Warnings: mentions of sex but nothing explicitly nsfw (okay maybe be aware for Oberyn idk), cursing, nothing much really

*I will try to keep the gender descriptions vague, just like the time periods and avoid subplots unlike the other two parts simply because I wouldn't want to make it seem like mini series or something that you kinda have to 'catch up on', I hope that makes sense.

Main masterlist and other headcanons

Lmk what you think if you feel like it :'D

ROBB STARK

Robb is painfully smitten with you from the beginning. This in the very first times made him almost quite shy, but once he gained some confidence and some desire made its way along with the platonic feelings, well. He could be very sweet one second, and make you blush on purpose the moment after. With the whole Winterfell heir/oldest Stark kid thing he never lacked much in the confidence department and it was clear in more ways than one. He is the literal defintion of prince charming. Probably the embodiement of those brave and handsome heroes his sister Sansa liked to read so much about.

Depending on the time of his life in which he met you, he would be more or less careful of showing his feelings. If he were still in Winterfell, with his family and friends around, he would allow himself to be a little more carefree, especially if his father was still the lord of the castle. Catelyn would be a mixture of anxiety and excitement, Robb being her first born and having his first actual experience with love. Ned on the other hand would be just heart warmed by seeing his son being such a good and caring young man, like he raised him to be. Arya would probably either be quite uninterested or befriend you, depending on how much she could relate to you. The same thing is worth for Sansa, even though she would still be quite interested in how things played out between you two. Theon would be annoyingly teasing him about his crush, meanwhile Jon would be more of a listener and give his support to his half brother (cousin).

Depending on how things would've gone with the whole Robert thing, you would've been probably left alone without too much talk of a strategic wedding.

If, on the other hand, we were talking about a slighlty older and king in the North Robb, the situation would probably be more difficult. Regardless, you wouldn't have been the right choice for him to marry, not necessarily for your rank, but because your family wouldn't be strategically strong enough to have important advantages in the war of the five kings. Which is what he needed, but not wanted. Catelyn knew it, he knew it and you knew it.

This Robb would've flirted in the same way more or less, just probably more on the intense and desire filled side than the 'sweet boy' one. And definetly more subtle, for war reasons but mainly because he wanted to keep you safe. Speaking of keeping you safe, he wasn't an overly jealous man by nature, especially if he knew that he was in no position to give you something better than endless pining. But if a man, or another person, were to offend you, or make you feel unsafe, he would definetly pay a little visit in a more appropriate time to the fool in question with his werewolf. He knew better than to not take precautions with the people that he cared about. And after a little scare, he would go to see you and make sure you were alright.

JON SNOW

If Jon has one issue, is how stupidly stubborn he is. Especially when he's younger. This man would rather pin over you for the rest of his life than be honest about his feelings. And you kinda hate him for it sometimes. Regardless of him being in Winterfell as the lord's bastard or a memeber of the Night's Watch, his brooding never changes. Obviously the bigger issue in the second case would be that he literally swore to not take wife or father no children, which made the whole 'being hopelessly in love with you' thing a tad more difficult. In any scenario, he would have that one person close to him to whom he just couldn't lie to. Wheter it was Robb or Sam, he knew that every time you came up in the conversation he could either blush and get out of the topic, or just blurt out his feelings.

Younger Jon would definetly be more awkward and less obvious than Robb, especially because he was nowhere near having the same confidence. He would still be very caring and sweet, just in a more subtle way. If Robb was the kind of guy that would ask you to dance with him or bring you flowers openly, Jon would offer you his fur coat if you were cold or help you get up and down a horse.

He also really enjoys people who kind of understand him as he is and don't try to pressure him that much into acting in a way that it's not himself, and this is honestly one of the things that makes him go crazy for you. He loves how interesting and funny and genuinely caring about him you are. He thinks about you all the time. But gods forbid if he was caught actually having feelings that weren't angsty. He didn't like people that much, but he liked you. Very much so.

You could see through him though, so while you didn't want to pressure him to say more than he wanted, you could get irritated about how stubborn he was sometimes. It happened more than once that other people flirted with you or apparently so, and Jon was never thrilled about that, at all. If you looked around hard enough you could probably spot him in a corner of the room, watching you from afar, brooding as usual. That made you quite sad at times, because you didn't fully understand why he just wouldn't let himself go completely with you. You sometimes played a bit into it, just a tiny bit, to get him riled up. But in the end, you were always going back to him, making sure that you would actually never betray him. He knew that, deep down.

But again, he didn't trust people much, and could get quite protective if he sensed that something wasn't quite right with someone. Before doing anything though, he would often keep an eye on them, and after that if his worries actually were proven somehow to be true, it wouldn't take him much to use a few tricks up his sleeve to scare people off.

Older Jon would be more straightforward, both in personal relationships and with the whole confronting thing. Young Jon liked the shadows, older Jon wasn't afraid to put himself on the spot if he had to.

OBERYN MARTELL

Oberyn having actual romantic feelings was news to him. Many times, especially when he was younger he had questioned himself, 'Am I just horny, or do I care?' and no, the answer is no. He thinks that he got really close at times, but mostly he ended up having great fuck-buddies and occasional dinner companions. Most times he wasn't even interested in actual non-married people, so it's not that it could've gone that far anyway unless he was ready to start an affair. But he didn't care enough for it, way too many problems.

With you though, it was new. You weren't much younger and definetly not completely inexperienced, so it's not long after that you met that you actually had sex. You seemed fine with just having this type of 'fun' relationship, so it was really just him finding himself wanting to spend time with you in other ways. Your relationships had blurred lines for a while to be honest. He was the rich spoiled prince with whom you had occasional sex with, and you were one of the lucky people to get into the prince of Dorne's graces.

Knowing his reputation and generally his personality, it took you a while to actually start to believe that he could be in love with you. Riding horses, dining and drinking together, having sex, spending time together and even painting for fun, to you only seemed the behaviour of a rich prince that had a new 'favorite' of the season. Things started to get a different tone when you noticed how possessive he could be. Not in a properly toxic way, but he did like to get you absolutely flustered in the most inappropriate places, to not so secretly show you off while dressing you with the most beautiful and expensive garments in the realm, putting you at his side at important events and even saying that he wanted you to be just his. Not that you were in the position nor desire to actually sleep around, but that statement definetly put a more defined label on your relationship.

Oberyn usually wouldn't get jealous, but he would be even more confident and showy when he wanted to warn someone off. And then usually get you in a dark spot of the palace and fuck you while he told you you were his. And if someone had some snarky things to say about you, he made sure they didn't do it ever again.

JAIME LANNISTER

Confused, insecure, protective, closed off, romantic, intense, quite jealous, vulnerable

Jaime is complicated. He just is. There's also very little chance that he could've managed to look at someone other than Cersei in his younger years, because their separation was very brief, and the immediate failure of her and Robert's marriage gave them the perfect opportunity to keep going with their toxic relationship. As soon as he gets away from her, and loses his hand in the process, he also starts to struggle with his own thoughts about who he is and who he wants to be.

When he meets you, he didn't even thought about your meeting twice. He observed you, as he always does with people, but thought nothing more of you except your beauty probably. The first time you actually talked though, he did think about it a little harder. It was news to him that someone would actually address him in a normal and respectful way, without being fake that is. He had roughed up during the years, especially since people had started to call him Kingslayer, traitor, backstabber. Any kind of degrading name. No one actually even bothered to make their own opinions or listen to his side. Robert and Ned and the whole lot of other people of the court chose a biased version and went with it.

