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cdragons · 6 months

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I'm Yours, But You Can't Be Mine | Dark!Robb Stark x fem Knight!Reader

Summary: The Freys and the Boltons were so close in their attempt to assassinate Robb Stark and switch the tides in favor of the Lannisters. But a knight's devotion to her king should never be tested. Her loyalty always remains true, even if she breaks the heart of the man she loves in order to protect him.

Trigger Warning(s): MDNI 18+, blood, gore, graphic violence, forced abortion, violence against women, canon character deaths (not Robb or Starks), graphic smut, more hurt than comfort, Talisa is a spy (and a ho), Reader has post-murder clarity and guilt

A/N: A couple of days ago, I woke up and chose violence (emotionally and "literature"-ally) ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ. Also, Theon Greyjoy never betrayed Robb in this fic bc I said so - HOORAY! Also, if anyone can tell me how I can use different fonts in my posts, that would be great.

Walking out from the tent where the emergency council meeting was held, you steeled yourself for the information you would have to discuss with your king. With each step falling to the ground, bringing you closer to his tent, the boulder in your stomach grew more and more heavy.

“This is a bad idea,” you thought to yourself. “This is a bad idea and a mistake; he will never forgive you if you go through this.”

But you made a promise – and as Ned Stark taught you, you would keep it because it was right and honorable. Because when choosing between what is right and what is easy…you must always choose what is right.

You stopped before the two Northmen who stood outside your king’s tent as guardsmen. Their postures straightened and appeared as imposing as possible when facing you.

“Turn back, Ser (Y/N),” one guard said. “No matter how familiar with King Robb, we are on strict orders from Lady Catelyn that no one but her and Princess Arya are permitted to enter His Grace’s tent.”

“I need to speak with the King,” you spoke in your best militant and authoritative tone. “His lords and I just held an emergency council meeting to discuss House Frey’s betrayal. I need to ensure that no information is held from him.”

“Perhaps it be best you let His Grace rest,” the other guard spat out. “He had just lost his queen and future heir at the hands of Walder Frey – even if his wife was a spying, traitorous cunt sent by Tywin Lannister. We could all use some time to mourn.”

You snarled and grabbed your dagger when you saw the sigil sewn on her sheath. He belonged to House Blackwood. Your eyes softened as you recognized him as Bywin Blackwood, cousin to Lucas Blackwood, one of the four hundred casualties slain by Hosteen Frey. Taking a deep breath, you tried to appeal to their sympathetic natures.

“I concur, Ser Bywin,” you said. “But you cannot deny that time is of the essence. Three days have passed since the failed Red Wedding, and word has surely reached Tywin Lannister and the rest of the Red Keep of their failure. I fear for Princess Sansa’s life if we do not take action soon. Her well-being is entirely dependent on King Joffery and his bitch mother’s whims and wishes. The faster I can bring our king up to speed, the faster we can retaliate and bring our former liege lord’s daughter back.”

You watched them glance at one another before delivering the final blow. “And then we can all go home so that we may finally properly mourn and honor the lives lost in this war.”

They let you through, and you entered your king’s tent. Seeing your friend lying so still on his cot broke your heart. His chest was wrapped entirely in gauze and bandages, and the memory of seeing the arrows puncture his body swept chills down your back. Grey Wind sat beside him as dutifully as ever and did not even turn his head to look at you when you entered. Like his master, Grey Wind was a beast of discipline and strength. He and Robb shared the same qualities of holding the stoic appearance of a leader – even when the world around them came crumbling down. But here, at this moment, Grey Wind was neither a beast nor a leader. At this moment, he was simply the pet whose mind was running rampant with worry from fear of his dearest friend never waking up.

You held out your hand and called out his name. “Grey Wind.”

His head finally turned to face you. You often wondered if he was more man than beast, sometimes based on how soulful his eyes looked alone. You crouched on the ground and beckoned him to you.

“Come here, boy. Are you thirsty? I brought you water.”

He immediately trotted to you and showed his joy in seeing you were alive by licking your face and nudging you with his wet nose. You softly laughed at his eagerness to shower you in love while also inspecting your body to see if you were injured or carrying weapons. His body stilled, and his fur stood as he stopped to sniff the sword resting on your hip. He took a sniff and bared his teeth to let out a low growl when he recognized the scent of Talisa’s blood soaking the metal of your blade underneath the leather sheath.

You petted him and spoke in low whispers to calm him down. “It’s alright, boy. She met her end – you and I both ensured that.”

A pained voice rasped out. “I don’t suppose you got any information out of it?”

Your eyes widened at the only other voice in the room, and Grey Wind immediately returned to Robb’s side.

Tears filled your eyes as relief flooded your body. “Robb,” you sobbed out.

Before you could stop yourself, you flung yourself to hug him. “You’re alive! Oh gods – you’re alive!”

Returning your embrace, Robb held you close. “I am, and so are my mother and most of our men—all thanks to you.”

But the happy atmosphere became sour and somber when he looked down at your sword. The memory of your hands covered in his wife’s blood as you stormed into Frey’s Great Hall with the rest of his men was fresh in his mind. Fury swirled and thundered inside him as he learned he had been played as a fool by Tywin Lannister. Using one of his vassal house’s daughters as a spy while disguised as a healer so that she could seduce him was a low he never thought those fucking lions would stoop down to, but they had, and he will have their heads on spikes.

His grip on your arms grew harder. “Did she suffer?” he asked.

You looked him straight in the eyes. “Every second until she had her last breath.”

“Good,” was his only response.

“Robb,” you started. What you were about to tell him was cruel, but he needed to know. “I tore her child out from her womb…it had blonde hair.”

Robb let out a bitter laugh and clenched his fists. “So not only was she a spy, but she was also a whore.” He shook his head. “I was a fool.”

You took his hand in yours. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. She had us all fooled.”

Robb shook his head. “Not you. She never fooled you. You hated her the minute you saw her, and you were right, too.”

You never once hid your distrust and dislike for her from the moment she and Robb locked eyes, a distrust that only grew more intense when Robb decided to marry her, thus breaking the vow he made with Walder Frey. But despite your skepticism of Talisa Maegyr, you never suspected she was a spy under Tywin Lannister. Eventually, though, you began to trust her after observing her for countless hours.

She wasn’t a Frey girl, but she might be good to Robb. Maybe she would make him happy.

Robb tucked in a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Who would’ve thought that your natural hatred and distrust for anything pretty would come in so handy?”

“I do not hate all things ‘pretty,’” you scoffed. “I just have a natural distrust for things that seem too good to be true that happen to be pretty. Why do you think I ran away from you for so long?”

Robb smirked. “But you always trusted my father?” he chuckled.

"Ned Stark was someone who was born into privilege and knew it," you shrugged. “Besides, he was old and fat when he found me. And I didn’t think it would be useful until now.”

You thought it strange to see her leave the feast so early, claiming that she felt ill, and one of Bolton’s soldiers escorted her to her chambers. You whispered to Theon that you needed some air before quietly following them. You found them discussing how everything was set and how House Stark would fall that night. Talisa’s true name was Joy Marband, one of House Lannister’s vassal houses in the Westerlands. Tal- Joy ensured Lord Bolton that House Lannister would reward him for his loyalty to the crown. Horrified by this revelation, you rushed to where Grey Wind was locked up and freed him after slaying the guards that stood in front of his kennel.

“Grey Wind, gather the men,” you ordered. “Gather as many as possible and lead them to the Great Hall! We don’t have much time!” Grey Wind howled before doing exactly as you ordered. When he parted, you set off to find the spying whore. On your way to find her, you slew every son, guard, knight, squire, and steward that came across you.

You found her all right – found her in her chambers getting fucked from behind by one of Lord Frey’s many bastard sons. You took out your dagger and gutted him from balls to the chest before cutting off his pathetic cock. It gave you a sick amount of pleasure to see how his blood sprayed across the room – from the walls to the bed, on the traitorous cunt’s back he was fucking to on your clothes. His body went limp as a massive puddle of blood surrounded him. After watching him die, you turned your attention to her.

“Please,” she cried while clutching a blood-splattered sheet close to her chest. “Please, I am with child – Robb’s child!”

You reached out, and your hand squeezed around her throat as she tried to claw her way out of your grasp. Anger being your drive, you slammed her head against the headboard of the bed and watched as her lips turned blue from lack of air.

“Don’t you say his name,” you growled. “Don’t you EVER say his name!”

You flung her like she was a simple ragdoll as her body slammed against the stone wall adjacent to the bed. She coughed and gasped for air while rubbing her throat – the bruises were already forming. You stalked towards her before she could crawl away.

“Robb trusted you!” you thundered. “Lady Stark trusted you! The North trusted you – I TRUSTED YOU!”

You towered over her, grabbed a fistful of her umber-shaded locks, and forcefully yanked it until her face was only inches from yours. “AND WHAT DID YOU DO? YOU TOOK THAT TRUST AND REPAID IT WITH BETRAYAL!”

She tried to crawl away before you stomped on her hand and felt it being crushed underneath the sole of your boot. Your former queen wailed in agony from the pain that almost hid the sound of her bones cracking. The dagger you used to fill the bleeding corpse was still in your other hand, and you knelt to trace Lady Marband’s pretty face with its tip.

“W-w-what are you going to do to me?” she pathetically sniffled.

“I have – STOP CRYING! I have only one question for you,” you harshly whispered. “Did my king truly sire the child in your womb?”

“YES!” she cried out quickly…too quickly. Your jaw clenched so hard you thought your teeth would break from all the pressure.

“…Liar,” you hissed.

With nothing left to stop you, you took your dagger and stabbed it into her body. Dragging the blade until her insides were spilling out into your hands, you dug your find to find the child. Her screams howled louder than any beast at night, and you were almost worried that her wails would give away your position. But all those worries went away when you tore the fetus from her womb. Pouring water on it, you found tiny wisps of hair…straight, blond wisps of hair that more resembled the color of golden wheat than Robb’s dark, russet curls.

Hearing Grey Wind’s howl outside the window, you knew it was time. Still holding the whore’s limb and bloodied bastard in your hand, you raced to find Grey Wind. If your suspicions were true, most of the archers for House Frey were already inside the Great Hall while the feast was happening. If you didn’t hurry, you and the men Grey Wind gathered would be too late. You managed to locate him quickly and were relieved to find thousands of men behind him as he immediately trotted to your side.

“Queen Talisa Maegyr is a traitor working for the Lannisters!” you loudly roared. “She belongs to House Marband—one of their vassal houses! Tywin Lannister had sent her to spy on and seduce your king!”

You raised the dead babe high above your head for all the men to see. “The babe in her stomach is not even Robb’s! If you wish for proof, see for yourself!”

You flung its body to the nearest man. He picked it up, and you can see his eyes widen and fill with rage before confirming your words as truth.

“BLONDE!” he bellowed for all his comrades to hear. “BLONDE LIKE JOFFERY AND HIS WHORE MOTHER, HIDING IN THEIR RED SHIT-STAINED CASTLE!”

Cries and shouts of outrage and anger amongst the men. You watched with bated breath as the surge of revenge and the need for bloodshed filled their hearts. You then revealed that Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were also in a secret allegiance with House Lannister and watched as enraged spirits filled the men with enough fury to take down an army of ten thousand. The North needed something to boost morale, and here it was. You looked down at Grey Wind. He stared back into your eyes with the same loyalty he gives Robb, and you know what you must do.

With one swipe, you unsheathe your blade, ‘Purge,’ and raise it above your head as the men go silent.

You shouted before leading the charge into the keep. “COME WITH ME AND LET’S TAKE THESE FUCKING FREYS TO THEIR GRAVES!”

Grey Wind howled to the sky, and the men raised their weapons to let out their battle cries as they followed you, storming into the keep. You shouted orders for the Riverland archers to run to the upper levels to take down the Freys perched there. Your king’s direwolf raced ahead and took down any soldier that tried to cross him. By the time you and the men reached the doors leading to the Great Hall, all of Grey Wind’s face was soaked with spilled red liquid life save for his golden eyes.

You pushed the door open just in time to see Robb stagger back from the arrows piercing his chest. Just when Roose Bolton tried to deliver the final blow, Grey Wind let out a booming bark before dashing to Lord Bolton and clamping his teeth into his neck. Meanwhile, you went to where Theon was held and removed the heads of the men who were pinning him down with a single swing. You grabbed him by his doublet’s collar, yanked him to his feet, and shoved a spare sword in his hand.

“Grab Robb and his mother, and get out of here!” you ordered.

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you–”

“Dammit Theon! Don’t argue with me!” you shouted. “Just get Robb and Lady Catelyn somewhere safe!”

Theon looked at the chaos unfolding around him. “What about Queen Talisa?”

“She’s dead! I killed her!” you answered.

“WHAT?!” Theon’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

You rolled your eyes. “Tywin Lannister sent her to spy and fuck Robb – NOW, GO!”

Once you saw Theon take Lady Stark and they dragged Robb’s bleeding body to safety, you could finally focus on the fight. You focused your sights on every man who wore a Frey or Bolton sigil and didn’t stop until each one was lying at your feet. The blood spilled from each slash, stab, and chop from Purge soaked your clothes and caked your face. But it was as if a dark ritual had taken place, as their blood only seemed to empower each and every one of your attacks. Before long, it was too late for House Frey and House Bolton. Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were bleeding at the Northmen’s feet, and any reinforcements called were immediately subdued and taken into custody.

