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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 month

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A Song of heart and blood - part five | Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Summary: After an horrible prophetical dream, you find yourself traveling through time to try and save your sister, Daenerys, from her fatal ascension to the Iron Throne. During your mission, your heart derives you from your duty and you fall in love with your ancestor

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: After a long wait, the fifth part is finally there! I hope you didn't forget about this story... In case you did, please give it a re-read. The last two parts will follow soon (for real)

masterpost

—

Was there a day when Daemon Targaryen wasn’t plotting and scheming? When he wasn’t trying to secure his succession to the Iron Throne, he was coming up with war strategies or helping his great-great-great-great-great-great granddaughter change the future of an entire dynasty.

He didn’t understand the magical side of your story, how exactly you had traversed through the stones, but he believed you.

As the sky gradually darkened, you shared with him the future you knew — the dance. The demise of King Viserys, the crowning of the usurper, the Velaryons’ betrayal to Rhaenyra, plunge culminating in Daemon's final breath, Rhaenyra’s barbarous death, and more.

Daemon wished he had brought a strong alcohol of some sort. Your tales were very difficult to hear at times.

‘’We have to stop this war from happening, Daemon.’’

The prince nodded, his gaze fixed on the flames dancing in the stone fireplace before you. ‘’How do you suggest we do so? You suppressed the wrongly-crowned king before he could be born, but no moon tea will stop Alicent from birthing another babe. My brother is determined to have a son, and he'll persist until one is born to his young bride.’’

Being wedded to a king so young and with such a considerable age difference must not be pleasant for her. She wears a crown and owns beautiful dresses, but she was forced into a role she never desired all because her father aimed to have his blood on the Iron Throne. You almost felt bad for Alicent, but you couldn’t erase the horrible things she did — the things she will do.

A reflection struck you. ‘’The king declared Rhaenyra his heir, but if you were to marry and have a babe of pure Targaryen blood, would the king be willing to reconsider your succession to the throne? His and Alicent’s children will never be pure Targaryen blood, yours could.’’

Daemon turned his head toward you, raising an eyebrow. ‘’Are you suggesting we marry?’’

Air got caught in your throat, causing you to choke. ‘’No! No, I…I was thinking of the princess. She is young, but—’’

‘’Marrying my niece has been on my mind in the past, but I’ve grown out of that idea. But you, you are of pure blood. Born from another time, but you carry the blood of the dragon.’’

Shaking your head, you stood. ‘’I cannot marry you, Daemon.’’

‘’You said you were in great danger from the hands of Otto Hightower. Marriage would ensure your safety.’’

You shook your head again, laughing at the insane words that left the prince’s mouth. ‘’You’ve lost your mind.’’

Dameon suddenly looked serious, any ounce of humor wholly erased from his earlier easygoing features. ‘’You are my blood, there is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.’’ He combed a hand through your hair, pulling your face away and forcing you to look at him. ‘’You’re safe with me. I swear it.’’

Every bone of your body believed him. If you hadn’t felt safe in his presence, you would never have revealed him your secret. You would never have come to him for help.

You closed your eyes, drinking in the feeling of his touch. ‘’But I can’t stay forever,’’ you said, reopening your eyes. ‘’I’ve played enough with the future; a marriage would have significant repercussions.’’

Daemon’s finger ghosted across your cheekbone, sliding downwards until it settled on the corner of your mouth, gently caressing your pout with the rough pad of his finger. His eyes were contemplative, thoughtful. Gradually, his touch gently lowered, your decollete now the point of his focus. His index finger ran a smooth ring around the chain at your neck, a ghost of a perplexed frown forming on his face.

‘’I don’t care.’’

‘’Birthing an heir myself will change the whole lineage, Daemon. By doing this, my sister and I may not exist in the future.’’

‘’You said yourself that you were from my lineage—’’

‘’Your and Rhaenyra’s lineage,’’ you corrected. Was he not listening to what you were saying? ‘’If you don’t marry her, your children won’t be born and therefore I cannot exist.’’

Your eyebrows furrowed as a question echoed in your head. If you disrupt too much of time, will you vanish? Unfortunately, there was no way of finding the answer to your question. Not many had dangled with time-traveling, let alone written about it.

‘’How long do we have?’’ Daemon asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

‘’I don’t know,’’ you said truthfully, lowering your eyes to the stone floor.

Daemon lifted your chin, tipping your head up to look at him. ‘’Let’s not waste time, then.’’ He closed the space between you, his lips molding perfectly with yours.

You angled your head to deepen the kiss, not realizing how much you missed the taste of him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, nimble fingers burying in his silver hair as he pulled you against him, his clothed body flush against yours.

Then, you were suddenly reminded of Rhea Royce. ‘’Don't you already have a wife?’’

⁂

All Daemon had said before leaving on Caraxes was that he had a business to take care of. Assuming it had to do with his wife being in the way of your marriage, you didn’t ask questions. You wouldn’t like the answers.

He could have it dissolved by the king. His marriage with Rhea Royce had never been consummated, which would leave her honor intact. But Daemon had mentioned Runestone. Hopefully he’ll spare the woman’s life, you didn’t want to indirectly have blood on your hands.

To put your thoughts to rest, you busied yourself exploring the castle. The corridors echoed with the history of your house, each step revealing a new layer of the past.

Eventually, you stumbled upon one of the bedchambers, situated atop of the castle. Pushing open the heavy door, you stepped into the large chamber. Like the rest of the castle, the walls adorned large dragons crafted into stone. You ran your hand over the stone, smiling.