You didn't. Wiredly enough it left him feeling quite wired, and definetly interested in you. If anything, he was curious to see if you were going to ever speak to him again, and you did. You made sure to acknowledge him every time that you saw him, even at the cost of getting the stink eye from whoever was accompanying you. Jaime started to get more interested, and wanting to know you better. Either of you had any malice in this whole thing. You were both genuinely curious to listen to what the other had to say. And slowly, Jaime started to get more and more distanced from his sister. It's like he was blind, or willingly chose not to see, what she really was. The difference was obvious when he interacted with you.

You did create a genuinely nice connections, and you didn't miss to stop and talk or even walk together when you had the chance. The real turning point for him was when he started to actually think about you. He felt confused and quite scared, to be honest. He was afraid of many things; of the fact that he could actually feel something that wasn't so wrong like what he felt for Cersei, of how worthy someone like him could be of you. These thoughts remained quite abstract, even in his own mind, until he actually felt like he was punched in the gut when you started to get courted by another person.

Now, that, was quite the wake up call. Before you actually became a thing, his general reaction to his own jealousy was sadness and self loathing. So when you got together, knowing that he could actually allow himself to be close to you, his love language definetly became touch. He just loved to touch you, whether it was in an innocnt way or not. It's like he needed it. He would also be quite affectionate and funny, definetly the cockly Lannister in him. Fortunately enough there weren't many times in which he became jealous, but when he did, he usually just fucked it right out of you both, to put it lightly. On the other way, if any type of harm should come your way, now in that case his Tywin genes would definetly come through.

TYRION LANNISTER

Insecure, not overly jealous but anxious about your well being, trusting, sweet, funny, has your back

Tyrion has trauma. He really fucking does. Love? Trust? not his forte, either of them. So was he scared when he realized that he could be falling for you? Shitless. Just the mere fact that he met you in King's Landing made him think the craziest possible scenarios of how either his father or sister could've just come to you and say 'Trick that stupid little monster again, he deserves it'. He lowkey knew that it would've been insane, and he was being paranoid but at the same time you never know with those people.

You definetly made fun of people at court together. You also liked to actually argue about some topics, too. You weren't particularly fond of sewing when you were little, so your father made sure that you were at least well spoken, and honestly you didn't mind reading at all. On that you two would relate a lot.

You actually spent so much time together, and he loved how similiar you were. Mentally, that is. He would never even imagine to compare himself with something that he considered as beautiful as you. And even after making sure that you gained his trust, that remained a big issue for him. When he did actually get a grip and you got exclusive, or at least with each other, your relationship didn't change that much, except the sex and the teasing obviously. Tyrion's version of jealousy was more similiar to Jaime's. He wasn't actually jealous, per se, but he doubted himself and what he could give you more than anything.

You never, ever, gave him reason to, though. In that sense, you probably took more care of him than he did, and he really really appreciated you for that. He would've gladly ran away with you, but you both knew better than be reckless in a place full of backstabbers like King's Landing. You kind of had each other's back, and this understanding between you two allowed you to actually live your relationship peacefully.

Now, if Tyrion did feel that someone on his reach could actually try to do any harm to your or your relationship, Bronn would've taken care of it pretty quickly for him.

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a-libra-writes · 1 year

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Uuugghhh i misclicked and deleted a post i was working on......... I still remember the prompt but 💀😫 OG request was ASOIAF characters reacting to their s/o surviving an assassination attempt, another nonny wanted something similar, so I combined!

Obvs there will be mentions of blood, angst, and so on! We got: Cersei, Jaime, Tywin, Tyrion, Asha (Yara), Victarion, Brandon, Ned, Benjen, Brynden, Oberyn, Doran, Brienne

Cersei - Woe to the messenger who brings this news to her; the only thing worse about Cersei finding out is her finding out days after it happens. She's livid, and has no shortage of people to blame and suspect. The idea that this attempt is the consequence of her own machinations and manipulations does not to occur to her, or at least - she quickly shoves that thought aside.

She has her sick room moved closer to her own, and threatens the hell out of Pycelle to ensure a speedy recovery. The maids are threatened as well, though eventually Cersei's paranoia whittles them down to just one or two. She visits when you're awake, and either fusses over your comfort or doggedly acts as though everything is fine and you'll be up in no time - even if you're still sickly and wan. Yes, there's ... some denial there, and in rare moments, the facade and denial will melt, and Cersei will express genuine fear that you may have died.

Jaime - There's several minute of disbelief when he hears what happened. Then the anger rushes over him at once - who did it? And where was he to defend you? Then suspicion. Could his sister have found out about you two? Jaime ought to wait until it's safe to visit you, when he can't be seen - but he's never been good at fighting his whims.

Once at your side, he's clearly anxious and discomforted at how tired and sickly you look. His usual flippant, sarcastic front only lasts a few minutes. He gives in, his shoulders slump and you can see the clear anxiety and anger in his bright green eyes. He comes into your chambers every other day, but you aren't aware how often he hovers around the door and hall, eager for the assassin to come again so he might kill them with his own hands.

Tywin - Any attempt on your life was almost certainly meant to send a message to him. That's how he'll always see it, anyway, and Tywin will answer swiftly. He'll probably mutilate or execute your poor excuses for guards, and the maester understands your recovery will go well or he'll be next on the chopping block. Next, he draws up his mental lists of suspects and cuts through them. Tywin Lannister will find out who did this. There's no uncertainty of that.

That said, he doesn't visit the first few days of your recovery - both because of the investigating he's spending late hours on, and because he genuinely doesn't want to see you in such a weak, uneasy state. He isn't willing to admit this to himself, of course, but it brings back memories of Joanna. He'd be more affected if you were stabbed versus if you were poisoned; the blood, the bandages, your pale complexion and low energy all point to the very obvious fact you nearly died, and that would have affected the normally immovable, cruel Lannister patriarch. He doesn't like reminders that he's mortal.

Tyrion - Panic and dread starts bubbling up once he hears the news and really processes it. Tyrion wants to see you right away, even if you're in no state to see visitors for a while. He already has a shortlist of possible culprits, his sister being at the top. He makes sure it's a maester he trusts whose helping your recovery, one of your personal maids he knows whose caring for you, a few guards he pays personally and knows well ... It may seem like a bit much to you, but for Tyrion, it isn't enough. He's still riddled with anxiety and worry that whoever did it will send another assassin to finish the job.

He does his best to be reassuring and light-hearted when he visits, not wanting to trouble you with all the thoughts plaguing him. He likes to bring flowers and books and such, things to brighten your day and occupy you. Tyrion tries to float the idea of moving you to a private manor rather than the Red Keep.

Asha - She's alternating between a quiet fury and outright anger, snapping at this maester and that servant to handle you better. She might push them aside and just do it herself; she can certainly stitch a wound closed, though poison is beyond her. Oh, she has a good idea of who might have done this, but that's for later. First priority is getting your guts back in place and making sure there's some kind of medicine or disinfectant in these islands.

She investigates into who the culprit might be, but still takes time to visit you in the evening. She knows you'll pull through, you're strong - but what kind of lover would she be if she didn't check in and bother you? Asha alternates between a rare tenderness and her usual light heartened jokes, whichever works best on cheering you up.