As far as you were concerned, the only Frey left in the hall was Roslin—but whether she and the rest of her sisters would keep their heads after their surviving brothers would soon lose theirs didn’t really matter to you.

“I’m alive,” Robb began while cupping your cheek, “because of you. The North survived because of you. How can I ever repay you?”

You held his hand. “I didn’t save you for your gratitude, Robb. I didn’t save you so that you could repay me with titles, money, or lands. I saved you because it was my duty. I saved you because I swore to that night Joffery called for your father’s head, and we named you ‘King of the North.’ I saved you because I…”

Robb titled his head. “Because you what?”

“Don’t make me say it,” you whispered.

“Because you love me?” he softly asked. Pressing his forehead to yours, he continued. “Because I do…you know I do.”

You shook your head. “No, Robb – please. Please don’t do this to me. Don’t say things you don’t mean to make me look less foolish.”

You tried to move back and away from the man you’ve longed after for as long as you could remember. But Robb took your hands and pressed them close to his chest as he implored you to remain by his side.

“That night, after they named me ‘King of the North.’ Do you remember? We were in my tent. I told you I wanted to be alone, but you refused to leave me. I cried and lashed like a screaming child, but you never left.”

This was getting too far. This wasn’t why you came here. “Robb, you need to listen to me–”

But Robb didn’t stop talking. “You just stood there – taking it until you finally took me in your arms and held me. You didn’t say a word; you just let me cry out my pain. Like that time when we captured the Kingslayer, you held my hand when I kneeled in front of the Whispering Wood to mourn the men I lost. You didn’t speak of how brilliant I was or how the lives lost were for a good cause; you let me be me and mourn.”

“Robb–”

“That’s when I knew I loved you – that I’ve always loved you. And then, when we kissed–”

“I’m leaving,” you blurted out, “to Maidenpool tomorrow morning.”

The silence between you two seemed to echo louder than any wind that howled during the fiercest storms. Shock was the first thing on Robb’s face before complete and utter horror took over.

You may have spoken too quickly. “Well, no…technically, I and…a few other riders will be headed to Maidenpool tomorrow morning. We need to prepare a ship for your voyage to Dragonstone.”

“…What?” His voice sounded so broken that you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

You combed your fingers through the stray hairs in front of your face. Then, you took a deep breath to prepare for the little speech you had prepared for this moment. This was the plan you and all lords agreed on. It was a good plan, and it was going to work. That’s all you needed to believe to convince Robb.

“Stannis is the realm’s best chance for peace. Perhaps he’s too stubborn but needs more people on his council. Your lords and I decided it was best if you traveled to Dragonstone to try and convince him to become allies with us. But you still need a few more days to recover. So, by the time you arrive at the docks, the ship will be ready. That’s why I – we’re traveling to Maidenpool… to travel to Dragonstone.”

“And after?” Robb breathily asked. His grip on you tightened in desperate hopes of keeping you close. “After we speak with Stannis, we’ll come back? You and me—we’re coming back together?”

You looked away. “You’ll be coming back…along with everyone else. But I…I won’t be coming with you.”

“But I…I won’t be coming with you.”

Robb dropped his hands as if you burned him. You were lying. You had to be – you weren’t genuinely thinking about…about leaving him.

“No,” he panted with terrified eyes. “No, no, no, please.”

You cupped his face. “Robb, please understand–”

“What’s there to understand?!” he cried out. “I love you! And you love me – and yet you’re leaving me! Why?”

“You don’t love me,” you countered. “You’re only saying you love me because you’re angry and hurt by Talisa–”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about that whore,” he spat out.

You rolled your eyes. “Robb, please. You married her. You took her as your wife and nearly ruined the North because of that choice. Of course, you loved her. And, understandably, you’re lashing out because she betrayed you. But don’t lie to me and say you didn’t love her.”

“(Y/N), love,” he beseechingly thought, “you have no idea how wrong you are.”

Robb snarled like the wolf he was at your words. “I married her because I thought she was carrying my child, and I didn’t want my future heir to be a bastard.”

“Even so, that doesn’t explain why–”

You were going to hate him for what he was about to say. “Because you refused me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his shameful reveal. Robb never felt more rueful and penitent of his naivety than now. The last thing he wanted was your disgust and hatred, but he needed you to understand how long he’s loved you. He needed you to realize that you were always the one who held his heart and sanity – without you, he was nothing, as was proven by the Freys and Boltons’ betrayal.

“Robb, I…I don’t – I don’t understand,” you stammered. Your eyes showed that your mind was running amok with questions and a desperate need for clarification. “Wha-…what are you talking about?”

Robb took a deep breath and tried to swallow the lump lodged in his throat.

“That night when my bannermen named me ‘King,’ you followed me to my tent. I kept lashing at you like an angry child, but you never left my side. And then…we kissed, and it led to more. The following day, I wanted to find you – to declare my love for you fully. But every time I got near you…you turned away like I was poison. That’s why I turned to Talisa…to try to forget about you.”

Your eyes widened in horror as your chest moved up and down with shaky breaths. “You broke your vows with Walder Frey…was because of me? You bedded and married Talisa because of me? …I hurt you… a-a-and–” You let out a trembling sob. “–Oh gods, this is all my fault! I-i-if I hadn’t confused you that night–”

Robb could feel you slipping away and continued to try to tether you to him.

“No, my love,” he cooed. “You never confused me. You’re not listening to me. I’ve always loved you, even before that night.”

Robb tried to hold you close, but you harshly shoved him back and stood. He watched as tears continued to fill your eyes, and your face carried an expression that could only be described as overwhelming guilt. Robb flung the covers off him and tried to walk towards you, but each step he took closer to you made you step further back.

You stared at him with a shameful expression. “Robb, I…I was wrong to let things escalate between us. You had just been declared king and were grieving for your father, and I took advantage of your grief and vulnerability–”

Robb tenderly held your face. “No, no, no—you didn’t, though. (Y/N) That night…you gave me your love. You didn’t say it, but you gave me your love, and I gave you mine. I never regretted that night or laying with you. How you spurned my attempts to connect with you afterward—that was what hurt me the most.”

“Robb…” you sobbed his name as tears strolled down your cheeks. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted…I thought if I weren’t beside you…I’d also be protecting you from distractions from the war and your duty to the Freys – oh gods, I’m so sorry.”

You put your hand over your face. “Robb, if that night never happened…if I never followed you to your tent then…then, we wouldn’t be in this mess! All of this is my fault! Talisa, the Lannisters, the broken vow with Walder Frey – the North is more vulnerable than ever, and it’s because of me! …I mutilated a pregnant woman and murdered her unborn child.”

Robb helplessly watched as you continued to blame yourself for his foolishness. Knowing you would want your privacy, he sent Grey Wind away to guard his tent. Gods, his father would be so ashamed of him if he saw him now. He watched as you fell to the ground and began to weep out apologies to every soldier who was murdered by the Boltons and Freys at the Red Wedding.

…Lucas Blackwood…Dacey Mormont…Patrek Mallister…Robin Flint…Ser Wendel Manderly…Owen Norrey…And over three hundred other men and soldiers whose blood were spilled that night.

You even begged for forgiveness from the old gods and new ones, for the blood that belonged to Joy Marband that will forever remain on your hands, along with the stolen breaths of her unborn son.

But then the tears stopped…and an eerie calm cloaked the tent. Your eyes were red and swollen, but a spark of mad clarity was dancing in them. Very slowly, you stood with your head still bowed.

“I have to leave,” you whispered. “I have to leave and never come back. If I stay, I’ll only continue to ruin you and our cause more than I already have.”

You turned away to leave, but Robb reached out to stop you before you could take another step. He begged you to look at him, pleading for you to listen to reason before making any rash decisions. When you stubbornly refused, he grabbed your jaw and forcefully turned your head to face him. His crystal-blue eyes were wide with fear and misty from anguish. He had to make you understand that your leaving was not an option.

“(Y/N), look at me—please, love,” Robb implored. " If you leave me, I will never recover. If you dare leave my side, I will tear all of Westeros apart—leaving no stone unturned, no cave unsearched, no village left unplundered. We belong together. You and me – ruling the North, side-by-side in Winterfell. Us, together, spending every night in each other’s arms, with each morning beginning by being greeted by our children.”

He pulled your face closer until your lips were only a few inches away, and your individual breaths intermingled to become one. You want that life with him—just as he wants that life with you. So why can’t you embrace it and share it with him?

You shut your gaze from him and tried to choke down the pain. “It doesn’t matter what either of us wants. All that matters right now is what we need. What matters is how we can gather ourselves from these losses and try to form allies. And if me being here distracts you from that, then…then I need to leave.”

Robb determinedly shakes his head. “No, no – I don’t accept that.”

“Robb–” you tried to reason, but all of your pleas were cut off when he pressed his lips against yours.

And just like that – all words floated away like debris falling into a steady river.

A warm and tingling sensation ran down (Y/N)’s body as their lips met, and she closed her eyes to fully succumb to the sensation. She knew that she should have pushed him away immediately. But as Robb continued to hold her face gently to deepen the kiss, all sense of reason fled from (Y/N)’s mind when his lips moved against hers with gentle and firm urgency. In that moment, nothing mattered – not the messy past, the unstable present, or the uncertain future. At that moment, (Y/N) felt completely free of all worries and fears as Robb’s hands began to trail down to wrap his arms around her waist to hold her closer while (Y/N) wrapped her arms over his neck.

Despite the constriction of their lungs, neither wanted to part. If they could die in this embrace, then so be it. (Y/N) felt every hard, warm muscle of Robb’s body pressed against hers as they began to walk back until the back of his knees hit his cot’s edge. They tumbled onto the cot, and the fall caused Robb to fall on his back with (Y/N)’s soft and supple frame to press further against him. He slightly winced in pain, which caused the two lovers to finally part. As (Y/N) stared down at her king with a concerned expression, Robb thought an angel was with him.

He stared at her flushed cheeks and lust-glazed eyes with naked longing. Her (h/c) strands tumbled to form a curtain hiding their faces. Staring at the mythic beauty over him, Robb knew he wanted this with (Y/N) forever. Meanwhile, (Y/N) gently swept his curls from his face before trailing her hands down his bandaged chest to search if any wounds had been opened.

“Do you need me to stop?” she asked, her heart beating a hundred miles a minute. “You’re still healing, it might be best if we–”

“If you even think of finishing that sentence with ‘stop,’” Robb interjected. “I’ll bind your hands and take you from behind over and over until the only word you can say is my name – just to show you and everyone else that I could be dying from a cut-off leg if it means I can have you.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and giggled. “You’re so dramatic sometimes. I just don’t want you bleeding out and dying before I finish.”

Robb sat up, wrapped his arms around her, and forced her to straddle him. The sudden realization that Robb had been naked this entire time had somehow escaped (Y/N)’s attention as she felt the evidence of his heavily growing arousal against her body. His lips hovered as his warm breath hit her skin, and his low-timber voice whispered into her ear.

“At least you know where this night will take us,” he huskily growled. “Because I don’t plan on stopping until your womb is so full of my seed – it leaks from your cunt.”

He lowered his hands to grasp her hips before trailing them down to sink his hands over her ass. Showing his canines with a lecherous grin, Robb teasingly ground his hips against hers. He rubbed his hardening manhood against her warm core and reveled in the gasps and whimpers escaping her plumped lips. (Y/N) threw her head back as she could no longer hold back her cries of ecstasy. Taking full advantage of her exposed neck, Robb latched his lips just under her and traced the column of her neck with his soft, hot lips. The feeling of his lips combined with the scruff of his beard against her skin was nothing less than euphoric.

“Oh, Robb,” she breathily panted as their bodies rocked together in sync. “Gods, don’t stop!”

Her hands roamed until her fingers fisted around his dark copper curls. (Y/N) felt her lower body clench when he bit on a pulse point before giving languid strokes of his tongue on it. The contrast between his hot, wet tongue and the chill of his breath when he blew on it gave her goosebumps. (Y/N) softly pushed him back as she longingly gazed into his sapphire-ice pools with her (e/c) eyes and twirled one of his russet curls with her finger. Robb leaned forward and pressed a small peck on her lips as an overwhelming feeling of love encompassed him at her smile.

“I love you,” he sighed out, “do you know that? I love you, (Y/N). I love you so much.”

(Y/N) wanted so desperately to say it back, but the words failed. Seeing how much his love struggled, Robb cupped her cheek and reveled in her warmth as she nuzzled into his palm.

“You don’t have to say now,” he reassured her. “I just—I just want you to know that. Promise me no matter what, you know that.”

(Y/N) nodded. “I promise,” she said with a trembling voice. “I…I want it to say back. But I just…with everything that’s happened—I can’t help but feel like…if Red Wedding wasn’t going to be the thing that causes us to lose this war, I’m so scared of what will.”

Robb pressed a soft kiss to (Y/N)’s temple. “Don’t be scared. I know we’ll make it. We will win this war and take King’s Landing from the Lannisters. And when we do, Sansa will finally be free, and we can all return home.”

“To where you’ll rule the North as King in Winterfell,” (Y/N) mused in a wistful tone. “It feels like a sin to even dream of it now.”

Robb stroked his thumb over her cheek. “It’ll be your home, too.”

(Y/N) gave her beautiful king a genuine but sad smile. “I don’t want to talk about the future right now.”

Robb’s brow furrowed at her foreboding words. “What do you want to talk about?”

