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rise-my-angel · 7 months

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Heart of the Great Wolf

19 - Trust in the Gentle Rasps

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

Length: 14.5k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, discussions of warfare, suicidal ideation, grief and trauma, jealousy, posessive tendencies, male sexual assault victim discussion, smut, oral (f receiving), slight canon divergence

Notes: This was one of my favorite chapters to write by far, so hope you enjoy! Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.

Your quiet was palpable since nearing the water. Travelling west along the runs of the Wall had been easy, but it also meant that none of it felt quite real until now. Much like the last time it seemed, once arriving the body of water needing to cross, you could no longer deny what you were walking into. As soon as the men had crossed the bridge over the Trident it was blood which followed for years until you lay in your own. But whereas then your quiet was the uncertainty of what was to come, this time your quiet was the shadowing memories of what was lost.

Bringing death and loss to the doorsteps of those who experienced it beside you last time, only now the plea was desperate and you were not the person any would remember. Asking them to make the same choice that ended in a massacre only so that they could hope to stand and fight against one even darker upon the horizon. Camp was being made some distance from the shore as you hovered back.

The footsteps which approached you belonging to one of the only people brave enough to approach you when poised with such tense rigidness and sharp cold in your eyes as you looked over things. “I didn’t imagine you were one to stand back and watch others take over for you.” Nothing but curiosity in Ser Davos’s voice as you both stood side by side now. You didn’t respond but he took no offence. “Not from what I saw in you that day, either. You’re a more confident leader then this, your grace.”

Fingers clenching in your crossed arms before inhaling deeply. “I am not the one they chose to follow. If I had to do this alone, I would have. But not a single one of these men would be here if he wasn’t.” Your eyes sharp as they followed Jon across the way.

You were more distant with him then ever.

“He is only here because of you.”

A waver in your breath, you finally glanced away from the distant figure to look at Ser Davos. Slightly shaking your head as you tried to stand as calm and unaffected as you could manage. “He’s here because the North is his home, and he’s fighting to protect it. Doesn’t need me for that. The North never has.”

You didn’t want to see the understanding sympathy in Davos’s eyes, you knew it wasn’t just one you were talking of. You failed to see yourself as anything worthy in either of their lives and only the remaining wonder if you had not been there, would they have avoided death? Was your presence this time an omen that blood would follow once more for such a leader? You were too involved in a life he had been forging without you.

Leaning down more towards your side, his own voice lowered to match your tone. “You wouldn’t know that if you keep avoiding him, now would you?” Turning away as your eyes peeled from him in a glare to out back to the settling camp of free folk your jaw clenched harshly. “I’m not trying to involve myself in your affairs, your grace, but I do know he’s as tense as you are. And two tense leaders who refuse to speak to each other isn’t what I’d call good for morale.”

It would be so much easier if you didn’t feel as if your lives were constantly trying to circle around each others like magnetic pulls wishing to attach. Would be easier if you just could detach from whatever this all was and do what needs to be done and forget the rest. But you didn’t have nearly enough of your father in you for that.

“I wasn’t the one who acted as their peacekeeper, not sure these men really would care about what I add to their spirits or not. Seem to be doing just fine.” Truly you were grateful but you could slink into the waters ahead and never return, and the cause and leader they followed would stay the same.

Good thing about Davos, he knew well enough when to not push one or the other. Unfortunate for you, there was very little he could broach that wasn’t going to give you a headache further. “Surprised me that you allowed your mother to come along.”

“So was she.” You gave her little room to argue or question, but you knew leaving her alone either at Castle Black or worse, sending her home unprotected at Dragonstone was only with grim prospects. “If all she has left is me, then it does not matter what issues lay between us. She would have no one left, and that...mother’s need something, someone left to live for no matter how strained.”

Your instructions were clear, she is not to involve herself in this war or planning in anyway, and she is to keep thoughts of this religion of hers to herself. The last thing this cause needed was more whispers of unnatural abilities or other world like purposes. “She’s not good at saying it, but she’s grateful you care. Though most of your family isn’t good at saying what they mean, are you?”

It barley caught the hint of even the halfest of smirks. More of a tiny glint in your eye that faded as quickly as it sparked as he continued. “Never seen this many wildlings in once place.”

“I think they prefer the term, free folk.”

Right back to the start he was correcting himself. “Never seen this many free folk in once place.”

“If I’m not mistaken, Ser Davos neither you or I have ever seen any free folk until meeting them, period.” Technically you had met one but hardly for long. Bran had told Sam that Osha took Rickon alone to saftey when he went beyond the wall with Howland Reed’s children. You had no reason not to trust her, you just hoped she could keep him safe in the same overwhelming dread of two teenagers, Hodor, and Summer all there was to keep Bran safe beyond the wall. Not noting your wondering mind, Davos chuckled beside you, and you wished you could as well. “I just hope they understand what they’re truly getting involved in.”

You heard the man before you saw him, a rumbling laugh before he was brave enough to slap an arm around your shoulder as the simple force jostled you. “You doubting us already, pretty crow?” Never did quite get used to how large Tormund stood beside you, like a cliff that was pained orange only with much more vulgar echoes.

Flickering your eyes to the side, you didn’t move much more but there was at least more of a hint of amusement then before. “No. I simply understand it’s a strange fight you’ve decided to involve yourselves in, after everything that’s happened I mean.”

Shrugging to himself, he looked back to the camp and pulled you in closer. Giving Ser Davos a slight bit of whiplash as to how used to being yanked around by such a large figure you appeared. You spent three years with Maege Mormont, you were no stranger to being jostled around by loud personalities, but the thought made you swallow. Trying not to think about what would happen when you get there and who wasn’t. You knew Dacey hadn’t gotten out that day, and it made you sick to think about.

The two Mormont’s meant much to you, helped ease you into something normal in an army camp as they cared not to watch their tones with you. Dacey didn’t deserve to have her life end at the Twins like that, none of them did. Too many faces you wondered about, some more then others.

Tormund beside you, paid no mind to your thoughts. “After everything? You mean after seeing the dead rise up after getting slaughtered? You southerners aren’t so bad compared to that.”

A moment of quiet between you three before finally speaking up in more command. “I want you coming with us when we travel across.” Both men turned to you with a curious look but you only kept your eye out onto the distant water. “We stayed a ways back so they wouldn’t feel ambushed, but if we are going to get them to say yes, then we shouldn’t shy away from the fact that they’ll be agreeing to fight beside your people.”

A deep humour in his voice with long exaggerated sound out of each word, “I am honoured, your grace.”

For once, that actually got a small smirk out of you. A lightness in your tone that tried to fight away and failed. “Now that just sounded wrong coming out of your mouth.” Tormund laughed as well, knowing only he was watching a far pair of eyes narrowing in this very direction.

Choosing to look as much in them as he could manage as he leaned down to you, “So what does a pretty crow like you prefer to be called?”

Rolling your eyes at such a jest, you fell not for the bait without knowing it was even cast. “Tormund, I am fairly certain it doesn’t matter what I say you will just continue to call me whatever term finds itself in your head.”

It would not be many of you, Jon, Davos, Tormund, Theon, Selyse, and yourself being escorted to the main land of Bear Island hoping it sent a message of civility. There was no real threat of enemy being given from House Mormont and yet as you stepped onto the deck of the boat you felt your heart race. It didn’t matter how many of you there were. An army didn’t save from a massacre the last time you went to a meeting with what was supposed to be an ally.

Still, you stayed on the opposite end as he did. If you didn’t know what to say in private then you were surely lost as to what to say to him in the fake quiet just out of others earshot. But you felt his eyes on you, and thus yours stayed attached to the waters ahead.

“Starting to tell who is used to being on a ship.” Turning to look at Theon, your eyes were slightly squinting from the winds in them but otherwise a little more calm washed through. You were perched against the back wall leading to the bow with both legs hanging over the deck and a hand resting casually on a rope by you. He gestured to your posture himself, “Don’t think I’ve seen you this relaxed in a while either.”

Theon leaned against the edge, his arms folded against the wood just beside where you sat looking out to the waters passing. “You forget, I grew up on an island as well. Spent half my time on ships going from White Harbour, to Dragonstone, to King’s Landing and back. This is nothing.”

Davos was the only other who found agreement in the breeze. Long time his job was travelling along waters but in the recent years of his life they weren’t in hiding from any eyes. At least he and your mother were used to keeping the other’s company by this point. You didn’t want her to be alone, but that didn’t mean you had a clue how to talk to her.

Both you and Theon stuck to looking out to the waters with little focus on any else, it was nice. For a moment, it felt like the days when you were both just teenagers not having to care about the politics around. “I forgot until I got there, how salty Pyke smelled. Even in the summer Winterfell was always so crisp and it wasn’t until I was on a boat did I remember that not being able to smell the sea used to be so odd.”

You managed to find half a smile in your heart, “I always thought anywhere would be better then Dragonstone. Only on the beach did it really smell like the sea, otherwise the further from the castle you go, the more it just smells like brimstone. The deeper into the trees you go the worse that gets.” You could still see her. Hoisted up onto the edge of a rock so she sat level with your height as you both looked down to where you knew deep tunnels were formed under the surface. She hardly left the main bounds of the castle, so Shireen always loved the smell of brimstone. To her it was like the scent of adventure.

Amused slightly, he asked, “You saying Winterfell smells worse then that place?”

No hesitation as your face grimaced in the memory. “No, I’m saying that King’s Landing smells worse then all it combined.” Theon looking curiously at you, but your eyes only kept in the distance as the land grew closer. “Too many people packed into too small of a city, everyone is poor the moment you leave the Red Keep and no one cares about it. Add a summer heat onto that and you get the worse smelling city you’ve ever come across. That I certainly don’t miss.”

“Do you miss anything about it?”

You were quick, tone dropping to something harsh. “No. I was always miserable there. Either I was being dragged away from my sister, or I was being dragged away from..” Swallowing thickly you tried to drop the weight from so high in your throat. “Constantly going from King’s Landing to Winterfell was awful. I was so miserable everytime I got back to the capitol and everyone knew it. Renly used to always say everywhere but Winterfell disagreed with me.”

“He was right.” Your eyes finally meeting. “Much as we try to tell ourselves otherwise, or how long we spent where we grew up, the North was our home. Where our actual family was.” Not a sea sick, but that weight dropped from your throat to your heart and the dizziness from it made you feel nauseous.

“Hard to remember that some days.”

It wasn’t home where you were both kept, it wasn’t home where you were trapped and tortured sometimes only done in mocking of the other. It wasn’t family that brought you back home, that wasn’t a place you belonged. That wasn’t the home what Robb once told you that you belonged in. Even if this was successful, even if you reclaimed it, it was hard to imagine finding a home there once more behind this loneliness.

“Do you ever wonder whether or not it would’ve been better if you left me there?” You didn’t look, you could feel a narrowed sharp gaze on you from Theon but you didn’t want to handle it beyond the swirling in your own mind. “Escape with your own life, and spare the spiral of death that’s done nothing but follow where I go now?”

The weight in his voice made you feel only more sick on the inside. “No. But do you know what it is I do wonder? Whether or not you’ve actually gotten past wishing you were still dead.” A stab in your mind pricked at something that was sharp and full of a sting behind your eyes. “For a long time with him, there was nothing. Took everything about who I was and killed it. Until he dragged me down to see you. And then the only thing that kept me trying to fight to stay myself was knowing that any day I could wake up and you would’ve taken your own life just to make him stop. So I got you out of there, got us out but then some days, I don’t know if I really did. I think you’re still trapped with Ramsay wishing you were dead.”

Truth be told, he wasn’t wrong. Theon knew what that pain inside you was, because he had watched it fester for over a year before you finally ran out into the freezing cold to escape it. But you were still in that place, reliving those nightmares from The Twins and waking up to the violence Ramsay would enjoy throwing your way. And ever since leaving all you did was drag that violence and burden along behind you to weigh down and hurt everyone else with.

And it was nothing but feeling selfish that made you want to jump into these waters and let it take you to the bottom forever. Who would still be alive were you to have stayed dead? If not beside Robb, then at least by taking the less cowardly route and end yourself before you brought this blood to others doorsteps. “There are far too many eyes on me at all times to get away with that now.”

To you it was meant as a joke, but to Theon it was anything but. “No. You’re just going to make the rest of us watch as you do it slowly over time.”

You didn’t argue. He didn’t elaborate. Theon was right but you had no defence, excuse or otherwise to refute it. The only good memories you had left, the only things you found to give any breathe in your lungs were marred in only doing it beacuse you were weak. At least that was what it felt like.

Bear Island was a far more beautiful Island then Dragonstone. Cliff sides of rock that were naturally carved into the thick trees surrounding each clearing of land and water that splashed against them or poured down from pools pocketing the surface. The air was as crisp as ever and the faint misting of water against those rocky shores poured back down onto the boat.

You always loved that mist. In the heat of summer it was a refreshing reprieve from how thick the air was that only ever faded the closer to King’s Landing you sailed. Calm waters in a dense and busy port that was as loud and crowded as it was hot. This wasn’t that, you jumped down from your perched place and braced both hands onto the edge of the boat to look over the coming Keep with wider eyes.

The last time you looked out to the water shining in the sun also painted in your mind, and you felt a twisting in your stomach and the freezing that followed as it bled out in minutes. Suddenly there was a lot less calm, and far more creeping dread inside that you could feel yourself growing dizzy from it’s volume.

As the ship finally docked, you inhaled with your eyes firmly shut for a moment before turning to rejoin the world. Meeting Jon’s eyes as you both made your way to the middle, there was a moment of just firm understanding for the meeting to come. Whatever this was, you had to do it together it was the only way.

He didn’t put a hand on you as he gestured politely for you to pass, but he could easily see the unusual amount of tension strung high in your shoulders. A few guards coming to greet you as Jon took the mantle up to introduce you both by proper name. Keeping it as unmessy as possible with titles now that you both know what of that loomed.

It was strange though, realizing for the first time you had never heard Jon refer to you as anything but a Baratheon. Hearing Stark felt wrong coming from him, but you weren’t sure why, not realizing it was just as strange for him to say it. You as a Stark felt like a different person then the one he knew for so many years, but yet in the quiet and dark you were exactly that same Baratheon he remembered.

If there was talking around you or Jon, neither of you really noticed it. Conversation scattered behind you both between four behind you, who other then now would never have conceived of meeting and ahead two people who knew each other far better then this hurtful silence had any right being attached too.

Tormund and Theon finding a strange array of things to talk about, both coming from culture’s with some of the most bloodshed focused of traditions. Davos and Selyse alongside them, much more quiet but still civil and calm. If any of them noticed the oddity that was the painful silence between you and Jon, none spoke of it.

Coming up to the steps of the castle, you tried not to glance beside you, not to notice the way the mist of the shores had his curls sitting a little less wild in it’s dampness. And biting your tongue with a glare to nothing trying very much to ignore the images in your head and memories your body was asking to relive.

But as he turned to you, if Jon noticed the intentions behind your already watching eyes he didn’t address it. Voice low and in a bit of comfort to your own, sounded the faintest hint of unsure. “Hope you and I know the Mormont’s as well we think.”

Easing those same nerves as you were led inside you nodded to the sword at his side. “I wasn’t the one who was trusted to be given their ancient sword.”

His own tone was more teasing, as was the glint in his eyes looking back at you. “And I’m not the one they followed into war calling a Queen.”

Your eyes now on the halls in front, missing the genuine smile you got from him. “Would be a bit strange if they started calling you a Queen, Snow.” That was a small jest he felt it had been a long time since he had heard from you. Always calling him that only when you were in your own gentle teasing mood, yet it was never even possible to match the levels he could dish to you in particular.

Still, something about how easily the lightness slipped from your mouth, felt like hope.

Alysane Mormont looked remarkably like a younger version of her mother. Tall and large with a bright look in her eye as she stood behind the one sitting in the desk. This one you heard of more, the youngest, Lyanna sat very small and young at only ten. Alysane was older, but seemed to be giving the youngest a chance at being in charge as she watched her carefully.

At least until Jon went to greet them both. Which was when the older one spoke up looking at you with a squint. “Never thought we’d see a Queen in our halls. Let alone a dead one.”

Her tone was light, but gods was the look and air shared between you and Jon anything but. You wanted to be intimidating, wanted to put on the best face but you knew their mother and you knew it wasn’t stilted formality the older woman had responded too.

Your own glance to Alysane with a raised eyebrow, “I never thought I’d wake up after dying. We both get to experience something new.” It was very easy to see her mother in her, letting her sister take the reigns but she watched with something like a fondness as you softened a bit. “I also know Dacey wasn’t given the same chance, and I’m sorry.”

Little Lyanna was as quick as she had been described. “It wasn’t you who killed her.”

You wanted none of that, looking more seriously at her. “No, I didn’t. But someone should take responsibility for it, and she called me Queen which means it’s me to take that blame.”

Her eyes narrowed with a strange look to you, as Alysane turned to look beside you. “You’re here, which means this is Jon Snow, I take it? The King’s brother.”

It was heavy between both of you, and his voice was rough as he spoke. “I am. I also served under your Uncle at Castle Black, my lady. I was his steward.”

Lyanna watched, but it was recognition in her sister’s eyes that was of interest. Glancing down only for a second to where the hilt of Longclaw could be seen, before glancing back up to look at him with something that certainly made the air feel a little more interesting. “Last I heard you were named Lord Commander after him. What’s Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch doing at our Queen’s side all the way here?”

You narrowed your eyes, as she certainly would know. But Jon didn’t play along with whatever game the ladies were trying to set up as he looked to Lyanna. “We’re here to ask for your help. I know Stannis Baratheon tried to pledge your house to his army, and I was shown your response, Lady Lyanna. Bear Island knows no King, but the King in the North. Whose name is Stark.”

Moment of weakness, your eyes flickered over to him. Standing tall and sure it was easy to see why he’d be chosen as Lord Commander. Even in deep quiet tones, he spoke as a leader.

“Now I may not be a Stark in name, but Robb was my brother, and the home and Kingdom he died for is being torn apart by the Boltons. And I also know that the same man who murdered him and shoved a knife in her stomach.” Jon gestured to you with something of a controlled anger in his voice and clear as day on his face. “Kept your Queen as their prisoner, and spent almost a year being tortured by them beyond anything you can imagine. Roose and Ramsay Bolton cannot be allowed to keep Winterfell, and as long as they do, the North will continue to suffer. With Robb gone, that means it is my duty to stop them.”

Unseen by most of the party, but as Ser Davos stood to the side there was a bit of a proud smile trying to fight it’s way onto his face. Jon was not quite as stubborn as Stannis had seemed to think.

The younger one glancing to her sister before turning back to the pair of you with her own doubtful eyes. “You mean to protect the North, but you bring wildlings into our land, and one into my home?”

An eyebrow raised on you, “Forgive me, my lady but it seems you might be misunderstanding what we are here for.” All eyes turned to you as you found something of a voice, “Jon and I are not here to ask you to make friends. The Free Folk and the Night’s Watch have been fighting each other for thousands of years and yet now there is an army of them on the mainland who followed Jon all this way because they understand this is more important then who our enemies were before.”

Something in you couldn’t let it passed. Something deep that remembered, as you sat against the bars in an unknowing shock, staring at the corpse of the man next to you. And in the worst of that moment, it was Tormund who came to sit at your side. Who helped you stand and regain your focus to do what needed to be done that day. “Both of these men fought against each other, murdered men on the other side of their fight but now they stand here together because they understand that if we can’t protect the North from each other then we cannot protect it from whats coming.”

A silence was thick in that room. “And what exactly is coming, your grace?”

You could see the visions and dreams of cold and ice but it was Jon who answered for you. “Summer is over, and winter isn’t just coming, my lady. It’s already here. And when the worst of it hits, so will the dead, and with them, the Others.” Both women shared a look, but there was no amusement in any of the eyes in the room standing before them. Jon’s own was filled with a haunting memory. “I went to Hardhome beyond the wall to bring the free folk south, because the Others are awake, and they’re building their own army. I saw them, I fought them, I even killed one of them and when it was all over I watched every single person who died stand up beside them.”

Stepping forward to the desk, there was an undeniable determination in his eyes that made both Mormonts almost shrink back from it’s intensity. His palms leaning against the desk to properly look the more defiant one on equal ground. “If we can’t protect the North from ourselves, then when the Others come, we won’t stand a chance. The free folk have attacked Bear Island many times over I know that, they held me prisoner in their own lands where at any moment he,”

He turned partially, gesturing to Tormund behind him, “or any of the others I was with were ready to kill me the second they realized I wasn’t on their side. But now he’s trusted his people with me, because we cannot fight a war amongst ourselves and expect there to be enough of us to fight the only one that matters. There’s no hiding from this. We have to fight, and we have to do it together. All of us.”

Alysane looked at you with a questioning gaze that you almost willed her not to bring up. Letting Lyanna prove her valour and stand her ground in making a choice for her people, and it was a relieving feeling when the small girl looked up at Jon almost impressed. “House Mormont has kept faith with House Stark for thousands of years. And we will not break faith today.”

Jon nodded, standing up straighter. “Thank you, my lady. But I’m not asking you on behalf of House Stark. I’m only asking you to protect the North we both grew up in, not for my family, and not for any oaths you swore to them. I’m a Northerner just like you, all I’m asking is you fight beside me as one as well.”

Your eyes slipped shut. You knew she was going to say it, and it was precisely why you wanted Jon to understand exactly what this was going to be. Alysane was the one who likely knew it, if not both the surely the now eldest daughter she would know. “Are you though?”

Jon turned his head to her, a confusion in his own eyes that slipped to a well hidden realization. If he were to be honest if you had asked, he had almost forgotten about that conversation. It was a little too easy, almost embarrassingly so to forget that conversation when he was torn between this coming wars and trying very hard not to obsess like an animal over how to fix things between you.

But as she spoke, you could feel all four pairs of eyes turn to you from behind as Jon looked at Alysane. Perhaps you should have warned them of this as well. “Only asking us a Northerner? The King in the North we chose was your brother. My mother brought our men to fight for Robb Stark against the Lannisters, my eldest sister was killed the same night the Freys and Boltons killed the King, and his Queen.” Her eyes were curious and it painfully reminded you of the knowing look Maege Mormont had given you when you realized she knew you were hiding being with child.

Your voice was a bit cracked, as Jon took a step back now closer to your side then he was when this meeting first started. Speaking, you tried not to think about how comforting being close to him currently felt. “If you would like Lady Alysane, Jon and I could stand here and show you the scars that killed us both if you are with doubt of our story or intentions, though it might be a tad indecent in front of your younger sister.”

They had heard rumours of you, but not of him and yet not a single one in your own group looked as if it were untrue or merely a joke. House Mormont was your best shot, and you knew you had to lay our cards out on the table as plain as possible. No matter how uncomfortable.

For a moment she looked taken back, “Your grace that was not..” She glanced between you both with something in her eyes that looked just like the awing fear many had thrown you and Jon at Castle Black and amongst the free folk. “It was not my intention to doubt, we have no reason to think either of yourselves would come to us with lies. My mother trusted you, and my uncle you.” Nodding to you then Jon respectively. “I merely mean he isn’t just asking us as a Northerner-”

You could still see two faces, one on Jons of a stunned feeling when you told him, and the other of Robb as there was nothing but confidence and love as he made it clear to all of his decision. You were quiet, and Jon was thankful you spoke for him this time. “Help us reclaim the North first. Nothing is as important as this fight, right now. The Bolton’s will soon know we are coming for them and we need as much of the North together as we can for when we come to their doors.”

The two Mormonts shared a look. Lady Lyanna looking up to both of you, “I can give you sixty two of my our own household guard, and whatever of our own men my mother can provide you with.”

Your eyes perked up slightly, as did a jolt in your heart. She was one you did not know the fate of. “Is she currently available to meet with ourselves?”

Alysane tilted her head in question, “She should be returning to the keep by nightfall, left us in charge while she rallied up men as soon a she got your raven, your grace.” You and her both looked at each other with a unique little moment of glee. Alysane had heard much of you, not just as a Queen, but as someone who her mother clearly considered a most valuable friend. “We can provide you all with food and room for the night if you are willing to wait here for her return.”

Grey eyes found yours, and in your single nod, Jon wasn’t sure but he seemed to sense exactly what it was you were saying. Or more, you seemed to understand his silent question and agreed. “You’re very kind, we would be glad too.”

A small comment from Davos, that it seemed, managed to make the little Lyanna smile a bit more like the child she was. “If these men are half as ferocious as you two, the Boltons are doomed.”

It was just as you were departing, did Alysane call for you once more. Turning back into the room you looked expectantly. “There is a man in your group, one who looks an awful lot like Theon Greyjoy.”

She said nothing else of the matter, but you didn’t even move to fully face her as you spoke with a quiet sternness. “That would be beacuse he is, my lady.” Asking why you would allow him here with his life you didn’t even blink. “It was the sentence given by both the King in the North and myself for Theon to be brought to him for execution. And now he stands by my side with his head intact. I will only ask you trust that means his crimes have been paid for, and mention it no more.”

It was that very one who was turned back to watch as you finally followed, and for just a moment you both looked to the other with a distant unsettled feeling. These people will have no idea just what he’d been through and how many times over it paid for his crimes. But as you nodded for him to move forward along side you, you figured that if they could trust wildlings through Jon they could trust Theon through you.

Nightfall seemed to bring storm clouds onto Bear Island. The gold of the evening fading out as you considered if it was worthwhile to bother heading inside. Not on the side of too dark, but the wind picked up as soon no doubt rain would splatter onto the waters you were looking out at in a matter of time.

Deepwood Motte was where you would descend on next and reports were still accurate, Ironborn likely still sat deep in the area and getting House Glover on your side would require a fight no doubt. It felt like a lifetime seen you’d seen any kind off violence on fair battle, more so making you wonder if you even had it in you anymore. This wasn’t the same unified fight as it once was, this was a scattered group desperate to unify before it was too late. Group of people who were struggling to find harmony when there was no question of that the first time.

Everything this time around already started in something broken. A cause that you had to convince people of, from two people who could barley look at each other by now. All this talk of what was meant and destined, but it all felt so disjointed the second you two were alone. You never used to be this way, it was always so easy being with Jon.

If you were being true to yourself, you were fairly certain that the night before this all kicked off was the first time either of you had ever even argued. Normally finding little to even disagree on, and it wasn’t something you enjoyed doing. You liked getting to the point or just shutting it out until it simmered but then he kept talking and you couldn’t keep it to yourself. You had spoken more today then the entire journey to get to Bear Island from Castle Black.

Maybe you could slink way in the rain, disappear and him to lead this fight as a true leader on his own and find success within that.

Enough time had passed all on your own that you hadn’t noticed until the sun begun to set. Didn’t notice that you had missed any appearance in a meal. Your back laid flat on the edge of a stone walls, just looking out to the lands and water, hoping when it rained you would melt with it.