Victarion - So. The good news is he didn't kill the messenger. The bad news is he's close to strangling the maester that was dragged in to treat you. Victarion has no way of figuring out who did this or how, so anyone is open to his wrath. He might eventually have suspicions, but it'll be his brothers and Asha who will do most of the investigating (if they bother). This rattles Victarion more than he's willing to admit.

It's difficult to visit when you're incoherent and pale, so he waits until you're more stable, even if all these negative emotions bite at him. There's anxiety, fear, powerlessness; all things he's worked to avoid and outrun. He probably doesn't even admit how badly he'd shaken. When you're finally awake and talking, that lessens some of the burden. Then he can pretend you're completely fine, and you'll recover quickly. He doesn't want to linger in the sickroom, so he just has you moved to your shared bedchambers. .... Probably for the best, since they get cleaned more often.

Brandon - He's beside himself with anger and worry. How did this happen? Weren't his best guards with you? Who was the culprit - was this a ploy to get to him? Intrigue is not his strong suit; he can't bruteforce his way through this, and it's beyond frustrating - it's just painful. He wants a culprit so he has someone to throttle.

Brandon makes sure you're as comfortable. He may not know much about treating wounds, but he knows you're in pain and wants to help in any way he can. This leads to him hovering too much, and the maester has had to kick him out so you can get rest. You're supposed to be recovering in the sickroom, but Brandon still wants to sleep next to you. It's half paranoia that something might happen again, and half he doesn't want you to be lonely. Yes, he's the actual lonely one ...

Ned - It takes a few hours, perhaps a day, for the reality of what happened to sink in ... and then the dread and anger follows. He keeps these emotions inside, of course, wanting to focus on who could have done this and why. Was it because of his own doing, or was this assassin after you specifically? He's never been one to uncover and follow schemes, and that shortcoming is especially obvious and frustrating now.

But when he visits your sickbed, Ned tries to push all that aside. He wants to make sure you're recovering and cared for, and while he follows the maester's instructions, he's also willing to go against them for your comfort, like if you want to be moved to back to your shared bedchambers. It's hard for Ned to deny you anything to begin with, he is absolutely going to let you curl up with him because it helps you feel better and safer, wounds be damned.

Benjen - The solemnity that comes over his long face startles his fellow Brothers. Of course this is no laughing matter, but the dark cloud that passes over his features and makes those grey eyes look so cold is startling. He wants to go beyond the Wall immediately and kill whoever did it, but he knows that's foolish. He has to grit his teeth and wait, because they'll surely send more.

He focuses on taking care of you. While they do have Maester Aemond, the old man's eyes make it tricky to do any kind of surgery. When you're awake and recovering, Benjen does his best to give you his soft smiles and usual jokes, though they're more muted than before. He hopes you don't notice how tired and anxious he's feeling. He tries to avoid assignments that'll send him away from Castle Black, and he sneaks into your sick room to sleep beside you whenever he can get away with it.

Brynden - The very cowardice of the act boils his blood. Whoever wanted to do this to you should have gone through him - he hates that he wasn't there when you needed him. Hasn't Brynden always said he'd protect you? If the attempt was done with poison, he's even more bitter. It's easy to get you the care you need, but he's still troubled, sitting at your bedside and wearing a troubled expression that doesn't go away until you wake up.

He tries to smile and comfort you, but his anger at the situation is obvious. When he's not out investigating what happened, he's at your side. He's keeping you company and playing "a poor nurse", so he says, but you know it's also to keep you protected. He comes in with full armor and his sword, after all. You sense he isn't sleeping well, either; he'd rather spend the late hours guarding you as you sleep.

Oberyn - It's not surprising that he reacts with anger. Oberyn would've been right there at your side, wanting to stop the bleeding himself, carrying you all the way to the maester while barking at guards to sweep the area. He'd go out on his own in a heartbeat, but assuring you're stable comes first. The minute you were, though - he's gone, spear in hand and wanting to find out what happened. Between himself and Doran, the assassin - or at least whoever hired them - can't stay anonymous for long.

While you're recovering, he does all he can for you. Do you want a dozen pillows, plenty of flowers, books, music? Company or none? Any food or drink - even if the maester cautions against specific ones - will be your's. Oberyn spares no expense, the guilt and anger he feels at "letting" this happen assuaged just slightly every time he grants a request. He prefers you be moved to your shared bedchambers rather than a sick room, both so he can protect you and so you don't feel so isolated.

Doran - His schooled, calm expression finally cracks when he hears the news. He wants to get up at once, to rush to the messenger and shake them, but he has to compose himself. Doran knows these things happen, and he already has clear suspicions of whose responsible, but that doesn't help his racing mind. He waits until the maester has done his job and you're stable before visiting you - for one, he has to calm himself, and two, he has to act fast if he hopes to retaliate.

Doran makes sure you have the utmost comfort while you recover, much like his brother, though he's not nearly as over-indulgent. He often spends time with you in your sickroom, reading you stories or just talking while holding your hand and petting your hair. He has a wonderful bedside manner helped by his steady presence and voice; it's near impossible to pick up the anger and injustice he's feeling. He doesn't want to subject his paramour to that. You should just focus on resting.

Brienne - She feels a terrible chill come over her, and then the adrenaline. She jumps to action. If the assassin is foolish enough to attempt it while Brienne is within shouting distance - they're dead, period, she will not let them escape after they did such a thing. But if it was poison, or a near-fatal wound - she may have to just to get you help. She gathers you up in her arms and easily carries you to help, shouting for a maester or healer, regardless of it was the middle of the night or day. She'll drag one out of a castle if need be.

Brienne wants to sit in while you're being treated, but she knows she shouldn't. She's stewing in anxiety and worry, wondering if she could've done something differently. Once you're awake and stable, it's like a weight has been lifted off. She still has plans for the assassin if they weren't caught - but first, she needs to focus on you. The adrenaline finally runs out once she hears your voice and has your hand to hold. She's so relieved she could just crash next to you, but no, you need her to be steady and strong.

#yes this also means it deleted what i had written sdJFDJSFS #siiiiighhhhhhhhh!#anyway i feel like ive done this before but.... maybe not?? i dont think i ever published it?#cersei lannister x reader #jaime lannister x reader #tywin lannister x reader #tyrion lannister x reader #asha greyjoy x reader #victarion greyjoy x reader #brandon stark x reader #ned stark x reader #benjen stark x reader #brynden tully x reader #oberyn martell x reader #doran martell x reader #brienne of tarth x reader #yara greyjoy x reader

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bellarkeselection · 10 months

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I was woundering if could do a tyrion lannister short were there just newly wed and y/n bother is makeing a Speech about how his y/n is a trader to the family for agreeing to marry Tyrion

Could you also use this gif

Traitor to the Stark’s

Staring at myself in the mirror I brushed my hands over my dress I was so nervous. I was even more nervous than I was the day of my arranged marriage a few months ago. The chamber door opened and my husband Tyrion came in seeing that I hadn’t moved when he came to check on me once he was ready. “Y/n, my darling wife is everything okay?”

“I’m more nervous than I ever been in my whole life. Tyrion, I know I shouldn’t be since we are back in my childhood home. But…everything feels different now.” Running my hands through my straight hair I sighed heavily.

Tyrion moved away from the door taking my hands in his meeting my gaze when I was looking down at him. “You have absolutely nothing to fear dear wife. For it is I who should be more worried than you. Since this is the first time I shall be presented as your husband.”