Dany would love this.

Curtains were draped above the large windows, a bright red shade — Targaryen red. It made the room more elegant and matched with the couch cushions. How nice must it be to sit there and look at the sunset.

Lastly, your eyes found the bed. It was smaller than the bed you shared with Daemon and the velvet bedding was slightly dusty from not having been used in a while. You laid on it regardless, tired from all your travels.

⁂

The hour was late when Daemon returned to Dragonstone, the moon casting a silver glow over the island. He should have gone to bed — with you —, but the weight of his responsibilities pressed upon him. There was no rest for the prince tonight.

In the dim light of the candlelit room, he sat at a desk and wrote a message to a Septon he trusted would keep his tongue, arranging for the discreet ceremony that would bind you and him in the morrow. It had to be done rapidly and in the most secrecy.

When the devastating news of Rhea Royce’s passing would inevitably travel across the realm, he knew that as her husband, the first suspect would be him. Their marriage was purely political. His dislike for the Lady of Vale wasn’t a secret. But if whispers of Daemon’s wedding to you were to reach the people’s ears, it would strengthen their suspicion that Daemon had something to do with it.

⁂

You had never seen a traditional Valerian marriage before. You had only read about it in books. The entire ritual involved blood to keep with the Targaryen legacy of being wed by blood and fire.

A breeze coming from the bay blew over the hill, causing your silver waves to dance in the foggy air. You had removed most of your braids for the ceremony, letting your hair cascade down your back. Atop your head sat a traditional piece of Valerian headgear, given to you by Daemon. You assumed it was old, so you treated it with the utmost care.

The Septon stood between you and Daemon, your vibrant marital robes contrasting with his dark clothes. ‘’We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. In the sight of the Seven, I, hereby, seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words: Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.’’

Although this marriage won’t last forever, you wished Dany was present for the ceremony. When you were little, you and her would fantasize about getting married and the beautiful dress you’d be wearing on your big day — and the lucky man who you would wed to.

‘’Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days,’’ Daemon repeated, his violet eyes looking into yours. He was so beautiful.

The Septon turned to you, silently telling you it was your turn.

‘’I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days,’’ Daemon continued.

You repeated the words, then, using a dragonglass blade, Daemon cut the middle of your bottom lip. He took blood that was drawn from the blade and smeared it on your forehead. You mirrored his action, smearing his blood on his forehead. The ritual felt witchcraft-y, but whispers had it that your Valyrian ancestors used magic to build this very castle.

You handed back the dagger and, in turn, Daemon cut a line in his palm. You followed suit, hissing as you drew a matching cut on your own skin. Blood trickled from the fresh cut before clasping your hands together, letting your and Daemon’s blood mix together.

‘’Blood of two, joined as one,’’ the Septon said, placing a ribbon with a traditional pattern and tying it over your joined hands as blood dripped from your injuries and to the ground. ‘’Ghostly flame and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires. A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness. The vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.”

A chalice brimming with wine was passed to you, and you sipped from it before passing it to your soon-to-be husband. Even standing there, you almost couldn’t believe you were marrying this beautiful man.

Daemon leaned down, pressing his cold lips against your own. You could taste blood through the kiss, unpleasing and metallic, but you ignored it and kissed him harder.

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes@thirsty4nonlivingmen@naty-1001@katiepie67@moshpot24x@hc-geralt-23@lovelynerdytraveler@saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10@tabloidteen@timetoten@deekaag@wondxrgurl@aerangi@strmborns@astridyoo15@daemonslittlebitch@queenbeestuffs@severewobblerlightdragon@agentstarkid@msliz@vane1999-blog@fairyfolkloresposts@todaywasafairytale07@otomaniac@zgzgzh@thebeardedmoon@golden-library@kikyrizuki@hnslchw@camy85@winxschester @armstrongscommentsection

All and more taglist: @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen imagine #a song of heart and blood #hotd

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themotherofhorses · 1 year

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about.

vic | she/her | 20s

southwestern native american and hispanic

gemini | bi-demi

ao3 | spotify

All Content 18+ | minors DNI

all my fanfics can be read below in my masterlist or found under my "vic writers 🧸" tag.

happy readings <333

Simon “Ghost” Riley (Call of Duty)

“There he is …. Simon Riley.”

multi-chapter series:

paloma (masterlist)

a multi-chapter series exploring the love story between a british sas lieutenant and his indigenous woman.

one-shots:

(to be added)

drabbles:

love at first sight w simon

holding simon while he cries

Aemond Targaryen (House of the Dragon)

"...Prince Aemond, despite the loss of his eye, had become a proficient and dangerous swordsman under the tutelage of Ser Criston Cole, but remained a willful child, hot-tempered and unforgiving..."

multi-chapter series:

last of her house no more (masterlist)

aemond targaryen with the daughter of daenerys stormborn and khal drogo.

just like animals (masterlist)

a dark & obsessive!aemond targaryen hunting down his sweet modern!wife (and also she’s preggos).

his handmaid's tales (masterlist)

the love story between prince aemond and his handmaid.

one-shots:

blood is thicker than water (but betrayal stains the most)

requests:

even the whales fall prey to men

what was mine is still mine, regardless of time

follow me now, and you will not regret (leaving the life you led before we met)

bodyguard!aemond x president’s daughter!reader

drabbles:

foolish men dream foolish lives

you are the moon, i am the sun (i will not allow you to forget)

obsessive!aemond targaryen with niece!reader

an eye for an eye (1) — a son for a son (2)