Jon really should have known better. He knew Tormund was trying to poke at him, trying to set off something that the man knew he was holding back and yet he still let it get to him. Earlier that day, there was no other reason he was making such direct eye contact with him across the camp other then to burn that part of Jon’s insides that hated seeing someone else with you so freely.

He had never had that, and he still didn’t. He could, it didn’t seem like many objected to the idea and even noticed on his part. Uncomfortably he was well aware of the curious stares your mother had been giving him, and he had no idea how to feel about that. Like every Baratheon in your family, Selyse was incredibly hard to read beyond such a stoned expression and sharp but watchful eyes. Even moreso now that much of this group had stuck together since arriving, but like you, she was very quiet.

He had known the woman seemed to be pushing you to some ideas of destiny. It was that of a trick he did, but having no idea where you were, Jon focused enough. Just the right amount of energy that never stopped feeling bone chilling when it happened. If he did it now it would be even stranger, Ghost being on the mainlands and none would know it was Jon through his eyes. But he trusted them to keep peace without having to babysit.

You however, he was started to think he should just chain you to him for how often you slunk away on your own. Missing the offer of food from the Mormonts, no one knew where you were. And it was that damned orange haired smug smile of Tormund's as he looked to Jon, “Aye, she probably just needs the right kind of company. If no one else objects-”

Jon took it upon himself to stand abruptly from the table with a deep grumble as he glared. “No need. I’ll go.” Before walking out without waiting for any response. He never had to deal with what this was. It was different with Robb, neither of you chose that and Jon left before he was forced to watch whatever it turned into. Until he did, but from what he knew now that you’d seen a fair share of your own.

Jon knew why it was more difficult for you. Neither you nor Robb had any choice, it was a surprise to everyone and you made the best of what you were dealt. He wasn’t lying when he said he wanted you and Robb to love each other and he was proud his brother did find someone who made him happy. But no one involved got to choose, there was no freedom there.

But he never talked about Ygritte, and all you could gather was whispers from others and what the gods had unfairly chosen to show you. All you had seen, was Jon finding something with her that he could never have with you. Ygritte herself tried to argue with him that this was freedom, he could choose to do whatever he wanted and it didn’t matter what they were long as they had each other.

Freedom of course, coming at the cost of Jon’s well being. It took a very long time for him to admit the truth to himself and even now it felt pathetic to say. But it was her, or death. Nothing else. Prove your worth they said, and proving it was to give her the one thing Jon had spent years dreaming of sharing with you. Convince himself it was good just because of how it felt, telling himself because sometimes he saw the amusing sides of her that that was the true picture.

But then you asked him that final night and the last of his lies snapped and he let it all explode between the two of you. You had gone to the top of the wall before, looking out to the North one last time in the freezing cold. “I should take you to see how strange it looks from the South during the daytime in some places.”

“I think I already have.”

Posed on the edge of the bed he looked up to you, both of your minds trailing to that strange moment thousands of miles away from each other. Eyes wide before something uncomfortable sat in his chest and moved to his heart. Swallowing with a nod he dropped his head. “Right.” He didn’t in that moment know why he spat it out, but he did. “I didn’t love her. Ygritte..I didn’t love her.”

You paused mid movement, turning away from him as your brows narrowed, mumbling. “It isn’t my business if you did.” Jon trying to call your name, get you to look at him but you just shook your head facing away from him. “She was someone you could be with, could be together with. I wouldn’t blame you.”

Jon sighed, trying to get you to look at him but you just kept looking away. You weren’t malicious, or cruel, or even going for something with an agenda. It was an innocent, quiet question. “Why not? Love her I mean. Why not?”

It was unfair to let it out on you but he did. “You’re really asking me why I didn’t love her? You?”

Turning around it was obvious you were confused, but he barrelled on through your protests of confusion at his anger. “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved my entire life. Do you really think the second you’re gone I’m going to just fall for the first woman who comes along? That I forgot about you that easy?” You tried saying his name but he was getting louder, and he knew he needed to pull it back but it wasn’t really you he was looking at.

It was a far more defiant face who pushed him and pushed him all day long until she broke him enough that he relented, and then every support she gave him was in value of something Jon never was or wanted to be. An anger in her own eyes that you never even came close to looking at him with, and a combative attitude that was exhausting, and would constantly strip away at his own self worth.

Standing up, he saw your guarded expression as you barley blinked or moved only for it to look like her smug smirk that mocked him relentlessly until he was exactly what she wanted. “Spending every night having to put my own direwolf between us beacuse she’d spend the whole time trying to get close to me, mocking me for never sleeping with a woman just because it was the one string she could pull at and get a reaction? Are those the things I should have fallen in love with?”

You didn’t know these things, and he knew that.

“Or was it when every single person in their camp wanted me dead and the only way I could protect my own life, was to send Ghost away because I knew he’d never let her near me if he stayed? Or how the only reason I even could stand touching her was beacuse I kept seeing you in my head instead?” He was right in front of you by that point and you hadn’t moved what so ever. He wasn’t even sure you had blinked. “That’s the person you think I should've fallen in love with after you? A girl who didn’t respect a single thing about me, and was only letting me stay alive beacuse she took everything I had left to defend myself and made me fuck her against my will.”

He never said it out loud like that, and as soon as he did, Jon felt something twist inside of him he did not like. Something that felt sickening. And as you looked at him with soft eyes that he wanted to fall into, he instead let his head spin and skin feel filthy.

You softly muttered his name, “Jon..”

Jon had refused to let himself come any closer. Turning around and running a hand over his mouth looking at the floor before you. “Ygritte took everything from me that I always wanted to give to you, and then had me tricking myself into thinking it was real only as long as it kept me alive. And while I was lying to myself about being with her, you and Robb were murdered. When I finally got away, I tried to play off her feelings and say she wouldn’t hurt me because she loved me and it got me shot full of arrows and dreaming about you in a pool of your own blood only to wake up and find out it was real.”

Clearly you were trying to keep an even tone in your whisper. “Why not tell someone the truth?”

He glared at you, when you didn’t deserve it voice deep as it rasped out, “No one would believe me. A man of the Night’s Watch letting a wildling girl take advantage of him? The only person who would’ve cared about any of it was dead, and when I finally get her back in front of me, she tells me I’m wasting my time trying to love her again. You think that makes me feel good?”

You bit your tongue, and Jon hadn’t quite grasped until later that it was your own nightmares flashing through your mind, showing exactly why you weren’t worth someone like him. You had always held him in a higher regard then he thought he deserved, and he knew you were still doing it now. Only now it was with a lot more pain.

“I wasn’t trying to..I didn’t know..I’m sorry.”

It was tense in the air, and something needed to break before it all was thick enough to choke on. Jon did it first as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Neither of you looking at each other. “I know you loved Robb, and he loved you. I wanted you both to and I’m happy you loved each other when you had the chance. But I never wanted to love anybody but you, and I never will. So don’t stand there and tell me I deserved to love someone who stood against every kindness you ever showed me.”

You could only whisper you were sorry, before you walked out. And he hadn’t seen you until morning, a stiff, steeled expression in your eyes and posture. Jon felt a lot of regret, you didn’t deserve to be yelled at for the things Ygritte did, but you were nothing if not an expert at avoiding him these past days.

And it wasn’t until you two walked up to the Keep of Bear Island did he feel like he was slowly getting a bit you back. Now as he looked for you, natural instincts told him where to look. Along the edges of the Keep closer to the water where the setting sun lay and brushing storm clouds were swooping in from.

You always liked cliff sides and water’s edge. No doubt a time from growing up on Dragonstone, and so Jon begun searching along each corner for you, trying to run around in his mind figuring out how to ease you into an apology. How to make it better for yelling at you, even though a sinking part of him had a feeling that you would just forgive him without question.

Not wanting to risk making him mad, and he could only angrily think of how cruel Ramsay was to you to try and beat that little spark and tough fire inside of you down to nothing like this. And how he would even begun putting that flame back like you deserved. You brought Jon back both in life and spirit and he wouldn’t stop until he did the same for you, no matter how you chose to accept him in your life anymore.

Rounding one corner is when he spotted you, leaning back with your arms crossed against a pillar near a set of stairs as your eyes were trained hard on the road in the distance. Slowly Jon came up just behind you, seeing the horses in the distance and the galloping of what sounded like a fair number of them. “Where are the others?”

Glancing back to you, there was almost a hint of anticipation in your eyes that for a moment almost looked childlike. It was strange, both of you so far away having found something of different companionship in the two eldest Mormonts. Leaning his head a bit closer to you, rumbling a bit quietly in your ear. “Hopefully making sure Tormund doesn’t scar Lady Lyanna for life.”

You smirked a small bit, your mood having lightened somewhat since arriving. Even from what he could see, just being on the ship sent you at ease more. “From what I’ve seen I’m not sure there’s much that scares any of them.”

“There is one thing.” His voice low and serious, you both glanced to each other in a knowing that convincing these people to fight a war against their enemies is one thing. Making the rest of the North believe in the rest was another.

Your eyes softened a bit looking at him before you seemed to realize how long you had been, fluttering them back to the growing distance. “You were impressive back there. In that meeting. Leadership suits you.”

Unlike you, Jon felt no need to hide the returning look to you and keep it there for far longer then would normally be considered appropriate. “I’m glad someone thinks so.” Your posture stiffened for only a second with almost panic swirling in your eyes before letting it deflate in a shaking exhale Jon knew you were hoping he didn’t see.

The numbers that gathered were easily groups that were in the hundreds. The woman in front climbed down from a great horse, standing tall and large in stature with a harsh face that squinted as she looked up to both of you before settling on your own person.

Ascending the stairs together, Jon watched the woman look you over before a great smile came over her. “Gods be good, the rumours are true.” You stood a few feet away from her with as much composure as you always had before the larger woman came forward closer to look at you closer. “We never thought you’d be a face we’d ever be seeing again, your grace.”

Only in a single second, the larger woman barrelled you in a large hug, one that she almost laughed into and Jon could see something tight and relieved in your own grip. Pulling you back by your forearms as she looked at you, Jon clearly seeing a smirk plastered on both almost like family. If he were being honest, it felt like a reunion you should have had with your actual mother.

The woman with such a casualness, “And you still look just as shit as the last time I saw you.”

Your tone was light, something much more like a genuine smile coming over the rest of your face as you breathed out from a laugh, “Happy to see you’re still around to keep all those beasts at bay.” As you leaned in for one more embrace, you seemed to have whispered something to her as when the woman turned to look at Jon, there was already a realization in her eyes she was keeping to herself as you stepped back between them.

Her gesturing towards him with her head in a playful glint. “Now, you going to introduce me to the handsome lad or what?”

Coming closer to accept her now outstretched hand, “Jon Snow, my lady. I’m-”

The casual interruption with what she already knew already reminded him of the Old Bear. So nonchalantly would toss information at him Jon didn’t even know how the man found out. “I’ve heard all about you. You’re Robb Stark’s brother.” Stepping back he nodded as she glanced at him with a curiousness in her eye. “You also served under my brother up at the Wall.”

“I did. He was a good man, deserved better then how he died.”

You seemed to glance between them with a narrowed expression before turning to Maege with a more steeled expression once more. “I will go let your daughters know you’ve arrived back. Bring your men here up to speed while I’m at it.”

He didn’t say anything, but there was a look in Jon’s eye trying to pull you back to him. To stop you from running away but as you ascended the steps with a few of those who rode up with some familiarity, Jon was beginning to think he was going to have to corner you to just get you to stay in one place. Not realizing he had been watching for far too long as Maege stepped closer to beside him. “Now I know it’s not me that woman’s running away from.”

There was a curious pointed look in her eye that Jon didn’t respond too. Trying to speak through a vaguely nervous tick of clearing his throat. “She’s been through a lot, still adjusting to some things.”

Maege hummed as she looked at him for another moment before beckoning him to follow her up the steps. “It know too well it won’t help much, but I’m sorry about your brother.” His eyes flickered to the side to a knowing distant pain in the older womans. “Hearing your brother got butchered by his own men thousands of miles away from where you could even try to help. Awful way to die, awful way to find out they died.”

Turning down a path to overlook the waters you likely had just been waiting around she added, “Though, you two also know what that feels like first hand don’t you?” Jon’s heart skipped a beat under the hole above it to remind him. A bit of a chuckle left her at the rigid response given. “Brother was Lord Commander for a long time, I still know men there who keep me in the know. Should I even bother asking how either of you survived or is that why our jumpy Queen there seems so keen on not looking at you?”

Jon swallowed harshly, looking down as his palms braced gently on the stone wall in front of them brows narrowed. “I don’t know how she did it, or if she’s even sure it was her. But I’ve seen her scar and I know there’s no way she didn’t bleed out in minutes.” His voice was rough, and his chest felt heavy at the delirious dreams as he was unconscious seeing it for the first time. “Or why I’m walking around after getting a knife shoved in my heart, but we’re both here and we know as long as the Boltons are allowed to control the North we can’t protect anyone when they come.”

If there was only one thing that could truly haunt Jon in such a dread filled way it was that day. The sight of just how many free folk stood up beside the Others with glowing blue eyes. Staring one of them down feeling as cold and hopeless as ever, knowing that he could cut down as many as them as he could but with the numbers they awoke? If the North stayed this torn apart, Jon wasn’t going to be able to protect anyone.

All that was between them was the splashing of water against the rocks before she spoke up, quiet in tone but with a deeper conviction. “We all followed your brother into war before he he fought his first battle, chose him as our King after the Lannisters murdered your father. Because we believed in him. You lead these men and reclaim the North? They’ll follow you no matter what comes for us beyond that Wall.”

This was why you warned him, it was inevitable. “I’m not here to ask anyone as a King-”

Confidence seeped into her voice. Looking at him with a knowing glint that reminded Jon all too much of the Old Bear. “The King didn’t name you his heir against our will. The two of them came to us with no arguments. You’re Ned Stark’s son and you were his brother and that was all he needed be sure he wanted it to be you. They both did. They both knew you deserved what he had and if none of us thought the same it wouldn’t have been such a damn quick meeting to sign off on it.”

His heart screamed heavy at him, jealous of Robb for so much, for so long that the mere idea that in the end he wanted Jon to succeed him simply because they were brothers put a stop in his throat. Not arguing of politics or duty, but that he wasn’t just forgotten at the wall from his brother. He had missed Jon as much as Jon missed Robb, and in his death only could find one final thing to give to his brother hoping to bring him back home.

It was a weak argument, and she sniffed it out right as he said it. “You still have her, she’s still your Queen to follow.”

Maege smiled at that. “Aye, but she doesn’t want to be our leader. Knows as well as I do that no matter what people try to say, she isn’t her father. Holding that weight up by herself is too much for her, and I could take a guess what sorts of things the Boltons did to her, I think leading us all on her own would crush her. She and your brother worked so well because they were a team. She trusted him much as he did her to the point it’s easy to forget she’s not even a Northern sometimes.”

But what kind of King could Jon ever be compared to Robb? He couldn’t imagine any kind of admiration as he knew Robb had earned from these people, he was ready to lead them into a war of survival but somehow taking up Robb’s mantle as King was the thing that felt daunting.

But it’s what Robb wanted, and he knew it was what you wanted. You just refused to push him into something not knowing if he wanted it. You never pushed him into anything he may not want.

“You didn’t name Robb a King until he started winning battles. Least I can do is wait and see if I win my own this side of the Wall before I start thinking I deserve it.” Maege laughed, something under her breath muttering about you all being stubborn and he had an inkling he just may have started to sound like Robb himself.

There was quiet for a breathe, before she turned tune. “Alright, enough of that. Let me see it.”

Jon looked over to her with a confused expression before she nudged him on the arm, gesturing to his side. “The sword. Been some twenty years since I laid eyes on Longclaw, let me see the wolf.” Pulling it out from it’s sheath, Maege grabbed the hilt from him with a bright look.

The smile was wide as she turned the wolf head around to take it all in. “He made it after your own direwolf, he said. What’s his name?”

Jon nodded, a small grin on his own face looking over the hilt himself. “Ghost. When we found the direwolves, he was far away from the others, so quiet he never even made a sound. I have no idea how I even heard he was there.” His own memory fading back to when he first got Longclaw. Showing Ghost the hilt remade, and telling him with a grin how it was him. Even apart now only by a few miles of sea and land he found himself missing him.

Maege looking over the red jems as eyes with a fondness. “Gods, it is good to see this thing finally getting some use after all this time.” Starting to hand it back to Jon, it seemed he made a mistake with what he said next.

“It’s an honour, being given the chance to use your families sword.” The look she gave him now really reminded Jon of the way the Old Bear would look at him sometimes. Like the way he’d look him down as if to say to get your shit together.

She all but bashed it into his chest for him to grab. “Seven hells. Do you really think that man went to all the trouble of remaking the entire bear hilt, re carving it, finding jems for those eyes only beacuse he assumed you were borrowing it?” Rolling her eyes, there was a fondness in her eyes as she looked at him. “That sword spent over twenty years sitting up at the wall. Just mocking my brother beacuse it was just a reminder of how badly his son had disgraced this family.”

Shaking her head, she looked out to the water. A deep memory painting over her. “We all were sure it would stay up there until he died, and then it would just sit here in the Keep like some ancient artifact. But instead, he saw something enough in you not just to let you use it, but to give it to you.” Nodding to the hilt visible where it sat on his person. “He didn’t carve that wolf out so it could come back to us and just get re carved again. It was our families sword. Now, it’s yours. And whatever family you may decide you ever want. But don’t be fooled, Jeor gave you that beacuse he believed in you, and because you deserved it. You Starks seem to be pretty bad at accepting you’re allowed to deserve good things.”

If the emotional punch to the gut was noticeable in Jon’s hesitant pause, she didn’t point it out. But she did something that Jon had only ever been used to from you. So casually grouping him in with House Stark without a second thought because you never really understood the point of seeing him as anything but one of them. And that was a habit Jon knew for certain, Maege Mormont could have only picked up from hearing you, even after all that time, still group him in with everyone else no matter what the world tried to say.

You never shied away from the fact that he was a Snow, but you never once kept his identity in your mind separate from the Starks. Stannis Baratheon had offered him Lord of Winterfell to be an ally, and make him a Stark in name. Something for years he always wanted.

And yet as you had stood there, telling him that the North, you, and that Robb had so easily decided they wanted him to be King in the North if anything happened to him. And that not once in that offer did you ever push him to take it, or that you wanted him to be anything but who he is. The fact that becoming a Stark wasn’t part of Robb wanting Jon to be King, he thought to himself, meant more then being made a Stark by someone else.

Because Stark or not, to Robb, Jon Snow was his brother no matter what. And being King after him didn’t require a formal deceleration of becoming one of the family. It was strange for Jon at this point in his life to realize that the brother Jon always thought was better and got a better deal in life, truly loved him with no hangups or clauses attached to it.

It was a Southern King that said only Jon Stark could be Lord of Winterfell. But it was his own brother who wanted Jon Snow to be King in the North after him.

And for some reason, all Jon could think to do in that small moment by himself, was to smile. It was always odd in his heart how much you had always seen Jon for exactly who you knew he could be, but it was a whole other thing to start realizing that the North he grew up in, just might be coming to that same conclusion as well.

But as he stood there, the storm clouds still debating amongst their own if it should bring rain over the setting sun, he thought of almost nothing but Robb. He wasn’t there to protect him when it mattered most, but Jon knew he needed to do more to protect what of Robb’s was left.

Wherever his brother was now, Jon hoped that Robb trusted him with his wife. Because in the year since losing him, Jon knew you were left in a confused insurmountable amount of grief and pain that was only soaked in more blood and new torture. Leaving you in a darkness all alone, and someone needed to force you out of that pit before it took you away again forever.

You trust me with your kingdom, his silence spoke. Eyes slipping closed as he stood in the quiet, hoping Robb could hear his prayers. Now please, trust me with her heart. She fought in a war beside you, but this time, someone needs to be the one to fight for her, someone needed to stand in front of her, and tell her it’s okay to let me protect her.

You kept away from Jon because you were terrified of forcing things or feelings onto him that your tormented mind worried would no longer exist. But this pain between you was all out in the open now. You were honest and so was he. You needed someone to protect you instead of forcing you face these demons all on your own.

Jon hoped the crashing of water against the rocks, and the cold wind swirling around as it flew through his thick curls, was Robb answering his prayers with his blessing. Because Jon was going to do it anyways.

Walking to where you were to stay for the night, you felt mentally drained. The Mormonts were far too lively of a bunch to handle in your current state, and too many questions, looks, and stories being thrown around. Already before even reaching the door, you begun unlacing everything with the intent to throw it all on the ground like a petulant child.

But as you slipped into the door, you could see Jon leaning against the wall of the cozy room by the window. Your mind noticing the long grey shirt you normally never saw under the black and leather atop it, with some of his other things gently draped along the desk. Pausing without closing the door, you narrowed your eyes “I assume I’m in the wrong room.”

“You’re not.”

His voice was deep, but steady as his grey eyes were bright looking to you. Slowly you shut the door behind you, a confused furrow in your brows as you looked at him. Jon watched you with something so much softer then anything the past number of days, a look he was unafraid of letting you see in full opposed to the heavily guarded state you were still in.

Taking only a few steps in at a time, you slowly placed your own sword down beside his against the wall before finding yourself not knowing what to do. “Am I allowed to ask why in a place this big I can’t be trusted with my own room?”

Jon’s chuckle was deep, and a small smile full of a fondness as he met you more in the middle. Even as he was dressed down, and you still dressed properly you felt small in comparison. “Maybe you just can’t be trusted to get a decent sleep all on your own.”

A lightness in your chest burst out before you could even contemplate the playfulness in your eyes as you said it. “Funny thing to say, coming from a man who used to barley manage getting more then five hours half his life.”

He watched you for a second, stripping you down of those barriers without a word before gesturing for you to put your back to face him. Not considering that you just followed that silent command without any question until his hands gently started to undo the rest of your outer layers. Trying to look back at him confused, “I can do this part just fine, you know.”

The hum in your ear sent a small shiver down your spine as he rasped. “So why are you letting me?” You could see the edges of his curls in the side of your vision but you had no answer for that other then to stand in the quiet and let him.

When you were just a tinge lighter, Jon stepped closer, so lightly running his hands down your arms you almost felt lightheaded at the sensation. Somehow so warm against the cold of the night air, your body relaxed enough to find the courage. “Jon, about the other night-”

You almost gasped, feeling his chest press closer to your back, his voice rasping but soft, hands soothingly still running up and down. “Don’t apologize. You asked me a question, and I yelled at you for something you couldn’t possibly have known. You didn’t deserve that, so let me be the sorry one.” A weight in your chest sunk down, a sting behind your eyes as you nodded. “Good. Because I want you to listen to what I’m about to say.”

He was braver then you, but if you weren’t such a coward, you’d be temped to reach one of your hands to to grasp his. “Okay.” Only a breathless whisper came out.

Jon’s voice was as full of something heavy as you could feel in his heart. “Robb doesn’t want you to feel this alone. You loved each other, and you always will but he doesn’t want you to hate your life after him.” His hands stopped moving, but one of his thumbs continued to run across the fabric over your arm. “And you are not ruining my life by being here. I never thought I’d get the chance to even see you again, but now we’re both here. And maybe the gods wanted it that way, maybe it just is the way it happened to work out by chance but I can’t just stand back and watch you try to push me away because of what’s broken up here.”

One hand moved to gently tap at the side of your head, as you tried to pull away at the sensation. Only as you reached back to instinctively swat at his hand, Jon caught it in his, bringing it down to wrap your arm across your stomach still holding onto it, and pull you closer to him. “What I said, about you being with Ygritte I never would have....had I known I wouldn’t have never suggested it.”

Jon nodded against the back of your head, “Well now we both know. That’s what you were doing earlier right? Laying our cards out on the table for them to see, make sure they understand exactly what they would be getting into?” You nodded, your heart speeding up a bit. “I thought I lost you once, but this time I’m never going to stop fighting for you. You deserve to have someone who loves you, but if you don’t want it, if you don’t want me like this,” The hand on your arm sliding up gently to trace over the sensitive skin of your neck as you shook out an exhale. “I’ll never push you for anything, but we cannot hide from each other anymore. You need to tell me if you don’t want this, but not beacuse you think you don’t deserve it or because you wrongly think I don’t want you.”

You felt ready to cry if you were being honest, he made this too easy. To slip into a need to be close to him and not want anything else. “I will always love Robb,” Jon nodded as your eyes fluttered shut but when your heart didn’t steady you had to say it anyways. “But that never stopped with you, either.”

His hands on you tightened the slightest, as you let out a small sigh when his lips so gently pressed to your neck. Jon’s tone husky as he spoke into another gentle kiss, “Will you let me do something for you? Is it alright if I make you feel good?”

Heart about to explode, your mind so lightheaded you could pass out. Not sure if you could handle the roughness like that one night, not sure if it was a wolf at all you could take but you nodded. You trusted Jon.

He didn’t push you further, he wanted to be gentle it seemed. Running his lips so gently over your neck without ever pressing any firmer, and his hands didn’t grow rough in their touch as Jon gently pulled back enough to pull your shirt up and off your chest.

Dropping it where it lay, you shivered from the cold as he reached both hands down past your breasts to slowly run along the edge of your pants before pushing you to the bed, “Sit down for me. Let me take care of you.”

As you turned to sit, you could see the grey in Jon’s eyes was dark enough to look almost black as he carefully pulled the material off your body. Kneeling down before you as you were perched on the edge of the bed, he ran those same eyes all over your body with an intensity as you sat bare before him, still totally dressed.

Gently, your hands reached out. One running along the edges of his curls before dancing across the scratchiness of his facial hair, the other finding his shoulder as you sat up straighter. Your breaths growing in heaviness as you both watched the other carefully. Jon finally returning the gesture, running both of his hands along your cheeks before leaning up.

Your lungs stopped in the swiftness of the movement, your eyes fluttered shut only he didn’t close the gap. Only traced the length of your nose with his, keeping you so close you could feel his breathe until he could sense the nerves simmer back down inside you. Both thumbs running over your cheeks as he exhaled shakily. “Doesn’t seem real sometimes. Being allowed to have you this way. Spent all my life knowing I’d have to give you up and it never got any easier.”

Your hand ran through his hair more like a comb, nails raking smoothly along them but never tugging at each more wild tangle. Keeping his forehead pressed to you. “Do you remember what we talked about, that last night in front of the Weirwood?” Your brows narrowed trying to recall it, as you unintentionally drew his attention away as your nails scratched his scalp more. Jon pressed into you further, a distracted but satisfied hum deep in his chest almost like that of the wolf usually found at his side finding his voice again. “Talking about how we’d meet in a different life?”