“Tyrion, you have only ever been so kind and gentle to me. If my parents can’t see past the Lannister name then they are fools. I’ll be there for you.” Squeezing his hand in mine he let me lead him through the hallway since I knew the castle better than he did even though I hadn’t been there in a few months. We entered the great hall seeing my mother and father Lord and Lady Stark waiting with my twin brother Robb watching to,learn the duties if a Lord one day.

My father got to his feet bowing to greet us both with a smile on his face seeing me again. “Lord Tyrion, Lady Y/n, it’s so good to have you in our home as honorable guests.”

“As you it is you father - uh I mean Lord Stark.” I corrected myself blushing at the mistake I had made calling him something other than the Lord of Winterfell.

Tyrion nodded towards my mother even though she wasn’t quite as warmed up to him after what happened to Bran. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Lady Stark. I know my darling wife has missed you both dearly.”

“I’m shocked she even remembers who we are. Considering she’s been transformed into a Lannister in the short mouths away from her former family. You can’t even recognize that she used to be a Stark with the way she dresses and she doesn’t even carry her dagger on her hip like she used to. I’d say she’s a traitor to the Stark name!” My twin brother got his feet snapping sharply at me.

Sucking in a breath I felt some tears falling down my face at his words thinking that he might be right. “Robb, I…I’m still your sister.”

“You may share my blood but you’re not even acting like your old self. You weren’t always proper and here you are in a dress rather than trousers and a tunic. I know my sister and you’re not acting like her right now!” He raised his voice stepping in from of me growling through his teeth.

Our mother finally came forward yanking him away for our father to talk alone with him. “Robb that’s quite enough. I’m so sorry Lord Tyrion. We will continue this visit later.” She walked out of the room to find my father and brother leaving us alone where it was just me and Tyrion.

“Y/n, Y/n, look at me. Please look at me.” Tyrion pulled me from my trance of tears and just watching the door that had already shut in my face. Seeing that I was crying through some tears and clutching my hands into fists at my side.

Shaking my head I cleared my throat yanking my head down to stare at him in those soft green eyes. “Yes Tyrion, what were you saying?”

“I said it’s not your fault that you’re brother looks at you differently. You were forced into a marriage with me but I thought I was doing a good job and letting you remain to be the girl I met that day I said our vows to the gods.” He dropped his gaze to the floor with a weak smile feeling like he had failed somehow.

Dropping to my knees so I could be eye level with him I didn’t care what happened to the now stained red Lannister dress. “Tyrion, don’t think for a moment that you have been a bad husband to me. I have heard the horror stories of girls my age marrying brutal men who are rough, who are old men like Walter Frey or who only spend time with their wives to put a heir in their belly. But you are none of these things.” Placing my hands on his shoulders he finally looks me in the eye.

“Thank you, Y/n my dear wolf. Even if your brother won’t see it. You will always be a Stark first and foremost before you were a Lannister.” Tyrion sent me a smile resting his hands on my face leaning down giving me a gentle kiss.

Kissing him back I squeezed his shoulders smiling into our soft kiss. “You will always be the best husband that I could have asked for, Tyrion.” We would be there for each other even if our families weren’t friends.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#tyrion lannister imagine #tyrion lannister one shot #tyrion lannister x reader #tyrion lannister #tyrion lannister x stark reader #tyrion lannister x wife reader #tyrion lannister fanfiction #peter dinklage #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones asks #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones masterlist #got x reader #got x you #got x y/n #got imagine #ask box is open for anything #comments really appreciated

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queerfics · 2 months

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(Smut/Drabble) Is It Casual Now? CisF! Reader x Yara Greyjoy

Summary: Y/N, a member of Yara's crew and longtime fling, finds herself struggling to face the reality of the Ironborn serving a Targaryen tyrant, especially after Yara's confession.

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST! It's horny but it's sad. Oral sex, f/f, lesbianism (but that's a blessing), angsty sex, sad sex, crying

A/N: YES the title is based off of Casual by Chappell Roan. Every time I listen to it I can't help but imagine something angsty with Yara.

NO MINORS BEYOND THIS POINT

The boat crashing against the rage of the sea only slammed your hips farther onto Yara's fingers as you struggled to keep yourself upright. Her hips worked some to hold you in place on top of the crate you sat upon, but still you tethered yourself on a rope hanging from the ceiling of the steerage.

Your moans were partially washed out by the creaking of the boat and partially by the way she smothered your lips in her own, and when she groaned back into you, your hand dropped and wrapped around her neck, deepening the kiss in a clash of teeth and tongue.

This wasn't unusual for the two of you. You'd been the only female member of her crew for quite some time, and like any of the men on board, you two preferred to find solace in the arms of a woman. It had never been anything serious, and it had always been something kept mostly private. Yara loved good company, but with a member of her crew could put her authority in jeopardy.

However, there was something unusual about the way Yara's mouth wandered to your neck. There was something entirely unusual about the way that she, rather than a simple bite on the shoulder to stifle her own noises, worked a deliberate mark right at the base of your jaw. In all three years of your little secret, Yara had never made such intentions present.

This new sensation pulled little gasps from you that floated right to Yara's spine, sending a shiver down it, so she continued placing her claim at the base of your throat, in the dip of your neck, under your ear, creating bruises that eventually washed to the other side of your throat as well.

Her fingers pumped ferociously inside of you, carelessly bruising every sweet spot like it was her last moments on this earth. When you cried out against her, she cooed into your ear so sweetly that you couldn't even form the words to tell her to stop (not that you would want to).

"Are you going to cum for me, sweetheart?" She whispered into your ear, and you shuddered, letting out a breathy laugh.

"N-no," you said, knowing it was the complete opposite of the truth. It was impossible for you to not to, especially when you knew she could feel the way you pulsed around her fingers, the way you gushed into her palm with every push, and the twitch of your thighs with every gentle curl.

"I don't think so," you murmured, letting a teasing smile slip.

Yara shook her head, chuckling and digging her fingers into a particular spot that had you almost jumping out of your seat. She watched, lips parted as your head fell back against the wall of the ship and your eyes fought not to squeeze shut.

"Your cunt is telling me a different story," she growled. She pressed her hand into your lower stomach, building another toe-curling pressure inside you as she held you in place. She kissed you sweetly after you let out a small cry, then sank to her knees.

You watched as Yara turned her focus to mouth at your clit, the vulnerability in her kneeling not slipping past you. The admiration in her eyes, the intensity of her passion - these things did not go unnoticed, and you felt your eyes begin to water. Tingles worked their way up your shoulder, and your ears rang as she pulled moan after moan from you. Your fingers dug into the crate, and you looked down at her with flushed cheeks.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but every other beat pulled a painful chord in your chest, and Yara could feel the way you began to choke up. Her hand slipped down to rub your thigh affectionately, but you instinctively grabbed it, interlacing your fingers.

Your eyes began to burn and blur as salty tears slipped down your rosy cheeks, and Yara squeezed your hand, watching the way you rested your other hand over your forehead, too mixed up between the climaxing pleasure and your longing heart to stay still.

"Yara," you whimpered out, "I'm, I'm-" But you couldn't get it out. It was all too much, the banging in your chest, the way Yara's fingers opened you up as easily as two flower petals, the way she made out with your sex like it was the love of her life, the way she had made it obvious to anyone who looked at you for the next week what had happened, and how they would know exactly who did it--

-- if you made it to the end of the week.