Alys Rivers (House of the Dragon)

"...Was she, in truth, a witch who lay with demons, bringing forth dead children as payment for the knowledge they gave her?"

one-shots:

mother's day special (part of "his handmaid's tales")

bewitched

drabbles:

you are the moon, i am the sun (i will not allow you to forget)

#masterlist #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond fanfiction #alys rivers #alys rivers x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x oc #call of duty fanfiction

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babybells123 · 18 days

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“The wind was howling fiercely. It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghost wolf, big as mountains.” (AFCC, Alayne II)

Is such an insane quote to me. All I can think of is how GRRM had no reason to put that in if not for literary thematic reasons. The phrase also works so incredibly well for GRRM’s self proclaimed style of subconscious foreshadowing, and using a literary sleight of hand when it comes to planting seeds. (I.e whilst he’s placing in hints and clues he’s waving his other hand with some flashy wording).

So the thing with a lot of Jonsa clues is that it lives between the lines . It lives in this implicit subconscious place that you’d only pick up on if *critically* reading. It’s what you pick up on through re-reads , and you have to be unbiased, open to anything and willing to look - and then it’s quite literally screaming off the page and you cannot unsee it.

The issue with the majority of the fandom, is that they refuse to see it. They claim “no narrative basis!!” You guys are reaching … but are willing to accept targaryen imagery in Sansa’s chapters as long as it relates to fAegon. Or the blue rose in the wall of ice meaning that J/D are the fated soul lovers of the saga etc etc.

The primary quote that is used by J/D shippers is Jon’s death and the link to the wolf howl with Dany.

I’m not one of those asoiaf fans who kicks and screams , denying any semblance of foreshadowing for other ships. You do you. (I have a problem with the people who choose to be condescending and towards my ship, which happens to Jonsa’s a lot since it’s quite niche compared to J/D). I can acknowledge all the foreshadowing for J/D, I saw it from ACOK - but the difference is that I don’t view it as overtly positive and as an endgame fated romance.

What is interesting to me is that the GA will overemphasise this quote as absolute proof that J/D are endgame, (I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read it on Tiktok, reddit, Twitter etc) though they are quick to dismiss literally anything else….even a very very similar quote with uniquely distinct phrasing because it can’t be !! It’s a delusional ‘reach.’

The Dany quote in question:

“Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made her feel sad and lonely but no less hungry.” (ADWD Daenerys X) .

Later in that chapter she embraces ‘fire and blood.’ So to me, the hunger represents both a physical absence and insatiable desires which she will soon embrace and no longer reject - she’ll likely sail to Westeros in TWOW. I actually love this interpretation of the quote, though it seems rather in the minority for the GA. Is it foreshadowing ? I believe non-J/D shippers can absolutely agree on that. But it doesn’t seem an overly positive quote that suggests everlasting romance. I mean, the fact that she hears it in the distance, so it isn’t a loud sound, and though it despairs her, she’s more concerned with that ‘hunger.’ It’s interesting word-play from GRRM as there are obvious double meanings to the quote.

And you know what ? I’m intrigued to see where he goes with that - I’m far more enamoured by potential conflict - though conflict is never without its complexity of course . See I do find J/D compelling, and I see the appeal that the GA finds, - I used to like the it in the past because of fanart and edits. I then just realised that J/S are far subtler, but make more sense and tie together beautifully in terms of thematics, parallels, and characterisations . In terms of J/D I’ve realised I’m more interested in a uniquely conflicting dynamic rather than the conventional hero boy x hero girl saves the world . I’m all on board for GRRM subverting that tired tired fantasy trope and giving us something else - unexpected - raw, beautiful, (angsty) and unequivocally there since the beginning. Here’s a hint; starts with J and has 5 letters.

Okay I went on way too much of a ramble here !!! Back to Sansa’s quote.

“The wind was howling fiercely. It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghost wolf, big as mountains.” (AFCC, Alayne II)

GA pass over Sansa’s line which is simultaneously subtle and visceral. And it’s easy to do so, because it’s in AFFC - but then that’s a perfect way for GRRM to weave something in. Sansa is physically surrounded by mountains in her chapter, just as the fierce howling is an overwhelming presence. Jon dies and calls for Ghost in his last chapter - it could be around the same time - Ghost reacting to Jon’s death, grieving over him. it’s also a ‘ghost’ because something (someone) important to Sansa has perished. Someone she hadn’t thought of in a long time and was only just reminded of.

“A ghost wolf big as mountains” “howling fiercely.” Ghost wolf. Did George need to specify that it was a GHOST wolf in the exact same chapter where Sansa is consciously thinking of how sweet it’d be to see Jon again? After not thinking of him in 2 books?? And then once more lamenting “that could never be.”

Now I’m primarily analysing this quote through a Jonsa lens, but both ^ the Dany and Sansa quote also allude to Jon’s sheer importance to the narrative - his loss is profound, and his resurrection will be even more so.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #anti asoiaf fandom #meta

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dannyboy-writes · 9 months

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Of thrones and dragons

Daenerys x male Dragonrider reader who's from ulthos? I will probably make a part to of this who knows

Ser Jorah had told Daenerys tales of Ulthos’ weather. The thick jungle.

Trees taller than she had ever seen and the murmur of wild creatures bristling her skin.