When (Y/N) pulled away and stepped off his lap, Robb was prepared to chase her through the camp naked if she dared run away while he was in this state. But she just stepped to the center of the space before removing her boots, followed by her stripping the dark leather breeches slowly down until the bare skin of her legs was revealed. She then lifted her tunic over her head along with her chest binder.

Robb was so painfully hard just from looking at her. He cursed himself for thinking he could ever be happy with Talisa, knowing that perfection was standing before him in his tent. His eyes drank in the sight of (Y/N)’s naked body as if looking away would kill him. He took it all in, from every scar that faded to a pale sliver to every beauty mark unique to her. He wondered if she truly knew how beautiful she was…if she understood how much she had completely and utterly bewitched his soul just with her presence. He wondered if she knew how much he wanted to kneel at her feet so that he could beg for her permission to let him worship her for the rest of his life.

(Y/N) began to walk toward him, and it felt as if the world around them was fading into incoherence, and only the two of them were left. When she finally reached him, she took his hand and placed it over her heart. She wanted him to feel it racing from his touch, from his gaze. Then, she lowered herself until her eyes leveled with his as she sat on the cot’s blankets. With her hands, she cupped his face and poured all her love for her king from her eyes.

“I’m tired,” she sighed. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this…of pretending I don’t want you. But most of all…I’m so tired of pretending that I…that I don’t love you.”

It felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders as (Y/N) finally confessed her love for her king, Robb Stark. The man she marched with from Winterfell when Joffery first imprisoned his father. The man whom she fought beside and watched mourn for every good man who fell fighting for him. The man she’s loved since before she knew what love meant.

(Y/N) let out a heavy sob. “Because I do, Robb. I do love you. Gods, I love you so much – not just as a soldier loves their king, but as a woman who loves a man.”

Robb hadn’t realized he was crying until (Y/N) wiped a tear with her thumb. He took his hand from her chest and pulled her face towards him until their lips met again. Wet laughter mixed with tears and kisses made for a strange sight for an outsider, but it was a moment filled with more love and happiness than these two dared to hope. The way their bodies moved and swayed before (Y/N) fell on her back underneath Robb Stark as he hovered above her looked more akin to an awkward entanglement of limbs than an impassioned embrace. But for the two lovers, kissing each other seemed as easy as breathing and soothing like a gently falling summer snow. (Y/N) marveled at how easy it was to kiss Robb. It almost felt organic, with how naturally drunk they became by the taste of the other.

Soon, the kiss became more heated as (Y/N) and Robb grew more hungry to explore more of each other’s bodies. The more heated Robb kissed her, the more eager (Y/N)’s hands grew to explore his strong, muscular body. Her hands caressed his warm skin, and her fingers softly traced the scars that made him all the more desirable. His lips trailed to her chin and traveled down her neck until he had just reached the tops of her breasts. Grinning at how hard she was breathing, he took one breast in his hand and twisted her nipple. A needy cry left her lips at his harsh tugging before turning into a high-pitched whine when he bit the other.

Pleasure coursed through (Y/N)’s body like blue-hot lightning as her back arched into his body, and her entire frame felt paralyzed from it. She felt her core leaking from arousal as Robb’s hard, throbbing member was pressed against her stomach. Deciding that if he waited any longer, then he would likely burst, Robb used one hand to roam down (Y/N)’s body until he settled in the special place between her legs. He then took the other breast and tugged its nipple between his teeth before using his other hand to tug and twist the one previously in his mouth. Meanwhile, (Y/N)’s mind was so clouded in lust that she could not feel Robb stroking her clit with one finger before sinking two fingers inside her walls.

“Fuck…your walls are so tight on my fingers,” he huskily groaned as (Y/N) wept in ecstasy. “Such a wicked girl…avoiding your king and keeping this sweet cunt away from me. Every time I laid with that whore, I had to fight the urge to call out your name when I spilled into her. But you won’t do that anymore, will you? You know better to run now, right?”

“I-I-I won’t run! I’m yours, Robb! I only belong to you!” She stammered as Robb began to rub tight circles with his now-soaked fingers on her clit. She thrashed against the covers, fisting the furs on his bed to somehow anchor her. Her core tightened, and no matter how much she wanted to close her legs, his hips prevented her from doing so. As a result, (Y/N) had to take it and continue drowning in the pleasure that was Robb Stark’s love.

“Good girl,” Robb darkly chuckled as he straightened his back and placed his hands on the back of her thighs to spread them wide. He took his cock in his hand and rubbed its leaking tip against her folds. “Are you ready for me to take you? Are you ready to know how a wolf breeds his mate?”

(Y/N) quickly nodded. She couldn’t take the waiting any longer. “Please, Robb,” she begged. “Please take me—make me yours!”

With a single thrust, Robb plunged his entire length inside until he bottomed out, and the tip of his manhood kissed the entrance of her womb. The stretch of his thick, hard member against her walls gave the most delicious burn that made (Y/N) peak from the feeling of how deep he was inside her. Meanwhile, Robb’s face snarled at how warm and tight (Y/N)’s cunt felt around him. As her walls tightly clamped down on his length, he bit inside his cheek so hard that the coppery taste of blood coated his tongue to prevent him from erupting right then and there. His hand traveled to her hair and sharply tugged it back so that he could roughly kiss her. His blood only further aroused (Y/N)’s lust for the man inside her as she considered it another sign that she had tasted more of her king and another piece was inside her. Emboldened by this action, she wrapped her tights around his hips to further mold their bodies as one.

The way (Y/N)’s body was pressed against his inflamed Robb’s ardor as he pulled out until only the tip was still inside before roughly thrusting himself in fully. Each time he pulled out and pushed back in, she gave him a symphony of cries and begging that could be heard throughout the camp. The slapping of their skin from each thrust inside of (Y/N) made him grip her hips so tightly that she could already feel the bruises forming on her skin as a steady pace had been reached.

Sweat built on both the lovers’ bodies as (Y/N) began to dig her nails into Robb’s skin and claw long scratches down his back. The twinge of pain only made the young king want to sink deeper and deeper into her until they became one inseparable being. Robb tried to remind himself to go slower to avoid harm (Y/N), but one look in her eyes told him there was no need to hold back.

“Take me,” her eyes begged. “Make me completely yours from this day until my last days.”

Upon her request, it felt as if a dormant beast had taken over Robb, as all he could think about was how much he wanted to take her faster, harder, and rougher – until the only word she could say was his name. As he set off at a new pace, (Y/N)’s eyes rolled back as she began to babble out incoherent cries and moans. It felt like there was no part of her mind, body, and soul that wasn’t wholly drowning from waves of pleasure crashing into her.

She was sure the following day, she would do everything in her power to avoid everyone’s eyes, as they all likely heard her moaning for their king like a common whore. But for now, at this moment, she wanted to only exist for Robb and continue drowning in his love.

Soon, it wasn’t long before the familiar feeling of a knot tightening inside her began to coil more tautly as Robb continued to lavish her in his adoration. (Y/N) could feel her pleasure climbing higher and higher until the knot grew so tight that it snapped. It felt as if a dam had burst, and a heavy flood of pleasure crashed into every muscle of her body. The release had made her feel as if her body had reached new heights of pleasure so immense that it became almost painful as tears started to roll down her cheeks. (Y/N)’s eyes shot wide, and she opened her mouth as her back arched into him, but no sound was made. There was nothing that could adequately convey the

Feeling (Y/N) release on his cock, Robb growled as he felt the last vestiges of his sanity snap and lost all composure. He began to increase his pace until his thrusts became rough and frantic to chase his end. He pushed her thighs until they were pressed against her chest before wildly thrusting deeper inside her walls to feel more of her heat. He was able to fuck into her once, thrice, ten more times before his body went taut, and he spilled his seed into (Y/N)’s womb. Her soaked, vice walls gripped around him and tried to milk all of him in desperate want to carry his child.

As Robb felt the last of his cum leave him, a wave of exhaustion crashed into him, and his arms were no longer able to prevent his body from falling atop (Y/N). Panting for air and resting his head in the crook of her neck, Robb turned to rest on his side while making sure her body was still connected to his. His touch became soothing and gentle as he whispered his dreams and hopes for a child with her hair and his eyes to be borne from this night. She tiredly giggles as he delicately kisses her cheeks, nose, temple, and brow while he talks.

He wanted to weep tears of joy. He felt almost…blessed. After aimlessly wandering in a barren wasteland with no clear end, Robb felt as close to peace as the first time he shared a bed with (Y/N). Robb wraps his arms around her frame and brings furs to cover them as a chilling breeze enters the tent, and (Y/N) shivers from the chill. He tightens his embrace as sleep takes over him.

He whispers in her ear, “I love you, (Y/N). We will be so happy together. I know we will.”

She slightly hesitates before replying. “I am yours, Robb. I swear this to you.”

Her king was so lost in his bliss that he didn’t notice the sadness in her eyes and the tremble in her voice.

A gentle stream of light stirred Robb awake. He stretched his arms and blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Based on how loud it was outside his tent, it was late in the day. He reached out to hold you once more…when he felt your side of his bed feel cold. Immediately alarmed, Robb shot up and looked around his surroundings.

There was no sign of you anywhere.

Your clothes…your bag…your sword…even your bloody scent was gone!

Robb shot out of bed and hastily dressed himself in only his breeches and doublet to begin searching for you. But just as he was about to leave after putting on his boots, a small scroll had been placed in the middle of his desk. He dashed over and quickly opened it. The instant relief from recognizing your handwriting cruelly died as he read over your words, and he could feel his heart breaking.

Every word I said last night holds true – from this day to my last day. I am yours, Robb Stark. But you cannot be mine.

Also, I plan to make this a...3 part series? Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Please comment your thoughts and reblog if you think more people would like to read this!

Tagging: @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @llonelygoddess, @arcielee, @countrymusiclover, @yns-world, @axelsagewrites, @bre99, @katzoinks, @asongofrhaenyra, @rise-my-angel, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @anewpersonthatexists, @bogbutteronmycroissant, @sylasthegrim, @writingsofwesteros, @julessworldd , @dipperscavern

#robb stark x reader #robb stark x female reader #robb stark x fem reader #robb stark fanfic #robb stark smut #game of thrones fix it #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones fic #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #dark robb stark #dark fic #my writing

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lee-laurent · 2 months

Text

Honeymoon Phase - Matthew Tkachuk

Summary: A month later, Matt and Freya return to the Hughes' Lake House; and their families finally get to see how in love they really are.

Content: FLUFF like toothrottingly, adorable fluff. mentions of sex but no actual smut, teasing, mentions of past angst

wc: 1.5k

notes: this is part 2 to under the radar! influenced by one of my favourite moots ever @toasttt11 !! go show toasty some love!! this was so fun to write! enjoy :)

"Are Matt and Freya up?" Ellen asked, flipping a pancake.

"Matt sleeps in," Brady commented, snatching a blueberry from the bowl on the table.

"Freya's never been an early bird either," Jim laughed.

"I'm not waking them up. I don't want to accidentally get a glimpse of Matt's dick," Jack smirked, making Luke snicker.

"Jack!" Ellen gasped.

"Just telling it how it is, Mom."

"Doesn't mean we have to say it aloud, Jack," she scolded, placing a large plate of pancakes on the table.

"I'm sure they'll be down soon," Chantal joined the conversation, "If not... they can fend for themselves."

Matt groaned, rolling onto his back and pulling Freya's body on top of his. His wife was a deep sleeper, so him adjusting cuddling positions didn't wake her. He had one arm holding her by her waist, the other under his head.

"Frey?" he mumbled.

"Mmm."

"You ready to get up?"

"Mmm."

"K," he replied, slowly opening his eyes. He smiled at the sight in front of him. Freya half-dressed, her face buried in his shoulder. Her chest pressed against his, one hand gripping his bicep, the other flung out to the side. He reached out, tapping his phone to check the time.

10:15

God, he was gonna get shit from Brady when they got down there, especially if anyone had heard them during the... late night the couple had shared the night before. Matt decided to give Freya fifteen more minutes, before he was pulling her up with him. She held onto him like a koala, her face in the crook of his neck.

"Freya. Baby, we're gonna miss breakfast."

"Tired."

"I know, love. We can go to bed early."

"I want to sleep," she slurred.

He placed her on the floor, the cold hardwood making her jump.

"I'm up! I'm up! Jesus, Matt! Trying to give me hypothermia!"

"The floor isn't going to give you hypothermia, babe. Get dressed; breakfast time!" he clapped.

She sighed, digging through her drawers to find an outfit. Matt went to the corner, doing the same in his suitcase.

"Not sure how I'm supposed to stay family friendly when you're walking around like that all week," he smirked, gripping her hips and pulling her into him.

"Perv," she giggled, leaning her head back on his shoulder.

"Can't help it when my wife looks like a supermodel."

"You flatter me, Matty."

"Maybe I could enjoy some breakfast in bed before we head down."

"What do you mean? Breakfast is- oh! Matt!"

"Glad you caught on, babe."

"I'm going to eat," she rolled her eyes, leaving him to pout in their room.

"Look who decided to join us!" Jim teased, watching his youngest enter the dining room.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it, Dad," she smiled, pressing a kiss to her dad's cheek.

Matt followed behind her, looking like a lost puppy. He stood behind the barstool she'd sat on, wrapping his arms around her waist. Their families watched as he whispered something in her ear that made her giggle.

"Ew," Luke mumbled, grabbing even more pancakes.