Tensions were high in all parts of the world, and the recent alliance between the Iron Islands and Daenerys Stormborn had completed changed the basis of the Ironborn way of life, and every member of the fleet in particular was feeling the effects of it.

Being pulled so far away from home, losing friends and family members too far from the sea to even retrieve them, and now you were following the trail of the dead with Yara to meet the queen who had started all of this, who had threatened and reconstructed an ancient way of life.

"What do you mean you don't want to go?" Yara stuttered, looking at you in disbelief. "That's not your decision to make, Y/N."

You stood on the other side of the room, running your hands through your hair. Your fight had echoed through the halls of Pyke until Yara had had enough and pulled you into a private room, but even now, passerby stopped to listen in.

It wasn't that you were a particularly disobedient soldier. You had always trusted Yara with your life, obeyed every command, even if that meant returning to her drenched in blood and void of emotion. She was your Captain, your Queen, and you had promised your life to her.

"Why are you serving her?" You exclaimed, throwing your hands up. "She's not even Ironborn, and you've known her for all but a few weeks, and now you've bent the knee?"

"Y/N," Yara stepped forward cautiously, but you waved her off, stepping back. She could feel the heat radiating off of you, feel the anger ripping at the air, threatening the foundation of this offhand non-commitment commitment you had to each other.

"No, Yara!" You exclaimed, "I won't go off to die in the middle of some fucking sea-less dessert for some woman I've never met!"

"She is the Dragon Queen!" Yara argued back, slowly letting her own temper slip from her. "She is the breaker of chains! She will bring no harm to the islands - you know I would not allow that."

You turned to her, eyes burning with rage, and met her face.

"Oh, but you have so willingly sacrificed everything the Ironborn stand for and everything we are for her!" You screamed. Yara stared fiercely down at you, though she did not respond. "And for what? What do we receive in return?"

Still, Yara said nothing. This irritated you even further, so you went further, going so far as to push Yara back. She let you, still quiet.

"You cannot kill another Ironborn, so what, you've taken to dragging us far away and drowning us all in her name?" You hissed. "What has she promised you? Or are you truly just so wound up in some foreign woman's cunt you would erase everything we have worked for?"

You went to push her again, but Yara grabbed on to your wrists. She dragged you forward, bringing you until you were so close you thought she might kiss you if it weren't for the circumstances.

For a long moment, you stared at each other, rage stirring and boiling at the very sight of each other, at the implications you had grown to believe about each other during this fight.

Then, Yara opened her mouth.

Nothing came out at first, simply a few stuttered breaths, then a glance away. And though you had quite a few times before worked Yara up to the point of chosen silence, never had you rendered Yara speechless.

Then, she looked back down at you, and swallowed thickly. Her expression had changed, twisted into a much more somber one.

"If I die out there," she whispered, "I cannot die without you."

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itsgameofthronesimagines · 2 years

Text

Black of Hair (Part 6)

(Gif not mine)

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Warnings: On the Citrus Scale, I’d say we’re at a lime. So PG-13. First time mentions (for now). Describing past sexual events. Mentions of murder, animal cruelty, etc. Crude jokes told by Theon, so that deserves a warning.

Word Count: 5,193

Tags: black of hair got

Summary: War is brewing... and your family is behind it.

Series Masterlist: Here

Taglist: @way-too-addicted-to-anime @akaward-potato @fuckoffupstairs @soleil-dor @depressedcuppatea @thegirlwithoutaname87 @taylorsfilms @100kindsofblake @quietlycalum @lustgardn @thebitchinleo @coffeethenink @theminiestofmins @callmefroggie @greinch @icemanhoneybadger @ietss @theminiestofmins @qhbr2013 @savingprivatecass @fossilisedtreeresin @freshfreakoaftrash @sarcasm-n-insomnia @a-lil-bit-nuts @megzdoodle @gruffle1 @burninggracesandbridges @dead-pool-simp @sonnensplitter @flowercrowns3438 @bport76 @apollonshootafar @serenefreakgeek @hybridlamb @kittykylax @johnmurphys-sass @magnitude101999 @pughslov @fall-winter-heart97 @plumes-de-nuit @spid3rgwen @gwyneirastorm

VERY IMPORTANT A/N: Please please PLEASE if you want to be added to the taglist, please pm/ask box me! Some have slipped through the cracks because they comment/ask on individual chapters and it’s hard for me to scroll through those notifications and keep track of them. Thank you, lovelies! Comment, like, and reblog! That'd be appreciated!

(I do not consent to my works being reposted/copied)

~~~

The next couple of moons after your wedding were more wonderful than you could have ever imagined.

Your first night as man and wife was awkward, to say the least, but it was informative and full of reassurances for the future of your marriage. Robb was, as you observed before, eager to please behind closed doors as well as in public. He was attentive and eager to learn. And in return, you also tried your damn hardest to learn and be instructional for both of your sakes. While a part of you wasn’t expecting anything out of your first time, it was enjoyable, despite not fully finishing. It still felt nice, despite not feeling the way experienced ladies in your uncle’s company once explained to you when you were younger. Your mother nearly killed Tyrion when she heard about this incident. It wasn’t Tyrion’s fault. You were little and snuck after him when he went into a whore house. He didn’t know you followed him. But those ladies also mentioned that the first time is usually never the greatest time.

So after consummating your marriage the first night, both you and Robb didn’t feel the need to rush anything else from then on. For the first couple of days, the weight of expectation was a weight that no longer dragged your shoulders down. You were content with how your life turned out, despite having to say goodbye to your Uncle Tyrion.

With a heavy heart, he left on the fourth morning after your wedding. Your only family left in the North, gone by the end of the day. He promised to write throughout his journey so that you would know he was safe, and the thought of still being in contact with anyone outside of Winterfell comforted you.

To distract yourself from feeling so alone, you asked Robb to be your husband again that night and he accepted without question. Listening to the voices in your head, you were able to communicate your wishes to Robb even when you had trouble forming words between breathless gasps. Listening to your voice intently, Robb followed your instruction, and this time, with slight adjustments, you felt that climbing anticipation you have only heard of. He gladly undid your fears and inexperience with careful hands and slow ministrations that pushed and pulled you into bliss several times throughout the night. You weren’t sure what caused the walls to crumble, but by the next morning, you felt like you knew more about your husband than your own mother knew about your father. Before he could get up to dress for the day, he bedded you once more and it was just as blissful as the night before, even leaving you comfortably sore throughout the day.

All of a sudden, Robb was able to read you inside and out, or more specifically, your body. Your emotions and inner thoughts are still endeavors he has yet to explore, but now he’s exceeded all expectations you had in a husband and more. As you’ve said before: Robb is full of surprises.

It both excited and terrified you to realize your heart started speeding up every time he looked your way, or when your face felt warm when his lips touched your hand every morning at breakfast. The thought of you falling in love with him did cross your mind, but you pushed that thought down and delayed it to the best of your ability, not yet wanting to acknowledge it.

You busy yourself during the day with your tasks, both personal and political. You read and write letters, now sealing them with your name and your husband’s sigil. You read and take account of the stocks before coming up with a solution to make more before the upcoming winter. Rickon loves to make your duties a challenge, but you welcome the distraction. The little lord is bored beyond measure with the majority of his siblings gone from Winterfell. He busies you with games and stories and often begs you for a ride around with your horse. Fawn was still young and could be trained to deal with children, so you happily taught Rickon how to take care of her.

Today was one of those days as you hand Rickon an apple to gift your noble steed. He was jealous over breakfast because Bran’s special saddle was finally finished per Tyrion’s instruction, and Robb wanted to take the boy out to ride for the first time in months. Theon tagged along, but you were tasked with distracting Rickon.

You were teaching Rickon about how to rig a saddle onto a horse when the gates opened. Looking up, your eyes widen as alarm bells start going off in your head. Bran was no longer on his saddle, instead, Robb was carrying his little brother as one of the boy’s legs continued to bleed. Theon had the horses’ reins in one hand and a rope meant to act like a leash in the other, the woman attached to that leash looked wild, with her hair and eyes unhinged with fear and possible rage.

You rush forward, stepping toward Robb and Bran, “What happened?!”

“We were attacked by wildlings,” Robb explains as he moves to sit Bran down on the nearest bench and allowed you to tend to the boy. You kneel in front of the younger Stark boy while touching the knee that was injured.

“Bran? Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” he nods, “I can’t feel it.”

Your heart hurts when you hear the disdain stitched close in his voice. He looked away as you press your handkerchief to his wound while you instruct Rickon to fetch Maester Luwin. Once the little boy returned with the maester, you step away to reach for your husband.

“Are you injured?”

“No, I’m fine,” he smiles gratefully, extending his arm in the direction of Theon and their prisoner, “We killed all but one. She begged for servitude in exchange for her life.”

“You best bow to your knees,” Theon snapped at the wild woman, pushing her forward, “You’re in the presence of a princess.”

“What are wildings doing so far south of the Wall?” You questioned Robb with curiosity.

“I don’t know, but they appeared desperate to take Bran’s horse and head further south of here... like they were running from something.”

The phrase chilled you in a way you couldn’t describe. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good as you watched the wildling woman’s back as Theon dragged her inside.