Countless thoughts running through her mind. But one most present. She should’ve brought Drogon with her.

Click.

A broken branch? A booby trap? Or something else?

“Nobody move,” she whispered, raising an eyebrow at Greyworm.

A bright orange ray shone above them. Almost like sunlight.

Definitely warmer.

“Maybe he wasn’t a myth,” Missandei spoke softly.

Suddenly the beast dropped in front of them, with the Unsullied unpacking their spears, and Daenerys tensing all her muscles. Bracing herself.

Dark green scales covered the entirety of your dragon. His face stoic and with gritted sharp teeth.

He was breathing slowly, Daenerys noticed. Calm, deep breaths.

But his eyes were focused on her.

And not only his’, she realised.

You dismounted softly from your beast, ignoring completely the army in front of you. Their spears were sharp and in your direction.

Every soldier was looking at you more menacingly than the last.

Your eyes however, were focused on her.

Long, pale hair, with braids as long as her waist. Falling completely over her back.

Her eyes were inviting, but there was a tint of worry. Of uncertainty.

You shifted your eyes towards your beast, caressing his side slowly until he calmed with you.

“Are you y/n?” She asked.

Quickly your eyebrow raised in your forehead. “Who are you?”

“I’m Daenerys, of house Targaryen. Blood of Old Valyria.”

“And what brings you to the wilds, your majesty,” you mocked.

“I’ve been searching for you for some time. I was starting to believe you were a myth.” She stopped. “Or a ghost.”

“Ah,” you smiled. “And what’s to say I’m not.

“Terrible dangers lie in this land. Untamed beasts and whatmore.” You grinned.

“And tamed ones?”

“Oh, yes, those tend to be the worst. But don’t worry, Wildfire here won’t do you any harm,” you smiled, patting your beast. “Nor will I.”

She smiled and called down her army. “I am in search of a dragon rider, some people called him the best and mightiest of them all. I’ve heard tales of the riders of Uthos.”

“Oh, did you? What did you hear if you may?”

“I heard the forests of Uthos had beasts so swift that their scales blended in with the greenery. And their riders had unmatched skills. Like nothing ever seen in the entire world.”

“Yes, that is true. And why would you need a dragon rider with unmatched skills.” You asked, “Blood of old Valyria you said, you’re supposed to have dragons as well. Although your kind faded with time, I assume the dragons remained.”

“Sadly, no.”

“Whoever told you that is a liar, and you a fool for believing them. Dragons will outlive us all. Just as we outlive birds, and them ants. It’s the way of the world.”

Her face went stoic. “Will you help me in my quest to conquer Westeros, y/n?” She inquired.

You laughed, “Why would I, I don’t give a damn about Westeros. I don’t even know you, for all that.”

“You could have a throne,” she offered.

“I have a throne, or do you see me taking you to speak with someone about this? Why would I want another one? And one so distasteful.” You grabbed a stone from the ground throwing it lazily, “Why do you?”

#daenerys imagine #daenerys stormborn #daenerys targaryen #daenerys x reader #daenerys targaryen imagine #daenerys targaryen x male reader #daenerys targaryen x reader

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ms-rampage · 1 year

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Anything For Khaleesi

John "Soap" MacTavish x Fem Reader

Warnings: Smut. Language. Some fluff.

Word count: 4k

Author's note: I am a firm believer that Soap has a crush on Game of Thrones character Daenerys Targaryen (or Emilia Clarke in genral), and refers to her as his wife. So Y/n decides to exploit that crush. Also, lots of Game of Thrones talk, sorry to those who don’t watch the show. I had only recently started watching it myself. 😅😅😅

****

So you've been working with the 141 Task Force for not long, you're an operator. Ever since your arrival Soap had taken a liking to you, but of course he would never admit it.

He played it off as being friendly, since he's that way with everyone, but you were 100% sure he has a crush on you.

One time you were going to his room because he had borrowed some laundry detergent. Oh the irony, you hope he hadn't used all of it since you bought it in bulk and was expensive.

When you approached his quarters, you knocked on the door. "It's me!." you say before being allowed entry.

"It's open." you hear him respond.

You enter, and hear the sound of a dragon, and people screaming coming from his TV.

"Game of Thrones?." you ask, turning to look at what he's watching.

"Mhm." he hums, not looking away from the TV.

"Do you still have that laundry detergent I let you borrow last week?." you ask, turning to him, but his full attention is on the television.

"It's over there." he answers, motioning to the shelf behind you. Taking it from the shelf, needing to get some laundry done before you're stuck with piles of paperwork for the next few weeks.

"Catching up?." you ask him, on his status of the show.

"Rewatching." he replies, still not paying attention to you.

You could've walked into his room naked and he probably wouldn't even notice, or naked with a baby dragon on your shoulder.

"Your eyes are glued to that damn tv." you joked, trying to break his concentration.

To your surprise, he actually looks away from the TV to look at you.

"You watch the show?." he asks, sitting up slightly in his seat.

"I’ve only watched up until season 4. Mid season 4." you tell him, "Haven't caught up since."

He chuckles, "You're a few seasons behind lass." He has that cute little side smirk that made you fall for him, but you’d never tell him that. It would cause a lot of teasing from his end.

You sigh, "Yeah, I know, but I have laundry to do, I'll catch up at some point. I gotta get going, I’ll see you around.”

“See you later lass.” he says, before leaving his room.

Fast forward to several weeks later, a few weeks away from Halloween. You assumed no one dressed up for the day. The occasional decoration here and there, some candy, but nothing serious.