"Any plans for the day?" Chantal asked, pulling the attention off the couple.

"I'm gonna take Matt out on the boat," Freya grinned excitedly, placing a hand on his.

"Like Hell you are," Quinn scoffed.

"What? I have my boating license."

"And? I don't need the boat being christened."

"Quinn!" Ellen rolled her eyes.

"Wasn't the plan, Quintin. But now that you mention it..." she narrowed her eyes at him, smirking.

"You wouldn't dare!" Jack gasped.

"Of course not. You fucking idiots," she sighed, shushing Matt who was laughing into her shoulder.

"Well, you two have fun."

"Thanks, Mom. We'll see you guys for lunch!"

The two families were gathered in the backyard, playing a very intense game of volleyball. Freya had decided to sit out to make the teams even. She was lounging in a deck chair, cheering on her family... but also her husband on the opposite team.

"Good job, babe!" she cheered.

"Who's side are you on here, Frey?" Luke laughed.

"Yours. But my husband is on the other team, so..."

"I'll never get used to that word," Quinn shook his head.

"What? Husband?"

"Yeah. He was never even your boyfriend to us."

"But we can all see how happy they are, Quinn," Ellen scolded, getting ready to serve the ball. Matt turned, shooting a wink at Freya.

"I'm cheering exclusively for Matt now," Freya stuck her tongue out at her older brother.

"You better not be doing that when we play the Panthers," Jack complained.

"She's been doing that," Matt teased.

"You trying to get your ass whooped, Tkachuk?"

"I'd like to see you try."

"I'll do it for you," Freya offered to her brothers, "He wasn't supposed to tell you guys that."

Matt marched over to her, flinging her over his shoulder. She laughed, pounding her fists on his back.

"Who's whooping who's ass?"

"I'm winning," she giggled.

"Are you now?" he smiled, shifting her so he was holding her by her waist. She scrunched up her nose as he pressed a kiss to it, placing her down on the ground. She threw a fake punch at his face, Matt pretending to stumble backwards.

"KO!" Luke shouted.

"And the winner is... HUGHES!"

"Why do we always have to watch his shitty movie?" Freya complained, picking at the loose threads on the blanket covering the couple.

"Because it's not shitty, it's a masterpiece," Jack retorted.

"It was 8% on Rotten Tomatoes."

"And?"

"That means it's shit."

"Babe, just watch the movie," Matt groaned, placing his hand on her upper thigh.

"Whatever."

"That's what I thought," Jack sassed, pressing play on the movie.

"You're right, Frey. This is terrible," Matt whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"That's what I was trying to warn you of, but nooooo, you just can't listen to your wife."

"I-"

"Will you two shut up! I'm trying to watch the movie," Luke snapped.

"Sorry."

Freya leaned into Matt's touch. She was loving being able to be close in front of their families. He trailed his hand a little higher up her thigh, earning some side eye. He ignored the warning, resting his hand right on the edge of her pajama shorts. She shook her head slightly, lacing their fingers together under the blanket.

"I love you," he mouthed.

She just leaned up and kissed the side of his mouth in response. He smiled, leaning in for a proper kiss that she gladly gave him. He kissed the tip of her nose, turning back to the movie. Little did they know that Quinn was watching the whole interaction and he could barely fathom how in love his little sister really was.

"Can you stop?"

"Why?" Matt smirked, running his hand up the front of her shirt.

"Your hands are cold."

"And?"

"And... it's annoying. You're annoying."

"You don't mean that. You loveeee me."

"Meh," she shrugged.

Freya was sitting on the kitchen counter, Matt standing between her legs. It was late and everyone else had gone to bed.

"You don't mean that."

"Meh."

"I can leave," he jokingly offered.

"Nooooo," she pouted, pulling him back by his shirt.

"That's what I thought," he put his hands on her waist under her shirt, squeezing. She wriggled, gasping from the cold contact on her skin.

"Do you think my brothers still hate you?"

"Nah."

"How do you know?"

"Quinn asked me earlier if I wanted to help him grill. And then later Jack came in our room and threw a box of condoms at me. So, I think we're in the clear."

"Jack is such a menace."

"Said he wasn't ready to be an uncle."

"Hmm," Freya tapped her finger against her lips.

"Shut up," Matt laughed, kissing her neck. "No babies yet. We agreed."

"I know! I'm joking!! I have to finish school first. Then we can discuss."

"Whatever you want."

"I love you, Matthew."

"And I love you, Freya. You ready for bed?"

"Yep! Let's go!"

Matt started to walk off, quickly noticing that Freya had made no move to get up, "What are you doing?"

"Carry me?"

He rolled his eyes, "Let's go."

"Yay!" she wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist.

"My own personal koala."

"Duh."

"So..." Luke started, "We can all agree that Matt and Freya are perfect together?"

The two families looked around, all nodding. Freya and Matt were sleeping in... again. And the rest of their family members took it as their time to have a meeting.

"They're so cute," Chantal cooed, "Matt loves her to bits."

"I agree," Ellen smiled, "I've never seen Freya this happy."

"I'm still pissed I wasn't invited to the wedding," Brady smirked.

"Shut up. None of us were."

"I can't wait to have grandkids!" Chantal added excitedly.

"Ew," Jack muttered.

"Grandkids? Who's pregnant?" Freya asked sleepily, wiping the crusty bits from her eyes.

"You!"

"Me? I'm very much not pregnant," she laughed.

"Soon enough," Matthew teased, holding onto her hand.

"WHAT?!"

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk

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as-is-above-so-below · 1 year

Text

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Part 6: Darling

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: implied sexual content, MDNI Note: PART 6 HAS ARRIVED! Thank you for all of your support! A special thank you to @lethalchiralium and @peachesofteal for workshopping with me, per usual, and being my beta! Enjoy and blessed be! (p.s. ghost drinking an orange sodie lol) << Previous | Next >>

Simon could hear his daughter’s screams as he came up the walkway to their front door, duffel slung over his shoulder. He had returned from a month-long deployment an hour ago and only allowed himself enough time to debrief and return his weapons once on base before hopping in his car and heading home.

He entered the house, still in full gear (mask and all), to find his heavily pregnant wife pacing the living room, their crying daughter in her arms. Her eyes and cheeks were red when she turned to the door, sobbing in relief at the sight of him.

“Oh, sweetheart. What’s going on?” he asked, dropping his bag by the door and going to her.

“She has a-a cold.”

“I can see that.” He wiped at the snot and drool on Joanie’s lip with his glove. “Where’s Roach?”

“He went to pick König up. You didn’t see him?”

“No. Must’ve just missed ‘im.” When Price handed out assignments for their most recent deployment, Roach had offered (more like decided) to stay with Freyja for the duration of his absence. With König also deployed, it made sense for him to help her with the baby and housekeeping while Simon was gone. Better than staying on base – alone – for a month. Knowing someone was in the house with his family made him feel better about leaving for such an extended period, especially with his track record. The last time he had left the country, leaving his pregnant spouse behind…

Simon rubbed his daughter’s back, his heartstrings tugging at the thought of her being in pain. “Give ’er here, I’ll take a turn.”

“Si, no, you must be exhausted-”

“I am exhausted, which means I’m in no mood to argue. Go to bed, love, please.”

His pleading didn’t seem to affect her as she went back to doing laps around the couch. “The doctor said there’s nothing we can do. It just has to pass. I’ve tried everything. Chest salve, shower steam, saline – nothing’s working. Every-Every time we put her down or sit down, the screaming just gets worse. Can’t stop…moving, and your son is kicking the shit out of me-”

This was ironic, considering how Joan only kicked when Simon or one of their friends spoke or touched her belly. Now, their son only ever kicked for her.

“Freyja.”

She stopped her rambling and found he had stepped into her path; he firmly held her biceps and dragged his hands up and down. Freyja sniffled as another tear slipped down her cheek. No singular word could describe how she felt (and probably looked). Drained, fatigued, beaten, dog-tired; none quite did the trick.

“You look like shit. You need to get some rest.”

“No, Simon, please just go to…bed.”

Soon as Ghost took Joan and returned to massaging her spine, her wails simmered to quiet whimpers as she cuddled into him. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, little fingers hanging from the collar of his shirt to the top of his vest. Their baby was getting big, her senseless baby talk beginning to lean more toward coherent vocabulary. When Joanie cried a soft “Dada” against his neck, Freyja started to sob harder, the heels of her palms dug into her eyes.

Shit. “What’s wrong? She stopped screaming bloody murder. That’s a good thing.”

“I’ve been trying to calm her down for hours! You come home, and after five minutes, you’ve fixed it. She hates me! She fucking hates me!”

“Frey, look at me.” He stopped comforting Joan for a moment to tilt his wife’s chin up, forcing her to listen to him. When she did, he took his hand back. “Babies see their mothers as an extension of themselves. She knows your heartbeat and breathing sounds; she gets food from you…”

“Who told you that?”

“…I read about it.”

Freyja softened, tears no longer flowing freely. “You read parenting books?”

“Of course I do. I want to be the best for them and you.” He pulled her into his chest with one arm, his covered lips pressing into her hair. “You are her mother. I could never take your place. You’re her home. But I’ve been gone for a month, and I’ve never been away from her this long. There’s something to be said about missing her dad and wanting some comfort.”

When Simon brushed her tears away, she turned to kiss his palm, then rested her cheek there. Freyja didn’t know how, but her husband sure had a way with words, always knowing how to make her feel better.

“Better?”

“Mhm,” she hummed and, before she could reach to pull his mask up, Joanie whined in frustration, kicking her legs impatiently, about to start up again. Simon chuckled and let his wife go, his heavy boots thunking against the hard floor as he began what would be a long night of getting his steps in.

“Good. Now do as Daddy tells you and go to bed. Don’t make me tell you again.”

Coming up on the end of her pregnancy, the ‘waddling’ stage was in full swing. If Freyja thought she was big just before Joan was born, she was almost certainly a whale now, and she was losing energy much faster than before. This time around, though, they were sure to schedule a c-section for the week before her due date. The OB didn’t put up much of an argument with her medical history and Joan’s early arrival.

Her phone pinged again as she rounded the corner toward her husband’s office.

And again.

Joan’s irritable whines became more evident as she closed in on her destination. “Si, I can only move so fast.”

“Oh, thank god.” Ghost detached Joan’s iron grip from his mask while she was distracted. She continued to kick her little legs against him, trying to get away. “She’s antsy. I can’t get her down for shit. She’s sick of me.”

He wheeled his chair around the desk and tugged her missing sock back on (to her protest) until he reached the other side and placed her feet on the floor. “See? Mum’s here. Go see her,” he cooed, her tiny hands gripping his thumbs for support.

“Dad Ghost” as she had lovingly coined Simon in his work attire, was a walking contradiction. An arguably massive man, a masked mystery to majority of the population on base, snapping otherwise cocky and egotistical soldiers back in line. Still, no one dared to laugh as he screamed at them for poor technique or a lackluster performance with a blonde baby on his hip or strapped to his back. It never failed to make her want to giggle, hearing such a soft, gentle tone from the big scary skull plate affixed to his balaclava.

Freyja was halfway across the room when he stood their daughter between his comically large boots. “She won’t go that far,” she admonished. “If you give her too big of a task, she’s not going to even try-”

As if sensing her mother’s doubt, Joan took a steady step forward, still holding Simon’s hands in deep concentration. Then another, and another –

Until he couldn’t stretch forward anymore, and she let go, hobbling towards Freyja until she stumbled at her feet, letting out a soft baby grunt.

They both stared at each other in silence, eyes wide and mouths agape in shock. Neither spoke for a good minute, until Joanie pulled herself up again by Freyja’s cargo pants, babbling, “Mum mum mum mummm”, gnawing at the thick material and looking up with big, brown eyes.

“Did she just…?”

“I told you, she’s bloody brilliant.” Simon shot up to scoop the baby and place her in his wife’s waiting arms.

“My big, smart girl! I can’t believe it!” She squealed and giggled as Freyja peppered her face in fat, wet kisses and gently shook her. Ghost joined in, playfully nibbling at the rolls on the other side through the black material covering his face. Joanie smacked them both away, screaming with joy. Amongst all the commotion, Price stopped in the doorway on his way to their brief (which they were about to be late for).

“What’s going on here?” he asked, fists on his hips in faux anger. “I thought we had an understanding! No fun at work without Granddad.”

“We officially have a walker on our hands!”

Price gasped and crossed the room in an instant. “And I missed it?!” He shoved the stack of mission folders at the lieutenant and stole his granddaughter from her mother, hiking her high up on his waist. “You walked without me? I’m offended, little miss, but I’ll settle for a victory lap.”

He plucked his green bucket hat off the top of his head and dropped it onto hers, earning a high-pitched shriek of delight when it covered her face. “Let’s roll, everybody. We’ve got a meeting to get to,” he commanded before marching down the hall. “Oi, lads! She walked!”

A chorus of cheers broke out in the distance, followed by a wall-shaking group chant, “Joanie! Joanie! Joanie!”

Freyja just stood there, pouting, arms crossed atop her belly. “Just once, I’d like to celebrate our baby’s milestones in peace.”

“You know that’s not possible, love.” Ghost chuckled next to her, offering a single pat to her ass as they headed to the briefing. While neither of them would be going, it was their job to know what was going on during their impending absence. The ruckus started to die down when the couple sat, and the others followed suit. Soap placed a mug of peppermint tea in front of her, which she thanked him for, and Laswell, Gaz, and Soap filed around the table.