~~~

A week goes by and she doesn’t say much, at least in your presence. You’ve seen Theon cause her grief -though she appeared to take it in stride- and you’ve scolded him for doing so. It was awful enough to watch her walk around with those chains dragging around her ankles. Robb assured you that the chains were to prevent her from running away, but you countered that the chains just made it easier for men to catch her. Theon laughed and made a horrible comment that you didn’t dare to repeat, but Robb caught sight of how disgusted you looked and snapped at his friend. Theon frowns and doesn’t speak for a while after that, making you wonder if he and Robb were fighting.

You try not to think about mending that conflict while your mind still wandered off to the wildling girl, who was technically a woman, a few years older than yourself. You find her one-morning sorting hay, distributing bits throughout the stables, "... What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't say." She said plainly, not even looking up from her work.

"Can I know what it is then?"

"... Osha."

"Osha,” you smile, despite the other woman never acknowledging your presence, “My name is Y/n."

"So it's not 'Princess' then?" She asked sarcastically.

You laugh under your breath, "I would hope not. That would be a stupid name.”

You catch a glimpse of a smirk under Osha’s wild, matted hair, so you continue, “I apologize on Theon's behalf. He's become a bit... reckless as of late so I hope he didn't hurt you."

"I've had worse men than him try to scare me. He's nothing but a pup."

Her voice was confident enough for you to take the words to heart, "I believe you."

She finally turns to face you, having trouble glaring you down behind the matted hair in her eyes, "... What do you want?"

You tilt your head, feigning innocence, "Why do you assume I want something?"

"No one here talks to me unless they want something."

She was blunt and quite the observer. Osha was well aware of her place among these Stark people and you had to respect that. The stories tell of how wildlings were-- well, wild, but the stories never talk about how smart and cunning they were.

"Well, Osha... I want to see you properly clothed and fed. I want you to be able to actually see where you're going if your hair was properly groomed. I want you to have a warm bath next to a fireplace and a feather bed to sleep on."

You threw her off, you could tell, from the way Osha’s mouth opened and shut while trying to form words. Finally, she settled on a skeptical expression, trying to intimidate your smile, "... Why?"

Your smile only widens, "Because even though my husband says you're a guest here, you're not exactly being treated as one. And as the lady of the keep, it's my duty to host and care for all of the guests of Winterfell."

"Duty. Is that why you want to help me?"

"It's a part of it, but so is the kindness of my heart, believe it or not. You're a clever woman, Osha. You're definitely not stupid,” she almost looked proud, squaring her small shoulders as you continued, “Your eyes are sharper than Theon gives you credit for. But I will be honest, Theon doesn't give most women credit. I believe he entertains me only because I'm his best friend's wife... and because my father wears a crown."

Osha continued to suspect an ulterior motive from you but doesn’t protest when you order a room made up to her liking. The chains remained on her ankles unless she was given a bath and changed out of her clothes, but even when temporarily freed from the chains, you kept a close eye on her. Theon and Robb must have reconnected as friends again when you weren’t looking because they both agreed on how Osha was not to be trusted when you told them what you did, but you waved them off. You assured your husband that even though Osha was alone in her room, you weren’t stupid enough to leave the door unguarded. You left one of your own soldiers in front of Osha’s bedroom door and when Robb questioned the window, you scoffed.

“That window stands high above the ground. No one could survive a fall from that distance.”

You purposely said this when the two of you were alone, not wishing for Bran to hear your comment. Robb considered the matter settled after that. Osha remained a guest in chains but was more comfortable in her surroundings. You even took some time out of your mornings to help braid her hair out of her face. In a strange way, you understood her. You understood what it was like to be trapped in a place you weren’t familiar with, so you tried to make Osha feel comfortable.