Slowly, Jon started to move his hands down. Keeping just as close knelt before you, but slowly letting his hands run down your neck and over your shoulders as his voice was a gentle rasp. “We were way off, weren’t we? Castle Black is a far cry from Highgarden.” Tracing his fingers over the sides of your breasts you tensed at the spark of touch, “It’s also far too cold to be summer. But maybe this as good of a new one as we will get.” With a touch as light as a feather he ran his thumbs over both your nipples, almost jumping at the feeling.

Your eyes opened to drift down to his shirt, the edges just far enough that you couldn’t see the mark over his heart even though Jon could see the one on your stomach perfectly. Your eyes slipped back shut however, as his rough hands more fully grasped at your breasts, and the spark underneath swam more throughout your body and into your blood.

Sighing out high pitched, one of your hands slipped from him to grasp at the sheets below while the other wrapped more around the back of his neck into his curls. The movement naturally pulling your chest better up to his own level so one hand of his reached to hold steady at your hip before moving back to the task at hand. Opting to press his lips lightly to your collarbones.

Moving down slowly until the hand on one breast twisted so he could pull your nipple between his fingers as his mouth gently nibbled at the other. Your gasp far louder then the quiet of the room but it only spurred him on to bite a little harder, the other hand twisting a little firmer.

His last touch was so desperate, so raw and rough, that you felt dizzy in his arms this time around from how almost teasing it felt in comparison. Groping a little greedier as his lips found the same path until you let out a needy hiss at a harsher bite. Pulling back though, you gripped his hair a little tighter at the loss but Jon only gently shushed you. “Lay down for me,” Trying to move to the main part of the bed he pulled you back by your hips, climbing up only enough to push you to lay down where you sat. Legs dangling off the side of the bed. “No, no, stay just like this, right here.”

Kissing your neck gently you couldn’t tell if he was trying to be soft with you or if this was just a true cruel tease to draw out on your body. “Jon,” Holding back a whine as he let his mouth trail back down to your breasts this time with more soothing presses of his lips and tongue to soothe the stinging bites he left. “Can I-”

“No.” Your eyes shot open in surprise, but he only moved finally down between your breasts to kiss along your sternum. His facial hair scratching along your skin, the rawness mixing with his gentle touch making you want to whine. Barley letting his lips leave your skin long enough to speak. “I don’t want you to do anything,” You could have cried a how lightly he ran his lips along the scar before pressing a kiss to the very top of your mound. “I just want to taste you.”

You swallowed heavily, his hands moving to your thighs as you felt a strange beating in your heart like nerves. “I don’t..why would you-”

Trying to soothe your nerves he rasped, “We’ve done this part before, darling.” You could remember the feeling, but it was so sudden, so animalistic you could barley comprehend it at the time in between the shock of him even standing before you. “Am I the only one to ever do this with you?” When you nodded, he kissed the same spot before kneeling on the ground where you could feel his breath between your legs.

Jon kept it to himself, but he felt proud of himself for still being able to find ways of being your first after all these years apart.

Slowly moving your legs to rest over his shoulders, Jon grasped at your hips to keep you steady before kissing a path up your inner thighs. One side, then the other as you let a needy whine out. Jon never once wavered, keeping his mouth always attached to something between your legs until a small kiss was left to your clit. The second you cried out at the feeling, the desire spilled over for him.

Jon sucking your clit with his own need this time, before moving to run his tongue flat down along your folds. Humming in his throat as he licked right back up as he held your arching hips in place. Eager brushes gently at your clit in between nibbling grasps between his teeth until you were shaking in around him and you were soaked from it. Those same gentle brushes of his tongue moved back down, and finally letting him move his mouth to your cunt as he wanted.

This time, it was a bit more as you recalled. His facial hair burning between your legs as he kissed and licked inside of you. Only instead of a starving, vicious wolf, he was licking and drinking everything you granted his mouth as if between your legs was treasured oasis crafted only for him.

Your head fell back into the sheets as you moaned, small whines along with it of his name as your hands grasped the sheets beside you. Between your own breathlessness, all that was heard in the room was the soaking sounds of Jon’s tongue inside of you.

Never rushing it, never even trying to push you to an orgasm. Only drinking between you with a slow, steady pace that had you trying to not let tears fall out from how good it felt. Letting a hand dance up to gently run though his hair, he held a bit tighter and made what felt like a vibrating growl into your cunt at the sensation you tested the waters and did it again, to the same reaction.

Moving your hips to pull more into his mouth you were almost lifted slightly above the sheets as you cried out, the core inside of you burned so hot and twisted so tight but he just kept such a slow pace, such a leisurely taste that it never reached it’s peak just when you thought it may.

Your breathing almost a faint hyperventilating as you almost couldn’t get any air he pulled it all right out with each brush of his tongue that ran along such sensitive walls. His nose nuzzling against your clit that had you cry much louder, back arching more but he just ran his tongue inside of you greedier then before.

This was for you, but it also was for him truly.

You weren’t really sure how long he kept you there, but it was a while. Quite a while, like he couldn’t stop himself from leaving between your legs. Each time you were poised at an orgasm he would pull back, slow down until you calmed down in his touch and once more his mouth would return to licking you back to that peak and take it away again. You already had lost count how many times he had done it.

It was long enough that even in the cold air, you felt a sweat forming over your body as you knew there too were tears at the side of your eyes spilling over. “Jon, please, gods please you’re so good..”

You weren’t even sure what you were saying but it made him shudder against you. Finally, in what felt like the slowest growth of your orgasm yet, this time as Jon’s mouth and tongue coaxed you to that edge he let you fall off it. Your core snapping with a pleasure of only his name and his arms keeping you pressed firmly against his mouth.

You writhed against him as the sparks jolted your entire body and he just kept between you, taking everything you gave him with greed until you were jumping at the stimulation. Finally, Jon pulled away, kissing your clit, then your mound and once more your scar before leaning up over you.

Hovering just above, his eyes were blown wide open and pitch black, his own lips swollen and soaked as just looked down to you. “Jon..please..kiss me?”

Eyes closing, he shuddered before shaking his head no. Swiftly moving up the bed, Jon pulled you into his arms, laying more on his side and keeping you cuddled into his chest while you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck. His voice was raspy and deep, northern accent strong and thick as it slurred together into your own neck. “If I kiss you now, I’m going to lose it.”

Running your hands through his hair, your brows narrowed. “It’s okay-”

“It’s not okay.” Sighing out as he clearly was trying to keep something contained as you only cuddled in his arms, him trying not to push you right back down and let his cock fill up your soaked cunt that very second. “Rest for me, darling. Just for tonight.” If he was talking to you or himself, it was difficult to tell as he mumbled into your hair, “I’ll always take care of you.”

It was easy to fall asleep in his arms. Jon was warm, and never once let you out of his grasp. Keeping you in a safe bubble only encompassed by him.

Jon wasn’t lying, he knew if he kissed you while you were bare in his arms, in a bed after already having spent well over two hours tasting you? He would have shoved you down onto the bed, spread your legs wide and fucked you deep, as many times as it took until he had absolutely nothing left to spill inside of you, but he wanted to take his time. He already took you like an animal, now he wanted to ease you back into it with a tenderness, with love.

Despite trying, he, himself didn’t sleep very much that night. It was hard to sleep when he was too busy enjoying how soft and pliable you were in his arms. In your sleep, your hand drifted up to rest along his heart and he pressed a hand there to hold you against him gently. Kissing your hair once more before giving himself a chance to at least try to get some sleep. One thing had not changed since your early years together at least.

It still took an immense amount of will power for Jon to treat you with a gentle innocence when you made the wolf in his blood run hot and possessive at all times.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

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chloe-skywalker · 1 year

Text

You Would Think - Tormund Gaintsbane

Tormund x Fem!reader Lannister

Warnings: GOT

Word count: 677

Summary: With Tyrion and Jaime now both in Winterfell before the big battle, Jaime has deserved how grown up their little sister has become.

Authors Note: “Game Of Thrones” is a warning all in its self. Reader and Tormund don’t talk in this one. It’s more characters watching them interact. I will have imagines where they talk!

P.S - I plan on making maybe a short series like this imagine and others like this one. I like the over all story idea.

Also ~ So this is not the first story I wrote for Game Of Thrones but it is the first one I completely finished and typed.

Masterlist

Game Of Thrones Masterlist

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“I am pleased that Daenerys and Sansa let you stay.” Tyrion smiled at his brother as the older Lannister male came to stand next to him on the balcony over looking the entrance to Winterfell.

“So am I.” Jaime gave a nod of agreement. Glancing around Jaime couldn’t find one person he had yet to see. “Where’s our little sister?”

Tyrion smiled, knowing that he would ask that sooner rather than later. Jaime and Y/n had a really close relationship till Cersei felt threatened and Y/n had to flee for her life. “This way.”

Tyrion lead the knight over to a different over looking balcony, looking over a different part of Winterfell. Upon looking down both Lannisters immdedtly took notice of their sister. Although Jaime noticed how close she seemed to be standing, and touching a giant red haired man.

“Who’s that?” Jaime asked his little brother.

“That dear brother is Tormund Gaintsbane.” Tyrion answered him. Upon hearing the name and Tyrion suspected seeing the clothes he put it together.

“A wildling.” Jaime stated, squaring his shoulders. They had all grown up with the stories of Wildlings. They aren’t good or nice stories.

“They prefer Free Folk.” Tyrion corrected with a tilt of his head.

Jaime gave a faint sound of acknowledgement before pointing down to their sister and the ‘Free Folk’ before asking. “Are they-”

“Together? Yes, our little sister is growing up.” Tyrion was as shocked as jaime is when he first found out about Y/n’s relationship. And with who, was a bigger shock. His mind had to work overtime to catch up with Y/n’s adventures and changes when they were reunited.

“Seem’s she already has.” Jaime spoke after taking a deep breath. She was so young when she left and they were so close. Now it was like he didn’t know her at all and that killed him on the inside.

“And she found love in the process.” Tyrion found that detail to be a comforting factor, but he could tell the protective older brother was coming out of Jaime. “Don’t worry. He’d die for her.”

“How could you know that?” Jaime furrowed his brow confused at how his brother could possibly know that.

“He’s said as much. The Free Folk don’t hold back. They speak what they feel and think. And he’s said as much, and he’s made his intentions with our sister very clear.” Tyrion squinted his eyes at the memories of hearing Tormund's thoughts of their sister. Things he never wanted to know, but it was nice to know he never planned on letting harm come to her.

Before Jaime could press for details that he probably would regret asking for, down below one of the banner men decided to grab at Y/n’s butt and said some pretty provocative words towards her.

Ser Davos had walked over to Tyrion as they all caught the scene. “Oh he should not have done that.”

“What?” Jaime glanced towards Ser Davos at his comment before returning his gaze onto his sister.

Jon Snow had come over along with Ser davos and who better to explain to the Kingslayer than Tormunds good friend. “That Bannerman shouldn’t have done that to your sister. I’ve known Tormund for awhile now and Y/n. No one disrespects her, and if you do your asking for a death sentance. Espeacilly if you do it infront of Tormund.”

With that said the 4 men watch as Tormund looked to Y/n and with a nod from her Tormund knocked the man on his ass. It was obvious that he looked to Y/n for permission and to see id she wanted to do it herself.

Jaime admired that Tormund let Y/n decide. He respects her.

“You would think they’d learn by now.” Tyrion shook his head of the stupidity that men posses.

“Hmm. Either she’ll get you or he will.” Ser Davos hummed in agreement with the imp. You would think after seeing what the couple could do, they would think before they acted.

Taglist: @gruffle1

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thedeathofduty · 1 year

Text

Little Doe

Summary: Prince Aemond shows you a special place in the Red Keep's gardens. When the two of you return that night, you are able to enjoy his company, but feel burdened by the possibility of a betrothal you thought you wanted. Now, though, you are not so sure.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!F!Reader

Warning(s): Explicit scenes, some light choking, brief mention of Aemond's awful, terrible, no-good thirteenth name day. Minors dni, thank you uwu

A/N: Let's all imagine Borros Baratheon had a younger brother named Davos. There's absolutely no mention of the Dance or any of the crazy family tension in this fic. Also messed with the universe's timeline a bit. 8,243 words!!! Bone apple teeth, y'all. Also, please do not be fooled by the title. Aemond does not dom in this fic.

You stood before your father, fighting to school your features so you would not burst into raucous laughter as he yelled at your handmaiden until there were tears streaming down the young girl’s face. Usually, you were not so cruel, but you could not help but feel she deserved it for nearly soiling your image, and to your beloved father, no less. Everybody at court knew you were the sparkle in Lord Davos Baratheon’s eye, his youngest child and only girl. They knew better than to speak ill of you.

The girl must be new to the Keep. As your father put her in her place, your chest grew with pride.

“My daughter has no need for a chaperone,” he growled, his blue eyes blazing like icy coals. “She is merely going to go for a walk in the gardens with the young Prince. Or do you presume to question my daughter’s virtue?”

“No, My Lord, I-I would never,” the girl whimpered, shaking like a little leaf in the wind next to you. You had to cover your mouth to hide your smirk.

“Do you think he would fuck her in the gardens, for all to see? Do you hear how stupid you sound, you cunt?”

“Father,” you chastised him. He pointed a stern finger at you and you bit your lip to try to hide your irrepressible smile.

“If he touches you in a way that displeases you, you are to show him no mercy and leave the rest to me. I promised your mother you would return to Storm’s End a maiden and I intend to make good on that, even if I have to cut out Prince Aemond’s other eye.” At this, you let out a girlish laugh as your handmaiden gasped loudly.

“Yes, father.”

“Very good.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at the girl next to you. “Have the Prince ask the Queen to fetch us another one, little doe. This one is a bit too fucking stupid." You nodded.

These handmaidens never lasted long under your father. Even though he was soft for you and your mother, he was a harsh man. You loved him dearly, and he, in turn, lavished every affection on you and let you run as wild as you wished. Whatever your transgressions, he either did not see them or merely pretended you were innocent.

You led the girl out of the room with a sly grin, offering quiet apologies. She said nothing offensive, but you could see the fear and anger in her wet eyes and it gave you great pleasure to know that she had no choice but to keep it all to herself. Perhaps after today she would learn you were nigh untouchable. You were a Lady of a Great House and clearly favored by the oh so terrifying Aemond One Eye. Was it your fault that two bold, fearsome men cared for you?

You strolled through the halls of the Red Keep, making your way to the gardens to meet Prince Aemond with your chin held high and a smile so wide, two deep dimples adorned your cheeks. Your mind felt cloudy with excitement, your thoughts racing with what you and your Prince may get up to today. Usually, he took you for a ride on his dragon and, while you had resisted at first, it had quickly become one of your favorite things to do with him.

Sometimes he would take you to one of the small spits of land in the Blackwater and other times, your journey would end deep in the Kingswood. No matter where the Prince took you, the story ended in the same way: with you naked in his lap, his soft hair between your fingers, and his mouth on your neck. The fact that he let you have him was a privilege and a pleasure you had no intention of giving up. Sacrificing the happiness of a lowly handmaiden was nothing to you and you would ask Aemond to allow you to feed her to Vhagar yourself if it meant you got to feel his tongue thrusting into your cunt again.

It was odd that he wanted to trade those private trysts for a public stroll through the gardens. Your father held no ill-will towards the Prince despite his earlier threat, but nor did he have much love for the Targaryens as a house. You imagined it would take a lot of convincing to get him to agree to a betrothal, if that was what Prince Aemond was attempting by walking with you somewhere public.

You hoped that was not what he wanted.

Though you held the Prince in high regard somewhere perhaps very near your heart, your heart itself was as of yet a land unclaimed by any man, and you preferred it that way. You were no longer a maiden and had not been one for years, not since your fifteenth name day here in King’s Landing, but your heart retained its maidenhood and had never been bloodied by love. Perhaps someday all this practice with him would prove useful when you married whatever Lord your father ultimately deemed worthy of his little doe.

The moment you saw Prince Aemond, you bit your lip and let out a laugh without thinking. As always, he was in his black leathers you found so dashing on him, but in his hand he held a single flower, your very favorite: a yellow plumeria. They grew in some of the hidden alcoves of Storm’s End. Back home, you always had the servants replace the vase of them you kept in your chambers.

He looked every bit the roguish gentleman, out of place in the brightly colored gardens clad only in black, with his dark eye patch and scar marring half his pristine face. His bright blue eye seemed to glow in the sunlight, nearly the same shade as yours. You did not think you could remember a time when the Prince had worn a different color. It was as if he was ever a widow in her mourning period.

“My Prince,” you said with a small bow and an outstretched hand. Gently, he grasped it and brushed it against his lips.

“My Lady. Your flower.” He handed the plumeria to you and you gave yourself a moment to breathe in its soft scent before sighing fondly and pressing it against your chest. “Does it remind you of home?” he asked, offering you his arm, which you took without hesitation as the two of you started walking.

“It does.” A pause. “Though I do not miss it. Storm’s End was wet and terribly boring. King’s Landing is much more exciting.” You gave him a meaningful look, and he chuckled under his breath.

The day was warm and a little damp. There had been a big storm the night before and a heavy fog had settled over the Keep. Everyone around you was wading in it, even your companion. As the two of you passed the various members of court who had ventured into the gardens on such a humid morning, you said your quiet greetings and remained a touch too close to one another. You wondered how the two of you must look from a distance, your thick black hair next to his silver, your bright yellow dress next to his black leathers. Did the two of you walking arm in arm look natural to the people you were greeting?

“Did Lord Davos like Aethia?” he asked, breaking the companionable silence.

“Who? Oh, the servant girl.” You snorted, brushing your flower under your nose. “No, father called her stupid. As he should! That bitch was trying to come and chaperone me today. Can you believe the nerve of it?”

Prince Aemond grinned, happy to indulge your ego just as your father usually was. “Those are the rules, Lady Y/N.”

“Not for me, My Prince.” You slipped a finger under the cuff of his sleeve, feeling his steady pulse on the inside of his wrist. When you spoke, you leaned close to him and let your words out in near whispers. “My father said there was no chance you would fuck me here in the gardens where anybody could see you.” His pulse quickened under your fingers and you could feel yours do the same.

“Oh, and you believe him, do you?” He raised an eyebrow at you, mirth shining in his eye.

“My Prince,” you gasped, clutching your flower near your heart, “I would never think you capable of such depravity.” You often laughed together, as you were both doing now, and you often felt that it was your favorite part of spending time with Aemond. “And with a pure maiden such as I.”

He hummed, his gaze dropping to your lips. In the distance, the waves of the Blackwater crashed against the lower walls of the Red Keep and your face flushed with desire. “You’ve not been a maiden for some time now, My Lady.”

Your fifteenth name day had been a boring affair. Your father had gifted you a chest full of new dresses and a small orange kitten you named Perzys after the Valyrian word for fire. You had spent some time having wine and delicate pastries with some of the other young Ladies at court, including the Princess Helaena who unfortunately did not quite seem to fit in with the rest of you. She was a sweet girl and, though you had no issue with her, you never quite knew what to say to her.

That evening, you had wandered with a goblet of wine in your hand and a scowl on your face. You had felt like a big fish in a small pond, like the Red Keep was too small a pen for so large a stag. You had found Prince Aemond in the Godswood by himself, reading as he often was when he was without a sword in his hand. The two of you had taken notice of each other before and you knew he had found flimsy excuses to barge into his sister’s chambers on the few occasions you decided to spend some time with her. His one gleaming eye seemed to be stuck on you like a searing hand and you could deny it no longer: you wanted to have him.

‘It is my name day,’ you’d all but whispered to him, nearly in his lap already with your eyes raking all over him at all the places you wanted to touch but would not dare to just yet. ‘Even your brother sent me a bottle of wine with the Princess Helaena. What have you gotten me, My Prince? What will you give me?’

‘What is it you want, Lady Y/N?’ His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you stared at it, completely rapt. ‘I will see it done.’

‘I want you, Prince Aemond.’ Your hand brushed against his cheek and he clutched it, his eye narrowing as it bored into yours. Slowly, you allowed yourself to lean into him. ‘I am not so lost in my cups that I do not know what that means. Will you make a woman of me? It would be the best gift anyone has given me today.’

When he finally kissed you, a loud moan bubbled past your lips and into his. He led you hand in hand through the halls to his chambers, taking great care to make sure the two of you were not seen. The moment he shut his door, you connected, pulling each other apart until you both tumbled into his bed. It was funny. Your mother had warned you it would hurt, that you would cry and bleed and curse the gods. But it had not been like that at all.

Your body felt like the night sky, like a void filled with a swirl of dizzying stars. Even your fingertips were humming with pleasure by the time Aemond was guiding you into his lap with a firm grip on your waist. When he finally entered you, you cried out in relief and ecstasy, not pain. It was as if there was a terrible itch inside of you that was finally being scratched.

He gasped and groaned as you moved your hips, slowly at first, then as quickly as you could manage. You tangled your hands in his hair, pulling him close so he could kiss and bite your neck as he had been doing before. Gods, you had loved that. When your fingers snagged on the strap of his eye patch, you growled and yanked it off without thinking, tossing it off to the side. For a moment, you almost missed the way his entire body went rigid until you opened your eyes.

You had never seen something so wondrous and beautiful, not even the giant she-dragon he called his. His one good eye was wide and fearful and in place of the other was a dazzling, glittering sapphire. The sight of it made heat coil low in your belly like a plumeria blooming after rain.

‘You,’ you panted, ‘you have been hiding this from me this entire time?’ He opened his mouth to speak and you ducked down to lick the pale column of his throat.

‘I-I do not wish to scare the ladies at court,’ he stammered and you huffed a gentle laugh into his wet skin.

‘I am not afraid, Aemond,’ you murmured, letting him feel your teeth against his neck. ‘I am wet. Do you feel my desire?’ You moved your hips again, and you both moaned. ‘Do you think it has it waned?’ He shook his head and pulled your mouth up to connect with his. The kiss was slow and languid, your tongues dancing as you quickened your pace in his lap. The desire that had bloomed inside you only grew, threatening to engulf you in a wild passion hotter than dragonfire.

‘Oh gods, you feel incredible,’ Aemond groaned against your lips, a wail torn from his mouth as you gripped his hair in your fists and rode him viciously. He had given himself as a present for you, so he was yours, all yours. The thought swirled dangerously in your head as you chased your release with gritted teeth.

‘Aemond!’ you cried. Your hair was sticking to the side of your face and the back of your neck. The reward you had been working for was so close you could taste it on your tongue and yet it eluded you. Your eyebrows pinched together in frustration, then smoothed as he ran his hands up your back until they came to rest on your shoulders. You opened your eyes and peered down at him, your chest heaving.

His sapphire was catching bits of moonbeams from the open windows. His cheeks were flushed, his lips swollen and nearly red from your kisses. He was... You loosened the grip you had in his hair, trying to catch your breath as he leaned in to kiss the corner of your mouth. You wanted to tell him he was beautiful and fine, like a Dornish knife made of ivory or a piece of the moon come down to lie with you, but you found you could say nothing as you stared at him. His hands gently cradled your face, thumbs brushing away the frustrated tears you had scarcely even noticed. You furrowed your brows under his studious and gentle gaze, your heartbeat growing louder in your ears as he pressed another kiss just shy of your lips.

‘May I?’ You were not sure what he was asking for, but you said yes all the same.

He taught you much that night, about your body and about pleasure. Sometimes it was better to go slowly and let it build until it immolated you from the inside. You knew that now. When your release found you again that night, it was with a shudder and a silent scream. Aemond finished on his stomach with a low groan and just the sight of him in the throes of pleasure had you wanting him all over again.

Afterwards, you lied in his bed with your legs tangled together and spoke softly to one another. They were not words of love, no promises of betrothals or heart wrenching confessions of secret fondness plagued the two of you that night. It was easy speaking to him now that the deed was done where before it had been so difficult. Of course, how many secrets could there be after someone has seen such a hidden part of you? He had forced you, whining and bleary-eyed, out of his bed and helped you dress before accompanying you back to your chambers. Again, your hand was in his and he kissed it gently as he wished you pleasant dreams.

It was a good night, a fine way to lose your maidenhead. One month later, your family returned to Storm’s End, and you assumed that would be that. Years later, however, here you found yourself again, playing this little game you loved so much with the Prince. This game had never included a scenic walk through the gardens, but you enjoyed his company enough to allow him access to you with your clothes on.

“You dare question my virtue, Prince Aemond? My father will have your other eye for that,” you joked, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much.

“Your father is overly indulgent.”

“As are you,” you purred, batting your lashes at him and giggling when he looked away.

“Hm, you are right. Perhaps today is the day I deny you that which you seek and you learn some discipline.”

“Oh, I very much doubt that, My Prince,” you declared with a cocky toss of your dark hair over your shoulder. “When you deny me, you deny yourself the pleasure of giving me what I want.”

“You are a bold one, Lady Y/N. Were it not for your hair, I would take you for a dragon.”

You smiled coquettishly at him, leaning your head against your shoulder and peering up at him through thick lashes. “The only dragon here is you. I’ve merely the privilege of being your rider.”

Fondness softened his smile into something you could not stare at and you sighed, looking ahead at the flowered path before you. The air was thick with the smell of pink roses and salt water. The ocean breeze stirred the trees and bushes, the sound melding with the waves. You could still feel him staring. He led you through the gardens and you allowed him to guide you to places you had only ever seen from afar in the windows high above. As you walked together, you saw fewer and fewer people until it was just the two of you surrounded by high walls and luscious blooms still dripping with morning mist. When you spared a glance back, the walled path simply narrowed and turned and you could no longer make out any clear voices at all.

“Remember this path,” the Prince said and you gazed up at him with a question on your lips. “We will walk it again tonight.”

“Why not only walk it tonight?”

There was a thin rectangle of golden light on the ground ahead and the roaring of the sea grew louder as you walked on. Your dark hair was sticking to the back of your neck and you moved it to the side so a cool breeze could soothe you. “I thought you might like to see it like this as well.” You squinted up at him with a quirk in your lips and stepped into the warm light as a brisk gust of salt air pushed all your hair across your face.

Your body instantly cooled, and you struggled to keep your dainty flower in your hand as a single petal was plucked off and spiraled away. Prince Aemond released you and you took a careful step through the archway into the rotunda with wide eyes. Your gaze darted around, trying to settle somewhere to take in every little detail, but it simply could not. The space in front of you was round, the floor laid with tiles depicting red dragons mating with fair-skinned maidens. Vines and thin branches wrapped around the slender columns, small dark blue fruits growing in bunches near the tops. Dark, curved shingles layered the dome above you, making you feel like you were inside a dragon’s egg. Just beyond the structure was the Narrow Sea, the high morning sunlight dancing on its shifting surface and feeling like a pressing weight on your eyes. If you wanted to, you could sit at the very edge of the tiled floor, your legs dangling far, far above the crushing waves below.