You chuckle, as you knock on his door, “You alright in there Soap?.” You don’t know, but he actually jumped as you knocked at his door.

Ghost scared you on a mere daily basis, especially when he would turn up unexpectedly as you walked down the hall. So that can count as a Halloween scare. Walking down the same hall as Soap’s quarters, which is in the same building as yours. You hear the sound of moaning coming from his room.

Getting up from his seat to open the door, “Y-yeah, I’m fine.” he says, trying to keep his cool, and himself collected.

“Alright, cause it sounds like you’re watching porn in there.” you joke which makes him turn red.

“I’m, uh, watching Game of Thrones.” he mutters, “It's at a-.”

“Sex scene?.” you finish his response, “I figured. Well I won’t interrupt, enjoy your sex scene.”

That response makes him laugh, “You’re welcome to come in, since you need to catch up on the show.”

You decided to take him up on his offer, “You know what? Sure, I’ll watch it with you.” That put a smile on his face.

You can’t tell, but he’s internally doing flips, and cartwheels because Soap does, in fact, have a crush on you. Gaz and Alex being the only ones who know this, Ghost doesn’t really interfere in that sort of thing, and Price suspects Soap has a thing for you, but not it being mutual.

“What season are you on?.” you ask him, taking a seat on his couch.

“Finishing up season 7.” he tells you, “Am I gonna rewatch it again? Yes.”

“I got to season 5.” you tell him, “So spoilers are ahead of me for this season.”

“I got you.” he grabs the remote, and changes the episode to season 5, “What episode?.”

“I believe episode 9.” you tell him, “I’m getting to that one.”

He changes it to season 5, episode 9. The Dance of Dragons. It gets to the part where they’re in the fighting pit, and the Sons of the Harpy are attacking, surrounding Daenerys, Missandei, Tyrion and Jorah, then Drogon comes to save them, taking Daenerys to safety.

“Daenerys and Missandei are totally in love with each other.” you say, “Either that, or they’re really really close friends.”

“Both, possibly?.” he says, “She’s had many lovers, Drogo, Daario, and spoiler, Jon Snow in the later seasons. If I had a woman like her, I’d never let her go.”

Now that makes you throw your head back in laughter, “You think you’d have a chance with the Mother of Dragons?.”

“Absolutely!.” he tells you in a matter of fact tone, “I would definitely have a chance with her.”

"You got a crush on her? Or Emilia Clarke?." you ask, shifting in your seat.

"Both." he responds, "She's my wife."

That really makes you holler out. He's ridiculous, and an idiot but he's your ridiculous idiot.

You two continued to watch the rest of season 5, then all of season 6, and you made your way into season 7. At some point you fell asleep with your head on his shoulder. He felt butterflies in his stomach seeing you asleep. You looked so cute, and he didn't want to move, not wanting to wake you. A whole episode later, you wake up. Forgetting where you were. “Shit.” you mutter, rubbing your eyes.

“Hey sleepy head.” he teases youu, “You missed a few episodes of season 6.”

"How long was I asleep for ?." you asked, sitting up.

"An hour, you missed half of episode 2, and the first half of episode 3." he tells you, "Or at least I think you did."

You checked the time on your phone, and it was starting to get late. "I should get going, it's after 11."

Soap checks the time on his phone, "Shit, we really did watch a whole season. Well I did at least you fell asleep".

You sleepily laugh at his comment, "Shut up." Followed by a yawn.

You both get up from the couch, he opens the door for you while you gather your things. "Goodnight." you tell him.

"G'night." he responds as he closes the door.

A few days later, you're in your room doing some paperwork, taking a minute or 2 away from it. You search online for any Daenerys Targaryen outfits and a silver wig. You wanted to test the waters and see how Soap would react to you dressed as his so-called 'wife'.

You found a few of them, you were wondering what outfit would he like the most.

You settled with the blue dress she had worn season 3.

The silvery blonde wig, you wanted it to be real hair so it'll be easier to braid, but synthetic hair is slightly cheaper, and nearly similar. So that is what you went with. You ordered the dress, shoes, the wig and other accessories. Making sure you got the right size and measurements, even if it was a little big, you can always hem it, but if it was too small then you'd have to DIY your own dress after spending so much money on the one you purchased for one day, or somehow lose a ton of weight for it to fit.

With Halloween being a few weeks away, you hope it came sooner rather than at the last minute.

A week passed, and your items had arrived. You went to check for your mail, and everything came in a box. You looked like a gremlin going from the mailroom to your quarters with a semi large box in your hands.

Making it back to your room, you open the box and the dress is beautiful, from looking at it. It looks like it'll fit you.

The silvery blonde wig, now it won't suit you, but hey, it's only a costume, not a permanent look.

You had it prepared, and ready for Halloween, the wig you kept on a lamp that you never used. You hoped no one saw it, so you kept it at the far corner of your room covered by a stack of boxes.

You and Gaz were hanging out in the base's lounge area.

"Does anyone ever dress up for Halloween?."you ask him.

"Not really, with Ghost wearing his mask all the time, it feels like Halloween all the time." he tells you.

You let out a soft laugh, "Yeah, I can imagine."

"Price and Laswell usually have bowls of candy here and there, but nothing too major." he continues. "Why? Are you planning on dressing up?."

You shrug, as if you didn't spend money on a silvery blonde wig and a dress, "Probably not, wouldn't know what to dress up as anyway."