“Kӧnig and Roach should be here shortly,” Price said, bouncing Joan on his lap as Ghost passed out manila folders.

Gaz checked his watch with a furrowed brow. “It’s five past. Maybe they forgot?”

“Just give them a few minutes. I’m sure they’ll be here.”

“His office was closed, so he’s definitely in there. I can go grab ‘im. It’s no trouble,” he offered, the metal legs of his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up.

“Be my guest, Sergeant,” Freyja hummed, making eye contact with John as she sipped her tea, hiding her mischievous grin behind the cup. She waited for an appropriate amount of time, about how long it would take to take ten paces up the hall before she held up five fingers.

“You’re a demon.”

“Five, four, three, two…”

“Verdammt nochmal!”

There’s a loud bang, eerily similar to the sound of a six-foot-six body slamming into the floor. Boots thunder against the ground until Gaz appears in the doorway again, eyes wide and blushing like a madman.

“Genau deshalb habe ich das Militär verlassen, keiner von euch hat den Anstand, verdammt noch mal anzuklopfen!”

“Didn’t knock, did you.”

“Nope.”

“How bad?”

König stomped into the meeting, red as a tomato as he jerked his long, tangled (read: freshly fucked) hair into a knot at the base of his neck before slipping his hood on. Roach walked in behind him, grinning like an absolute idiot (read: clearly the one doing the fucking), albeit a bit flush, and his clothes untucked and wrinkled as he plopped beside John.

“At least I didn’t get knifed this time.”

“Der Tag ist noch jung, Unteroffizier.”

“I don’t know what that means, but it sounded like a threat.”

“It was,” Freyja sang, her body shaking as she attempted to withhold laughter.

By the time Price had finished divulging the details of the op scheduled for the end of the month (which was also around the time of her c-section, which left Freyja and those deploying disappointed), Joanie had escaped his hold to crawl across the table and landed in her mother’s lap. She sat back against Frey’s round belly, happily gnawing on a teething ring while the captain combed her fingers through her soft, blonde curls.

John cleared his throat and leaned back, tipping the chair on its back legs. “So…In a shocking turn of events, Roach is the top–”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY, CAPTAIN?!” Soap screeched after choking on his coffee, leaving a stain on his shirt as it dripped from his nose.

“Oh, mein Gott…”

“I don’t know. What did I say, Sergeant?”

Across the table, Roach held his lips between his teeth as he wheezed, quickly signing, “Only for my king.”

“PLEASE PLÖTZE! Stop talking!” König, finally deciding he’d had enough, shot up from his seat and practically sprinted out of the room, almost bonking his head on the door frame on his way out. A moment later, he stormed back in and snagged his forgotten file awaiting him in Roach’s outstretched hand before turning back out.

Biting his lip, Soap muttered, “Interesting…” to himself, eyeing the Austrian’s retreating form before flicking back over to Roach. The Brit was already looking at him, probably having heard him being sat next to him. He winked with a devilish smirk, and practically purred, “S’alright, happens tae th' best o' us.”

A few days shy of their next mission, and the birth of the newest Riley, the gang gathered around their living room for one last game night before Roach, König, Soap, and John departed for another mission. Roach and König were less than pleased to be missing the birth of their godson, but it couldn’t be helped.

Kyle placed a red eight down on the stack of cards, ending his turn. “C’mon, mate, what’s the wildest thing you’ve done on a mission?” he prodded, raising a brow in Simon’s direction. “You know all our stories. It’s only fair.”

The two shared a knowing look, and Freyja giggled once before Kyle interrupted, “Besides that, you heathens.”

Simon pressed against the kitchen chair he had dragged in for himself, seriously considering what he would consider the most outlandish activity he had partaken in outside of combat. Particularly, that didn’t involve screwing his wife in places they shouldn’t, like public places, sniper lookouts, cars, or supply closets…

Before he could drift too far, he caught the saucy side-eye his wife was throwing him from her deep armchair.

“No.”

Soap peeked up from his hand with a quirked brow. “Does Ghostie have an embarrassing secret? Now we have to know!”

“It’s not a secret, and I’m not embarrassed by it just because I don’t flaunt it around,” he said, shot back the rest of his whiskey, and replaced his mask. Simon didn’t always wear it with their friends; he just so happened to feel inclined to it that night. There was no rhyme or reason as to when he needed the comfort; the urge just came and went as it pleased.

He tried his best to sound completely disinterested, hoping the discussion would blow over as he threw down his card. “Blue.”

Unfortunately, his plan did not work, and all interest in their game of Uno was lost. Kyle threw his hand down on the table, completely giddy. “WHAT IS IT?! TELL US!”

Simon groaned, throwing his cards at his wife, who simply laughed. “See, look what you did.” He sighed and begrudgingly unhooked his mask from behind his ears, tossing that at her too. After a beat, he let his tongue loll out, revealing a silver ball.

Several (if not all) of their jaws dropped, save for Freyja’s, who was utterly thrilled that this was happening.

Johnny was the first to speak. “Is…that…” he stuttered, staring unabashedly in disbelief.

He snapped his mouth shut again once everyone had had a decent look. “Alright, can we move on please–”

The Scot pounced across the space, clearing the coffee table as he knocked Simon out of his chair, taking them both down into a heap on the floor. They wrestled as he tried to dig his fingers into Ghost’s mouth and pry it open again. “LEMME SEE!”

“JOHNNY!” Simon roared, bucking and thrashing his hips in attempt to get the man off, but he quickly scooted up until he sat firmly on his chest, knees pinning his shoulders as he yanked the piercing back out.

“Awe, so that’s why you’re always fuckin’ like horny teenagers! Oh, ah bet that feels good on your cu-”

“SHUT UP, SOAP!” “THAT’LL DO!”

Freyja whipped her slipper at Johnny’s head, which he swiftly dodged. Meanwhile, Gaz was face down on the floor, having a fit and struggling to breathe. Price looked like he would actually rather die than endure another moment of the scene unfolding at his feet. Kӧnig was carefully weaving between people and furniture to remove Soap before he got hurt, and Roach stayed in his spot, mouth open in silent laughter.

Thank God Joanie was a heavy sleeper.

“Are you gonnae sit there ‘n tell meh that a’m wrong? A husband should always eat arse!”

“JOHNNY, OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

Kyle finally caught his breath and cut back in, “But does it WORK?!”

Everybody froze, including Kӧnig, whose hands looped under Johnny’s armpits, about to extract him. From underneath him, Simon glared up at his wife (who started this whole fucking mess). “Freyja–”

But Freyja, being the brat she is and loving the chaos, “…It works.”

Simon covered his face with both of his now freed hands, so utterly sick of her shit as the sergeant shook his shoulders, he and Gaz both screaming like madmen. Kӧnig still hovered over them, ready to remove Johnny if Simon called for it, his red hair up in a neat top knot at the crown of his head. A few strands hung loosely by his ears and at the peak of his forehead, framing his pale skin.

“AAAAAYYYYYY, SO YOU DO GIVE GOOD HEAD!”

He removed his shield at that, looking up at Johnny with a confused expression. “Who said I don’t give good head?”

Price flinched with a crinkled nose and grabbed his hat from the back of the couch. “That’s my cue.”

“Scary guys either have monster cock or scary good head,” Kyle stated as if it were pure fact.

“But he has both.”

“I can’t fucking take this.” Simon finally shoved at Johnny and the Austrian lifted him with ease, standing the Scot back on his feet.

Soap dusted off his pants. “Damn, you’ll have’ta get one’a those, Köni,” he teased and turned to face the giant, looking up at him with a boyish grin.

König’s skin, ever the shy one, immediately painted itself a rosy hue, unable to be hidden by any hood or mask. Even Roach was taken by his brashness and turned a little pink himself, choosing to sip his drink. König was, unfortunately, frozen in place, wide eyes staring down at Johnny’s proud face.

Three seconds pass.

Then two more.

Then three again.

“OH MY GOD, THAT WAS THEM?! The threesome you told me about a few weeks ago, was them?”

With nowhere else to go, König collapsed onto the couch and pulled the neck of his sweater over his face. “Verdammter Himmel, Johnny…” If he could crawl into a hole and die, he would.

“What can ah say? M’services are world-class.”

“Can confirm,” Roach added, having put his glass down so he could use both hands to talk.

Johnny raised a brow and dragged his eyes from Roach’s shoes, slowly up his shins, then his thighs and chest before settling on the challenging smirk on his freckled face. “‘S that so?” he asked, stepping into the space between Roach’s knees and the table.

Roach simply nodded, looking up at his boyfriend through hooded lashes, resembling a lovesick puppy with shocking accuracy. He knew exactly what he was doing, too, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth. Roach was a…talented flirt, to say the least.

His glass was carefully removed from his hand and placed on a coaster. Without a second thought, Soap wrapped his fingers around Roach’s wrist, dragged it behind his neck, and tossed the man over his shoulder. Gaz gaped, completely dumbfounded into silence – flabbergasted, if you will. He paused in the entryway, looking over his opposite shoulder.

“You comin’, Kö?”

König, still tucked away in the corner of the couch, peeked out from the cocoon he had created with his sweater. Even his forehead was tinged red, still. He openly stared for a bit before mustering up enough courage to rise again, and in an impossibly meek voice for such a large man, replied, “...Yes, sir,” and loosely tangled their fingers together.

Kyle threw his hands up then dropped them onto his head, dragging his cap back a bit. “WHAT IS GOING ON?!”

Freyja offered a sympathetic pat, her bottom lip jutted out. Poor Simon, who had returned to his seat, covered his mouth with one palm as he tried to contain his chuckles. He pulled his mask back on after retrieving it from the floor.

“Don’t worry, Gaz,” she said and poked his cheek. “We’ll find you a nice girl.”

“I GET AROUND FINE!” He swatted her hand away, glowering at her. “You’re all just a bunch of slags!”

He jumped up, abandoning his beer and putting his hat back in place. “Where’s my niece? I need to restore my innocence,” he grumbled, trudging upstairs.

“Simon, did he just call us sluts?”

“Yes, darling.”

taglist: @esthervalea, @miss-leto, @sweetestcowboy, @blueoorchid, @apocalypticseagull, @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction, @covenlovenn, @330bpm-whiplash, @gnoccheyy, @jaggernauticals, @dwkfan, @untoldshortsofthefandomsdoms, @bobfloydsgf, @maviee, @thomaslefteyebrow, @kyovy, @prodyng, @scout-fang, @avalkyrieofparis, @misshoneypaper, @berryjuicyy, @voteforpedropascal, @beakami, @addictedtothefictionalworld

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nobodysuspectsthebutterfly · 2 months

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HotD seems a bit kinder to Ser Otto and Queen Alicent and now even Ser Gwayne. Granted the Hightowers we meet in the main story are only just briefly mentioned by other characters, but what do hear of them like Leyton or Lynesse aren't that great. The Lannister get a lot of (not undeserved) flack from within the fandom, but are under-the-radar terrible as Houses like the Lannisters or even the Freys or Boltons?

I wouldn't say HOTD is kinder to the Hightowers, as much as it allows them to be real people and not just historical caricatures or empty shells. (The biggest failure of F&B's history book conceit, more than any of the other problems with that book.)

For example, Gwayne in the book gets assigned to the Gold Cloaks to keep an eye on them in case some are still loyal to Daemon, and then during the Fall of King's Landing gets murked by his own men because indeed they are still loyal to Daemon. That's it, that's all there is to him, there's no there there. (Although the "You turncloaks!" "Daemon gave us these cloaks and they're gold no matter how you turn them." is a great line, and I hope it's kept even if Gwayne may not be involved.)

Gwayne in the show, however, is a prissy classist racist aristocrat, who is still brave in battle and protective of his sister and caring for his nephew; he's a knight who helps depict GRRM's knighthood themes with Criston; he's an actual person, both good and bad as a GRRM character should be. I have hopes that Gwayne takes the Ser Hobert Hightower role for the Caltrops and Second Tumbleton, that would be a great ending (especially considering his relationship with Daeron) for an excellent actor.

Re the main story Hightowers -- well, generally GRRM goes by Tolstoy's principle of "All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." Or as he put it, "happy families are boring." Not everyone always gets along in real families, and even the most beloved king and queen can be real assholes to their daughters. I imagine that when we actually meet Leyton in TWOW and find out exactly how complicated his family is -- four wives and ten children, you know there's friction there -- we'll see something imperfect, but different from the Lannisters, Freys, or Boltons. Maybe more dysfunctional the way Cregan Stark's family was dysfunctional or the Tyrells are dysfunctional. (If you think they're a perfectly happy family, then you entirely missed Olenna's relationship with Mace, Mace's relationship with Willas and Loras, Mace's relationship with Margaery, Olenna's relationship with Alerie, and so on and so forth.)

I can see Leyton as a patriarch who became increasingly distant as he got more into esoteric research (he hasn't come down from the top of the Hightower in more than a decade), leaving the eldest son Baelor to manage everything practical in the absence of his father. Was Leyton already half-distant the year before he stopped leaving the Hightower, and that's why he let his youngest daughter (only 16 or 17 years old) marry a newly knighted 35-year-old poor-ass lord from the back of beyond just because he did well in a tourney? How did the rest of the family react to that? The people of Oldtown don't think much of Lynesse now, but how did they feel when their young golden lady was taken away by a bear? These kinds of complicated relationships are the sort of detail GRRM loves to sink his teeth into, and is one of the reasons I'm so looking forward to Sam's Oldtown chapters almost more than anything in TWOW.