You had all but forgotten the Prince was even there and when his hand came to rest on the small of your back, you jumped with an undignified yelp. Mercifully, he did not comment on it or even laugh. Perhaps he was as entranced with the view as you were.

“Do you like it?” His voice was soft like a flower petal against you, his lips coming down to caress the tender skin just below your ear. You turned and drew him in closer with a searing kiss, humming as his hands crushed your body against his. When he pulled away, you were dizzy with longing.

“Must you make me wait until tonight?” He pressed long open-mouthed kisses against your neck and your eyes closed, seemingly all on their own.

“You will be happy I did.” With a huff, you let yourself accept it, trusting that you would be just as pleased at night as you were now.

When the two of you separated for the day, it felt as though you had been floating for hours, only to be forced to contend with the weight of stable ground once more. You often felt similarly after riding Vhagar, like your stomach was still rising and falling freely through the air even as you walked along the ground with the other mere mortals. This was different, though you could not name how.

The day was long, and each hour seemed to stretch on forever. The Ladies you often spent your time with were delightful enough, but your gaze continuously drifted towards the gardens, your mind conjuring images of what you knew was to happen there tonight. It seemed Your Prince held an unjust amount of power over you if he could still excite you like this.

That night with him those few years ago was a secret you guarded fiercely, but there was one you kept even closer to your heart. After you and your family had returned home, you had felt changed by the experience, more like a woman. Several nights you found yourself unable to rest, plagued by a need that had settled in between your thighs. Though you had felt it before, it had never been so loud and insistent, dominating your sleepless nights with visions of the Prince moving against you, that gorgeous sapphire glowing with the flashes of lightning that fell outside your chamber windows. Young Lady of a High House you may be, precious daughter to the harsh Davos Baratheon, burdened with three older brothers who would geld any man who presumed to touch, but you were still not without open admirers back home. You were not without opportunity to dampen the flame of your desires. But for one reason or another, you never sought out a bedmate to entertain you.

The nights leading up to your journey back to King’s Landing had been long and agonizing, your heart thundering in your chest and sleep unwilling or unable to find you until you had taken matters into your own hands and given yourself that which Aemond had gifted you years before. As you pressed your palm against your wet cunt, you imagined him in bed curled next to you with his voice in your ear urging you on, whispering about how good you tasted, how soft and sweet you were, how he needed you to finish just one more time before he could fuck you again. It was not until you had felt your release at least twice that you would drift off in pleasant dreams, the tips of three of your fingers wrinkled and sticky.

It was nearly evening now, the sun setting slower than it ever had before just to taunt you, and you were stomping through the halls of the Red Keep, hoping to see the Prince just once before your meeting with him. Wherever he was, he was very well-hidden. You passed a pleasant, albeit very dull supper with your father, your mind elsewhere, until...

“What do you think of the Lannisters, Y/N?” You blinked in confusion and savored the cherry wine on your tongue.

“As a house? They are wealthy and powerful. I find them all to be a bit self-serious, though. The Targaryens have their signature arrogance and the Lannisters have their pride. Ultimately, there is little difference between one and the other.”

Your father nodded across the table, taking a bite of his rabbit with a pensive look on his face. “One of their boys has taken a keen interest in you.” You choked, the bit of drink still in your mouth burning your throat on its way down. “I know you are a fan of fineries, so I thought their vast coffers may be of interest to you. You would be well taken care of as the Lady of Casterly Rock. What say you to that, little doe?”

“I... I must admit, father, I’ve not given marriage much thought, and no Lannister has approached me.” Your hands found your skirts in your lap, thumbing at the embroidery there.

“Of course not, the boy understands that he must speak to your Lord Father first.” He smiled. “If it does not interest you, consider him gone, but it would please me if you took the night to think about it. I believe the Lannister boy to be a fine match for you. It would elevate our house, and you, considerably.”

Think about it you did as you sat rigidly in your bed and stared at the flimsy little yellow plumeria on the table beside you. A Lannister would be a big step for you and certainly it was the sort of opportunity you had been waiting for. Casterly Rock was a fine seat for you and you would have everything your heart could think to desire there. You’d wear the finest dresses, drink the sweetest wines, and your hands would glitter with gold and rare jewels. With all the experience you had gathered with the Prince, you doubted you would be unable to make your Lord Husband a lucky man. You knew even Perzys would grow to be fat and happy there.

When a knock came at your door, it dragged you from the depths of your pondering with a start. A flower of relief bloomed in your heart as you opened your door to find the Prince before you.

“My Lady.” He bowed his head.

“My Prince,” you giggled, your earlier woes instantly forgotten. “Have you finally come to spirit me away? I was just about to send for a servant to help me dress for bed.”

“My apologies, Lady Y/N, but I had to ready everything myself.”

“Ready everything?” He offered his hand with a small smile on his lips and you clung to it as the two of you crept through the halls. The Prince seemed built for stealth and you were careful not to make the slightest sound, walking on your toes and holding your breath as much as possible.

Your nerves nearly forced a giggle past your lips and perhaps he could feel it coming because he shushed you and you covered your mouth with your free hand. It wasn’t until you were safe in the gardens that you released it, letting it flow from you and into the Prince’s mouth as he kissed you. Your heart fluttered in your chest, beating its wings like a nervous little bird, as you tugged him deeper into the labyrinth of flowers, hoping your memory served you well enough to get you where you needed to go.

As the two of you stumbled through, you kept grabbing at each other with a feverish insistence. He littered your face with quick kisses, his one sparkling eye closing as you ripped through the metal fastenings on his clothes and touched his bare chest underneath. His whispered voice was like silk and honey in your ear. “Have you been thinking of me all day, little doe?” If it weren’t for the mystery of what awaited you in the rotunda, you would have had him fuck you right there. It was unfair. He knew how it unraveled you when he called you that.

“Yes,” you gasped, flashing him a breathless smile with all your teeth. Gods, you wanted to pick him apart until he was a mess of bones and blood, devour him whole, and lick your fingers clean. “You left me wanting you, my dragon. Will you give me what I need?”

Hunger burned in his eye and, with a firm tug, he yanked through most of the laces on the back of your dress. “Of course. Now follow me and you shall receive your gift.” When he moved to walk around you, you grasped at his arm and guided his hand under your skirts with your eyes trained on his.

“I want you to feel me,” you murmured, your throat tight. Your hand stayed on his wrist as his fingers slid past your knees.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he touched the slick coating the inside of your thighs on either side of your flushed cunt. You were already so open and ready for him, you could feel your heartbeat pounding between your legs. You never felt quite so powerful as when you reduced Prince Aemond to cursing and calling to the gods. His nostrils flared, and he snatched his hand away, dragging you along the rest of the way.

The sight earlier had been beautiful and left your mouth slightly agape at the brilliance of it, but that paled in comparison to the sight before you now. Lit candles sat in silver dishes along the tiled floor, some black, some red, some gold. Your mouth curled into a fond smile. Though a thick black sheet and plush red cushions covered the design on the floor, you remembered it well enough and knew you were soon to recreate it. A cool wind brushed through the open archways, a brilliant full moon casting its pure light over all that delighted you. The Prince seemed to glow with it, his alabaster skin kissed by moonlight and his blue eye appearing even truer to its color.

“The night sky suits you,” you said. Your nerves returned, and they forced a wide smile onto your warm face. His deft fingers brushed through your thick black hair, rubbing the ends of the wavy locks between his fingers.

“As it does you.” You needed only to spare a quick glance to the dark eye patch still covering his gemstone eye before he was taking it off and tossing it down onto the sheet. The sapphire glowed with the rest of him, the candlelight reflected inside twinkling as golden stars and piercing you like a hail of arrows. The first thing you’d done when you first found yourself alone with him on your return to King’s Landing was slide that offensive garment off his face. Any Lady who would be frightened of a simple sapphire was unfit to lie with a dragon and you were no craven.

As if a tight cord had been cut, the two of you collided. You loved the violence of it, how you both sank your teeth into each other and tore and ripped until nothing false remained. You’ve heard it said that the purest view you can have of a man’s soul was mere moments before the Stranger pulled his soul from his body, but you were certain that was not true. As the two of you moved as one, falling into the cushions on the ground with ease, unwelcome thoughts prodded at you.

Would the Lannister boy make you feel as good? Would he take the same pleasure in granting your every wish and desire as Aemond did? You shook your head to try to regain your focus as your dress slowly slid off your body. The Lannister boy was nowhere to be found. You were in the gardens with the Prince and he was pushing your bare thighs apart with a glint of fire and hunger in his eye. Your cunt clenched around nothing at the sight, aching to have him so deep inside you that you could never pull him out. Your eyes closed and head dropped back as soon as his mouth touched your heat.

He was always so good at this, at pleasing you. It was like- “You were made for this,” you moaned, digging your nails into the meat of his shoulders as he dipped his tongue inside you with a pleased hum. You ground your hips up against Aemond’s mouth, climbing higher and higher up your burning rope until your legs trembled on either side of his face. “Look at me,” you gasped, “please.” The sight of his blue eye gleaming next to his sapphire from below your short crop of dark hair sent you keening and coming completely undone for him. You hoped Aemond felt no shame about his eye anymore. You hoped he wore his leather eye patch out of a sense of belonging to you instead of any silly concern about the delicate fears of the weaker Ladies at court.

His mouth climbed up your body, planting kisses like bright hot flowers on your skin until he could suck the pants right from your lips. The bittersweet flavor of your pleasure was on his tongue, sharp and tart like a pomegranate. Your fingers wound their way into his hair, pulling him closer and groaning into his mouth as he pressed his hips into yours. His cock was straining against the fabric of his pants and you brought an angry hand down to tug at his waistband.

“Take this off,” you growled. “I want you.”

“You love to demand things from me, like a petulant child.” He clicked his tongue at you in admonishment, but obeyed you all the same. As he set the last of his clothes aside, you sat up and stroked along the scarred half of his face, one of your fingers grazing the edge of the sapphire that had haunted your dreams for years now. But for the scar you were touching, the rest of him was smooth and unmarred, the small flames surrounding you dancing on the pale expanse of his chest. He was pure gold and silver, and with his jewel, how different was he really from a beautiful necklace or even a crown? Aemond was a precious bit of finery and right now, he belonged to nobody but you. Your touch grew possessive, your sharp nails leaving pink trails in their wake as you raked them down his torso to wrap a hand around his cock. His breath stuttered.

“You complain and yet you obey, my dragon,” you purred as you pushed him onto his back. Pride, or maybe arrogance, swelled in your chest as you smirked at him. “I really am your rider.” His chest rose and fell sharply, his long legs braced against the floor and hips moving of their own accord. As you moved your hand, you leaned over him and caged him beneath you. The emotion swelling your chest was probably avarice, the little green cloud with sharp teeth that filled your mind with longing and a very distinct sort of anger. His wet lips were bright pink and parted, little gasps and moans falling past them every time you swiped your thumb across the thick vein just below the tip of his cock. “Do you like this?” He nodded eagerly, tugging on your hair until you leaned down to claim his mouth as yours.

There it was again, that feeling in your chest, blackening your thoughts and resting heavy in your gut. It was that feeling that made you want to possess him entirely and haunt him like a specter. You imagined yourself somewhere different, somewhere perhaps across Westeros on the coast of the Sunset Sea, and you could not help your frown. When you stopped touching him and pulled away, Aemond kept a firm hand behind your head, scanning your face with furrowed brows.

“Is something the matter?”

The corners of your eyes wrinkled as you beamed at him and shook your head. Hopefully, it would be enough to convince him. "No, My Prince. I am just eager to have you." His eye narrowed, but he ultimately released you and followed you up. Without ceremony, you settled into your preferred seat in his lap. All these dumb Lords fighting over the Iron Throne and here you were with the true best seat in all the Seven Kingdoms. And you were to leave it all behind? Surely, it would have to happen eventually, but why now? Another question circled you like a kettle of vultures. Why did you have to leave at all?

You sank down onto him, taking him in with a soft gasp. His fingers dug into your hips and he hummed, kissing up your neck. If all men were weapons, Aemond was closer to a Valyrian steel dagger than a boring longsword. You would always keep him on your thigh with leather straps. Though his eye was closed, his sapphire twinkled in front of you and you pressed a gentle kiss on it before licking up his scar.

"Fuck," he cried, clinging to you like he was dangling over a cliff by the mere tips of his fingers, "again, do that again." You leaned in, savoring the salty tang of his skin on your tongue.

You clenched a fist in his hair, pulling his neck tight. If you were lucky, he was having a hard time breathing, just as you were. "Tell me you are mine," you hissed, grinding your hips down until you felt him touch where you were most sensitive.

"I am all yours, little doe." His voice was brittle, brilliant tears just starting to shine in his eye from your brutal hold. Your cunt clenched around him, squeezing a moan from his lips. With rapt attention, you marveled at how his tears grew when you tightened the fist in his hair.

"And you will take care of me, protect me?" There was a question in his eye. When he closed it, a single tear fell and you followed its short descent into his hair. "And always obey?"

When he said your name, it was with blissful reverence. You wanted nothing more than to topple the Seven in his mind and take their place. "You are my rider."

Yes. Your mouth stretched into a sharp, lecherous grin as the hand in his hair moved to wrap around his neck. Sometimes you wanted to laugh at the Ladies who mentioned their apprehension regarding Aemond. The man beneath you was too docile to inspire fear in the heart of any woman. Aemond felt no fear in the presence of Vhagar, so why should you feel any when you were around him?

"I..." You paused, kissing the corner of his mouth as you moved your hips in a steady rhythm. Warmth curled around your pounding heart. "You darling thing," you murmured, squeezing the sides of his throat. His answering moan vibrated under your palm as his eye flew open. It was barely blue now. His pupil has nearly finished consuming it entirely. His hips met you beat for beat, his hard cock pressing against that spot he always abused when he curled his fingers inside you. "Yes, yes, yes, my- Right there!" You howled, leaning back so you could take even more of him. Aemond's steady hands kept you in that perfect place.

The slick sound between your legs flooded your sense. You imagined what Aemond must be able to see: your pink cunt swallowing him whole, your quivering thighs, his cock shining every time you rocked back. Maybe one day you could have him in your chambers in front of your tall mirror and watch how the two of you fit together. If it looked the same way it felt, you were certain he would have you sobbing with it.

Your fantasies ran rampant behind your closed eyes. You imagined Aemond on his knees in front of you with his hands tied behind his back, feasting his eye on the sight of your fingers in your cunt as you forced him to watch you find your release. You imagined him begging, you imagined him crawling, you imagined him crying. Heat licked up your legs and spine. He had never said no to you before, never deprived you for long. Your hand tightened possessively around his throat. He was yours, yours, yours.

With a shuddering scream, you hit your peak.

The moments right after always felt hazy to you. You were outside yourself, floating in the warm air above your bodies and letting Aemond move you as he wished. When you found yourself again, you were splayed out on the soft sheet and Aemond was tensed above you, pinning you in place with one eye glowing with hunger and desire. You moaned helplessly as your gaze settled on his hand furiously stroking his cock.

"Can I?" he begged, his face screwing in pleasure, "on you?" You nodded and he finally slackened, the whine that left him pulsing through you. He finished on your abdomen, some of the white liquid landing in your patch of dark hair, and it chilled almost instantly in the night air.

With a groan, he collapsed next to you, his face landing directly in one of the cushions. The two of you lied together in companionable silence, both trying to catch your breath as you listened to the wind and the waves.

"Come, little doe," Aemond cooed and you curled into him, caring little about the come rubbing on him. A giddy smile played on your lips, only widening when he planted a wet kiss on your forehead.

"Are you really mine, my dragon?"

His nose brushed against yours and you let him draw you in to a soft kiss. "If you want all of me, I will give it to you," he whispered, his lips so close that they brushed against yours as he spoke.

"I am gluttonous," you warned him.

"I know." He kissed you again and you could not help but smile into it. Fondness plucked at the strings of your heart and you melted deeper into the floor below you as he placed a gentle hand against your cheek.

As your bodies found their equilibrium once more, the two of you stretched out side by side. It was so easy to talk to him. A dark cloud drifted over your thoughts once more. Whether you were to agree to meet the Lannister boy or not, this... whatever it was that you had with Aemond, would end. It was inevitable. While he had set a golden standard for you, it was not as if you could fuck that other boy to see if he knew how to please you. You knew most women went through married life completely unsatisfied while their Lord Husbands carried on with mistresses and whores, siring bastards left and right. Would that be your fate?

You sighed, running a tender hand through Aemond's tangled hair and smiling softly as he hummed contentedly. There was a spot that made him wince, though, and you scooted closer to him. "Was I too rough with you?"

"I enjoyed it." You smirked and continued to card your fingers through his hair.

"Aemond, do you know of any of the Lannisters at court?" Though you knew he was not exactly the most popular man, he was observant enough that you trusted he was likely in possession of the information you needed.

"I assume you mean other than Ser Tyland on the small council?" You nodded. "Well, there are his young nieces, who I do believe I have seen you with, and his nephew Loreon."

"And... what do you know of him?"

There was an unnatural stillness to Aemond's body before he spoke, each word coming out carefully. "I am afraid I do not know much. He spends much of his time in the city with Aegon." You frowned, staring up at the dome above you. "Why?"

"My father said a Lannister boy was interested in me," you sighed, "but I doubt he knows how the boy spends him time, or else he would never have mentioned it."

"Did your Lord Father bring you to King's Landing to find a match for you?"

"N-no," you stammered, your face growing hot. In truth, the only reason you were in King's Landing was because you had begged to accompany your father when you had learned he was to return. "I asked to keep him company and he said yes." Aemond hummed next to you and you continued speaking, almost to yourself. "If I am wed to him, I will be the Lady of Casterly Rock. The Lannisters are a wealthy house, so I doubt I would be living like a pauper. My father has given me the night to decide if I wish to be introduced to him."

"What stays your hand, My Lady?" You furrowed your brows, tucking your chin into your shoulder as you gazed into Aemond's blank face.

"I do not rightly know." A secret danced at the edges of your mind and you sat up, running your hands through your hair and letting out a heavy sigh. "I suppose I am afraid. And I am not usually afraid."

The candles around you were starting to die and it made your chest hurt. Behind you, Aemond sat up and pressed a small kiss to the back of your shoulder. It was so easy and natural to turn towards him and soften under his touch, to tilt your head towards him in anticipation of a kiss that never came. "Aemond?" You tilted your head back and opened your eyes.

He was so close to you, you could clearly make out the ring of darker blue around his iris. His lips were pursed together. "Do you want to know how many women I have been with?"

The thought of him with anyone but you had your nose curling in disgust. "No."

"Three." You scoffed, starting to turn away from him before he put a hand on your face and kept you where you were. "Two whores when Aegon took me to the streets of silk for my thirteenth name day, and you."

You froze, your mouth falling open before you snapped it shut. A cold wave rushed through your body, quickly followed by heat and sweat. "But... you knew so much! I thought you were at least as experienced as your brother."

He nodded, his expression unreadable. "Yes, well. Unlike my brother, I can read. My family has enough unhappy women, and I'll not suffer one more. I told myself that even if my future Lady Wife were ashamed of me for my deformity, I could at least find some other way to make her happy."

A huff of laughter punched its way out of you. Little pricks of fire sparked behind your eyes. "My sweet, darling dragon," you whispered, wrapping your arms around him and tugging him close even as he tensed. "You've been with only three women, two of whom were paid to be with you when you were still just a babe. What could you know of the hearts and desires of women?"

"I know your heart and desires," he said, "do I not?"

A smile melted onto your face and you shook him in your arms, your heart thundering in your chest. "You do."

"That Lannister boy... He would not please you as I do, not for the pleasure of it. I give you everything you desire because to give to you is my desire." You remembered words he had whispered in your ear years ago.

'There is pleasure in the giving.' He had been between your legs then, the entire bottom half of his face wet from your cunt. You had thought he'd grow bored down there as you had with him, but he never did. In the end, you were the one who'd had to move the two of you along to the act itself.

"So you would take me as your wife?"

"I would give myself to you, as your husband." He pulled away and placed your hand on his bare chest. His heartbeat was hard and fast. "You will want for nothing, little doe."

You met his eye with a sly grin, leaning up to press a gentle kiss just below his sapphire. "Then you will speak to my father tomorrow, and ask him for my hand."

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond fic #mine #my inspo for the reader's relationship with her father was cher from clueless and her dad

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kaleidoscopewritings19 · 2 years

Text

“The Death of a Bastard Series” (Part 1 of?)

Title: “The Death of a Bastard” (PART 1)

Pairing: Jon Snow x Reader

PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5

Warnings: Mentions of death and blood.

Summary: The reader is the first to find Jon Snow’s lifeless body. She has to flee away from Castle Black and go back to her home, Rivendell. She reminisces, and remembers how she met her “Snow”, and fell in love with him. But she was promised to his half brother, Robb. Mostly based around how they met, and what in between their meeting and his death.

The palm of your hand rested across the cheek of the only man you could bring yourself to love. Your mind fumbled, and your lips trembled: “How could this have happened?” You questioned as you stared down at his cold, pale, face.

Stannis’s most trusted vassal: Davos, Edd,and a few other’s stood next to you as you mourned over Jon’s lifeless body. Your dress was stained with the blood of your lover, his scent lingered on your body.

All you could think about was: what would have happened if you would’ve stopped Jon from leaving the lord Commanders tower? All you could think about was how he never came back up, and when you finally got up to find him, you saw a lifeless body on the ground. With an eyebrow raised, you ran down the steps.

Blood pooled around the body, staining the purity of the snow. Once you got closer, you recognized the dark brown curly hair. Racing to him, you dropped to your knees, “Jon! Jon! Wake up!” You cried as you cradled his body.

He was sputtering for air, “Y/N…. You… you must leave….” You ran your fingers through his hair, “Jon, please, please, don’t die. I — I love you…” you whisper as tears rolled down your cheeks.

Jon looked up at you, “I will al..ways… love you…” he whispered back, and then he breathed his last breath. You laid your face against his, as you sobbed his name, and whispered: “Why?” You heard the snow crunch beneath someone’s feet, and you looked around frantically.

“Lady Y/N, who did this? Did you see who did this?”Davos asked while staring at the sign: Traitor. You turned to look at the sign, and sobbed, “He did what he thought was right… I don’t understand.. I don’t understand. Why?” You sobbed as Davos knelt down.

Voices followed your sobs, “It’s the lord Commander!” All of Jon’s trusted “brothers” came running, Davos looked around him.

“Help me get him inside….” Davos said, looking around to make sure that no one was watching. He helped you up, all you wanted was to collapse into the snow.

They closed the door and barred it so no one could get in. They swiped everything off of Jon’s table, and laid his body across it. Ghost’s howls rang in your ear, the pang of sadness could be heard by anyone and everything.

“Thorne did this!”

“How many of your brothers do you think you can trust?” Davos asked and Edd spoke up, “Trust? The men in this room.”

Davos turned to you, “Is the wolf familiar with you, m’lady?” He asked and you gave him a nod. “Will you get him? We need all the help we can get.” You started to walk towards the door, but Edd placed his hand around your wrist.

“I will go get him. We need to protect lady Y/N, only the god’s know what the others will do if they see her. They’d do anything to hurt our lord commander.” He said and Davos gave him a nod.

But when Edd reached for the door there was a knock, and all of the men around you pulled out their swords. They all stood silent, until an all too familiar voice, one that belonged to a woman, was heard on the other side of the door. “Ser Davos.”

Davos gave Edd a look to open the door. You scowled once the red woman came through the door. Jon had told you about her trying to seduce him. You felt threatened by her beauty; you knew Jon loved you though.

When she walked through the door, you stood in front of Jon’s body as if you were protecting him. She peered around your frame, and her facial expression dropped. Melisandre walked past you, and you looked over your shoulder; she gently touched his cheek. “I saw him in the flames, fighting at Winterfell…” she whispered, clearly confused that another one of her visions weren’t right.

Davos walked to where you were standing, “I can’t speak for the flames, but he’s gone…” the red woman turned on her heels to face you. You stepped back, but she stepped up to you, and her hand rested on your cheek. Shivering, you removed her hand from your face.

“You were in the flames… you… are you with child?” She asked and all eyes turned to you. Edd got between the two of you, and he faced his body towards the red woman. “Well, you saw wrong. Jon took his vow and withheld that vow….” He turned to look at you, and you looked down at your feet.

Davos motioned for the red woman to back away. Tears rolled down your face, you were going to tell him tonight, but now it was too late. You quickly stepped out of the room, and walked down the stairs. You raised your hood, and pulled your cloak tight around your body.

Quickly, you opened the door where Ghost was being kept. He lunged out, his red eyes gleaming, he nudged you until you were walking. You heard shouting coming from the Mess Hall.

You quietly moved closer, so you could hear. “He was our lord commander!”

“He never should have been!”

You could hear someone beat their fists against something, “You all know why you’re here. Snow is dead.” Alliser Thorne’s voice boomed. You hated him from the moment you met him.

“Who killed him?” One of the men asked and he replied, “I did.” You had to stop yourself from marching in there, and throat punching Thorne.

There was a roar of voices. They were angry, they shouted: “murderers!” “Traitors!” A hand on your shoulder made you jump, “M’lady..” Edd hissed, “You know you can’t be out here by yourself….” He whispered.

Edd wrapped his arm around your waist and quickly escorted you back to the room. Before he opened the door he turned to you, “Is it true? What the red woman said? Are you with child? Jon Snow’s child?” He asked and you looked down at your blood stained boots.

“Yes. I was to tell him tonight.” You say as you looked up at Jon’s friend. “If the others find out you’re carrying his bastard, they will try to murder you and the child.” He said and you glared at Edd.

“Do not call our child a bastard. And I know, once we figure out what to do, I’ll leave.” You say as you open the door to the room.

___________

Part 2 maybe? 😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️

#game of thrones #jon snow #jon snow x reader #winterfell #the wall #house stark #dire wolf #king of the north #winter is coming #jon snow smut #robb stark #arya strak #sansa stark #brandon stark

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livingdreams97 · 1 year

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Daenerys Targaryen -- "The rightful heir." (part 5)

Daenerys Targaryen x Male reader/oc

Summary: Tiryon Lannister asks his queen for a favor: to help his missing nephew in a questionable way and just as his sister; Cercei proclaims the iron throne. The favor is to save his nephew and create a union between the heir of the House Baratheon and the mother of dragons.

Words: 3.839

Masterlist

Daenerys POV

I stand on top of the wall, looking down at the lush, snowy forest on the wild side of the wall. I watch the beginning of the forest with hope, hope that a miracle will happen and Y/n will appear from the trees unharmed.

But with each passing minute, that hope disappears more and more in the icy breeze from the wall. And while the hope inside me diminishes, the guilt increases replacing that feeling full of positive possibilities.