Some time later you walk down the hallway towards your room, and surprise, it's Soap man coming from the opposite direction.

"Y/n!." he calls out.

"Hey." you greet back to him.

"Haven't seen you for a while." he tells you, "Laswell keeping you busy?."

You let out a soft chuckle, "Yeah, she's been keeping me busy. Paperwork that I still need to get done."

"I'll let you get back to it." he tells you, hand on your shoulder. "See you around."

And that day has come, Halloween. 7am. You took a shower before getting dressed, you put on a little bit of makeup before you got dressed. You carefully put the blue dress on, so it wouldn't get stained by your makeup. The cloak that came with the dress, the dark pants and boots.

This could be an everyday outfit for you, without the cloak though.

Finally, the wig, you had styled it the night before. Taking 2 small pieces of the hair making it into one braid, then taking 2 more pieces and making them into one braid. It sounds complicated, but the image helps out when doing it.

Luckily the wig came with a bald cap, keeping your actual hair away, and in place.

Having the whole outfit intact, you almost didn't want to look in the mirror out of embarrassment, but when you did, your whole face turned red.

"Oh my god." you hold back your laughter, one hand over your mouth. This color of hair did not suit you.

"Oh fuck, Y/n. What are you doing?." you tell yourself. Oh that's right, you wanna know if Soap actually has feelings for you, and so you dress up as The Mother of Dragons, Daenerys Targaryen for this holiday to get a reaction out of him.

Just go about your day, don't even acknowledge the fact you're wearing a very silvery blonde wig. It suits Emilia Clarke, but not you.

You gather your stuff and go on with your regular route on base. Soap probably isn't in his room, he's probably in his office, or chatting with the other members of the 141.

Your regular route involves going by Captain Price's office, and so you made a quick stop at his office. He's usually there, plus you had to give him some files that Laswell had you working on the past week.

Once you get to his office door you knock on it even though it's open slightly.

"Come in." he responds, looking down as he fills out some paperwork.

"Captain, I have the paperwork Laswell wanted me to give to you once I finished." you tell him as you enter.

"Set them down Y/n." he tells you. Setting them down on his desk.

"Was there anything else Laswell wanted me to do for you?." you ask him, still waiting for him to look up at you in this ridiculous wig and blue dress.

He sighs, "No, not that I-." He cuts himself off when he sees you in this costume. "Know of." He lets out a breathy chuckle that makes you burn red.

"Did you attend to the dragons, Khaleesi?." he asks in a joking matter, but playing along with whatever is it that you're doing.

You can't help but burst into laughter, "I did, and they're growing everyday. Soon they'll be able to feed themselves."

You both share a laugh for a few seconds.

"I think you're the only one who dressed up." he tells you. "That's if the others dress up."

"I would say Ghost too, but then he looks like that all the time." you tell him. "I think it'll be a tied costume contest if there's one."

You two chat for a bit, getting a few compliments from a few other soldiers walking by.

"Soap is gonna lose his mind when he sees you." Price tells you, "I know you and him are fans of the show."

"I'll know it when he sees me." you tell him, "I'll see you around Captain."

You continued down the hall, your usual route that you do everyday. You hear Gaz and Soap's voices coming from the lounge area. You stop in your tracks, fix your dress, and wig before proceeding.

Soap sat with his back to you while Gaz turned his head as you walked in.

"Hey guys." you greet them as you walk in. Keeping your cool, and trying to act like you're not wearing a costume.

"Uhh hey, Y/n." Gaz greets back. Soap hasn't looked at you until you sat in the chair in front of him.

"Hey Soap." you say, taking a seat in the chair across from home, looking through a book that is on the table in front of you.

"Hey Y/-." he stops as he is completely hypnotized by your appearance. Hand placed over his mouth. You can't tell if he's laughing, or crying, or both.

But his change of mood, makes you do the same.

"What?." you ask, putting on an innocent tone "What's wrong??."

"What are you doing?." he asks, if you didn't know any better you can tell his eyes were heart shaped right now.

"I'm doing anything." you say innocently. "Just reading." You flip through a page in the book you're 'reading'.

He knows what game you're playing, and it's a dangerous one. "You're a tease. You know that lass." he tells you before getting up from his seat and leaves.

"Am I a tease?." you ask Gaz.

"You planned this? Didn't you." he answers your question with a question.

"In a way." you respond. "Didn't mean to give him an awkward boner.". Making you two laugh.

Towards the end of the day, you've gotten many compliments on your costume. Hell, even Ghost complimented you, it's not unusual, but somewhat rare.

You're heading back to your room, right when you pass Soap's room his door immediately swings open, and he pulls you in. You didn't even have time to process what just happened, it was very quick.

Locking the door the second you're in. Pinning you against the door, both his hands on either side of your head. Your hands are down to your sides, flat against the door.

"You cheeky little minx, you thought I wouldn't notice lass." He tells you, his eyes dark and feral.

"I don't know what you're talking about Johnny." you tell him still playing the innocent card. His face inches away from yours.

"I think you do." he whispers in your ear, his whole body pinned against yours. You can tell your cheeks are red by the burning sensation you feel. Feeling a slight poke at your inner thigh.

"You wanted to get a raise out of me, did ya?." he growls, moving a strain of hair from the wig out your face.

A smirk now on your lips, "I know how to get you. It's quite easy."

One of his hands snakes to the back of your neck, the other on your waist. A growl comes from the back of his throat, "You know how to get me going, especially dressed like this."