#asoiaf #asoiaf meta #house hightower #gwayne hightower #leyton hightower #lynesse hightower #jorah mormont #house tyrell #fire and blood #house of the dragon #hotd speculation #grrm #grrm interviews #anonymous asks #i'm looking forward to sam's chapters for so very many reasons

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thesunsethour · 2 months

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Tumblr in Westeros (S2E05)

🍊redwynegays follow

hand of the king: your grace, dramatic news, someone tried to assassinate aegon targaryen

alicent hightower [downing moon tea]: hot damn. we do that?

🏔️ valyriawillriseagain follow

I will kindly ask you to stop spreading misinformation. There is NO proof that Our Grace the Queen has indulged in ANY sexual relations since the death of our good King Viserys. Do not believe every bit of gossip you hear in Fleabottom.

🍊redwynegays follow

love how you dispute alicent being a bit freaky and not the rumour that aemond literally tried and failed to murder his brother lmao

🏰 eastwatchbythec-u-n-t follow

also you can’t get pregnant from rhaenyra’s strap

88,992 notes

🫀deepwooddick follow

so turns out aegon isn’t dead

201,429 notes

🍁 princeaemondseyepatch follow

tag yourself as a stupid ass event in this civil war i’m daemon targaryen doing spring cleaning at harrenhal

🍁 princeaemondseyepatch follow

# im prince jacerys getting the freys to bend the knee so that his northern sneaky link can march south

who had cregan stark x jacerys velaryon on their 130AC bingo card

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🐺 starkravingmad follow

dragons head in kings landing? you crownlands folk gotta stop making up new sex positions it’s getting boring like we get it you have more brothels than houses 🙄

☄️ realmstateofmind follow

no it’s not a metaphor

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🪻 themotherismotheringggg follow

why is no one advocating princess jaehaera for protector of the realm while the king is sick? she’s the daughter of the ruling sovereign

🍄 frogmen4life follow

is this your queen

🍄 frogmen4life follow

like why are we reinventing the dance of the dragons while the actual dance of the dragons is literally still ongoing

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🪵 smallfolksolidaritygrouppinkmaiden follow

THE RIVERLANDS ARE REJECTING THE TARGARYEN RULE! LET US ALL COME TOGETHER IN REBELLION TO SAY NO TO OUR DRACONIAN OVERLORDS! DO NOT PAY YOUR TITHES! DO NOT PAY YOUR RENT!

🕊️ godssaveourgraciousqueenalicent follow

psyop alert

89 notes

#house of the dragon #hotd #alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #aegon targaryen #jacerys velaryon #asoiaf #rhaenyra targeryan #hotd dashboard simulator #dashboard simulator

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alicentflorent · 29 days

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Can people stop crediting house of the dragon as having a main queer relationship because rhaenicent is NOT canon. The two female leads are not confirmed to be in love nor has anything romantic ever happened between them on screen. Interviews where rhaenicent is brought up as romantic may be validating but that still doesn’t make it canon. Only Rhaenyra is confirmed as queer, and the only reason we got that confirmation was because Emma D’arcy improvised a kiss scene (although, the book does give the implication that something may have been going on between Rhaenyra and Laena but their relationship was cut from the show) and not only is this ship not a thing but this show had a canon lesbian character, Jeyne Arryn, introduced this season with absolutely nothing to tell or show the general audience that she likes women when all they had to do give her a throwaway line about her lover. Sabitha Frey and Black Aly, two queer women have seemingly been cut from the show or at least were not included in this season.

Rhaenicent is just a combination of queerbaiting and fanservice at this point and hotd does not deserve to be listed alongside actual queer media made by people who care about telling lgbtq+ stories and we don’t have to settle for a little bit of queer subtext anymore.

#i picked up on some queer undertones specifically woth young rhaenicent too but it was just that UNDERTONES #anti hotd #anti rhaenicent #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #jeyne arryn #anyway i hope no one has been duped into watching this show with the expectation of queer rep

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crazyaboutto · 2 months

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The pain of being a book reader that’s been made into a show

The writers and directors literally have completed series in their hands. They have the writer’s feedback as well or at least they initially said so in season 1.

Why the fuck are they deviating from canon so much? I’m trying to think HOTD as high budgeted fan fiction but damn it’s so hard. You’re getting paid a lot and working on one of the most well known series and you just fuck up

I was already pissed with Aegon’s dream nonsense as well as Rhaenys bursting out of coronation just for shock value but it’s going downhill fast. That dream leads to absolutely nothing. We don’t even have NK like the GOT version in the books. Also, still prefer book version of Alicent both age and character wise.

It was so fast paced in season 1 and now they’re dragging the story. They’re also deviating from the canon a lot

Why does Alicent actually believe “that’s what Viserys wanted”? She wants the throne for her bloodline and that’s it. It’s her wish for power, not for actually believing in whatever Viserys was saying.

It also feels like Rhaenyra would be fine with Aegon’s usurping if Luke didn’t die. She is the throne. The war started when the greens hid the death of the king.

Why is Daemon tripping for so long? He took harrenhall and that’s it. He raised the armies 3 times before the Dance. He’s a fearsome and competent general but he’s basically just a random dude who took acid trips. Ryan saying Daemon doesn’t have the skill set to raise an army lmao give me a break

Perhaps, they do not want to show cruel side of Rhaenyra by ordering the death of Nettles and not harming Daemon after Mysaria told Rhaenyra? on one hand, Daemon might have cheated with Nettles, or it was father-daughter relationship like Mushroom thinks. It feels like they’re wasting our time with Daemon’s trips like him fucking his mother nonsense to erase Nettles.

Why are they trying to erase the connection between Valyrian and dragons? No normal person can bond with a dragon. Be it Valeryon or Targaryen, you need Valyrian blood. And the whole stupid “illusion” thing in the show.

They also wasted Laena so badly in season 1. If they’re all for sapphic representation instead of just creating buzz on internet, they could have gone for Laena x Rhaenyra moments. I’m not even sure if the adult versions were on screen together. Soon after we got older Laena, she died. It’s literally book canon that Rhaenyra was “very fond” of Laena. It’s also pretty much implied that there were things between them and ot3 with Daemon

Not to mention they erased the lesbian fighter character who loves killing men and kissing women. I’m talking about Sabitha (Frey) and her lover Alysanne Blackwood. Would rather (want to) see them acting like they’re “very close friends” than a Alicole sex scene

We don’t even have Daeron lol

We haven’t seen Haelena’s mourning well instead we saw random things. Blood and Cheese wasn’t even done properly. If you’re slowing down the pace and will end the Dance in season 3, at least show more of Haelena’s mourning. Show the sibling interactions between the greens.

Another thing, who the hell is Aeriana? Her?

I’m just reminded of how after the books ended, D&D took liberties with characters and we got the clusterfuck of season 7-8. Now I feel like they’ll do the same thing in season 3

And I fear what they’ll do with Aegon the conqueror. Like maybe he tricked Visenya and Rhaenys into marrying him and conquering the 7 kingdoms? Maybe the sisters didn’t want to kill but were forced to because they’re such angels? Or Visenya can’t fight well

Why does HBO keep making shows about the house it abhors?

#hotd #anti hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #aegon ii targaryen #daemon targaryen #laena velaryon #daeron targaryen #nettles #house of the dragon #anti house of the dragon #sabitha frey #haelena targaryen #rhaenys velaryon #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #aemond targaryen

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reginarubie · 8 months

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When HotD got out everyone was like Oh, Daemyra is the new, improved Jonerys with good storyline

And I didn’t give it too much attention, you know I stay mostly in my line and don’t mess around with shit that doesn’t interest me (like Jonerys) but now that I think of it…

I’ll do you all one better (and maybe I am late at the party as always, because I can’t be the only one noticing this)

Jonsa is the reversed, evolved, less entitled (both Jon and Sansa start as spoiled characters but have their entitlement beaten out of them pretty soon, and we love them for it), more duty-oriented (thank you Ned) Daemyra.

I mean all signs point in that direction and I see you 👀 GRRM pushing the Jonsa agenda further on!

And now I’ll tell you what sources I have to base my logic on (and maybe I am wrong ey, but I think it fits Jonsa more, as of now, though Martin could totally disprove me going the other way confronted to the way the show concluded knowing his ending).

So, at the beginning of the story, Robb becomes king in the North by popular demand.

In the first episode Viserys becomes heir (and later king) by popular demand.

Both Robb and Viserys inherit their position by their much beloved predecessor (Jaehaerys and Ned) and both are ‘named/appointed’ by a conclave of lords/ladies in the Riverlands ffs.

Both Viserys and Robb end up planting, with their own politics, the seeds of the shit storm that almost threatens to destroy their family after their death.

Robb marries Jeyne (Talisa in the show) instead of the Frey betrothed thus snubbing the Freys and going back on his word. He dies without an heir leaving the North in shambles when he had been a step from winning the war.

Viserys names Rhaenyra heir and then — instead of marrying the Velaryon girl — marries Alicent and has more children knowing that if they were male it could cause disrupt with the line of succession.

Both are idolised after their death — Viserys taking the name of The Peaceful thanks to the ruling and politics of his Queen and council and Robb by being sanctified by his siblings and lords even tho he was the one causing most of the problems who caused his death and almost destroyed the North — both Viserys and Robb loose their heirs.

Viserys loses his sons by Aemma

Robb dies childless and his heirs (Bran, Rickon, Sansa and Arya) are to his knowledge lost (Bran and Rickon presumed killed, Arya presumed dead and Sansa married to a Lannister).

The heir that remains them, their younger brother/sister (Daemon and Sansa) is not considered worthy of inheriting after them — Daemon for his character and Sansa because she has been married to a Lannister — so both do the same thing, they disinherit their lawful and rightful heir (yes Bran and Rickon and Arya are alive but Robb doesn’t know it; Viserys will have Aegon, Aemond, Daeron and Helaena but he doesn’t know nor care) to name another as heir someone who, by law, should pass after the rightful heir.

It seems to me like some pretty big parallels here.

Daemon = Sansa

Daemon and Sansa are the second born children of a couple who love each other and apparently their mother’ fav.

And you know what’s sick? Daemon and Sansa both supported their brother’ right to any extent.

Daemon readied men-at-arms and sworn swords to defend Viserys’ claim when people rumoured Corlys wanted to assemble a fleet to defend Laenor’ right after Rhaenys.

Sansa bled for the northern independence when in KL and then later — and this is only show for now — Sansa gathered the northern army and put KL under siege to defend her brother. Sansa is the one who decided to rally the lords of the North behind House Stark once again (Jon was done fighting) and she was the one to offer Bran the role of Lord of WF when he returned from Beyond the Wall.

Despite being loyal to their family in their own way, both Daemon and Sansa are disinherited by their king in favor of someone they love but that by law should have come after them.

By succession tradition and law the brother of a king becomes before the daughter of a king — unless women can inherit the throne which was not the case in Westeros at the time — so Daemon came before Rhaenyra in the line of succession, yet Viserys disinherited him to name Rhaenyra heir.

By law and tradition of succession Sansa as the trueborn eldest surviving daughter of Ned and Cat in the evenience of Robb dying without heirs (Bran and Rickon are both presumed dead) comes before Jon, the base born son of Ned Stark. (Jon himself says so “by law Winterfell belongs to my sister, Sansa”/“Winterfell belongs to my sister, Sansa”, even though Sansa is a Lannister, a murderess and apparently dissolved in thin air) yet Robb with his will disinherit Sansa to name Jon heir.

Everyone expected Daemon/Sansa to be angry at Jon/Rhaenyra because of it — Rhaenyra herself and the viewer when Jon was named KitN — instead what happened?

Daemon became Rhaenyra’ stauncher supporter and Sansa became Jon’s. Daemon supported Rhaenyra and Sansa supported Jon. When people expected Daemon to lash out when the terms of surrender were issued, he obeyed Rhaenyra order without issue; when the northern lords unsatisfied with Jon’ stay in Dragonstone offered the crown to Sansa, Sansa refused and defended Jon’s claim. All she did in s8 was to defend Jon’s claim to the North and the Realm.

And you know what else is incredible?

Daemon is suspected to have “caused” his first wife’ death and his second wife died in childbirth. Rhea Royce died after a fall from horseback — in the show Daemon kills her, but in the book she dies of the wounds later on, as the hit to the head might have caused her delayed death. Still Daemon is suspected to have caused it — the horse to unseat Rhea — and tried to inherit his wife’ keep.

Sansa “caused” her first betrothed, Joffrey’ death, by telling the truth to Olenna and Margaery which spurned them to have him killed at his own wedding feast. Sansa escapes and her first husband is almost killed for the crime — almost making her a widow.

Both Daemon and Sansa are more skilled than their counterpart in their competence. Daemon is the most skilled warrior of his time, Sansa has learned politics from the best and worst in it.

Daemon finds himself at odds with his brother with the war of the stepstones and Sansa finds herself at odds with her brother whilst in KL as she has to navigate and survive the southern court and Joffrey.

Yet both return to their brother in the end, Sansa by remaining true to her Stark identity (“I am not your daughter, I am the Lord Eddard and lady Catelyn’s daughter. The blood of Winterfell”/ “what if it is truth he wants and justice for his lady?”) and Daemon by winning and giving the crown to his brother.