I knew I shouldn't have let him come with me. I knew I shouldn't have been impressed and allowed him to fly over Viserion. There is only one person who deserves to be blamed and that is me.

The only thing left for me to do is thank Y/n for his sacrifice in putting himself at risk and saving one of my children. Because I don't know what would have happened if Viserion had suffered the same fate as Y/n.

Because not only would I have to mourn the possible loss of the one who was going to be my husband and the man with whom I was falling in love with. The most sensitive, affectionate, fun and bold man I have had the pleasure of meeting in recent weeks. But also the death of one of my children, the most sensitive and trusting of the three of them.

I watch my son fly over the area, squawking and crying for the loss of Y/n. I let out a sigh full of pain and sadness, knowing that if I were a dragon; I would be doing the same.

Jorah: We have to go, majesty.- I listen as my old friend and protector tells me.

Daenerys: A little more.- I ask looking at the beginning of the forest with the little hope that I have left.

I am not the most believing person, especially after everything I have lived and everything I have seen. But praying won't hurt me and hope is the last thing to lose.

So I pray to any god or entity that listens to me, to make Y/n come back to me and be healthy. That's all I ask.

I wait a few more minutes, seeing no change, and decide that I can no longer wait for a miracle. All hope within me disappears and I feel my eyes burn with reality.

The reality that Y/n is dead and I will never see him again.

I turn around, meeting Ser Jorah's sympathetic, sad gaze. I walk straight ahead, brushing past him and stopping when he doesn't follow me. I turn my head to look at him, when I hear a trumpet and Viserion's squawks.

I walk quickly back to the lookout, immediately seeing a horse walking towards the entrance of the wall and carrying someone.

My heart begins to beat wildly inside my chest, at the possibility and the hope that Y/n is on that horse.

I turn around again, walking quickly and almost running to get down from the top of the wall. Wanting to get to the ground as soon as possible and verify the person's identity.

As soon as I get to the courtyard of the black castle, I see how two people are lowered off the horse and a tear slides down my cheek without being able to avoid it. I feel tears of relief slide down my cheeks, when I recognize the clothes of both people and distinguish them as Jon and Y/n.

I run to the unconscious body of Y/n, who is being carried by some men and placed on a stretcher.

Davos: Hurry up, take them to the ship's cabins quickly.- He orders moving quickly along with the rest of the people.

I run after them, climbing onto the ship following the stretchers and feeling Jorah on my back at all times. They put Jon Snow into his cabin first, but I keep walking and follow Y/n's stretcher.

Once he is placed on the bed in his cabin, Jorah enters the room and helps the other two men undress him, while I watch from the doorway.

My worried gaze travels over every part of his body and every bit of skin that is exposed as they remove his hard and icy garments. I look carefully, trying to find signs of bruises or visible injuries. From my site, I can't see or appreciate anything.

But it's not until he's flipped over and his back is exposed that I see the real damage to his body.

His entire back is covered with a large bruise, of different shades and colors. Although I don't think it's the worst, but the wound that runs through his arm from the elbow to his shoulder.

A worrying blue wound, similar to when a part of the body begins to freeze and lose all blood supply. And the pale blue veins surrounding the wound are also worrisome.

Jorah: Your Majesty better come out for this.- He spots me, as they turn him around again and prepare to take off his pants.

Daenerys: I'll be in my cabin.- I nod in agreement. -Let me know when you have cleaned and cured him.- I order and leave the cabin closing the door behind my back.

I walk towards my cabin, keeping an impassive and serious face before the eyes. But as soon as my back hits the inside of my closed cabin door, I collapse to the floor, letting out the tears I've been holding back.

I cry thanking the gods for listening to me and bringing Y/n back. For giving me another chance with him and being able to do things right this second time. I cry with relief and happiness that Y/n has come back to me alive.

Because even if he is injured, wounds heal and only scars will remain in their place.

POV You

Before I even open my eyes, I can feel everything around me; including my body shake. I try to open my eyes, feeling my eyelids heavy and as if they are glued to not open.

As I try to open my eyes, I realize that I am face down and that my head is resting on something soft.

I open my eyes just a few inches, noticing the wooden wall in front of me, the dim lighting of the candles in the place and the pillow under my head.

I feel the warmth and softness that something on my back causes, while in my right arm I feel the opposite. I feel an intense cold in the area, the same cold I felt when the spear of the white walkers grazed my arm.

I am also aware of the pain in my arm, more specifically in the area between my elbow and shoulder.

I try to sit up, immediately regretting it as I feel a sharp pain in my back and let out a grunt of pain in response.

Daenerys: Hey don't move.- I hear the whisper of her voice near me in the room. -Your back is very bruised.- She whispers again and I feel how the warmth of her hand is placed on my forehead. -You're burning.- She comments with a hint of concern in her voice.

Y/n: What happened? - I ask confused, since my last memory is falling from Viserion and then an icy cold wrapping my body.

Daenerys: You fell from Viserion and I don't know how you ended up on a horse with Jon Snow heading for the wall.- I listen to how she answers me and I manage to open my eyes, finding myself with the silver-haired woman sitting next to me on the bed.

Y/n: And where are we? - I ask still confused with the whole situation.

Daenerys: On my ship.- She answers me with a slight smile and slightly reddened eyes. -We are on our way to King´s Landing, for the meeting with your mother about the truce and to ask for her help with the walkers.- She explains me better and I can only let out a sigh.

Y/n: Can you help me sit down.- I ask in a low voice, feeling uncomfortable with the position and with a slight discomfort in my neck.

Daenerys: Sure.- Nods in response. -But slowly, yes?- She tells me with a serious tone and I nod in response.

I feel her place her hands gently under my armpits, trying her best to help me roll over and sit up. With some difficulty and some pain on my part, I manage to sit up on the bed.

In this position, I can see my surroundings much better and I can better appreciate Erys's condition.

Y/n: Are you okay? - I ask a little worried, seeing the dry marks of tears on her cheeks and understanding the reason for her red eyes, and a little watery.

Daenerys: It's me who should ask you that question.- She comments avoiding the question. -It is you who has fallen from the back of a dragon from a height of more than twenty meters and been submerged in icy water for who knows how long. – She comments with worry.

Y/n: I know.- I assure her with a slight nod of the head. -But clearly something has affected you and I'm worried about your condition.- I assure her, stretching my hand towards hers and wrapping my cold hand with her warm one.

Daenerys: It's nothing.- She denies, downplaying it and fixing her gaze on the union of our hands.

Y/n: Of course it's something.- I say immediately. -It is clear that you have cried and nobody cries for nothing.- I defend my question and concern for her condition. -So I repeat again. Are you okay? - I ask again, leaving a small squeeze on her hand and feeling one in response.

Daenerys: Now yes.- She answers me in a whisper. -Only that I have been so afraid for you, you don't know how bad I felt when I saw that you weren't on Viserion's back, or how hurt and guilty I felt when I thought I had lost you.- She admits looking at me in the eyes and allowing me to see the pain behind her own.

Y/n: But now I'm here.- I assure her giving her a small smile.

Daenerys: But you weren't until recently.- She denies trying to hold back her tears. -I thought you were dead, that I had lost you and that my last chance to be happy had disappeared.- She whispers looking away, letting out the first tear and causing a painful shift inside me.

Y/n: Erys.- I whisper the affectionate name that I only use when we are alone. -Hey look at me.- I whisper pulling her hand a little, so that she feels closer and I can wipe the tears from her face with my hand. -I'm here now and I'm with you.- I assure her again.

Daenerys: I know, but I feel like it's a dream and that when I wake up you'll still be missing in the cold water.- she whispers looking at me with eyes full of pain and sadness.

Y/n: It's not a dream.- I say raising my right hand as best I can, feeling some pain when moving it and placing one of her silky silver hair behind her ear.

Daenerys: And how can I be sure of that? - She asks me with such vulnerability in her voice, that it's almost like a knife stabbing into the heart.

Y/n: How can I show you that it's not a dream?- I answer with another question, wanting to reassure her and free her from the pain she shows.

Daenerys: Kiss me.- she whispers looking at me with eyes full of supplication.

I widen my eyes surprised, since it is a request that I did not expect and for which I was not prepared. But I'm not going to deny that in the last few weeks something inside of me has been born, a pure feeling for the woman in front of my eyes that over time has evolved and become bigger and bigger.

When I agreed to marry her, I was doing it only for the greater good and because I believed it was the right thing to do. But over time, I became something more selfish and sentimental.

I wanted to marry her because I was beginning to love her and I wanted to be able to call her my wife. I wanted people to know that I was her husband and she was my wife, that we are together and that no one can come between us.

But i believed that feeling was not reciprocal. In my head I was the only one with feelings of the two and I thought that she did it only for the throne.

Although with her request to kiss her right now, I see her approaches, comments, acts and behavior around me with different eyes.

I realize how blind I've been these last few weeks and what an idiot I've been about her intentions towards me.

Daenerys: I'm sorry, it was stupid.- She apologizes immediately, separating her face from my hands and putting more distance between the two.

That is when I realize that I have been thinking for a long time and that I have sent her the wrong signal.

Y/n: No, Erys.- I deny immediately, leaning forward abruptly to prevent her from leaving and hurting my back and arm. –Ouch.- i growl closing my eyes tightly.

Daenerys: Don't make any sudden movements.- She orders me quickly with concern, putting her hands on my bare shoulders and pushing me to sit up straight again.

Y/n: Well, don't run away.- I ask looking at her eyes and trying to connect them with mine.

Daenerys: I'm not running away.- She denies looking anywhere but my face.

Y/n: Then why aren't you even able to look me in the eyes.- I reproach placing both hands on her and grabbing them so that she doesn't move away.

Daenerys: Because I think I've bothered you enough and I don't want to bother you anymore.- She excuses herself and I can't help but smile at her misunderstanding.

Y/n: Look at me.- I ask her without removing the smile from my face and looking at her face carefully.

Daenerys: Why are you smiling? - she asks abruptly when she sees me, frowning and looking at me with a slight fire on her face.

Y/n: Because you don't bother me, you never would and you never will.- I assure her removing the smile and putting on a more serious face. -I haven't answered you, not because I don't want to kiss you or feel the same as you; but because your request has surprised me.- I clarify seeing how the fire in her eyes disappears and is replaced by a different brightness.

Daenerys: Do you feel the same? - asks between confused and excited.

Y/n: If feeling the same as you means that I love you and that I want to marry you to spend the rest of my life by your side, then yes; I feel the same.- I assure her with a smile and receiving a huge smile from her.

Daenerys: Do you love me? - she asks, having teary eyes again, but this time with happiness and placing her hands on my cheeks, causing my hands to fall to my sides.

Y/n: A lot.- I nod in response. -And you, do you love me?- I ask a little insecure.

Daenerys: As I have never come to love anyone.- admits immediately and with all the honesty in the world.

Y/n: So do you want me to kiss you or...?- I leave the question in the air, with a playful and amused tone.

Daenerys: I'm going to let you pass that because you're hurt.- she tells me seriously. -But yes, I still want you to kiss me.- She whispers, looking straight into my eyes.

I place my left hand on her cheek, gently caressing her and feeling the warmth of her skin against my palm.

I slide my hand to the back of her neck and gently pull her towards me. I feel the heat of her repair crash into my face, feeling the anticipation and desire of her body with the rapidity of her breathing.

I stop torturing her, finishing bringing her closer to me and bringing our lips together in a slow kiss. With some effort, I move my right arm and place my hand on her waist to bring her body closer to mine.

Her hands go from my cheeks to the back of my neck, where she leaves small caresses and pampering on the spot.

We separated for a few seconds, staring into each other's eyes and rejoining our lips in a somewhat more needy kiss.

Daenerys ends up sitting on her side in my lap, running her hands through my medium length hair and pressing her chest completely against mine.

My left hand trails down her back, wrapping around her hip and leaving a grip in place as she bites my bottom lip.

From one moment to another, I feel a sharp stab in my right arm and I break away from the kiss because of the pain.

Daenerys: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. - She apologizes with heavy breathing, since in an oversight her hand ended up on my bad arm and she left a grip on the place without realizing it.

Y/n: It's okay- I shake my head with my eyes closed and holding the affected area with my left hand.

Daenerys: I'm really sorry, I've gotten carried away and I've completely forgotten.- She apologizes again with obvious guilt in her voice.

Y/n: Erys is fine.- I try to assure her, opening hmy eyes and seeing her face contracted by worry and guilt.

Daenerys: The best thing would be to let you rest.- She assures me trying to get up from my lap, but I react quickly and gently hold her forearm with my good hand.

Y/n: Don't go.- I beg her not to go and less so now that I know she feels the same as me.

Daenerys: But you must rest.- She defends herself by sitting on my lap again. -We will arrive at Dragon Pit in a week and a half if everything goes well, so you have to be rested and strong for the meeting.- She tells me stroking my hair.

Y/n: Then rest with me.- I ask, looking straight into her eyes.

Daenerys: I don't want to hurt you again by accident.- she denies insecurely.

Y/n: You won't.- I deny with a smile. -And if you do, I'm sure it's because I deserve it in some way.- I say with a certain humor, trying to convince and reassure her.

Daenerys: Okay.- Nods after a few seconds. -But I have to go to my cabin first to get some of my things, you have to eat something and they have to heal your arm.- She tells me, leaving a quick kiss on my lips and getting up from my lap. -Besides that you have to put on clothes if you want me to sleep with you.- She comments with amusement.

Y/n: Clothes? - I ask confused, looking at my body and that's when I realize I'm not wearing anything.

I open my eyes in surprise, lifting the bison blanket from my lap and seeing that she's right, since I'm completely naked. I quickly cover myself up, feeling the blush creep up my neck to my cheeks and avoiding her gaze at all costs.

Daenerys: I think that talking while you're naked is already something usual. - she comments amused.

Y/n: Anyway.- I play it down a bit embarrassed.

Daenerys: I'll be back shortly.- She tells me walking towards the door and a doubt arises in my head.

Y/n: Wait.- I call seeing how he stops and turns to look at me. -How is Viserion? - I ask remembering the dragon.

Daenerys: He's perfectly.- She answers me with a wide smile. -Waiting for you to leave the cabin to see you and receive some kind of affection from you.- She tells me with a sweet smile.

Y/n: That's good.- I nod letting any kind of possible concern disappear from my body.

Daenerys: Yes it is.- She agrees with me, before giving me one last affectionate smile and walking out the door of my cabin.

I stay alone in the room, replaying the latest events of my life and feeling like the luckiest man in the world.

Because not only have I survived an unimaginable fall, but I have also survived drowning in freezing waters, hypothermia and one of the most wonderful women in the world has admitted to returning my feelings.

I smile with a little melancholy, when a light scent of almost imperceptible lilies is smelled next to me and I close my eyes enjoying the distinctive smell of Margaery.

Y/n: Thank you for putting her in my path.- I whisper in gratitude, knowing that Margaery put Daenerys in my path and that it is her way of taking care of me from heaven.

Within a few seconds, I feel a very subtle warmth on my forehead, and then the smell of lilies completely disappears.

Margaery Tyrell was my first love and I will always remember her with one of my best smiles. But Daenerys Targaryen is the love of my life and the woman I will be able to spend the rest of my life with.

Because after defeating the white walkers, we got married on the cliff of Dragonstone and with the people we both cherish the most as the only witnesses to our marriage. In addition to my wife's children, of course.

To fight and defeat my mother, ensuring that the casualties are not other people than some people from my mother's army and thus win the throne for my wife.

The woman who proclaims herself as the first Targaryen queen, with whom by some miracle of the gods I share two daughters and a son, in addition of the return of the dragons with our heirs.

Daenerys: What are you thinking about, love?- She asks me, pulling me out of my thoughts, when I feel her hug me around the waist from behind and I stop looking at the city where I grew up and where I live again since the day she sat on the iron throne.

Y/n: How lucky I am with my queen.- I answer turning around and grabbing her slightly wrinkled face in my hands.

Daenerys: Not as much as I am with my king.- She answers with a big smile, standing on her tiptoes and bringing our lips together in a meaningful kiss.

But even after little more than fifteen years of marriage, I feel that each kiss and each caress are the first. And I don't want that feeling to ever change.

THE END

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damn-stark · 1 year

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Chapter 9 Travesty

Chapter 9 of Sandstorm

A/N- GET READY!!!

Warning- Y/N has a son, swearing, fluff, incest, ANGST, talks of pregnancy, ALSO THERES CHANGES THAT DRIFT AWAY FROM THE SHOW (not big, but there is)

Pairing- Jon Snow x Targaryen!fem-reader

Episode- 8x04 & 8x05 (only half)

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

*2 MONTHS LATER*

“I will not give The Reach to some common sellsword,” Daenerys argues with Tyrion. “It doesn’t matter if he’s won battles or not.”

“The lords of the Reach won’t follow your friend, nor can we actually allow him to have HighGarden,” you defend her argument. “He’s not loyal, he knows nothing about leading a house.”

“Neither did any of our ancestors,” Tyrion tries to input.

You narrow your gaze on him. “No, but we aren’t talking about them are we?” You spat. “If it’s true that he’ll have your head if you don’t give him what you owe him, then he may come and face the wrath of the dragons. We’re not giving him the Reach.”

Tyrion glances at Daenerys for her opinion, and she sighs before giving her answer. “I agree. I won’t. With half of the Iron Fleet destroyed, with the Dornish warriors now at our disposal, we might gain the lead in the war once again. I won’t lose it for some sellsword who has no sense of respect or loyalty.”

Tyrion nods and keeps quiet, letting you continue.

“Beside,” you continue to add. “The Reach and HighGarden deserve to go to someone loyal, someone who’s lived in the land a long time, someone who knows it, cherishes it.”

Sansa hums and steps towards the table in the middle of the room to interject. “The Hightowers are an old house, but a proud one who pride themselves in their religion. A marriage proposal to them doesn’t sound beneficial. They won’t accept Rhaenar, nor the Queen.”

“But,” you add on after her whilst you place a wooden sun with a chevron over it. “Sansa and I think we can gain the support of House Ashford. They’re an old house, during the rebellion they stayed loyal to House Targaryen, they’re respected. If they accept our offer the other Lords will follow.”

“Furthermore,” you continue as you clasp your hands under your small swollen belly. “The Lord has six children, amongst them is a daughter of only five and ten years old. She's older than Rhaenar,” you sigh, “but she’s still unmatched. So with your permission Queen; Jon, Rhaenar, and I will go on dragonback and present the offer in person for you.”

Daenerys glances at Tyrion across the table for advice. And silently without a word, Tyrion nods before he interjects. “Going in person will show that we care, it’s smart. I would have advised it had you asked me.” He says and shoots you a pointed glare.

You offer him an annoyed side eye before glancing at Jon and offering him an urging nod now that your offer was approved.

“If all are in agreement then…Ser Davos will ride down the Kingsroad with the Northern troops, and the bulk of the remaining Dothraki and Unsullied,” he says and drags wooden pieces down the map. “While the Princess, Prince, and I fly on Eraxis and Rhaegal to the Reach to give our envoy to Lord Ashford. We will then meet up with the troops and accompany overhead.”

You nod in agreement, and Tyrion proceeds to add on to the plans.

“A smaller group of us will ride to White Harbor in the meanwhile and sail from there to Dragonstone with our Queen and Drogon accompanying us from above. Ser Jaime will remain here, as guest of the Lady of Winterfell. Questions?” He asks and looks around the table.

Alas, no one speaks up now, letting the meeting disband and everyone go their separate ways; Daenerys exits the room to get ready to leave, and all her people follow her. Everyone else who had been here, like Ser Brienne, Ser Davos, and Arya leave too, leaving Jon, Sansa, Bran the maester, and you in the room. And while the maester is still here you pull your scroll out of your sleeve and walk to the maester to hand it to him.

“I was hoping you could send this to my sister Sarella, Maester, with secrecy.”

The maester nods in agreement without hesitation and tucks the scroll away in his sleeve. “I’ll do it right away, Princess.” He bows before he walks to Bran to take him out too. You then proceed to turn and face Sansa and Jon who had waited to walk out with you.

“Are you ready to leave, Jon? Or do you need to fix your hair?” You tease him as you fall at his side and walk out of the door.

Sansa giggles at your comment, and that makes you smirk deeper.

“Are you?” He counters. “Or do you still need to finish getting dressed? You tend to take forever choosing a dress to wear.”

You scoff and hook your arm around him, noticing Sansa fall at your other side as you now begin to walk down the hall. “Sansa helped get me dressed today actually.” You beam. “I am actually wearing one of the dresses she made me.” You glance at her and shoot her a sweet smile. “Besides my vanity is important, I need to fit my role as Princess.”

Jon scoffs softly in amusement but smiles sweetly as he studies your dress; noting the long white skirt that just perfectly stopped above your feet so you wouldn’t trip, he looks at the thin gold chains that ran down the front and connected to a choker around your neck; he looks at the warm soft brown fur top that was tight around your torso, letting the small bump shine.

“Does that mean freezing to death,” Jon points out to your exposed shoulders.

“Yes,” you retort.

“Did you wear your armor under your dress like I told you?” Sansa interjects, making you avert your gaze and nod speechlessly.

“Liar,” she quips and grabs your arm to pull you towards her.

You let out a dramatic sigh and groan. “It’s bulky, okay? And it doesn’t let me move freely when I’m on dragonback. I hate wearing armor under my dresses.”

Sansa side eyes you. “You’re carrying my niece and nephew in there…

You grin wide at her assumption.

“…I won’t let you leave unprotected,” she finishes saying. “Tell her Jon.”

“I've tried,” he mumbles in defeat. “Hundreds of times. She doesn’t listen to me.”

You smile and roll your head to the side to try and assure them since they’re being thoughtful. “I am wearing ringmail under this for all of your sakes, so rest assured.”

Sansa sighs and shares a look with her brother. “Well it is better than nothing,” she mutters in annoyance.

The three of you take a turn to walk to the courtyard to fetch Rhaenar. And it’s whilst you’re on the way there that you all run into Daenerys turning into the hall.

“Ah,” she mutters and takes note of the two at your sides before she offers you all a small smile. “I was hoping to run into you y/n before we both left.” She directs at you.

Sansa lets out a small sigh and lets you go to step back. Jon does the same, letting Daenerys join your side, and continue walking with you.

“I was just hoping to ask about your visit with the maester this morning,” she brings up almost hesitantly or timidly you can’t tell, you can just see her averting her gaze and giving you some space. “Is everything all right?”

You nod. “It is,” you assure her. “The babies are well, they’re strong, he says.”

Daenerys snaps her gaze to you and grabs your arm to stop you in your tracks, making the pair behind you stop too—“Babies?” She queries in disbelief.

You can’t help but smile even if you can’t tell if she’s happy or bothered by the news. “Yes,” you confirm. “He felt two heads.” Of course you had known before because of the dream, but you couldn’t be sure until they were older and the maester could confirm it for you.

Regardless, Daenerys offers you a happy smile, but she actually swallows thickly all in the meanwhile. You try to read her eyes, but she masks her emotions well.

“I’m happy for you,” she tells you and meets your gaze very briefly.

“Thank you,” you whisper and hope she really means it. Ever since two months ago when she first found out, you and her have not been the same. Conversations are shorter and stale. She can hardly look at you, and her smiles are always tightlipped. She hardly ever pays you a visit in your quarters to just talk; then again you did move into Jon’s room after you announced that you were married so you understand why she wouldn’t.

“Uh,” you continue in hopes you can find something to gain her trust again. “One baby is actually kicking right now like crazy…do you want to feel?”

Daenerys lets her eyes linger on you for a moment before her smile softens and she reaches her hand for your belly. Since she isn’t pressing on the right spot, you gently take her hand and guide it to the side where one of the babies was.

And right away she gasps and slowly begins to grin with joy as she’s able to feel the soft little nudges from the baby.

“They’ll be a fighter,” she mumbles softly. “They have fire in them.”

You glance at Jon and share a smile, whilst you also begin to feel your own heart at ease. You would have said something Jon said when he first felt the babies kick, but that will probably just upset her so you keep that to yourself and mention something else.

“The second baby is a bit more timid. They only kick at night and keep me awake until late.” You giggle. “But I love feeling the flutters.”

Daenerys keeps her hand on your belly and feels the baby kick for a moment longer—and it’s in that moment that she begins to frown with sadness. She doesn’t say anything in that regard though, nor do you want to push it, so instead you watch her pull her hand away and go serious again as her eyes linger on your belly.

“I wish you luck in your travel,” you tell her as you clasps your hands over your belly. “I will do everything in my power to gain the Reach again.”

Daenerys blinks and meets your gaze again. “I hope you do,” she mutters. “It’s important that you do. Just…be careful, okay?”

You nod and watch her turn the hall to head towards her quarters before you move back in between the Stark siblings and continue towards the courtyard. Once there, you all come to a stop just against the railing as you spot Rhaenar and a boy about his age sparring below.

“Great,” you grumble. “He’s going to be all sweaty now.”

“I think he will be fine,” Jon says.

You shift your eyes to the side and shoot him a pointed glare. “That’s what you say, but he might be meeting his future wife, first impressions matter.”

Jon scoffs and presses his hands against the railing before turning his head to look at you with a smile. “You know when I met you I had been on a boat for a month. I was sweaty too.”

You begin to smile and rebuttal. “We didn’t actually talk, we…shared longing glances. We officially met the day after. After you had a bath and brooded all day.”

Jon smirks. “And you smelled like a dragon,” he counters and stifles his laugh.

You gasp and almost take offense, but quickly find a counter and jab back. “You mean I smelled like a very mystical creature I brought into this world by hatching it? Thank you.”

Jon scoffs and rolls his eyes, choosing to focus back on Rhaenar and the boy below. “Well, I doubt you have much to worry about. He made the girl a flower crown from blue Winter roses.”

You snap your gaze to him and probe right away. “He did?” You ask in disbelief since your son hadn’t told you. “When?”

“Last night. He came to me and asked me for advice.” Jon begins to smile, and you glance at your son below whilst you begin to feel happy that he trusted Jon enough to go for him for girl advice. Albeit it is quite hurtful that he didn’t ask you too….just a bit.

“Well that’s good,” Sansa interjects. “It will distract the lady from his sweat.”

You laugh softly and nod, catching Rhaenar and the boy both notice the three of you watching from the railing. Rhaenar smiles up at you and waves quickly before he focuses back on his friend.

“Come,” Jon cuts in and grabs your hand. “Tormund is below. I want to say goodbye before we go.”

Before you follow him below you turn to Sansa to tell her goodbye too since you will be leaving soon. “I will see you after we take the capital,” you say confidently.

Sansa nods. “We will,” she assures you. “Write to me all right? Be careful too, please.”

You shoot her a grin and nod. “I will.” With one last lingering look you turn around and follow Jon down to the snowy ground to meet up with Tormund.

“Are you riding your dragon South?” Tormund asks as he walks to Jon.