His lips clash with yours, a moan escapes your mouth. One of your legs snakes around one of his. Both your hands on his shoulders.

His kisses are rough, and aggressive. His hand squeezes the back of your neck. Making your legs weak. Seeing this, he grabs you by your thighs and lifts you up. Carrying you towards his bed, dropping you onto the bed, breaking the kiss, letting you catch your breath.

"Fuck." you pant, biting your lip, looking up at him. He chuckles looking down at you, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Gotcha where I want you Khaleesi." he says with an exhale, before kissing you again. His lips hungry, and wanting more of you.

You hand trails up his shirt, he grabs your hand, stopping you from going further.

"Not so fast." he chuckles, breaking the kiss, "Since you decided to tease me. You're gonna take it like a whore."

His words made you wet down there. You can feel it. You love this feral side of Soap.

"Strip." he commands you, taking a few steps back to give you some space.

You start with the shoes, once those were off you got to the pants, lifting up the dress slightly to remove them.

Once those are off. You unclipped the cloak, tossing it aside, same with the necklace. You stop for a moment.

His eyes still dark, even more dark than from a few minutes ago. "I didn't tell you to stop, did I?."

"No." you mutter in a soft, naive tone. Grabbing the dress but it's hem, you pull it up and over your head. Your bra and panties, matching the same color as the dress. You notice the bulge in Soap's pants.

You're about to remove your wig when his words stop you.

"Leave the wig on." he orders you. There you are standing in your sargeant's room in your matching bra and panties on Halloween. He can't help, but take in your beauty. He's had a crush on from the day he met you. The only thing in common you two have is this damn show, probably other things too.

"You're.. so beautiful." he tells you, feeling butterflies in his stomach. Cupping both your cheeks, and placing another kiss on your lips. Your hands gently touch his neck, one of them, tracing down to his pants.

His movements are fast, he quickly spins you around, forcing you to bend over on his bed. Knocking the wind out of you. "Shit." you mutter under your breath.

You hear the sound of his belt being undone, followed by a zipper. His rough, calloused hand giving you smack on your left ass cheek causing you to yelp.

He yanks down your panties, the only thing that was covering how wet you are. Running two of his fingers down your wet folds.

"Khaleesi, wet for me already, huh?." he teases, followed by a chuckle and him sucking on his fingers. You feel the tip of cock, teasing your entrance. Causing you to whimper and squirm.

One of his hands gripping your shoulder to keep you place, while the other is on your hip. Enjoying how you try to get away from him.

"Just like how the Dothraki fuck their women, huh?." he whispers in your ear, forcing his cock into your wet core.

"Fuck!." you exclaim, grabbing the bed sheet as he rocks his hips against yours. "Oh. Fuck."

Letting you adjust to his cock before pulling down, and shoving it inside you at a more aggressive pace. Your tight walls squeezing his cock as you push yourself back against him. Back arched.

Abusing your poor hole, stretching you out completely. You feel him put his hand on your stomach.

He chuckles, "Looks like I'm inside you, lass." Going back to his fast, rough pace.

You're holding onto his blanket for dear life, balling it up to muffle your screams into. He was ready to get you to cum over and over for the rest of the night.

Once he's done abusing your back hole, he turns you over onto your back. Both of you are sweaty, and out of breath, but he was determined to get you to cum.

Somehow your wig stayed on during all that. He kicks his shoes off, shirt already gone as well as his pants, and boxers. He stood naked before you, while the knky article of clothing you had on was your bra.

Trying to catch your breath, he attacks your neck with bites, and soothes them with kisses. Leaving his mark on you.

"Johnny, please." you beg, feeling your makeup run from the sweating you're doing.

A shit eating grin on his face with one hand on your waist, "Please what doll?."

You let out a pathetic moan, "Please fuck me."

Letting out a devious little chuckle, "Anything for Khaleesi."

He lines himself up with your soaked velvety entrance, and shoves himself in you. Pinning you down, grabbing both your wrists with one hand while the other remained on your waist, giving him a better advantage to rearrange your insides.

"Fuck." you cry, arching your back.

"You take me so well baby." he groans, snapping his hips back and forth against yours. "You know how to get me going."

Hoping no one hears the pathetic noises you're making, but at the same time you wouldn't really care, especially if he was making you feel this good.

You begin to feel yourself come undone.

"Fuck.. J-Johnny." you whimper, "I need to-." Followed by the most pathetic whimper you've ever produced.

"C'mon lass, use your words." he teases you yet again.

"I need to… cum." you cry, tears running down your face, "Please.". Your toes curling, feeling like you're losing control of your limbs.

"I want to cum with you." he tells you, one hand on the back of your neck again, "Together, can you do that for me?."

You let out an incoherent moan.

"Use your words, love." he places a kiss on your forehead that turns you into putty.

"Y-yes, Johnny.. I can." you try your best to mutter out. He continues to fuck you at an aggressive and rough pace, like he's trying to catch up with your euphoric climax. By the time he knows it, he's ready to release himself.

"Where?." he asks, holding back until you give him permission where to release himself.

"Inside.. please." you plead.

He raises his eyebrows, "You sure?."

Nodding, "Yes, please."

His movements become sloppy, and start to slow down. "Please, I need to-." you beg yet again.

"With me, my love." he tells you, foreheads touching. You both cum at the same time. The feeling of release, makes the both of you nearly pass out of pleasure. Soap drops himself on top of you. Breathing heavily, sweaty and needing to take a shower.