Sansa wins the battle of bastards through her alliance with the Knights of the Vale and lets her brother take the crown.

Sansa and Daemon are both described as beautiful, charming and dashing. But Daemon is mercurial and Sansa is called a witch for her apparent part in Joffrey’ death.

Both Daemon and Sansa are advisors in their capacity to their brother/king though they have to clamor to be recognised any degree of validity. Sansa has to fight to gain the right to be Jon’s advisor even if he chooses Davos as chief advisor as Viserys chose Otto.

Daemon’s children are the one who inherit the Iron throne after the DotD. Sansa’s children will inherit WF and the North after asoiaf is done.

Jon = Rhaenyra

Jon and Rhaenyra are the odd ones out of this.

Rhaenyra knew her place, she prayed for a brother to inherit the Iron throne just like Jon would have died to defend Robb or any of his siblings (and in the book he does die for fakeArya). But both are ambitious.

Rhaenyra accepts she will be queen and makes of it her identity; Jon dreamed of become Lord of Winterfell before he knew what that entailed.

Both Rhaenyra and Jon expect that their orders — despite their intentions — will be followed, even when they go against hundreds of years of tradition. Rhaenyra as Queen and Jon believes the NW will follow to war against the Boltons when the NW has been neutral for thousand of years. And both pay the ultimate price for it. Death.

Jon is killed by his sworn brothers, Rhaenyra is killed by her brother’s dragon.

Both Rhaenyra and Jon have the temper of their family but they control it for the most part. It takes really big things for it to be spiked. Luke’s death for example.

Both Rhaenyra and Jon are intertwined with fake relationships. Both cause the death of their first lover/spouse.

Rhaenyra marries Laenor to keep the Velaryon in her corner, Laenor who is a gay man — in the book she is much less understanding of it btw — and their relationship is fake and her children aren’t his. In the show she loves him platonically, though I don’t remember that being the case in the book. In the end, whether his death is faked or not, Rhaenyra causes that. Either by having him killed — as they say in the book — or by having him fake his death to marry Daemon to strengthen her claim.

Jon has a “fake” relationship with Ygritte (you know what I think of her in the book) to make sure his undercover mission is accomplished. In the end Jon’ mission is accomplished and even though he “fell in love with her” he still left her and the war between them ended up claiming her life.

After the death of the heir — Balon and Bran and Rickon — Rhaenyra and Jon are both raised to the role of heir by their king with a decree that disinherited/snubbed the previous law-ful heir (Sansa/Daemon).

At the same time, Viserys/Robb have other heirs. Viserys marries and has sons (who have sons), Rickon and Bran are both alive though presumed dead who could end up threatening Jon’s claim once the will becomes active after Jon’ return from the dead.

They have sexual tension with the snubbed heir and value them as advisors though they don’t always agree with their politics.

Jon feels that Sansa’ opinion demeans him before the Lords — tho he names her regent — and Rhaenyra distrust Daemon not to declare war without her say-so.

And yet both Jon and Rhaenyra gain the ripe of Sansa and Daemon’ loyalty.

Even if Jon and Sansa don’t always see eye to eye, Sansa loyalty to Jon is what gets him out of KL alive, without Daemon’ skills as warrior Rhaenyra’ war would have ended long before it started.

Sansa and Daemon both are against Jon and Rhaenyra to surrender their crown, and work to keep the other half in their role.

And you know what? There’s more.

Gifts giving — belonging to a House

Daemon and Sansa both have something that defines their belonging to House Stark.

Sansa’s wolf-bit and Daemon’ sword — which, do I have to go down the sexual metaphor about Sansa’ bosom and Daemon’ sword? — and both whilst speaking of heirs/reading to war to defend the claim to the crown gift the other half something that signifies their belonging to the House as well.

Rhaenyra’ necklace and Jon’s cloak. Both items which Rhaenyra and Jon puts on and basically keeps on for ever — like it was a fucking joke how long Jon kept the cloak on even on Dragonstone —also Rhaenyra necklace resembles a chain (chain of command) and same with Jon’s cloak stripes (which resemble a chain of command).

Rhaenyra confronts Daemon about her being named heir — and perhaps we’ll have something similar in the books for Jon and Sansa. Tho we have something akin to that when Arya confronts Sansa about Jon having the crown and Sansa liking the attention.

Yet both Sansa and Daemon stand strong in their loyalty to Jon above anyone else.

Protecting — destroying some of the earliest and greatest threats the other claim

Vaemond is one of the earliest threats to Rhaenyra rule, just as we know LF has been playing against Jon all along, yet both Sansa and Daemon defend the other half by killing the offender.

Arya and Bran serve as the Viserys in the comparison, because it’s Sansa who passes the sentence (as Arya herself points out) the same way as Daemon is the one who decided to kill Vaemond instead of letting Viserys order of having his tongue removed to be carried out.

Thus removing the earliest threat to the other one’.

Also, both Daemon and Sansa destroyed indirectly or directly another threat to Jon and Rhaenyra by killing Aemond and Daenerys who had the attitude (both of them) of destroying the Realm to take the Iron throne if needed. Aemond would not have taken Aegon’ claim from him but if Aegon had died of his wounds before Rhaenyra was executed, with Maelor and Jaehaerys dead Aemond stood the greatest threat to Rhaenyra. Daemon killed Aemond and Sansa plotted to have the truth about Daenerys uncovered and indirectly causing her death through Jon.

Supporting the other as ruler

Daemon becomes Rhaenyra supporter just as Sansa becomes Jon’s. Even as snubbed heirs they love the new heir and when the time comes they are there, by their side, defending them.

Also, never forget that Sansa/Daemon are always on the side of the consort when it comes to Jon/Rhaenyra whilst that is not true for other characters, who are always afforded place of importance, but not that of the consort.

When Corlys comments on Viserys lack of action in the Stepstones Daemon replies that he can speak of his brother how he well wishes but that is not the truth for others. Similarly Sansa defends Jon (“he’s our king, he’s doing what he thinks best”) even tho she shares the lords preoccupations.

Despite not always seeing eye to eye with Daemon, he is a trusted advisor to Rhaenyra who listens to him. In the same way, despite feeling the need of Sansa’ validation, Sansa is his trusted advisor to the point Jon entrusts the whole of the North to her.

So, yeah, I raise you the Daemyra is the Targaryen version of Jonsa, with Daemon and Rhaenyra being worse people than Jon and Sansa are combined. By ey, there’s a dark streak to the Starks not to be underestimated.

#Jonsa #Jonsa agenda #Jonsa fam #Jonsa parallels #daemon and Rhaenyra as the Targaryen version of Jon and Sansa #Jonsa vs Daemyra #reverse Daemon and Rhaenyra #daemon = Sansa #Rhaenyra = Jon #I mean it’s right there #I cannot be the only one to see this #Jonxsansa #Daemyra is serving Jonsa vibes #I mean… Jon killed his “lover” for Sansa (we know D was threatening Sansa) just like Rhaenyra killed/had killed her lover to be with Daemon #I mean Daemon used his skills to keep Rhaenyra on the throne and Sansa used her skill to keep Jon alive and safe #If that ain’t peak Jonsa vibe I don’t know what they’re supposed to be doing #And if I am right then Sansa’ children should be Jon’s — like Daemon’ sons who inherited the throne were with Rhaenyra

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sephirothsplaything · 12 days

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DNA| Sec.80 high power-chapter 17

A/N: Baela im srry for giving you such an emotionally stunted little sister! I am very proud of this chapter btw(i barely edited this)

Rhaella ur mommy would be so proud of you!!

This is the story of Lady Rhaella Targaryen the I;the strange one and her role in the Dance Of Dragons. Loved by few and feared by many.

The blood of the dragon runs in Targaryen's veins. Something else runs in Rhaella.

BLACK TARGARYEN OC/READER

PARINGS: Aemond,Cregan,slight Jace,slight Addam,original charecter

read the last chapter here!

......

WHAT KIND OF ELDER SISTER WAS SHE? Baela thought she was no longer befitting of the title. Rhaena was in the Vale alone, while Rhaella was…

Baela was no longer privy to Rhaella's doings as of late. Her younger sister had grown quite disconnected from the rest of them.

"Please sit, you'll tire yourself." Jace urged her. He watched in slight distress as his betrothed paced back and forth restlessly.

"My grandmother is fighting alone Jace!" Baela exclaimed. "And here we are just sitting around."

Jacaerys grabbed her hand gently sitting her down. The action made her relax slightly, but her mind was still racing.

"I don't like it either, but without Daemon we are stretched quite thin." He said, brow furrowing.

An uneasy silence settled over them both. They had dragons and yet the queen would not allow them to act. How would a victory ever be gained?

"I hate the way the lords treat me as if I am some coddled princeling," Jace muttered, making Baela chuckle a little.

"You are the crown prince and heir to the throne, you must act carefully." Baela reminded.

Jace hummed in thought. "Perhaps I am not completely stuck here."

Baela raised a brow, worried Jace was about to say something reckless.

"Rhaella mentioned House Frey, they have yet to choose," Jace said.

"She spoke with complete disregard for her grace, and you're here considering it?" Baela said.

It had not escaped her notice that Jace seemed to be particularly in tune regarding Rhaella's opinions. She wondered if she had missed something between them---Rhaella had not always cared for Jace until lately, while the prince thought her sister strange.

Their dynamic was quite odd to witness.

Jace stood, hand still intertwined with Baela's. He couldn't wait around any longer.

"I shall take Vermax and go myself." Jace decided. Baela shook her head.

"Her grace will not like it."

Jace placed a kiss onto her hand. "She will not know until I am long gone."

With that, he leaves Baela alone in her chamber. Jace's words stuck to her. It was not in her nature to sit idly. The least she could do was scout the battle.

So, the lady Baela with her brave spirit dawned her riding attire. She waited for a beat of time to ensure Jace had left and also that she would not be spotted.

There was one person she had not accounted for as she marched towards the dragon pits though.

Still lingering around the caves was Rhaella, stuck in a daze of sorts.

"Sister?" Baela called, bringing her out of it.

"Jace left," Rhaella said softly, her eyes were unblinking. It greatly unnerved Baela to no end.

"Yes, but he should be back soon," Baela responded. Rhaella took in her outfit, face changing into something far more expressive.

"And you're leaving as well?" Baela nodded.

"I am going to Rooks Rest."

Rhaella's eyes widened. "You mustn't!"

Baela scoffed, adjusting her glove.

"It was naught but hours ago you were calling for action," Baela said. "It was you who agreed I should've burnt Criston Cole."

Rhaella's behavior practically changed on a head, in a rather inhumane way. She gripped Baela's arm with a tight further.

"Moondancer cannot withstand Vhagar, do not be foolish," Rhaella said.

"And our grandmother shouldn't bear the burden alone," Baela responded.

Surely Rhaella knew that.

"And father..only the Gods know what he's doing at Harrenhal." Baela continued. She gestured to a dragonkeeper to summon her dragon.

"I doubt the Gods are with him," Rhaella muttered.

"Do not say such things." Baela scolded. Rhaella shrugged.

The chitters of the she-dragon bounced through the cave. Baela smiled warmly at the sight of Moondancer, patting her side.

The dragon nestled into Baela's touch, then turning her gaze to Rhaella expectedly.

Sighing, the girl gave in, petting Moondancers green scales lightly.

"Umbagon qana ,mandia." Rhaella resigned.'Stay sharp, sister' She knew better than to waste her breath any further in convincing Baela to stay.

"You know I shall," Baela assured. Mounting her dragon, she took off from the cave and into the skies.

Moondancer zipped through the skies swiftly. In truth, Baela had given little thought as to a plan. If it was Sunfyre and Aegon she'd be met with, perhaps she could manage an attack. Meleyes could more than handle the pair.

The wind whipped through Baela's short hair that was bound together in a ponytail.

It did not take long for her to arrive to the sight, though she smelled the battle before seeing it. The acrid smell of ash and blood permeated the air, causing Baela's eyes to sting.

There were bodies strewn on the ground, bloody and broken. Baela's stomach turned but tried to hold fast. She gripped the reins of Moondancer tighter, directing her through the mess.

Enemy soldiers shouted in response to her presence, some recognizing her from a fortnight ago when she chased Cole through the valley.

But what Baela saw caused the world around her to become completely mute.'

Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, her beloved grandmother. Falling to the ground utop a limp, likely dead Meleyes.

Down to the ruble, Rhaenys fell. Baela screamed a choked-out cry, a futile attempt indeed.

Over the fallen dragon was Aemond atop Vhagar, looking more than proud of himself.

Him. He who had now taken the last piece of her heart. Aemond had served as a living slight to Baela's entire life.

First, he steals her mother's dragon, robbing Rhaena an attempt to claim her. Then,he slew their sweet cousin, Luke, for he was but a boy.

Somehow, he had managed to steal Rhaella's complete affection and reasoning--Causing a rift between the sisters.

And now, Aemond felt entitled to take the life of her grandmother?

Baela would not have it.

Adjusting herself on Moondacer,Baela dipped lower to the ground.

Rageful, she burned a chunk of the greens army. Moondancer's fire was not especially large.

But fire does not burn the flesh of men any less; Baela blocked out the pained cries of the soldiers. One thing plagued her mind.

Aemond must pay. He must die.

She charged Moondancer towards Vhagar brazenly, causing Aemond to take notice.

Aemond wondered if it was even worth it to slay such a tiny dragon. He certainly had no love for Baela, savage thing she was.