Jon scoffs and nods. “I will try anyway.”

When they meet up halfway Tormund goes serious. “I’m taking the Free Folk home. We’ve had enough of the South. The women down here don’t like me.” He says as he leans towards Jon and you.

You scoff softly in amusement and interject. “You can always go to Dorne, I’m sure you’ll find lots of women there.”

Tormund shrugs. “Too hot. And right now you don’t have time for me. When you have won the war I will take you up on that offer.”

“Please do,” you encourage him.

“This is the North, you know,” Jon corrects Tormund. “And the Free Folk are welcome to stay.”

“It isn’t home,” Tormund says. “We need room to wander. I’ll take them back through Castle Black as soon as the winter storms pass. Back where we belong.”

Jon shifts and looks back. When you follow his line of gaze you see Ghost, his direwolf.

“It’s where he belongs too,” Jon refers to his direwolf. “A direwolf has no place in the south. Will you take him with you?” He looks back to Tormund, and the tall man looks at him. “He’ll be happier up there.”

“So would you,” Tormund counters, making you blink and begin to fiddle with your rings slowly.

“I’m happy here,” Jon says back and glances at you. “With my family. I finally found where I belong.”

Tormund scoffs. “Doesn’t mean you won’t miss it.”

You look to the ground and smile softly.

Jon scoffs and smiles softly. “Perhaps when the twins are born I’ll take them to go see the real North.”

“Aye,” Tormund agrees with a grin. “You will so I can give them giants milk and they can grow big like me.”

Jon and you both chuckle. However, Jon goes serious rather quickly as he remembers what this conversation is about. “This is farewell, then,” Jon says.

Tormund agrees, but adds something else. “You never know.”

They both then give one another an embrace, and when they pull back, Tormund holds onto Jon’s arms and continues to add one last thing. “You’ve got the North in you. The real North.” He lets Jon go and then steps towards you.

“I'll see you again Dragonslayer,” he says and grabs your arm to give it a gentle squeeze. “Protect each other. And you bring those babies up North, they need to know where they come from.”

You offer him a sweet grin and nod. “I will,” you assure him. “You take care all right?”

He nods and offers you a gentle smile before he walks away. You then look over at Jon and notice the sad look in his gaze and grab his arm to pull his attention to you.

Once he looks, you offer him a gentle smile and an assuring squeeze. He mirrors your smile and leans over to press a kiss on your forehead before grabbing your hand and pulling you towards his friend Sam, and Sam’s paramour.

Before anything can be said when you all meet halfway Jon let’s you go and embraces Gilly. However, soon thereafter he pulls back and looks down at her belly in shock.

Did he really not notice? Even with the cloaks she has on her pregnant belly is still noticeable.

“Yes, well, the nights have been getting longer,” Sam interjects, causing you to slowly smile at his unnecessary explanation. “And there wasn’t much to do in Oldtown. There’s only so many books a person can read, so we—”

“I’m sure he knows how it happens, Sam,” Gilly cuts him off before he can practically tell the story of how they made that babe.

It makes you stifle your laugh nevertheless.

“If it’s a boy,” Gilly continues. “We want to name him Jon.”

Your amusement dies at the sound of her comment, and awe replaces it. Yet you notice Jon doesn’t feel the same.

“I hope it’s a girl,” he retorts softly before he gives an embrace to his friend. And while they do so, while they talk, you begin to think about baby names. You haven’t given it too much thought yet. You didn’t want to until a couple more months, but now that Gillys mentioned it you think about it too.

Maybe if one is a girl…Rhaenyra feels like a sweet name. If it’s two girls then the other one can be Rhaena. Just so they can have a similar name since they will be twins. If it’s two boys then, Eddard for one. The second one could be….hm…you’ll have to think about the second one further. Maybe they can have a similar name to one of your uncles?

If it’s one girl and one boy though, Rhaenyra, and Eddard sound nice, sweet.

You smile at the thought, and mindlessly press your hand against your small belly, not realizing Rhaenar had now joined you until he nudges you.

“Mother, I’m ready,” he breaks you from your stupor.

You blink and look down at him, seeing Helios perched on his shoulder, and his weapons sheathed on his back and hip.

“Are you?” You ask with a teasing look as you begin to leave the courtyard now that Jon is done talking with his friends.

Rhaenar nods rapidly. “Yes, I am…” he trails off and pushes his clock back to unhook the blue rose flower crown he had hooked on his sheath belt. “I even have this.” He shows off smugly. “For the lady I might get matched with.”

Your eyes water as he says those words, as you realize he's getting older now, but you manage to hold in your tears and smile sweetly. “I’m sure she’ll love them. It’s very sweet of you.”

Rhaenar’s smirk turns to a timid smile as he hooks it back where it was, letting you now focus on Jon walking by your side.

“Are you okay?” You ask him.

Jon drifts his dark eyes to you and nods softly. “I am…it’s just never easy saying goodbye.”

You hum in agreement. “I understand, but just keep in mind that you’ll see them again. It doesn’t have to be goodbye forever.”

Albeit sometimes for you goodbye was the last thing you got to say to those you loved…

“You’re right,” Jon whispers with a sweet smile.

You shrug and make the conversation lighthearted so his smile would grow. “I always am.”

Jon grins, but quips. “Are you?”

You throw your arm around his and nod with a pointed look directed at him. “I am.”

Jon holds your gaze and smirks at you. “Sometimes.”

You roll your eyes and huff in defeat. “Sure, sure. Anyway!” You change the conversation and look ahead as you walk out the castle gates, noticing now that the grounds outside the walls aren't littered with hundreds of people working like before, now only a few were off to the side fixing the outer walls.

It’s quieter now too. Hauntingly peaceful since the thousands of footsteps on the night of the battle are still marked on the dirt ground, leaving nothing but memories of what happened before.

“I thought of baby names when Gilly mentioned hers,” you continue excitedly.

“Ah, did you? Just now?” Jon queries.

You hold onto him tighter and nod. “I did. Of course they aren’t official, just ideas, so you can still think of them.” You let out an excited sigh and share your ideas. “For girls I have Rhaenyra, and the other one can be Rhaena.”

“They go together,” Rhaenar points out. “And they go with my name too.”

You glance down at him and nod. “They do,” you assure him happily. “The main choice will be Rhaenyra if it’s one girl though. I like the name, and admire one woman who bore it.” You smile and glance ahead again. “But anyway, it’s the boy name I can’t think of, I only have one…Eddard. Again you can share your own thoughts, Jon.” You glance at him, and when you meet his gaze you see the soft awed look in his eyes at the mention of his fathers name.

“You’d like that?” He questions.

You hum in agreement, and only see his gaze soften much more.

“I’ll have to think of some names,” Jon says to you. “I’ll have to get back to you about that.”

“It’s okay, you have time.”

“What about you, Rhaenar?” Jon involves him.

Rhaenar runs up the snowy hill to spin around and face the both of you. “Hm, well I quite like Rhaenyra. And I also like Daemon for a boy! Just like the Rogue prince, Daemon who rode Caraxes the Blood Wyrm! Daemon was legendary, he’s one of my hero’s!” He exclaims and spins back around. “Visenya was incredible too! But my mother is already named that, so…maybe Daeron, or Jaehaerys. There’s too many. I’ll make a list.”

You share a soft laugh at his enthusiasm, and find Eraxis beginning to walk down the hill where they had been perched. So you peel away from Jon and run to her to quickly embrace her snout since that’s all you can actually manage to get your arms around.

“<Hello my beautiful girl,>” you greet her and feel her scales under your touch as you caress her.

Eraxis, out of excitement spreads her wings out and nudges herself closer to you.

“<Yes I missed flying with you too.>” You whisper and grin brightly.

“What if Rhaegal doesn’t want me to ride him anymore?” Jon cuts off your moment with your dragon, making you pull back to see that Rheagal had walked down to meet up with him too. “What if it was a one time thing?”

You scoff softly and slowly jog to them. “Well there’s only one way to secure a bond with a dragon.” You grab Jon’s arm, pulling his gaze to you. You smile, and find his lips tempting up close so you lean in and kiss him whilst you stretch his arm out.

“Repeat after me,” you whisper against his lips a bit smugly. “<Serve me, Rhaegal,>” you share what you had read in journals and books of your ancestors and their dragons. “He already let you ride him. Approval from his mother or not Dragons are special creatures, he probably would’ve burnt you or dropped you…”

“How assuring,” Jon mumbles, making Rhaenar giggle.

“I’m sure he'll listen,” you continue, “just tell him what I told you in Valyrian.” You step back and Jon seems hesitant to watch you step back, but you shoot him a wink and watch from up close.

Jon lets out a deep sigh, and keeps his eyes lingering on you for a few more seconds just to take you in in case this is his last moment of life. He then proceeds to blink and looks back at the green dragon that has his eyes on Jon already.

Jon keeps his hand out and parts his lips to let out a small breath.

“What happens if he doesn’t bond with Rhaegal?” Rhaenar asks quietly.

You shrug as you keep your eyes on Jon and the green dragon. “I don’t know. Maybe he gets burnt or eaten?”

Jon snaps his head over as if he heard and retorts. “What?”

You shoot him an assuring smile and shake your head. “Nothing, love, just do it!”

Jon sighs and once again looks at Rheagal. This time he says the words. “<Serve me, Rhaegal,>” he butchers those words but he manages to make them sound somewhat coherent.

“Yes,” you exclaim and hold your hands up in anticipation of what would happen next. “Good.”

Rheagal leans his head closer to Jon and blinks slowly, as if trying to take in the person in front of him. Jon proceeds to slowly drop his hand, and glances at you. Rhaegal then lets out a soft whine and presses his snout against Jon, managing to push him back since he’s so big.

“Did it work?” Jon asks in confusion.

Of that you’re unsure, but he’s not being burnt alive, or getting eaten, so yes?

“Well,” you share your thoughts and walk to Jon. “You’re not being burnt right now, so I’ll say it did. I think he wants you to pet him.” You point out and watch Rhaegal stay pressed against Jon.

Jon lets out a nervous breath and pulls his glove off to carefully press his hand against the green scaled snout.

“When you want him to fly just say, <fly>,” you share that last bit in High Valyrian. “If he’s bonded to you he’ll listen without needing his mother closeby.”

“<Fl?>” Jon mispronounces the word.

You grin. “<Fly>” You pronounce.

“<Fly.>” He repeats slowly.

You clap and nod. “Yes! Exactly good! Now let’s go.” You shoot him one last smile before you spin around on your heels and walk to your dragon's side. “Come, Rhaenar, you’ll ride with me.”

“Aww, I wish Helios was big enough,” he whines.

You carefully step on Eraxis' foot and grab one of her horns. “Soon, my little Sunspot, don’t pout.” You climb up finally after two months, and feel your heart pumping fast at the thought of flying again. Gods know how you missed that feeling. The sight of the sky above the clouds. The fresh crisp air. That chill as you’re flying in the air. That freedom.

Nevertheless, once you’re on your saddle and Rhaenar is sitting behind you you turn around to help him get strapped on, but realize in that moment that you haven’t fixed your broken leg strap.

“Damn,” you grumble. “I forgot to fix it.” You let out a deep sigh and sit up straight up to face your son. “Just strap on one, I’ll fix the other one soon.”

Rhaenar nods and finishes strapping the one strap around his leg to secure himself on your saddle.

“Do I say it now?!” You hear Jon shout.

You snap your head around to face him, and catch him on Rhaegal’s bareback holding on for dear life even if they haven’t moved from the ground. “If you’re ready, yes!” You reply, and hold onto your handles as you keep your eyes on him.

“Okay,” Jon breathes out and looks down at Rhaegal. “<Fly, Rhaegal.>”

And without hesitation the dragon runs ahead a bit before flapping his big green wings and setting off, causing you to grin from excitement, and admiration to seeing Jon on that dragon; on the dragon he’s now bonded with.

Seeing him flying gets you excited and eager, so you too say those same words and fly after them.

——

*LATER*

The winds of winter were a familiar greeting once your feet hit the grass ground, but it’s the land, the castle that’s the stranger now.

“It was a much longer ride this time, how was it?” You ask Jon as you begin to walk down the green hill.

Jon sighs and shrugs softly. “Better than when I rode him during battle. And well you are right…flying is liberating.”

You share a short gaze and a small smile that gets pushed away by the sight of the upcoming White Castle standing below the green hill.

From above the sky the castle seemed relevantly small, the blue pointed roofs seemed short, as well as the tall towers. And their small garden of trees was its most outshining thing within the castle, then again it seems that way because most of the trees were dead due to the cold weather, most; the greenery still hangs on to the branches of the giant cypress trees.

Those same trees aligned the Kingsroad that you’re approaching, they’re neatly shaped adding elegance to the already white grande castle that had its gate covered by luscious greenery, and pink and white flowers that seem to sprout during the winter. The walls around the castle walls were blanketed by twisting vines too. It was really enchanting actually.

Yet that enchantment is soon destroyed due to the marching guards that hesitantly come out of the gate holding the house flag.

They stop just outside the gate and wait for Jon, Rhaenar and you to get close to address you all. “Halt there!”

Their eyes hidden behind their helmets wander around the space behind you, they lift to the sky and search for the beasts you flew on. Once they weren’t visible one of them stepped forward, lifted its visor and showed off dull green eyes.

“Who goes there?!”

Jon and you share a short knowing gaze before you step forward and announce yourselves. “Princess…Visenya Targaryen….” It adds a sour taste to your mouth, saying the name your parents gave you, but it’s the name that most of the older people know you as. “…daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen. With me are my husband Lord Jon Snow, Warden of the North, and my son Prince Rhaenar Targaryen…”

The guard's eyes drift to your son, and then the orange dragon perched on his shoulder. He swallows thickly and stiffens whilst he looks back at you.

“…We’ve come to seek an audience with your Lord Ashford.”

The guard blinks and drifts his gaze to Jon behind you, as if asking for permission from him first.

It’s such a common thing, getting overlooked by both men and women in these parts of Westeros, even beyond the Narrow Sea. You’ve grown used to the cold treatment. Yet it still doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking bother you getting overlooked, especially when you’re higher ranked than Jon. Luckily Jon doesn’t say anything or do anything to answer the man, he makes the guard look back at you.

“Right this way,” the man says and turns stiffly on his heels, causing the other guards behind him to part to the side to let the three you pass by and follow the guard inside.

Once past the outer gate you’re welcomed with a long garden that seems to stop feet away from the entrance of the castle. It’s absolutely beautiful, it’s surrounded by tall green hedges. As you pass the archways that let you inside the garden you see more Cypress trees, you can spot a fountain that holds stone statues of women. There’s benches, and more fountains past the archways, albeit the second one doesn’t hold statues, just water.

“Gods,” you mumble to Jon and Rhaenar, “it’s beautiful here. Imagine this garden in the Spring and Summer.”

“Imagine it when it’s covered by a blanket of snow,” Jon says.

You hum and smile softly at the thought. “That would be beautiful,” you whisper. Now you reach the last archway on the hedge and peek in, catching a third fountain hold statues on the water too, but these statues aren’t just women, they’re statues of The Seven….It’s impressive.

“Wait here,” the guard cuts you off from your awe and pulls your gaze back to him a few feet away from the gates. “I’ll inform the Lord and Lady of your presence.”

You nod in comprehension and watch him walk in, noticing the other guards that had been following behind you march ahead and stay guard in front of the door.

Now however that you’re waiting is when it hits you, the fear and anxiety that make your heart race. No amount of training can actually prepare you for meeting other lords to sway them so that they follow your cause, so that they’ll give their children’s hand in marriage to your own son. Sure if you told Jon to do the talking he would, but it’s you that needed to talk for Daenerys, for yourself.

“I really hope he gets convinced,” you interject and look at Jon by your side.

Jon glances at you and sighs softly before he shifts around to face you. “He will, you’ll convince him. I know you will.”

You turn and face him too, feeling him grab your hands to cradle them in his for comfort.

“Listen to them too,” he says, “just how you tried to listen to me.”

You let out a soft huff and smile timidly.

“I believe in you,” he assures you and pulls one hand away from yours to cup your cheek and pull you in to press a kiss on your lips.

“Look,” Rhaenar cuts in, making you pull away and follow to what he’s pointing to.

That’s when you see three young brunette girls peeking behind the tall glass windows. They notice that you all caught them and seem to smile before quickly disappearing.

“Do you think one of them will be the Lady I’ll be married to,” Rhaenar wonders.

You drop your gaze to look at him and shrug. “Perhaps. What do you think of them?”

Rhaenar blinks and meets your curious gaze. “Well it’s hard to tell since they’re up high and behind glass.”

“Princess, My Lord Snow,” a voice gains your attention, making you look to the opened doors where the main guard now stands. “Right this way, the Lord and Lady Ashford are ready for you.”

Rhaenar lets out a deep nervous breath and glances at you once before he glances at his dragon on his shoulder, and then begins to follow you inside at your side with his chin up and his back straight.

You’re quite nervous too so you keep holding one of Jon’s hands as the guard guides you to the main hall inside the main tower—And just like the outside, the inside of the castle is marvelous too; there's high ceilings, glass chandeliers that twinkle as the light reflects off them. Beautiful stone floors that have a sun carved on them.

Yet the hall isn’t even for the most impressive part, it’s the main room that’s impressive. It’s bright thanks to all the tall windows that are against the walls; it’s almost like a glass room. And there’s tall vases of white flowers that align the pathway to the throne made of dark wood, making the room smell of flowers.

Nevertheless, just on the platform that the throne sits on are those same ladies that had been at the window; there's a set of twins that seem to be around maybe seven and ten wearing long yellow dresses, and at their side just at the edge of the platform is a younger girl, her hair is brown, long and straight, her eyes are dark, black perhaps, she wears a pink dress and sweet smile that lets a dimple show. Across from her is a young man, short but lean, his hair is long and wavy, brown like all the others from his family, he has blue eyes albeit and no welcoming smile; he must be the Lord's heir.

“Princess, Prince, Lord,” a gravelly voice greets, pulling your gaze to the throne to see a short bald plump man on his feet. “Welcome to Ashford.” He bows, and his wife behind him, and the children all curtsy and bow as well. Which is quite surprising considering you’re on “enemy” territory.

“I am Lord Ben Ashford,” he continues, and turns to point at his wife with the same dark eyes as the daughters. “My Wife, Lizbeth Ashford.”

The tall lady gives you a curtsy, so you offer her a sweet smile.

“My twin daughters, Anna and Belle,” he says and points to the girls in their yellow dresses.

You want to laugh at the irony of their names, but you hold it in and look to the last daughter he points to.

“My youngest, Melina…”

Ah, so she’s the girl you want Rhaenar to marry. She seems nice.

Jon and you both look at Rhaenar and smile faintly before looking at the boy who is the Lord’s heir, but don’t pay much mind to him, so he’s done introducing him you let out a small breath and speak. “I am sorry for the surprise visit, Lord Ashford, but I didn’t want to put your family at risk if the Raven was caught.”

He hums and shakes his head. “I understand,” he assures you. “The Kingdom is at war.” He hums and tilts his head. “The last time the Kingdom was at war you were but a babe…”

You blink in surprise and gasp softly.

“It was such a nasty war,” he continues. “I’m sorry for your losses. For the tragedy your family suffered…those poor children were innocent.”

You swallow thickly and nod softly.

“Yet…last I heard beside all the latest news, was that you died when the Lannisters sacked the city.”

You let out a deep sigh and hold his gaze without faltering. “It was said, yes, but I was saved that night by a gold cloak who had served the King. I was the only one he could save, by the time he wanted to save my mother and siblings it was too late, the beast that killed them had found them first. In order to keep me safe, my family, The Martell’s hid me in Sunspear and kept my identity a secret.”

He hums and glances out the window before focusing on you again. “I would have been hesitant to believe your word, but I saw those dragons, we all saw those dragons you flew in with. I would be a fool not to believe you now, so Princess why is it that you’ve come to visit?”

There’s no need longing the topic. Especially not when you’re needed back on Dragonstone. So with one last glance at Jon, you take one step forward and share the envoy. “On behalf of Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen, I have come here to share an offer. You served House Targaryen faithfully until the King died. It’s for that loyalty that we ask for your swords, and your undying loyalty most importantly. In return we offer the title of Warden of the South, and Lord of HighGarden, if it pleases you.”

The heir gasps and snaps his head to his father.

“You’re an old house that’s stood in the reach for centuries,” Jon steps forward to interject. “You know your lands better than anyone, you know the people and history. We would want no one else.”

You look at Jon from the corner of your eyes and shoot him a thankful smile before focusing back on the Lord. You watch him take a step down slowly and put his hands behind him. He takes another step down and sighs, and when he reaches the floor you stand on he stops and looks at you with a pointed look.

“You ask me and the rest of the Reach to betray the crown?” He asks in a deep voice.

You swallow thickly and nod. “The Queen who sits on the throne now is doing nothing but losing money, letting her people starve. She’s weak now without her father, without her family, a weak ruler only serves to spoil everyone else. What happens when a flower spoils?”

“Withers,” the Lord answers. “Dies and turns to nothing.”

“Exactly, it would be a shame to lose your house and the Reach, Lord Ashford.” You continue to press with confidence now gleaming in your eyes. “That's why we came with our offer. If you accept, you won’t only save your family, but the entirety of the Reach.”

“My swords, and my crops I assume for the title of Warden?” He questions with a perplexed gaze.

Yes, truly there’s no need for a marriage pact, but it would be to his benefit, and a security for you too.

“Not only that but a marriage pact,” you reveal now. “My son, the Queen’s heir, Prince Rhaenar Targaryen, to your youngest daughter, the Lady Melina.”

Said girl's eyes go wide and fill with shock, whilst the mother fills with disbelief and sadness; which is understandable, you’re sad to marry off your son.

Nevertheless, the Lord looks to your son and then at Jon, probably noting that they look nothing alike and realizing what Rhaenar truly is, a bastard. Yet he says nothing about it, for one the boy is that, a man, they don’t shame bastard sons the same way as girls or those of low birth. And two, it would be disrespectful if he did point it out.

“A Queen,” he mumbles. “You would make my daughter a Queen?”

You nod. “If you accept yes.”

Lady Melina takes a careful step forward and bores her eyes on her father as if demanding with her look alone to accept the offer.

“My son is almost 11, but if you accept then the marriage would happen when he comes of age,” you add.

Lord Ashford looks back to his daughter looking at him with hope, and then looks to his wife to share one knowing look. When he looks back at you he remains serious for a moment before his lips begin to lift to a smile.

“I accept,” he assures you, letting you finally breathe properly. “On behalf of the Reach, and myself we accept your offer, Princess. It gladdens me that a Targaryen once again will sit on the Throne.”

You begin to grin happily and share that happiness with Jon and your son.

“On behalf of Queen Daenerys, and myself, thank you my Lord,” you curtsy and shoot him a beaming grin. “Thank you.”

The Lord nods and then looks back at his daughter getting shaken by her sisters out of excitement to what will be her future. “Melina, come,” he says.

You look at Rhaenar, and he meets your gaze, letting you point your head ahead so he’ll step forward.

He sighs shakily, and then looks over at Jon.

Jon shoots him an assuring look that lets the boy take a few forward towards the young Lady now beside her father.

“Hello,” she greets.

Rhaenar bows his head and then pulls out the Winter Rose flower crown to show it off to her. “It’s for you, my Lady,” he says in a timid voice. “Blue Winter Roses, they’re the most beautiful in the world, well they were…you seem to outmatch their beauty.”

You stifle your laugh and share a teasing look with Jon. He albeit shares a smug look with you. Was he the one who told him to say that?

“Thank you, Prince Rhaenar,” Lady Melina says and crouches slightly so Rhaenar can put the flower crown on her head. Once she stands up to her given height Helios, leans forward and tilts his head to study the girl before Rhaenar.

“This is my dragon Helios,” Rhaenar says. “He’s only a hatchling now, but soon he will be big enough to ride. When the time comes you can ride him with me too. The skies above the clouds are the most beautiful in the world.”

Lady Melina giggles. “I will look forward to those days then.”

Rhaenar nods and turns to walk back to your side.

“Will you join us for lunch?” The Lord asks. “To celebrate our alliances?”

Jon and you share a speechless look, and without needing to converse Jon answers for you. “That sounds great, we still have a long flight ahead of us.”

——

*LATER. DRAGONSTONE*

Half of what remained of the Iron Fleet surprise attacked the Queen's fleet and captured Missandei; Daenerys' most trusted advisor and best friend.

They knew how much Missandei meant to the Queen since they have no one else to hold over her, no kids, no siblings. She has you, but Cersei knows not to mess with you; she needed someone who wouldn’t bring her immediate demise, so she got sweet Missandei, and…killed her in front of Daenerys instead of giving her surrender.

A stupid mistake. Three dragons against a scared army; An upside to this sudden stoop.

Yet, by seeing Lord Varys waiting on the beach for Jon, Rhaenar, and you to climb off your dragons, it seems like there’s only more bad news to come.

“The Northern armies?” Is the first thing Lord Varys asks the moment you all walk over to him.

“Just crossed the Trident,” Jon shares. “They’ll be at the walls of Kings Landing in two days.”

Lord Varys hums and then looks to you. “Congratulations on securing the Reach, my Princess.”

My princess? Hm. Okay?

You sigh nonetheless, and continue walking towards the castle. “Thank you, Lord Varys. It seems it wasn’t as hard as I thought, not only because we had a lot to offer Lord Ashford, but Cersei doesn’t have any love in the Kingdoms.”

“All we need now is the Westerlands. Which won’t be so hard now, even if Cersei is a Lannister,” Lord Varys says.

You hum and look up at the castle as Daenerys' well-being comes to mind. “How is she?”

“She hasn’t seen anyone since we returned,” Lord Varys says, making Rhaenar curious enough to slow down and listen in as well. “Hasn’t left her chambers, hasn’t accepted any food.”

You let out a deep breath and retort. “Missandei was her best friend, she’s grieving. She shouldn't be alone.”

“You worried for her,” Lord Varys adds, as if it isn’t obvious why. “I admire your empathy.”

“She’s my aunt, my friend,” you quip. “Of course I am. Aren’t you?”

“I’m worried for all of us,” he interjects, making Jon and you share a confused look. “They say every time a Targaryen is born the Gods toss a coin and the world holds its breath.”

A stupid belief made up by people who don’t know what ruling really is.

“We’re not much for riddles where I'm from,” Jon interjects to try and understand what he means.

“We three know what she’s about to do,” Lord Varys continues, causing you to stop in your tracks, and making the others walking at your side to do the same.

When Rhaenar does it though, you turn to him. “Rhaenar, why don’t you go on ahead, hm? Get settled, maybe go give your aunt your sympathy, yes?”

Rhaenar hesitates as he wants to keep listening to what you’re all talking about, but he doesn’t argue and goes on to do as you asked.