Also, it didn’t hurt to gain friends in a strange place.

~~~

Weeks pass and Tyrion has not sent you a letter for some time, so you began to worry. You write to King’s Landing as soon as your paranoia sets in, anxiously waiting for a reply. To no surprise, you get a raven within days, and it's with the Master of Whisperers' sigil. As your eyes scan the words within the scroll, Varys describes how Tyrion Lannister was taken prisoner by Catelyn Stark under the Hand of the King’s orders. The events that followed were the effect of this scandal. Your Uncle Jaime openly attacked Ned Stark out on the streets, killing his men and leaving him injured before Jaime fled the city, likely to rally beside his father at Casterly Rock as they prep for war.

You see red, and before you could think properly, you raced to Robb’s chambers and shook the letter in his face, screaming in a fashion that you could only have inherited from the Queen, “By what right does your mother have to arrest my uncle?!”

“Y/n, I...”

“No! Don’t even try to lie!” You snarl, “I know a liar when I see one. I know the way people look whenever they are hiding secrets from me. I grew up in King’s Landing, boy. I know how people whisper!”

Robb’s face falls from empathy to one of venom, “Do not call me boy!”

“Or what, boy?" You demanded answers, "Is that why your mother left Winterfell? Is that why you were so cold to Tyrion? How dare you and your mother conspire against my family?!”

“Your family?” Robb echoes with an accusatory tone, “Your family were the ones who conspired to kill Jon Arryn and then pushed my brother out of a tower window!”

Silence. The room still felt tense, ready to snap given the word. Your anger froze, your eyebrows scrunching together in denial while trying to search for the lie on your husband’s face. Your chest felt tight, unable to expand for air as the words come out quieter than you intended, “... Wha... What?”

With your confusion comes with Robb’s deflating anger, sighing deeply as he spoke, “I knew you wouldn’t know about it. At first, I thought you wouldn’t know of such things because you were a child but now... now I know that you wouldn’t do something as horrible as trying to kill an innocent boy because you have a good heart. You’re not like your mother or brother. You’re not your uncle.”

You swallow, choking as your throat constricts. You want to scream or demand an explanation, but as of right now, all you can think about is your poor uncle trapped in a cold cell somewhere. The words that spilled out of your mouth were pleas, “... N-No, my uncle is good, too. Tyrion is good. He’s always been good,” the man in front of you scoffs, looking away until you stepped forward, a hand resting on his cheek to keep your gaze locked, “Please, Robb, listen to me. Even when I had nothing, I had my uncles. Now I know that where you’re from, killing a king or being a whore lover is honor-less, but the Kingslayer and the Imp are my family, and believe it or not, I prefer them over my own mother and father. I don’t know what you’ve heard but whatever you believe my uncle has done I can promise you that it wasn’t him. I know him better than my own father. In fact, I consider Tyrion to be what my father could not.”

Robb’s expression softens, but the doubt was still hiding his eyes, as clear as day. You wet your bottom lip, blinking before deciding to confess, “You know... before he left for the Wall, my uncle made me a promise. A deal, a bet, call it what you will. The deal was that if he didn’t make it to our wedding, I wanted him to take me away from here,” Robb’s eyes widen for a fraction before reverting back to normal size. Blink and you would’ve missed it. He let you continue without interruption, “I wanted him to bring me back to King’s Landing. But, if he did make it and I lost the bet, he didn’t want bragging rights or for me to do as I’m told and be your wife. No, if my uncle won, he wanted me to make a choice. He wanted me to do whatever made me happy, and that would make him happy. Everybody wins. He said that if I wanted to go home, then he’d bring me home. And if you remember our wedding at all, my Uncle Tyrion did, in fact, attend the ceremony and even gave me away to you before your gods, might I add. I lost the bet. And when the time came for me to pay my debts... I couldn’t. Not fully. In the end, I realized I didn’t want my uncle to take me home... because this is my home now. And even though I didn’t know you enough then, I knew you and this place could make me happier than King’s Landing ever could. I’m telling you this in confidence because you are my husband and I am begging you to have your mother release my uncle. Have no harm come to the only man who deserves to be my father, please.”

A war was going on in Robb’s eyes, conflict meeting conflict. You had to wonder if all Starks were good at brooding if a distant memory of his bastard brother served you right. Your hand, still resting on his cheek is finally acknowledged when Robb reaches up to take it in his own hand while glancing back at you, “And what if he is guilty?”

“He’s not.”

“And if he is?”

Your worry your lip, your own thoughts brewing a mile a minute before answering, “... I don’t know. If he is... kill me alongside him. I would defend him until the very end.”

He sighs, leaning forward until your foreheads touch, his eyes closing with a wince as if in pain, “That wouldn’t make me happy.”

Your heart skips at the words, your breath was involuntarily stolen from the man in front of you. After a moment, Robb squeezed your hand tightly before releasing you, stepping out of your space, “Y/n... even if it wasn’t your uncle, someone in your family killed Jon Arryn and tried to kill my brother. If not Lord Tyrion, then who?”

“I... I don’t know that either. I just know it’s not Tyrion.”

Robb nods, gaze hardening once again as he kept his gaze locked with yours, “And what happens should we find the Lannister who did these unforgivable crimes?”

He closely watched your expression shift with hawk-like eyes, clearly testing you and your loyalty. Ice settled in your veins, your eyes widening in disgust. You were appalled by his accusations and his suspicion of loyalty, wondering if you would choose between him and your family. With this conclusion, you let your heart harden again as you glared right back at your husband, “Then swing the sword yourself... and look me in the eyes as you do so.”

~~~

Some weeks later, you receive a letter from the Eyrie. Confused as to why anyone from House Arryn would want to speak with you, your hands carefully unravel the scroll. Once your eyes first settled on the handwriting, you breathed a sigh of relief when realizing the letter to be from your uncle.

Y/n,

I am safe. I was mistaken for an assassin and brought to the Eyrie to face judgment. It’s a long story, one of which I do not want you to worry about, but I will now be heading for Casterly Rock. Wish me luck. All that I ask is once you read this letter, have it burned. Do not question it. Just know that it’ll keep our family safe as long as no one else reads this. Stay quiet and stay safe, but most importantly, be brave.

Tyrion

Without hesitation, you walked across your room and threw the letter into the fire, watching the flames until they completely engulfed the parchment to the point of indefinable. That evening, when you entered the Hall for dinner, Robb, Theon, and Maester Luwin were already there, huddled around each other until you approached. Theon and Maester Luwin eyed you with a weary gaze while Robb kept his expression neutral, a scroll unraveled in his hands.

“My mother has set your uncle free. He had won his freedom in a trial by combat.”

“I see,” you dare not react, keeping your head held high as you stared down your husband, “Then the gods must have found him innocent on all charges.”

“There was another letter, Princess,” Maester Luwin decided to break the tension between you and Robb, drawing your eyes to stare at the old man, “Addressed to you. And another to Lord Stark.”

Both you and Robb take your respective letters, opening them up simultaneously. You recognize Varys’ words and read them to yourself. All eyes watch as your jaw visibly tightens and your eyelashes flutter. Your eyes struggle to focus as they slowly lift from the page and you swallow something building up in your throat as you spoke, “King Robert is dead. Killed in a hunting accident.”

The room grows silent. Robb wants to say something but instead watches as you stare at the floor, the letter now hanging loosely in your hands. Robb decides to fill the room with the sound of his letter crinkling as he starts to read the words, recognizing the handwriting to be Sansa’s. At first, he remains stoic until it slowly crumbles away to confusion and betrayal. He stares at the maester then back at the parchment in disbelief, “Treason? Sansa wrote this?”

“It is your sister’s hand, but the Queen’s words,” your head rises at the information, bewildered as Maester Luwin explains the letter, “You are summoned to King’s Landing to swear fealty to the new King.”

“Joffrey put my father in chains, now he wants his ass kissed?”

Spiraling, you don’t think rationally before snatching the letter out of Robb’s hands to read the words yourself. It was true. Robert was dead and now Joffrey has taken the Iron Throne. One of his first decrees was to have Ned Stark arrested and the remainder of his men and loyal servants killed. Sansa, now a hostage, spoke as Luwin described: with your mother’s words. You knew them all too well, to the point your hands began to shake at the thought of it.

Maester Luwin bows his head, “This is a royal command, my lord. If you should refuse to obey--”

“I won’t refuse,” both you and Theon look up at Robb’s words, watching as his eyes harden with determination, “His Grace summons me to King’s Landing, I’ll go to King’s Landing. But not alone.” He takes the letter from you, crumpling it up before handing it back to the maester, “Call the banners.”

Theon smirks while Maester Luwin appeared shocked, “All of them, my lord?”

“They’ve all sworn to defend my father, have they not?”

“They have.”

“Now we see what their words are worth.”

Luwin smiles in approval before walking out of the room. You, now have suddenly lost your appetite, retreat back to your chambers, nearly out of breath by the time you closed the door behind you.

You sit down next to the fireplace when your legs felt too weak to keep you standing. Still in shock, you watch the world move outside your window, swarms of ravens flying past with scrolls attached to their legs. Dozens of those black birds, bearing the call to war for all of House Stark’s bannermen sent an uncomfortable roll of your stomach to flip as you watch them all fly away.