He wouldn't even need to burn her--Vhagar could eat them both in one go. Aemond steered his dragon to Baela, wondering if she really would attack.

At that moment, Baela seemed to snap out of her intentions, hastily turning Moondancer to flee.

Aemond knew he couldn't catch her, the dragon she possessed was far too quick. Still, he cruelly gave chase as best he could.

No real intention of killing her, and Rhaella would never forgive him. Defeating Rhaenys however, was necessary. She would come to understand it.

Aemond had much to celebrate, the title of prince regent was a breath away from him.

Baela's hair was in disarray, cheeks strewn with tears like the sea. She came here to do nothing, to do naught but watch the murder of her grandmother.

She flew back to Dragonstone---The dragonkeepers guided Moondancer back to the caves.

Baela stumbled out of the pits, halting momentarily to wipe her face. Rhaella would break at the news, and the eldest must stay strong.

She must stay strong.

Upon her return, she saw the members of the council, Queen Rhaenyra in talks with them. Rhaella looked distracted, her brows were furrowed in torment.

Baela nearly did not have the heart to add to it.

"I am told you went to Rooks Rest, without my permission no less." Queen Rhaenyra began, chiding the girl for being so reckless.

When Baela raised her head, Rhaenyra stopped abruptly.

"My grandmother has been slain."

Jace stepped forward slightly, wishing nothing more than to hold Baela.

"By Aegon?" Rhaenyra's voice broke slightly.

"Aemond." Baela could feel her eyes watering once more. She met the gaze of Rhaella--Her younger sister did not cry, nor did her face betray any emotion.

It enraged Baela, how she stood abnormally still.

"This atrocity must be swiftly answered!" Ser Alfred said others agreed.

Baela ignored them, still staring at Rhaella, whose eyes fluttered ever so slightly.

Something of a half whimper left Rhaella's lips--She moved to flee the room, likely to be alone.

"Rhaella, you must-" Jace tried, reaching out to her.

"Fuck off," Rhaella said, a coldness in her voice as she shoved past him.

"Clear the room." Queen Rhaenyra ordered. As the lords filed out, Baela ran to Jace, tears fully making themselves known.

Baela shook in his embrace as he held her tighter. In the midst of sorrow, she silently apologized to her grandmother. She tried to be brave, like her mother when she was consumed by Vhagar's flames or like Rhaenys herself in her final moments.

"Baela, come with me." Queen Rhaenyra says softly.

"But mother-" Jace tries. Baela clearly needed him, now more than ever.

"It's alright, Jace," Baela said, leaving him for Rhaenyra.

Baela and Rhaenyra entered the queen's quarters. They sat down together, Baela's sobs had been dimmed to sniffles.

"Where do you think Rhaella went?" Rhaenyra spoke first, she placed a gentle hand on Baela's leg.

"Who could know?" Baela said."She's like father in that way, fleeing when things become too much."

Rhaenyra nodded. She knew of Daemon's views regarding Rhaella. He would complain that she is silently flippant, opposing him at every turn.

However, in the same breath, he'd admit that her mind had to be some sort of weapon.

"Your grandmother was the fiercest among us, in her love and opinions," Rhaenyra said.

Baela smiled bitterly. "My mother used to tell me stories of how she used to scold her and my uncle, but could never in truth stay angry."

"Ah." Rhaenyra smiled at the incoming memories, back when things were much more simple. "I recall her being cross when Daemon fought for your mother's hand."

"They always have been at odds, but alas they were cousins," Baela said.

"I think.." Rhaenyra began, turning to Baela. "I fear there is something wrong with Rhaella."

Baela sighed,at least she was not the only one to notice.

"Sometimes, I hear to speaking to herself in her chamber," Baela admitted.

Rhaenyra's face contorted in confusion.

"She does not sleep, though she tries."

"Perhaps I should have sent her to Pentos, or away with Rhaena," Rhaenyra said.

Baela chuckled. "She'd sooner flee to the Red Keep." As the words left her mouth, she thought of Aemond--The jest instantly became unfunny.

"Well." Rhaenyra huffed. "Let us hope, for our sake, she finds what she is looking for."

........

RHAELLA SCREAMED UNTIL HER THROAT WAS RAW.

Still, though, she could not summon a single tear. Her exhaustion ate away at her but still could not find sleep.

She sat in The Cannibal's still empty cave, clutching the dragon hairpin her grandmother had gifted her.

She was gone. Rhaella felt a numbness overtake her body.

There might have been a slight sense of guilt when she thought of Aemond. However, it was nothing but apathy.

He was enjoying himself right now,Rhaella was sure. Reveling in the death of her grandmother. Aemond was likely with that bed whore Astris had mentioned.

Surely he was fond of her. Aemond still had plenty of people to care for around him, while Rhaella's numbers were dwindling.

The thought alone--Of Aemond happy by himself filled her with an unholy rage.

Placing the pin back in her hair, Rhaella decided to take an act she never thought was possible to do.

Rhaella went to her knees. Praying.

She had never prayed,or offered thanks to the Gods--Why should she?

But now, she was desperate.

Rhaella didn't even know to whom she was supposed to pray.

Perhaps…. the presence who had made himself known to her? He had plagued her with dreams and whispers. Somehow, this felt natural.

"Please." Rhaella began. She was not entirely sure what she was asking for.

Death? Mercy? A chance to prove herself?

Why not all?

"Take my soul if it so pleases you, but make me strong in return."

Rhaella clasped her hands tighter together, her scarred palms rubbed together.

"Make me powerful, grant me divine violence, and make thick my blood."

Rhaella decided she had voiced all her desires properly, she waited.

For what, she was not so sure. A sign? Or perhaps the God in question will take pity and strike her down.

What a silly girl she was.

As she raised her head, the unmistakable roars of a dragon made the cave rumble.

Her Aegarax. The Cannibal dragon.

Rhaella ran, faster than anything she ever had before. Her cloak flung behind her as she stumbled to see him.

The Cannibal landed onto the sand,staring at her. Rhaella's panted breaths slowed as all she could do was return the act.

Could this be?

As if it was a response of some kind,The Cannibal bent his neck for her.

This wild dragon, whom had killed and eaten scores of men crouched for her.

"Gods be good." Rhaella said in disbelief. She approached slowly with some semblance of confidence present.

"Aegarax?" Rhaella said, slowly reaching a hand to his nose. He leaned forward, into her touch.

"Lykiri," Rhaella spoke for good measure.

She hoisted herself on top of him, holding onto his horns. The feeling of his warmed scales underneath her was incomparable. Like a true bond.

Aegarax raised up again, stretching his wings. Rhaella briefly wondered if he would throw her off.

The Cannibal spread his wings further, beginning to walk forward.

Then he flew--Up into the skies he went, and Rhaella could do little but hold on for dear life.

Her cloak whipped behind her as well did her hair in the wind. For a time, she dared not move, seizing in place.

She was on a dragon. No, she was riding her dragon.

Sitting up slightly, Rhaella readjusted her grip onto the spikes on his back.

She looked up to the skies, passing through clouds. The air felt slightly cooler at this height.

A fit of shocked laughter left her. Rhaella tried to recall the books she had read as a child, how she watched other riders fly with their dragons.

But they had saddles, and she had nothing. Rhaella moved along with Aegarax's rhythm. The Cannibal was a little rash in his flight as he sped through the air.

At one time, Rhaella used to think that she would prefer a much slower dragon.

Clearly, her mind was changed in an instant. It occurred to her that she was hardly controlling him in any particular direction, but she hardly cared.

Aegarax could fly her well into the east for all she cared. Rhaella closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of her bond.

It was not until she reopened her eyes did Rhaella realized she was nearing Kings Landing.

Cursing, she gripped onto the cannibal's horns for control.

"Daor kesīr!" Rhaella urged 'Not here!'

After a few attempts, Aegarax detoured the path to Kings Landing, instead hovering over the woods nearby.

They very well could've been spotted, shot down even.

"Tegun kesīr" Rhaella directed, nearly sternly.'Land here.'

Through the short exchange, Rhaella found that Aegarax responded better to sharp and direct commands.

The Cannibal settled to the ground,Rhaella reluctantly jumped down from him.

Her legs wobbled, adjusting to the gravity.

Why did he bring her here, of all places? Aegarax's head plopped to the ground as if he had done his part in full.

Petting his side absentmindedly, Rhaella thought about what to do next.

If they were now bonded, perhaps he was in tune to her desires.

That brothel whore, the one who keeps Aemond company.

Rhaella raised the hood of her cloak over her head, concealing her silver locks.

Keeping her head down, she walked to the inner cities of Kings Landing. The place was just as packed as it was last time she ventured here.

Smelled twice as awful too.

Walking through the streets of Flea Bottom, Rhaella listened in for any information.

People here were starving and angry. They knew not who was leading them as Aegon seemed to disappear.

Rhaella hoped he was dead.

In the sea of people,one girl caught her eye.

It was Elinda, maid to the Queen Rhaenyra. But what was she doing here?

Rhaella hurried to catch up with her and once she was within reach she grabbed her.

"Elinda." Rhaella hissed.

"My lady?" She said once she realized who held her arm. "Why are you here?"

"Why are you here?" Rhaella asked.

Elinda looked around cautiously. "I was sent here by the queen,she has a plan."

Plan? Rhaella was sure Mysaria was involved.

Elinda took in Rhaella's silence. "Come with me."

The maid directed Rhaella to one of the houses. Inside was a plump looking girl, sitting with Astris.

At the sight of Rhaella, Astris jumped from her seat.

"My lady?"

Rhaella breathed out in relief. "So you're ok."

Astris held Rhaella's hands, taking her in.

"How did you come here?" Astris asked. "By boat?"

Rhaella shook her head,taking a seat.

"My dragon." The sentence felt foreign on her tounge,but she supposed it would take some getting used to.

"What!" Astris exclaimed. "You finally claimed him?"

Rhaella's lips twitched onto a smile.

"I did."

"I am glad of it but you must return," Elinda said. Rhaella removed her hood and sat down. Noticing Rhaella's loose hair, Astris's fingers began to braid it, almost instinctively.

"I think i would rather hear about this plan." Rhaella said.

"The queen shall send food to the city," the girl blurted out. When Rhaella's attention turned to her, she blushed profusely.

"Do say it louder, Diana, so the whole city might hear you," Astris muttered sarcastically.

So the queen had considered using the people's hunger, originally Rhaella's own suggestion.

"The queen and lady Mysaria have seen to it themselves," Elinda added.

Rhaella adjusted her head slightly as Astris continued to braid.

"And when is this to happen?" Rhaella asked.

"On the morrow," Diana replied.

Come daylight, fleeing the city would be harder. Whatever she indened to do must be done this very night.

"Aegon is abed with injuries,I hear." Astris said,hands falling from Rhaella's hair.

"I hope he dies." Diana said.

Rhaella smirked. At least her grandmother hadn't gone without doing damange.

"The council has crowned Aemond prince regent," Elinda said.

"I'm sure he is positively gloating about that." Rhaella said.

It was almost funny--They both achieved something they've been longing for since childhood.

Aemond wished to be above his brother, seated on the throne.

Rhaella wished for a power,a dragon.

"He has already ordered the city gates shut, there is hardly food here," Astris says.

If Aemond got so much as an inkling that there was a plot,all the small folk would suffer for it.

"Aemond needs to be subdued in some way, at least for a time." Rhaella suggested.

Astris stood up, walking to a table laid with all sorts of books and plants. "Are you offering yourself up, my lady?"

"If you offer something I can use on him, then perhaps," Rhaella said.

Astris hummed, grabbed a book, and disappeared to the back.

"There is more." Elinda said. "The Queen has ordered me to collect any possible bastards with Targaryen blood."

"To what end?" Rhaella fiddled with her braid.

"From what I understand, there could be potential dragon riders among them."

Bastards on dragons? What a wretched idea. All her life she spent dragonless till now,and some scrappy commoner would mount one so easily?

It was nothing short of an insult. She decided to leave it to her grace,and wanted no parts of it.

Soon, Astris returned a vial of some sort in hand. Placing it on the table, she looked to Rhaella expectantly.

"What is it?" Diana asks. Rhaella picked it up; it was filled with a clear liquid, looking still like water.

"If she pours enough of it into his wine, he'll eventually enter a deep sleep," Astris says.

Meaning,Rhaella must find a way to get close--Perhaps in his chamber.

"It is dangoures!" Diana exclaimed. "She'll surely die."

"Perhaps." Rhaella mused. She had no intention of dying this night,not after the great feat she accomplished.

"Her grace would not have you put yourself in harms way." Elinda said. Rhaella ignored her, shoving the vile in her cloak.

"Astris?" Elinda tried. "The queen did not order for this."

The Pentoshi girl smiled flippantly, eyes fixed onto Rhaella. "I only serve my lady."

Elinda watched the two in half horror. Mysaria was right, Astris and Rhaella were quite the frightening match.

"I shall return, later into the night," Rhaella announced, raising up the hood of her cloak.

She slipped her dagger under the band of her stocking. "If morning comes and I still have not returned, I've been slain."

In truth,Rhaella sincerly douted that Aemond would hurt her. As it stood,she had much and more a reason to harm him.

"My lady?" Astris said,catching Rhaella's attention. "How would you like to proceed?"

Rhaella thought for a moment. She required more information before throwing herself into certain death.

"That brothel harlot," Rhaella stated, her violet eyes darkened. "I want to see her."

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