“We’re at war Lord Varys,” you mutter with displeasure once Rhaenar is out of earshot. “We can't just sit and do nothing. If the Queen wants to act, we act, it’s her decision to make, she is our Queen.” You turn and face the man with a narrowed gaze.

Lord Varys stays nonchalant and responds. “Men decide where power resides, whether or not they know it.”

Jon steps forward and snaps, “what do you want?”

“All I ever wanted,” Lord Varys says and looks between Jon and you. “The right ruler on the Iron Throne.”

You blink in disbelief and shake your head slowly.

Why is this getting brought up again? Daenerys is harsh, but isn’t every ruler? They need to be so. So why is it a problem now? Why want you to betray her?

“I still don’t know how her coin has landed,” Lord Varys continues. “But I’m quite certain about the both of yours.”

You drop your gaze, and let out a deep frustrated breath and share an annoyed look with Jon before focusing on the man before you to counter. “She’s my aunt, Lord Varys, my Queen. You speak of betrayal. Why?” You ask. “She’s done nothing wrong, not yet. She may be harsh, but what ruler hasn’t been? I won’t betray her for something I don’t want, for something neither of us want.”

“I have known more Kings and Queens than any man living,” he rebuttals. “I’ve heard what they say to crowds, and seen what they do in the shadows. I have furthered their designs, however horrible.” He shakes his head. “But what I tell you now is true. You both come from great houses, and have been raised by good people, you are both loved by many. You will rule wisely and well, while she—”

“Stop,” you cut him off before he can finish his sentence. “She is your Queen. Let us speak of this no longer.” You grab Jon’s hand and break away from your spot together.

Yet before you can go far, Lord Varys stops you with the right words. “I saved you from the fate that awaited you in your quarters that night, I sent that man to save you those years back…gods know I wanted to save the others…”

You gasp and stiffen.

“…but fate had a hand at saving you. You. Will you really let their deaths mean nothing? She speaks of Destiny, but it is your true birthright, your fate. Do you really think she will let those children you carry inside you live?”

Jon snaps around and takes a long stride towards the man. “You keep my children out of your mouth, Lord Varys.”

“Think about it, Lord Snow,” Lord Varys continues, knowing Jon won't do anything. “Do you want your wife and your children to suffer the same fate y/n’s mother and siblings did?”

You slowly grab your small swollen belly and continue to stand there in disbelief and tears gleaming in your eyes. He’s not right. Even if Daenerys was angry for what fate brought Jon and you, she’d never do that. She’s not a monster.

Why can’t they see that? She’s not a bad person. She’s just…she just needs guidance.

“Y/N,” Jon calls out as you make your way inside the castle. “Y/N, talk to me.”

You huff out. “How dare he bring up my mother? How dare he use their deaths, my vulnerability about them against me?” You grumble and quicken your pace. “He’s, he’s…” you groan out in frustration and stop to take a deep breath. “Why,” you mutter. “Why do they want me to betray her? Sansa, Arya, him? What has she done wrong? People die all the time, Lord Tarley was a cause of war. He didn’t want to bend the knee so he had to die, and the son…I,” you pause and shake your head. “Aegon the Conqueror did the same thing and he gets praised for it, so,” you stammer out instead of continuing your previous comment. “So why judge her? Why be angry at her?”

You hear Jon come to stop behind you, you hear his deep sigh before you feel his gloved hand on your arm.

“They just don’t understand,” Jon says and turns you around so you’ll face him. “Leaders must make hard decisions. Decisions some won’t like. And Sansa is just angry it will pass, with time she’ll see what you see in Daenerys.”

You let out a shaky breath and nod softly as his words assure you. Yet there’s still that thorn, that fear that was getting fed more and more. “And the babies…Jon? Varys knows about you,” you mention now that you’ve settled down. “I try not to, but I know he’s right. I know Daenerys is right as well, about the baby's claims.” Tears gleam in your eyes. “Jon….If the realm finds out they will try and press their claims, not Rhaenar’s, not mine, there’s.”

Jon grabs your face with both hands. “I will tell you again what I have told you before, I will not let anything happen to our children. Not her or anyone else. I will not let them try and control them. They will be fine. You will be fine. And if…anything happens…we can leave to the North. To Dorne. We can go far, I won’t let them take my family away. I won’t let them hurt you, my love.” He then pulls you in for an embrace and holds you tightly.

You hold onto him almost like you’re afraid to let go, you close your eyes and nuzzle your head in his neck.

“Talk to her,” he whispers. “She needs you now. You might be the only one who can talk to her.”

It might also work in your favor considering her cold shoulder.

However, once you reach the meeting quarters where she’s in, you hesitate to even knock on the doors out of that…fear you don’t want to actually feel towards her. One you can’t help, and one that has been in the back of your head since you found out about the babies.

But that’s it isn’t? They want you to doubt her, but it’s not true, she’s not that person…you can’t let yourself be convinced by them. So you knock on the door and wait.

Yet you get no response, so you slowly open the door regardless and poke your head in, seeing her standing at the other side of the room staring out at the ocean past the high balcony. Her hair isn’t braided back or brushed like how she wears it. She’s not dressed in a big dress, she’s unkept.

“Dany,” you mumble and walk in slowly.

Said woman sighs and looks at you over her shoulder with an upset frown. You close the door behind you and slowly walk in closer to her, noticing now the eyebags under her eyes from lack of sleep.

“Tyrion was just in here,” she cuts to the chase and turns to face you. “Someone’s betrayed me.”

You stop a few feet away and clasps your hands together to wait for who she’d say in case she was told the wrong person.

“Varys,” she reveals.

You drop your gaze and sigh deeply.

“You knew?” She asks as she immediately detects your hesitation to react.

You nod stiffly. “He….talked to me just as I arrived…” you look up at her and meet her gleaming gaze. “He spoke of betrayal.”

If no one knows who Jon really is, no one presses your children’s claim, no one tries to push Daenerys from her throne and she won’t have to—They might be safe.

That’s why you say it with ease now, Varys' betrayal.

“He wanted me to betray you,” you reveal and clench your jaw.

Daenerys steps down and looks into your eyes in case she sees doubt, and even if you feel fear, and…an inkling of doubt that does make you hesitate, you don’t show it to her because you have to believe she’s good.

“I know you told the others to keep quiet, but you can’t blame them,” you try to talk her out of her anger towards Sansa, since she was the one who couldn’t keep quiet. “Varys is the only one to blame, he wants to press Jon’s claim as well as mine, over yours. The others just shared the news but did nothing. You understand?”

Daenerys swallows thickly and narrows her eyes. “I told you that I didn’t want his secret revealed. I gave you a second chance after you kept secrets from me. And I’ve come to find out now that everyone in my court knows.”

There she goes. You try so hard to defend her against all they say about her, and she goes to say this shit. Yes she’s angry, but this…can’t go on.

“I can’t control them,” you argue as you furrow your brows. “I can’t control Sansa, nor the other Starks. Jon told them because they’re his family, it wasn’t my choice. Yes, I supported him and his choice because he’s my husband. If you want someone to be angry at, blame Varys. Not me, not Jon, and not Sansa. Varys and him alone. But,” you scoff. “If it’s me you want to be angry at then…” you hesitate. “I can’t control you. I just hope you know that I support you, I love you.”

Daenerys clenches her jaw and her breath trembles. She holds your gaze for a few seconds before she averts your gaze and queries. “What is it you think we need to do about Varys?”

You let out a small sigh and answer without hesitance. “Have him meet a traitor's end.” You lift your chin and gently stroke your swollen belly with your thumb.

Daenerys hums and walks to the fireplace to watch the flames dance. She stays quiet, and remains…grief stricken and angry.

You know how that feels. You understand that pain, so you drop the tension that was just built and walk towards her slowly.

“Daenerys,” you call softly. “I’m sorry about Missandei,” you whisper and stop just a bit before her to gently grab her arm. “She was good. I’m sorry you lost her.”

Daenerys draws in a deep breath and closes her eyes as she’s hit with more pain. She sighs deeply, and opens her eyes to glance at you with a watery gaze.

And right now for the first time in a few months she left herself vulnerable to you, she let you see her cry, and let her shoulders fall. She lets you pull you in for an embrace, and returns it tightly.

You smile softly and clutch onto her tighter.

“If it’s a counter move you want to do, I support it,” you tell her, making her pull back to meet your gaze. “We can’t let Cersei think she has the upper hand. We can’t let her get away with it.”

Daenerys sniffles and begins to smirk.

“We can’t hurt the people though,” you continue. “They’re innocent, they’re just a product of bad ruling, so our war is not against them, it’s solely against her.”

Daenerys turns away from you to add her suggestion. “Her brother, and lover, Jaime.”

Your own smirk falters and you begin to shake your head, but she interjects with more.

“We caught him trying to sneak past our lines, he was going back to her. We kill him in front of her and she’ll lose that smirk on her face.”

One man, it’s just one man—But it’s exactly because she loves him, or cares for him that you can’t kill him! You still need him as a pawn against her. Yes, that's it.

“No,” you cut her off. “Not him. If she cares about him then we can use him against her. I just need to talk to him.”

Daenerys squints slightly and investigates why you sound so insistent on helping him from a fate she thought he deserved. “Why would he listen to you?”

You want to smile out of pride for what you want to say, but you notice her pointed gaze and just answer seriously. “He…sort of swore fealty to me. I say sort of because he just promised to make up for the promises he broke.”

Daenerys' gaze hardens, and her eyes drop to hide her glare.

“And what a great job he's doing,” she quips.

You sigh and nod. “Yes, I understand it doesn’t look good, but I’ll talk to him.” You lower your gaze to try and read hers, but she quickly looks up unfazed.

“Fine, but that won’t stop us from striking,” she makes clear.

“I know,” you assure her. “I’m with you. We will make the city surrender. we will win this war.” You grab her hands and cup them gently.

Daenerys lifts her chin and swallows thickly before she nods stiffly. “Fire and blood,” she says with a very faint smirk.

You smile slowly and nod. “Fire and blood,” you repeat. Daenerys' smile falters, but she nods, not letting you see what she truly thought.

“Talk to Ser Jaime,” she deadpans. “Only you.”

You pull your hands away and nod. You leave her chambers blinded with hope that she took in your words and listened, that she cherished your comfort. You believe it, and keep believing that she isn’t a monster others paint her out to be. You believe she won’t be the threat that you fear.

You believe it all blindly in that moment because she’s your family. Even after she had told you to paint the babies as bastards, even after that threat you can’t—you don’t want to think of her any other way. Because if you did then…

——

*LATER. KINGS LANDING*

“<I want to talk to the prisoner,>” you tell the unsullied guard posted in front of the tent that they had chained Ser Jaime in.

The guard nods stiffly and steps aside, letting the others do the same and clear a path towards the tent. Once inside you see him there sat against a post, looking quite pathetic you have to admit.

“Lady Sansa says that you and Ser Brienne have made quite the pair,” you make yourself known. “It would be a travesty that you broke her heart.”

Jaime slowly peers over his shoulder as best as he can, and right away you catch his surprise.

You walk around him slowly to stand before him, and he follows you with his eyes.

“I’d grab a seat for you, but well,” he sighs dramatically and drops his gold hand against the ground.

You draw in a deep breath and keep piercing your unamused glare into him. “You know,” you interject as you grab a seat and sit across from him. “I really wanted to trust you. I mean who goes all the way North to fight the dead after his Queen said he was spared from fighting that war? A stupid man, or a rather brave one. I wanted you to keep your promise, truly,” you scoff and shake your head. “But here you are.”

Jaime sighs and drops his head. “Here I am. Have you come to kill me?”

You cross your leg over the other and shrug. “Eraxis is out there, waiting for me, one word and she’d eat you leaving only that horrible golden hand left behind.”

Jaime scoffs. “As far as deaths go, getting eaten by a dragon wouldn’t be so terrible.”

You smile softly and laugh. “I suppose not.”

Jaime snaps his eyes up at the sound of your laugh and doesn’t know whether to be proud or scared that you laughed.

Nevertheless, you go serious before he can decide.

“What are you doing here, Ser Jaime?” You ask. “Are you going back to her?”

Jaime slowly rolls his head up to meet your gaze, and exhales deeply. “I suppose the answer is quite difficult.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

Jaime swallows thickly and whispers. “I love her.”

So you’ve been told. Yet you can’t have much say in that anymore considering….

“She says she’s carrying another child,” he continues, making you sit up and blink in surprise. “I want to save her. But on the other hand I know that can’t happen, Cersei walked into her own death and there isn’t anything I can do about it. There isn’t anything I want to do about it,” he whispers. “Kings Landing may be a shitty place, but…the people don’t deserve what can unfold because of her stubbornness and pride.” He licks his lips, throws his hands out and huffs out.

“So that’s where the problem lies, Princess.” He continues and drops his hands. “Do I betray the women that I love, do I betray my family? Or do I betray the thousands of people in this city, and my oath?”

“Well,” you sigh and hold his gaze with a pitiful look. Not because you are now moved by his words, you won’t tell him to spare her or risk people’s lives so he can live some fantasy with her, but it’s his own struggle that you pity. It’s one you never want to struggle with.

“You know what my answer will be, Ser Jaime,” you say. “I just hope you can make the right choice and help me capture her. Not for me, but for the lives you swore to protect. Because I may not want to admit it…” you pause and hesitate. “But…I know what Daenerys is capable of, I know what Cersei is capable of. And if capturing Cersei from the castle helps avoid the bloodshed of innocents shouldn’t we take that?”

Ser Jaime tilts his head slightly and looks into your eyes for a moment before he smirks. “You’re much wiser than your father ever was, has anyone ever told you that?”

You scoff and shake your head. “No, but I’m glad you did.” You smirk faintly for a second before you go serious again. “Ser Jaime, I don’t want to kill you, I don’t want to see Daenerys kill you. Maybe there are bad things that you have done in your life, yes, but as far as people go, you aren’t such a bad person. You’re one of the good ones, Ser Jaime.”

Said man looks at you with disbelief before he drops his head and scoffs.

“I know it won’t be easy,” you continue and stand up from your seat to get closer to him. “I can’t imagine what it will feel like, nor do I want to ever feel it. But you are one of the only people who can get close to her. You may be here, she may have taken that as a betrayal, but if she loves you then at the end of the day, she won’t renounce you. Giving me the chance to end the war there by taking her and letting the city surrender.”

There’s silence, deafening silence that makes you grow nervous over what he might say, and if he might make that promise to you.

“It’s kind of poetic isn’t it? Funny?” He interjects and keeps his head down. “That I have to face this choice again?” He forces a small laugh and slowly lifts his head up. “I will do it. I’ll help you, I’ll help these people.”

You sigh in relief and crouch down to be at his eye level now. “Thank you,” you tell him softly.

Jaime shakes his head and queries, “why are you so kind to me now? I don’t get it.”

“Well,” you mutter and begin to fiddle with your rings. “You did save my life, my children’s life.” You smile faintly. “That has to be worth an attempt at forgiveness?”

“No,” he argues. “It shouldn’t after the pain I caused you, but…I am thankful.”

You smile wider and give your last explanation to leave him alone. “I’d let you free, but I can’t have one of Cersei's scouts spotting you, it’s best if we use the element of surprise. I’ll let you out tomorrow and share the plan with you.”

Jaime lets out a deep sigh, but nods in agreement nonetheless.

“I’ll have some of my guards bring you supper and water.” You say and stand to your given height. “Goodnight Ser Jaime.”

Said man offers you a nod and redirects it. “Goodnight, princess.”

You walk to the tent's exit and stop to look back and say one last thing. “I really appreciate your loyalty and what you have to do. Thank you.”

Due to the night being so late Jon made you swear not to fly back to Dragonstone, he said “you’re too close to the castle, you can get attacked.” You fought him against it, arguing that someone can sneak in at camp and kill you anyway. But he said that the Northerner men, and the Dornish men you have here now would protect you, so you stayed.

You lay in bed but just stared at the ceiling the entire night thinking about Daenerys, and about everyone’s concerns, your own naiveness towards the situation—but then again it’s like everyone wants her to blow up and destroy everything. They say they can’t trust her, but they never try to guide her. She’s hurt, grieving, and she’s trying to rule over a broken kingdom that desperately needs her, over a sexist kingdom that needs some show of power or else she’s vulnerable. Why can’t they understand that?

You groan and squeeze your eyes shut to hopefully stop thinking about it and get some sleep, but it only takes you under for a moment before you’re woken up by the announcement that a ship is on their way. After that you’re up again and waiting by shore for Jon to dock.

Once he sees you his eyes soften. You get lost in his gaze and offer him a smile until you notice that Lord Varys is not traveling with them. It’s only him, Tyrion, and Rhaegal flying in from above.

She ended up killing him…

He would have put your children at risk, Everyone at risk. It was for the best….

Regardless, once Jon lands his feet on shore you both meet each other halfway in an embrace, as if you had been apart for months.

“Hey,” he whispers.

You grin and pull back to meet his gaze. “I missed you,” you whisper.

Jon smiles softly and cups your cheek. “Me too.”

Your heart flutters, and your smile widens.

“How are you feeling?” He asks with deep concern.

“I’m fine,” you assure him. “Just anxious for what’s to come.”

Jon sighs and frowns. “You should rest until we leave, it will be good for you.”

You scoff. “Rest? I cannot, I have to be briefed, I have to keep my cousins up to date.”

“Are they here?”

You look around and make sure everyone is minding their business to lean in and whisper. “Hidden under the castle.” You pull back and smirk briefly. “My son? How is he?”

Jon scoffs and smiles in amusement. “Upset he couldn’t come.”

You laugh softly. “Expected he would.”

Jon smiles for a second longer before it begins to fade, and you read the dread and concern in his gaze that makes your heart slowly skip a beat as you can tell something is wrong.

“Let’s talk later?” He says.

You try to read him by his look alone, but you can’t tell what he was holding back. “Of course.”

Jon sighs and glances down at your belly to caress it gently before he breaks away and lets you turn to face camp and the two men who stood close, Ser Davos and Tyrion.

“My brother?” Tyrion asks.

You draw in a deep breath and keep your face serious so as to not give anything away. “He’s fine. Locked away.” You abruptly end that conversation there and turn to Ser Davos. “May you share the news to Jon, please.”

See Davos nods and does as you say. “The rearguard should be here by daybreak.”

“She wants to attack now,” Tyrion adds.

Of course she does, she’s impatient. It’s why people can’t trust her.

“Daybreak at the earliest,” Jon says and turns to look at you one more time. “I have to make a few rounds around camp, let’s meet for supper?”

You nod eagerly, and let your gaze linger on his until he turns to talk to some of his men, leaving you to turn to talk to Tyrion, but ending up seeing him and Ser Davos talking—no murmuring to each other a few feet away.

It’s probably about Jaime, fuck hopefully he doesn’t try anything before you can let him out.

“Tyrion,” you interrupt his conversation and walk over to him and Ser Davos.

Both men stop talking and turn to face you.

“May I get the briefing from the Queen?”

Tyrion spares one last glance at the old knight beside him before stepping away to walk with you instead.

“Lord Varys died last night,” Tyrion shares. “For his crime of treachery.”

“Yes,” you nod stiffly. “I told her to.” You grab Tyrion’s hand and stop him from walking. “Considering what he was asking of me and Jon. Why did you tell him?” You whisper.

Tyrion glances around before meeting your gaze. “He had a right to know.”

You swallow thickly and let out a deep sigh. “No, it was meant to be kept a secret. You should’ve kept it at that.”

No one needed to tell you who had told Lord Varys, it was obvious it was Tyrion. He’s the only one who would share something like that to him.

“Now he’s dead….do you know if word got out?”

Tyrion shakes his head. “No, I don’t.”

You let his arm go and continue walking. “Well, we’ll know soon enough if it did.” You clasp your hands together to begin fiddling with your rings. “Anything else?”

Tyrion nods and adds on. “Tomorrow when you hear the bells ring it means that the city has surrendered, don’t attack after those bells ring.”

“Yes,” you say. “I know. I was hoping it would be that way.”

“It was hard to convince her to do it,” he admits, making you drop your gaze and swallow thickly out of…slight fear. He kept talking about the rest of the plan for tomorrow, but that’s all you could think about, that slight twinge of fear.

Still though, you keep telling yourself they’re wrong about her.

“About your brother,” you add after he’s done speaking. “You may not go talk to him, I’m sorry but I can’t risk you letting him go free.”

Tyrion stops walking, so you stop too and turn to face him.

“But,” he tries to rebuttal.

“No,” you cut him off. “I know sibling love, Tyrion. My sisters may not be my actual sisters, but I was raised alongside them, I love them as such. I know the lengths I would go to to save them too. That’s why I’m telling you to please leave him alone. For your sake and his.” You keep your eyes on his own perplexed and upset one’s for a second, before you turn on your heels and head to Ser Jaime yourself before Tyrion could eventually go.

The moment you’re inside you make yourself known right away. “Ser Jaime,” you greet as you walk into the tent.

Said man sits up from his seat against the post and peers back. “Princess,” he greets in return. “I almost thought you wouldn’t come.”

You slowly walk over to stand before him, noticing the dirty plates and cups they had yet to pick up from the ground.

“I said I would,” you tell him as you pick up the utensils. “Just so you know you’re brother just arrived. I’m certain he’ll come to try and get you out later. I hope you know how to drift him away. I mean only if I can’t get you out before then.” You put the stuff down on the table at the far corner and then turn to face him.

“Well, I’ll try my best,” Jaime says. “But my brother is quite stubborn.”

“Runs in the family then?” You snap back with a smirk.

Jaime scoffs softly and nods.

You blink and look down to let out a small breath before you walk over to him to crouch down and whisper your plan. “If you are true to your word by tomorrow. Go down to the caves where the dragon skulls are kept, past there will be a stairwell that leads down to a cove, I’ll wait for you there with my sisters.”

Jaime blinks and furrows his eyebrows. “Sisters?” He probes.

You hum. “My sisters have come to save Ellaria, Cersei didn’t kill her so my little sister has come to save her mother in the chaos that will be tomorrow.” You smirk as you share. “We’ll meet you there while Daenerys is attacking the walls.”

Jaime looks down at the ground and nods slowly. He begins to pick up dirt and adds to the conversation with his own questions. “And if your Queen attacks the castle?”

You sigh. “Then Eraxis and I will fly up, meet you there inside.”

“And how am I meant to get in the castle?” He continues to ask.

“Someone I trust will let you out later, they will have a cloak and a uniform you can wear. Use that.” You answer his question. “You can use the cover of night to hide.” You narrow your gaze and press him as you sense some uneasiness. “I know it won’t be easy, but I can count on you, right?”

Jaime lingers in silence that makes you doubt, but he soon mutters. “Giving her up will help end the battle?”

You shrug. “I hope,” you answer with the truth. “At the moment things change, but I do want that battle to end there.” You nod and gnaw on your lip out of nervousness. “Will you help me then?”

Jaime finally meets your gaze and swallows thickly before he nods in agreement, making you offer him a soft smile. “Thank you, Ser Jaime.” You whisper to him sweetly. You stand up to your feet and step back. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Remember don’t speak to your brother about anything if he catches you still here.”

“I understand,” he assures you.

You offer him one last smile before you walk out and head back to your tent to write ravens and go over plans. You sat but didn’t rest, didn’t calm down with the chaos that is preparing and planning for battle. A sense of peace doesn't come until Jon enters the tent with bowls of supper.

“It’s not all five courses, but it will keep you full,” he breaks the silence of the room.

You put your pen down and send your friend away that is going to help Jaime.

“Remember tell the guards that I command them to get a break.” You tell him.

The man nods and turns to leave Jon and you alone.

“Finished?” Jon probes.

You stand up from your chair and nod as you walk over to the small square table where he sets down the plates. “How have you been today?” You ask as you sit down across from him.

Jon sits down and picks up his spoon. “All over the camp. It’s been stressful. Did you talk to Ser Jaime yet?”

You nod and pick up your spoon to begin scooping up some supper. “I did. Hopefully it all goes smoothly.”

He hums. “You’ve gotten some sleep yet?”

You take a bite first and swallow before shaking your head. “Not yet hopefully now once I’m done with supper…if you’ll join me.”

Jon smiles faintly at his food and nods. “I will.”

“Good,” you whisper and take a few more spoonfuls of your food in silence, peaceful silence that has been lacking all day.

Yet it’s as that is happening that you begin to notice his look turn more and more somber, his frown deepens like before, and your heart feels as if it’s skipping beats.

“You remember that I wanted to talk to you?” Jon breaks the silence.

You slowly put down your spoon and nod slowly. “Hm.”

Jon sighs deeply and sits up to meet your gaze. “Well…it’s about…Daenerys.”

You blink in disbelief and keep quiet so he can continue.

“Last night when she executed Lord Varys, I noticed that she had no remorse…she had no guilt.” He says, making you feel a pit on your stomach and even more heightening disbelief at what you imagine he’s trying to get to—“I understand what happened..but Lord Varys was with her for a long time, and she looked as if she enjoyed it.”

You set your hands on your lap to discreetly fiddle with your rings, and repeat what he’s saying in your mind over and over again to try and fully understand.

“What if Sansa is right? What if Lord Varys had some reason?”Jon asks.

You shake your head and get up from your seat to face the doors of the tent. “It’s….hm. Why should she show remorse?” You counter and turn to face him with perplexity. “Would you show remorse for a traitor?”

Jon shakes his head. “No—”

“Exactly,” you cut him off and turn around to pace to the bed. “That can’t be the only reason why you doubt her now, she’s not like what they want her to be.”

“And if she is?” He probes regardless. “Perhaps we’ve been too blind. She doesn’t listen, she’s too hasty, impulsive. She can hardly even look at you, how long will it be until she turns on you? I told you I want to keep you safe, I want to have my family live,” he argues and gets up from his chair to slowly step towards you.

You shake your head and keep trying to fool yourself that they’re all just being too judgmental.

“Last night,” he continues as he now stands behind you. “She told me that if it’s fear that they want to feel towards her, then she welcomes it, she doesn’t care if the people love her not anymore, not after Missandei.”

You blink repeatedly and that pit deepens until you begin to feel nauseous because you know you have no reason denying his words, Jon is not a liar, he’s honest. His words would never be a lie.

You turn and sit down on the edge of the bed to drop your head and get lost on the ground as you sank it all in, as you keep trying to deny it.

Jon sighs and sits next to you, he takes your hand and interlaces it with his.

“I know she’s your family, but sometimes duty is the death of love…she’s lost…” he trails off, and you keep trying to deny it.

“I can’t accept it,” you whisper in her defense. “We’re supposed to win together. Bring back what our family lost, together…” you pause and close your eyes to sigh slowly and shakily.

Jon swallows thickly, and doesn’t argue he just says one last thing. “Tomorrow if things change, if she doesn’t follow the plan. If she tries anything, you fly the other way, swear to me.”