The thoughts kept you from peace and quiet. Your father was dead. He may not have given you much notice, and sometimes he may not have remembered your name day, but he was still your father. A part of you felt disgusted, however, when you barely felt grief over his death. Perhaps a part of you was always prepared for this to happen. Your father was a fat drunk who loved to hunt to avoid his responsibilities... and naturally, those two things don’t mix.

Your brother is king now... that one bit of news involuntarily sent a shiver down your spine. Joffrey wasn’t a good person, and that was only putting it lightly. For most of your lives, Joffrey would try to be cruel to you, but it normally backfired. You were born first and were naturally taller until he finally hit a growth spurt. After that, he was horrible to you. Hitting you, tripping you, pulling your hair, and always when no one else was looking. He even threatened to cut open Fawn once and knowing what happened with one of Tommen’s cats, you couldn’t take that chance. That day, you politely asked your Uncle Jaime to take your horse out on one of his evening stakeouts outside the Red Keep, coming up with the excuse of how guilty you felt not being able to let your dear Fawn stretch her legs as often as you should. Jaime gladly took her, none the wiser. After that, you always strategically sent out the stable boy to tend to Fawn whenever Joffrey’s whereabouts were unknown.

Growing up with Joffrey was like walking on eggshells, so you could only imagine what the weight of the Seven Kingdoms will do on that boy’s shoulders before he snaps. He’s already imprisoned your husband’s father and is currently keeping his sisters captive. Suddenly, your room felt smaller than it was, as though your alliance marriage was about to start wearing thin as a thread. More than ever, you felt like an outsider... a Baratheon and a Lannister daughter... surrounded by wolves.

It wasn’t long before Robb walked in and interrupted your thoughts, silently closing the door behind him. He only makes a few steps in before speaking, “Y/n--”

“I hope you had a letter sent to your mother,” you keep your voice strong while staring into the flames, avoiding whatever tone Robb was pitying you with, “She deserves to know.”

“I had Maester Luwin write one up. She’ll get it by tomorrow morning.”

“Good.”

Silence fell through the room, beside the crackling of the fire. After a moment, careful, slow footsteps draw near to you, “I’m sorry.”

Your eyes shoot up when you felt his presence lingering over you, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed the sympathy in his expression, “For what?”

“For your father.”

A scoff escapes your lips before you could even think about it, your eyes averting back to the fireplace as your husband sits in the seat next to yours, “You should not apologize for something that was bound to happen. I should be apologizing to you. My family has half of yours held hostage in King’s Landing.”

“Not for long,” his voice deepens with determination, “Once the bannermen get here, we’ll leave immediately.”

“But what about your brothers?”

“Maester Luwin will stay and watch out for them... as will you.”

Your eyes shoot up to meet his, and you nearly felt a laugh bubble up in your throat in response to his confidence. You stood your ground, “No. I’m going with you, I’m not staying.”

“Yes, you will,” he meets you head-on as if he believed this was a battlefield he has practiced for, “I--”

“You, what? You command it?” His mouth shuts, and the sneer from before appeared on your face, “You’re not my king, Robb. And I’m not just a lady who knits and sits behind a castle wall waiting for her husband to come home from war! You need me with you in King’s Landing if you intend on rescuing your father from my family’s clutches. My brother sits on the Iron Throne. My mother is Queen Regent. My grandfather and my uncle are raising an army to go to war for her against you. The only way you can safely bring home your father, mother, and sisters are if I go with you and beg my family for forgiveness without too much bloodshed!”

Robb looks away, deciding that the fire was more interesting to brood over. Your posture relaxes, guilt taking over as you slowly reach your hand to touch his arm. You decide to try and win him over by softening your words, “I know you’re no fool, my love... You know I’m right.”

His curls bounce with his nod, his eyes firmly staring at his hands as he closes them together, leaning his elbows against his knees, “It shouldn’t be this way. If none of this was happening, we could stay here.”

“And do what?”

The side eye you receive is playful; mischievous, “I could think of a few things.”

You entertain a small laugh with him, forcing down the heat threatening to rise in your cheeks, “I suppose as Acting Lord of Winterfell, you are due for a couple of heirs.”

Robb’s gaze softens, turning his face fully to you, “There’s no need to have children so soon, Y/n. My father is still alive and even if something were to happen to me tomorrow, he still has two legitimate sons.”

The words fester before your lips turn down. Apparently, a part of you did not like the idea of Robb dying. Even if you despised him, which you didn’t, you wouldn’t wish an early grave for him, “Don’t speak so low of yourself. You are his firstborn son and heir. Now that you are married, it is your duty to ensure your father’s legacy will live on.”

“... His legacy might be in danger... if King Joffrey decides to murder him and we go to war. Do you think your brother is capable of such a thing?”

You wanted to laugh at how silly the question felt when hearing it out loud, but you quickly remember that Ned Stark was at your brother’s mercy, and you decide not to spare Robb the details, answering his question with honesty. Your words were soft and grave, retelling a distant memory with disdain and horror, “When Joffrey was little, he cut open a pregnant cat and proceeded to show our father all the dead kittens, lifeless in his small hands,” Robb’s eyes widen but otherwise said nothing, so you continued, “Robert was disgusted by it, yelling at Joffrey until the boy wet himself... the King summoned me to his chambers that night, and I was scared that somehow Joffrey had pinned this whole horrible incident on me. Of course, Robert was drunk when I arrived, but for some reason, he wanted to spend some quality time in my company.”

You smile unconsciously, starting to feel a small bit of sadness as you clung to one of the few good memories you had of your father, “I don’t think he meant it, but I remember him plainly stating, behind his wine goblet, that I should wear his crown, that Joffrey didn’t deserve it, but unfortunately it had to be this way. Unless he wanted to repeat the Dance of Dragons, he could never name me his heir.”

Robb doesn’t say anything, and since you weren’t looking, you didn’t see the thoughtful blue eyes scanning your face. Your words seeping into his skin, he tried picturing a younger you, sitting beside a fat, old Robert while he drunkenly confessed wanting you on the Iron Throne instead of Joffrey. Robb’s mind was spinning at the picture. A pretty, far-off picture. You, a woman grown, wise and just, sitting on that throne of smelted swords, chin high and eyes fierce, wearing a beautiful gown of your family’s colors and a smaller size of your father’s crown settled onto your head.

The picture in his mind was so clear, part of him wondered if it wasn’t much of a thought, but a vision. Other thoughts began brewing in secret, but they betray the small smile on Robb’s face, fire twinkling in his eyes.

~~~

A/N: I like adding small sentences into certain monologues that sort of remind me of Easter eggs. For example, Y/n Baratheon never considered herself as even half-Lannister and the smallest things she does proves that. When she says that she couldn’t repay her debt to Tyrion, I wanted to further prove that she wasn’t a Lannister, since we all know that ‘Lannisters always pay their debts’.

Again, PLEASE ask/pm me if you want to be added to the taglist! DO NOT comment underneath each chapter! I won't see it right away or I might even miss it. It'll be easier if every ask was sent to me in one place so that I can easily see it.

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#black of hair got #robb stark x reader #robb stark imagine #robb stark fic #robb stark #richard madden #game of thrones #got #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones imagine #got imagines #got imagine #tyrion lannister #theon greyjoy

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