You open your eyes and slowly lift your gaze to meet his.

“Nothing is worth it if I lose you,” he whispers and cups your cheek with his other hand. “So swear to me that you won’t fight her. I can’t lose you.”

Without hesitation you nod to assure him. And you mean it because you have faith in her that she won’t become what they fear.

Tagged: @watercolorskyy @jessimay89 @cecespizza01 @theroyalbrownbarbie @crybabyatthediscooffandoms @neenieweenie @midnightpantherxo @ashleyforeverareject

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saltandfire-blog · 4 months

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Lucerys Velaryon x Aemond Targaryen

Salt and Fire

When you fall in love, you will carve out your heart and throw it into the deepest ocean. You will be all in - blood and salt.

Summary: Lucerys Velaryon belongs to both sea and sky. His whole life he has tried to prove his blood runs thick with not just fire but salt, despite the scandalous accusations that have haunted him and his brothers. Aemond Targaryen is nothing but fire, and before their families tore them asunder, his nephew was one of the few people he did not scorch. History books would have you believe the green and black children of House Targaryen grew up enemies, but before eyes and loyalties were slashed, there was once devotion between the two second sons. As boys grow into men, it is easier to repay an injury, because forgiveness is a burden and revenge a pleasure.

Notes: I’m SO sorry this chapter took much longer to put out than expected! Last chapter I put out way too soon, posting it around 4 in the morning, so the next day when I read through it I was horrified to see just how many mistakes there were! So if you read the chapter 10 when it was freshly posted, I strongly encourage to reread lol. I’m sure there’s still stuff array considering I’m a terrible proof reader, but it’s not humiliating at least. So with this, I admit I did take extra time updating to make sure it was ready. Anyone a beta reader out there?

I also did receive a comment last chapter about Jace’s character development, and I wanted to wave frantically and assure them it was coming! And here it is! Lots of brother moments in this chapter that I’m particularly fond of and really enjoyed writing Jace and Luke. Entirely different brother dynamics than Aemond and Aegons that’s for sure. I know I have also focused a lot on Luke and Laenor’s relationship, but I felt like Rhaenyra needed to be paid her dues, especially after that new trailer (!!) so here is my tribute to her character development through this story as well.

The poem Lucerys reads is not actually from Nymeria or the asoiaf universe, but from the poem Invictus by William Ernest Henley. It’s a favorite one of mine that I thought could sound easily Dornish. Florys the Fox also isn’t mine and belongs to G.R.R., though I did embellish and added more to the original story that I hope you guys might have found interesting with this back and forth story exchange between Aemond and Luke.

I really tried my best to go back and read over crumbs about Dragonstone from Davos POV chapters and inserts from F&B, so I hope you enjoyed them!

Thank you so much for all your comments, kudos, & bookmarks! I cannot express how thankful I am for every bit of feedback!

Oh, and issa embar zaldrīzes translation is my sea dragon 😊

Chapter Eleven

disenchanted.

Waves lapped at Luke's feet where he sat along the beach of Dragonstone, his boots having been discarded a while ago where he buried his naked feet beneath the sand and sat with a light booklet in his hand. Three rods had been set up, but it was only Luke looking after them. He glanced up from his reading every few paragraphs to check if any lines were being tugged at, but despite them having casted them quite a while ago there was still nothing. Luke determined something must be amiss and debated pulling them back in to the check the bait. Dragonstone's castellan Ser Alfred Broome had told them how harvester and hunter shrimps were common to catch in the warmer waters around the volcanic island, so yesterday their father made a day of rowing out past the dead coral beds that surrounded Dragonstone and set a net to catch the shrimp they meant to use for larger fish today. They were supposed to meet Laenor after they broke their fasts that morning, but his attendant had informed them their father was running rather late. Recalling how he had indulged more than his usual the day before while at dinner, Luke sighed and determined to go on ahead while he waited for his father to compose himself, taking Ser Lorent with him down to the beach to appease his mother. Even though his brother wasn’t usually interested in fishing, Jace had also come to join him, but Luke suspected he had only come as it was something to do on their off day without any lessons and had brought his bow with a small satchel of arrows to practice with on the beach.

He and Jace were still on tentative terms, but they were each other's only company it could sometimes feel like on the island. Their port was not a busy one like it’s neighboring island and lacked a market of any foreign merchants, nor was it teeming with relatives like on High Tide or the Red Keep. It was only them who resided in the previously vacant castle, and the servants on the island mostly came from the fishing village on the eastern side of the island. His mother told them it had not been properly lived in for over a decade, and remarked with a small smirk it's last resident had been her uncle, Prince Daemon who had left King's Landing with his mother’s brother's egg and a paramour. Though that was all before his marriage to Laena, his father interjected in defense of his sister's honor.

Luke found Dragonstone a very peaceful retreat when one warmed up to its gaudy castle and rather enjoyed life away from court with his family. Life was much more relaxed here. They spent the whole first week they came to the island practically living along the surrounding Blackwater. The sands were soft and the beach was long, and Luke taught Joffrey how to jump over waves and to pick his feet up higher as he ran through the water. Despite Jace and their father's complaints, he even enjoyed the smell of smoke and brimstone in the island's salt air that was particularly distinctive on Dragonstone, especially the closer your traveled towards the Dragonmont that emitted the thick grey smoke. Even his mother and father’s drawn faces had softened after a time and begun to relax in their household away from the capital, and before long, he actually heard his mother confess favoring their decision to move more than anyone. After all her refusals, it seemed Rhaenyra felt life was much easier away from the Red Keep as well.

Though while Luke and his mother wondered why they had never left King’s Landing sooner, it was his brother and father who were struggling. Jace had become uncharacteristically quiet even before they had moved here and it seemed even more prominent now. Back in King's Landing, if Luke felt betrayed by what had happened about the incident in the Dragonpit, it seemed his brother felt just as much, if not more so. Aegon's blatant denial of showing them the tunnels had appeared to have struck Jace rather hard, and as the ever dutiful son, whatever relationship he had held with their eldest uncle seemed to dissipate when he agreed with their mother that he was to create distance between her half-brothers. Jace mentioned Aegon apologized not long after the whole affair and tried to steer his brother back into their old antics, but Luke had found his brother lingering in their apartments and spending much more time with their mother and Joffrey than he ever would have before. That had included Ser Harwin especially.

Jace was not discreet in seeking out whatever attention it was he wanted from Lord Strong, and it had become a problem. So much so, that when Ser Criston was able to mistreat his brother in front of the other knight, it had been enough to provoke a beating so severe it had him disbanded from the City Watch. After returning all three of them back to the Keep, Luke remembered how he had stood in his defense against the Queen before his parents had shown up, and if he hadn't already began to endear himself to Luke, he had earned Luke's admiration after that night. Most of his life he had spent either trying to ignore or hate the man everyone whispered was his true father. Now that he was forced away, he felt unexpectedly dejected to see him go. Enough so that when Ser Harwin implored he should make up with his brother before leaving, he did his best. The two had never been so distant from each other and he could tell Jace was still sour about the slug he had thrown at his shoulder when he tried to pull Luke away from going after Aemond.

Though once the training yard incident happened, it appeared to have been the last straw for his parents.

“Father's not coming,” Jace called out, shooting another arrow into the distance to land in the sand further from his last.

Luke noted he was wearing his new bracers Laenor had made for him out of brand new leather that matched a sheath for the dagger Ser Harwin had given Jace that was now a permanent fixture on his belt these days. Before saying goodbye, Lord Strong had claimed it was a nameday present for Jace since it was approaching, though it did not look newly forged and had three small stones of blue, red, and green imbedded into the hilt. No one commented it seemed a much more sentimental gift than just for his brother's nameday. In fact, his mother had even looked away when Ser Harwin pressed it into Jace's hand, and their father handled it for a few moments before he gave it back to his son, only to gift him a sheath to place it in a few weeks later.

“He's just running late.”

Jace shrugged, loosing another arrow before traipsing off to go collect the rest from the beach.

Surprisingly, it was their father who had been the most publicly upset after the training yard fight. Ser Harwin gave his account of it all and told them how he had felt Ser Criston had handled Jace roughly and had only reacted to slander being thrown at his and their mother's honor. When the Queen called for Ser Harwin to be disbanded from his position, it was Laenor who pushed back rather abrasively about the decision.

“It was Ser Harwin that laid hands on my son, Ser Laenor. And we have already established years ago that Ser Joffrey provoked such an attack on himself when he threatened your own wife.”

“Your Kingsguard is a mad dog!” he exclaimed, angrier than Luke could say he had ever seen him, reminding him that his father was Velaryon but also half dragon. “First he’s shown clemency for killing Ser Joffrey Lonmouth at our wedding, and now he dares lay hands on my son!”

“Disguise it how you wish, I will no longer turn the other way and live beside this man who dishonors my family, your Grace. How much longer will you turn your eyes from the crimes this man continues to commit while in his position? When will consequences finally be sought?”

Viserys, who had been his own witness to it all, faced Luke's father and everyone was silent while the King hesitated to answer Laenor's calls. Though the Queen swept ahead and turned her chin up at the heir of Driftmark's challenge.

“Ser Laenor, have no doubts that I would gladly wish to see the day decency and duty are conducted about this castle, and consequences dulled out indeed.”

There were no words of threat, Luke had thought, but the way his father straightened and his heated breathing quieted, his mouth setting tightly against his teeth as he and Rhaenyra glared at Alicent, it definitely seemed perceived as one. Like the Queen had just drawn steel against them.

#hotd #house of the dragon #fanfiction #house targaryen #aemond targaryen #westeros #aemond targaryen fanfic #lucerys targaryen #aemond x lucerys #lucerys velaryon #lucemond #lucerys velaryon fanart #prince lucerys #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x lucerys velaryon #archive of our own #a03 fanfic

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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years

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snow falls hot | end.

Summary: (Y/N) Snow isn’t a Snow at all. She’s a Targaryen— Rhaegar’s child. Taken in by the Starks, she leads her life as another on of Ned’s bastards. Will she be able to live in Westeros comfortably? More importantly, does she have any ambition to see herself one day on the Iron Throne?

Warnings: it’s game of thrones…

Pairing: gendry x reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

The air was tense between the Unsullied and the retreating Lannister men. Northerners had been called off. The scent of smoke lingered in King’s Landing as the fires started to slowly put themselves out. Sansa and Eddard were on Shadow, who was carefully balancing on one of the buildings trying not to topple it. Daenerys sat across from them atop of Drogon. Jon and Tyrion, the center of everyone, and the only people keeping the scene from erupting.

They had gotten Daenerys to stop setting the city ablaze but weren’t having luck convincing her that the city was not her enemy. Eddard quickly slipped from Sansa’s grasp and slid down Shadow’s tail to reach the ground. He ran to Gendry who scooped him up. Jon watched Daenerys’ eyes flit to Eddard and soften for a moment.

“Daeny,” Jon said. “Don’t do this, destroy your people. Your family’s people. Cersei is who you are against not everyone else.”

“Everyone else that sat by and didn’t throw their support.”

“They didn’t know you,” he tried to reason. “Until you came to Winterfell no one even knew if you were able to provide for them. The North came to see your resources, let the South have the same chance.”

Daenerys got off of Drogon— Sansa hesitated but eventually did the same. The doors to the Red Keep opened. You shivered, with wide eyes, as you stood in front of everyone. Your hands were bound with thick rope, crown nowhere in sight. No one could tell if the blood running from your temple down your face was yours or not. Jon made a step but stopped as you yelled.

“Don’t! Th-there’s an archer. Cersei says if you move too suddenly… if you continue to burn King’s Landing, she’ll kill me. An arrow through my heart before you could even reach me.”

Jon nodded and returned both hands to his sides and away from his sword. “What does she want?”

“She requests a council with the Dragon Queen and her advisors, with the Warden of the North and his advisors… to discuss your surrender.”

Daenerys scoffed, but not too loud as if fear her disapproval would cause you to die. “Our surrender? Tell Cersei we will agree to her council. Does she have any other demands?”

You shook your head.

“Alright,” Daeny said. “We are slowly entering the keep.”

The others followed behind her with slow and calculated steps as you led them into the castle. Faces contorted in anger at seeing Cersei stand in front of the throne— a few Lannister men that they thought surrendered now stood by her.

“Your weapons,” Cersei said passively.

Her men dropped their swords in the center of the room first. On good faith, Gendry took out his axe and placed it in the pile— Jon followed suit. Grey Worm, Brienne, Ser Davos relinquished their weapons next. With much hesitation, the few Unsullied, Dothraki, and Northernmen in the room let go of their swords as well. Cersei extended a hand.

“Jaime.”

He squared off his shoulders and stood firm by Brienne. He began to pull out his sword but Cersei chuckled and told him no.

“I want you here, by my side,” she said but he didn’t move. “Jaime. Magic is madness, you can’t tell me you still want to serve your Mad Queen who hears ringing. Hears death.”

The smallest change flickered across Jaime’s face. He shook off Brienne’s hand and ignored the dirty looks of everyone as he walked to Cersei. She smiled wickedly and looked at the others again.

“(Y/N).” Her eyes moved from you to Jon. “I want her by me, so you think twice before attempting betrayal.”

Tension exuded from your family as you slowly shuffled towards Cersei. Cersei looked at Jaime and then nodded her head in the direction of Grey Worm. Jaime removed his sword and used it to direct not just Grey Worm, but all of the men, further to the side and away from the pile of weapons. Lannister men moved to stand behind every one of them. His job done, Jaime moved to stand in front of the closed doors— effectively trapping you all inside the throne room.

Gendry set Eddard down and tucked the boy’s head into his side to shield him from witnessing whatever might happen next. Eddard had already seen more than a child his age should have— all the children of Winterfell had with the Long Night. Cersei looked at you but it was clear her words were to Daenerys.

“We’re here to discuss your surrender.”

“I think you are mistaken about who is bending the knee here,” Daenerys said. “We’re here to negotiate for (Y/N) back.”

“Negotiate? Okay, let us negotiate. What do you think is the proper punishment for your crimes?”

“My crimes, what crimes?”

Cersei took your crown off and placed it back on your head. The others stared on as you sat on the Iron Throne. You removed the ropes from around your wrist and sat up straighter.

“Your crimes against the Realm, and not just of Westeros. You have been a very busy woman. Conquering cities in Essos and not taking care of the people you conquered. Burning Dothraki leaders alive because you simply thought you were better than them— they didn’t touch you. They laughed at your tenaciousness to want to rule them, a people that did not know you and whose customs you first thought savage. They didn’t harm you and yet you killed them because they didn’t want to cross the salt sea and fight for land they didn’t know or care about. A land you, yourself, don’t know. The land of my people where you have burnt innocents despite their surrender. Those crimes, Aunt Daeny.”

Arya removed the Cersei mask as she began her descent down the steps. She stalked Daenerys like a dire wolf, her small sword Needle pulled out.

“My sister wanted to exile you, send you back to Valyria or leave with the Dothraki and Unsullied if they’ll have you. I wanted to kill you. What do you feel is the proper punishment… oh wait, I don’t care.”

The blade of Arya’s sword found its way into Daenerys’ body, piercing the heart. Arya removed the sword as the woman slumped down to the floor. Roaring could be heard outside and your eyes suddenly flashed white. You were looking through Drogon for a moment before staring at yourself. He had crashed through the large windows of the throne room until he was inside. Your eyes returned and Drogon looked from you to the floor where Daenerys was.

Another roar and everyone ducked as fire streamed out of his mouth. You didn’t move as the flames burned around you— only patted your hair to keep the flames from touching the black curls. The Iron Throne melted around you until it was more of a stool than a large chair. Your dress burned off of you as well. Drogon finally ceased his roaring only to drop to the floor, his eyes losing any light in them.

“Gendry,” you called.

He was up before anyone else. With one look at you, he left Eddard with Jon and quickly rushed to wrap his cloak around you before the rest of the room could look at your naked form. He closed the clasps and clutched the rest of the fur to keep it shut. Gendry shook his head with a laugh and pressed his lips to yours. They were rough from fighting but, nonetheless, you enjoyed the feeling of him against you.

“You are mad,” he said with another peck to your lips. “You know that? You are absolutely a mad queen.”

“A family trait.”

“Is it dead?” he motioned to Drogon.

“Yes. Whether she knew it or not, Daenerys’ bond to her dragon was strong. Stronger than any of us, she wasn’t just connected through a warg. Their souls, for whatever reason, were tied to one another.”

Eddard ran from Jon to the two of you. You bent down to hug him, only sticking a hand out of the fur as the other kept it closed. You kissed his forehead and then rested your heads against each other. Both of you closed your eyes and just breathed for a moment. Your hand rubbed his head and played with the short curls.

“We are fine now, Eddard. You are safe.”

You stood up and left the destroyed throne to stand in front of the others. Jon shook his head with a smile. In that moment you two looked each in the eye and acknowledged something. You were truly Rhaegar’s children— an innate recklessness was something your father seemed to have passed on. He couldn’t stay still any longer. Jon practically knocked you off of your feet as he hugged you. Sansa and Arya quickly followed. When they let go, you were left to face Dothraki and Unsullied.

“She needed to die and you all know that.”

Grey Worm started to move when a Dothraki man caught his arm. Their culture remembered, you had earned their respect. And your words made them think about what had truly happened to them.

“Take your men home, Grey Worm. You are done fighting, truly free,” you said. “You are welcome to stay if you would like.”

Grey Worm puffed out his chest. He spit at your feet before walking out of the throne room. Many of the Unsullied followed, only handfuls remaining. You turned to the Dothraki man in front of you— the one with the longest braid there. His face morphed into pleasant surprise as you spoke in Dothraki to him.

“The offer is the same. Take your men home or you may stay here.”

He nodded but none of them moved, their decision apparent. The Khalasar no longer existed in Essos. They would start over here. You nodded and switched to plain tongue.

“The Tyrells used to look over Highgarden but their House is no more. It’s flatland, perfect for your horses. The Reach is now taken care of by the Dothraki.”

The men bowed. The one who you had spoken to looked up. “Yes, Khaleesi.”

You looked over your shoulder to Sansa. “Is Bran on his way?”

“They should be here in a few days.”

“Good. Until they arrive let us focus on bringing the people back into the city… and then rebuilding it.”

When Bran arrived with the others, there were two pressing issues. Allocating new lords to various lands and your wedding. The new lords were fairly easy. The Dothraki taking the Reach, Robyn was still alive to lead the Vale, your Uncle Edmure had the Riverlands, the Martells watched Dorne, Yara the Iron Islands. Casterly Rock was offered to Tyrion who wanted to continue advising instead of playing lord. So Casterly Rock was given to the farming family that took care of you and Eddard.

King’s Landing was just to become another city in Storm’s End. And because the Baratheon line was over, Storm’s End was absorbed by Dragonstone. Dragonstone was empty to begin with but Edmure agreed to watch over it as well. Winterfell was the new capital of Westeros, the Targaryen-Starks its new family. Your council of men was headed by these lords and ladies as well as a few others.

“I’ve never been married before. Should I be this nervous?” Gendry asked as Jaime adjusted his robes on him.

All the men were in Gendry’s chambers while the women were in yours. King’s Landing was where the wedding was being held— the last celebration of the kingdom’s capital before it became just another city. Shadow, the only dragon alive that was big enough, ferried Northerners and others alike. Soon, King’s Landing was filled to the brim with citizens excited for something pleasant to exist for once. The knight chuckled.

“I don’t know,” Jaime said. “I’ve never been married before. But the Queen has.”

“That makes me more nervous.”

Jon chuckled. “She already likes you. I don’t think there’s much to be nervous about. Just look at her, repeat the right words.”

“I would say consummate the marriage at the end of everything,” Tyrion started.

“But we’ve heard you two before. Nothing to doubt,” Tormund finished.

Gendry cleared his throat and looked away while they laughed at his expense. He covered Eddard’s ears.

“My son is in the room.”

“Too young to know,” Tormund defended.

The men laughed even harder. While Gendry was a bundle of nerves, you were anything but. Sansa was doing your hair while Arya and Brienne just watched. Yara reluctantly let the young girls from the farm family play in her hair as well. When your hair was finished, you stood up and looked over yourself in the mirror. Brienne opened the door after someone knocked on it. Jon stepped inside.

“Rhaegar and Ned aren’t here so…”

You turned away from the mirror to face your brother.

“Jon Aegon Targaryen-Stark, are you here to give me away to my betrothed?”

He rolled his eyes at your teasing. You both smiled before your lips downturned. Jon watched your eyes slide past him.

“I think our queen needs a moment to herself,” he said.

At his words, the others started to clear out. Jon gave you one last look before turning to leave himself. He paused when his eyes caught a flash of blond, the older man smiling patting his shoulder— a woman with dark hair held the man’s hand and stroked Jon’s cheek. Two more figures and Jon looked from them to you. You nodded at him before your little brother shook his head, finally tapping into more of his magic.

“What are you all doing here?” you asked in confusion.

“Bran told them to bring our bones from the crypt on the journey with him,” Ned said.

“Mother?”

Neryssa’s ghost stepped towards you. You had never gotten a chance to know her. There wasn’t anything to say between the two of you, you barely knew each other. But she hugged you nonetheless and you could feel the love radiating from her. Rhaegar let go of Lyanna’s hand to hug his old childhood friend before hugging you as well. He picked up one of the white braids that Sansa had done.

“You have become a marvelous woman.”

“Where were you buried? How are you two h—”

“We were buried secretly in the crypts of Winterfell. Lord Stark has always been a good man.”

You chuckled and looked over at Ned. “That he has been. You’ll be watching the wedding won’t you?”

Ned and Catelyn smiled at you and nodded. You looked at Robb and the other ghosts seemed to have gotten the hint and left. Robb stepped to you. His fingers played with the hair, admiring all the tiny braids.

“Sansa will kill you if you mess it up,” you said.

He raised an eyebrow and both of you laughed. “I spoke to Eddard earlier, he is a bright boy… it’s a girl.”

“What?”

“Your baby. You should let Gendry name her, let him have a name of his own.”

You nodded in agreement with him. Gendry didn’t get to name Eddard, his last name was yours and your family’s. His daughter’s first name was something you could give him. Robb’s lips lightly grazed your forehead and then the tip of your nose. With slight hesitation, for only a few seconds, he lightly pressed a kiss to your lips.

“You would have been happier with him from the start. I’m sorry you never got to say goodbye to me properly, that it ended in such a way. I’m letting you go now, beloved.”

Robb’s hands cupped your face. He raised your chin to look up at him and smiled. He didn’t say another word. His arms dropped to his side and you watched your first love walk away to head to the ceremony. Jon reappeared in the doorway.

“Are you ready?”

You crossed the small space to grab your brother’s arm, letting him lead you to Gendry. The cheers, music, shouts meant nothing to you. You could barely hear them as you looked only at Gendry. While you both went through the motions of repeating the vows, all the emotions behind them were in the moment and very real. No one else existed, only each other. You weren’t in the Red Keep but the blacksmith shop. Two bastards content on running away together now ran an entire kingdom. Gendry pulled you closer to him and kissed you passionately. Your hands rested on his chest, attempting to grip at his robes as his lips pressed against yours. When you pulled apart he rested his forehead on yours, a bright smile on his face. You looked at him cross-eyed.

“You’re a king, now,” you whispered.

Samwell, who had officiated since he had the title of being a maester, turned you both to face the crowd. He closed the book and spoke loudly to everyone.

“I present to you all, Gendry of House Targaryen-Stark. First of His Name, Descendant of the Andals, Warden in the North, and King of Westeros. And Enith of House Targaryen-Stark. First of Her Name, a Khaleesi, Commander of Beasts, Shadow Rider, and Magic Entertainer. Queen of the Andals and the Rhyonar and the First Men. Azor Ahair, the Lady of Winterfell, rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms now turned one. Queen of Westeros.”

“Are we done?” Jon asked.

Tormund looked over the artist’s shoulder at the portrait. He looked back at you all and nodded. You were getting the royal portrait done. But instead of you and Gendry it was the entire Targaryen-Stark family. You and Gendry sat on your thrones, Eddard in your lap and your newborn baby in Gendry’s arms. Bran’s chair was sat next to yours. Jon, Arya standing in front of him, stood to the side of Gendry’s throne. Sansa was behind Bran. Ghost and Grey Wind laid down at your feet and Shadow’s large head filled the empty space right above the chairs.

You all sighed in relief and shed the heavy fur cloaks. You stayed in King’s Landing until after the birth of your daughter— Gendry chose the name Reylana. You were still in the warm Southern city but the portrait was meant to represent the House and that included representing the North. So you all donned the heavy fur cloaks with the dual dragon and wolf head clasps and tried not to die of sunstroke as your portrait was done.

“These furs were not made for down here. I can’t wait to be back in Winterfell,” Sansa muttered. “We really fare better up North don’t we?”

Tyrion stood next to his brother, Ser Davos and Brienne next to them. They watched the family in front of them laughing. Understanding was amongst them. The saying was nothing short of true. The lone wolf dies and the pack survives. A pack that not only survived but adapted. Almost all of the siblings still there. You all began to clear the room. They came to full attention when you and Gendry stopped in front of them.

“We are seeing Arya off and then finally headed back to Winterfell. Are you staying a little longer or coming with us?” Gendry asked.

“We will be with you right away, Your Grace.”

He looked at the city outside the window. “The rebuilding has come along great.”

“The people are happy. There were some talks, they have ideas to run by you in terms of smitheries. This seems to be your area of expertise.”

You pressed a hand to Gendry’s chest.

“Arya’s boat,” you whispered.

“Right. Can we look at those later?”

When Tyrion nodded, Gendry and you left to head down to the ports. Final hugs were given. Arya stepped back and adjusted her weapons while she looked at you. The men and her dragon were already on board the ship.

“I promised to stay to see my niece born. I’ll be back sooner than you know it.”

“Where will you go?” Sansa asked.

“What’s west of Westeros?” Arya asked with a smirk and got on board.

“Arya!” you yelled and watched her head appear back over the side of the ship. “There is nothing west of Westeros. But past Essos, they call it the Shadow Lands. That is all we know.”

She smiled widely and ducked out of view. When her boat was no longer in sight, you all knew it was time to leave the docks. Bran was set into his special saddled horse. Jon, Sansa, and the others all saddled their horses as well. Ghost stalked beside Jon’s horse. Eddard sat with Gendry on his horse. You sat on top of Grey Wind, Reylana swaddled in a wrap so she was pressed against your chest.

“It is time to go home,” you said with a smile as you all stared down the King’s Road on the path to Winterfell.

The horses and wolves began their journey back North. No one jumped as a large roar broke the quiet and fire blasted overhead. You simply looked up to see Shadow soar over you all and smiled at your dragon before going back to staring at the path ahead.

#game of thrones fic #asoiaf fic #gendry x reader

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