"You okay love?." he checks on you, moving the strain of wig hair out of your face.

"Yeah, I'm fine." you respond, "You were amazing." Bringing a smile to his face, "You were better.". He places another kiss on your lips. He takes in the image in front of him.

You naked in bed with him, and dressed as the Mother of Dragons, or what is remaining of your clothes.

"I'm not sure how this wig stayed on during all that." you joked, taking it off for a second to fix it. Soap laughs at the fact you're wearing a bald cap to keep your actual hair intact.

"Nice bald cap lass." more teasing from the Soap man.

You let out a soft chuckle, before putting it back on "Shut up."

You two proceeded to stay in bed a little longer before showering, but you two ended up staying in bed for the rest of the night.

#call of duty #cod #cod soap #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x y/n #soap x fem reader #cod smut #call of duty smut #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare 2022 #cod mw2

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 9 months

Text

Dead Girl Walking

Pairing(s): Jon Snow x Stark!Reader, Ned Stark x Catelyn Tully, refereneced!Rhaegar Targaryen x Lyanna Stark

Warnings: none

Words: 2086

Summary: If this could possibly be your last night alive, you wanted to make it worthwhile.

They were coming.

Arya and Sansa flagged either side of you, knowing that battle would be upon you soon. Maybe that night or tomorrow, the Night King’s army was drawing closer.

Winterfell had fallen onto your shoulders after your eldest brother was beheaded. When you took back your home during the Battle of the Bastards, the northern men that remained named you their queen.

No longer were the Starks scattered throughout Westeros. They were where they truly belonged: in the north. Fewer in numbers, but finally together.

Below the parapet you stood on, men and women alike were preparing themselves to fight for their lives. Surprisingly, their hustle and bustle soothed your nerves. Unsullied, Wildlings, Dothraki and noble blood laike were united. And despite the thumping of boots against stone, the night was otherwise calm and quiet. The fire at your back warmed you.

In a nervous tick, you hold the pommel of your sword. You hoped this wouldn’t be your last battle.

“Practice your dance moves while you still can.” You address Arya who nods and leaves to do just that. She had trained with the Faceless Men in Braavos; you hoped that would be enough to keep her alive. Leaving just you and Sansa alone. You didn’t want to scare her, but you needed to tell her the truth of things. “I may not make it out alive.”

Immediately she opens her mouth to protest but you silence her.

“It’s something that can very well happen. I want you to know now that if I am to die in battle, I want you to take my place as Queen of the North.” You took off the metal circlet that had been comfortably lying atop of your head. It had caused quite the argument between you and the Dragon Queen Daenerys. Even though she had accepted the north as its own separate dominion, she still didn’t like the crown on your head.It made her feel insecure. In a land where the people adored you and obviously didn’t trust her, Daenerys knew that the people were your’s. “This would look far better on you anyway.”

Sansa swallowed back whatever protest that had been sitting on her tongue. “You’ve been through worse battles than this.”

Unable to catch your laugh, you shake your head. “Never against the dead. The living are an easier foe.”

Clinking of metal behind you makes you turn. Sansa smiles fondly at the semi-armored direwolf. “Even Storm is ready for battle.” Sansa muses. Your dark gray direwolf was missing an eye from the bloody battle against Ramsay. It made her appear even more deadly than she already was. She towered over her albino brother Ghost and even some of the soldiers. The days when they were both playful puppies were long gone. Nostalgia grips you when you remembered how you and your siblings sat in a circle and picked your direwolf pups. Of course the odd looking one went to your bastard brother Jon. The albino pup had garnered your attention until Storm had stumble up to you in the most adorable fashion. She had chosen you. Out of all of your siblings, Storm wanted you as her partner in crime. From that moment you knew the two of you would be together until the very end.

And the end was probably creeping up.

As a child you had always been fearful, the kind of child that got scared over the smallest creature. Theon teased you relentlessly. Jon took the job upon himself to become your protector during such times. He would go after Theon with his sword and tend to you in an attempt to make you feel better. Thanks to Jon, he helped you learn how to be brave and not be so scared of the world around you.

You needed a little bit more help in remembering what it felt like to be brave. This was something your father had always warned you about. Winter had arrived and with it the Night King’s crusade. All of Old Nan’s tales were coming true.

Excusing yourself from Sansa’s side, you delve into the castle that was now completely your’s to control and protect. Old and ancient halls where you, Robb, and Jon would run through in the early years before Sansa and your younger siblings were born. Bruising knees on the hard stone when one of you fell down, the other two were always there to help their fallen sibling back up.

You passed the Great Hall where many were gathered, talking quietly amongst one another. Wine was being handed out to anyone who looked nervous. Liquid courage and perhaps the last sweet thing they may taste.

Some of the wildlings and Dothraki men were talking loudly, boisterous laughs echoing even though there was a language barrier. Drinking certified them as comrades in arms. The sight was enough to make you smile at least for a little bit.

Daenerys may have been gracious enough to loan you her army fro the time being, but it was you that made the Dragon Queen’s men and your own get along. The merging of Westeros and Essos. That was you. Something Robb was never able to do was keep his army together.

You inhale sharply and shake your head free of those thoughts that were best left in the grave. Yet your ears continued to grow numb to sound reducing you to stumbling about like a drunk until you finally made it to the family crypt. Your ever loyal Storm followed you down the tight stairs, making sure you didn’t fall. The musky smell of the crypts took the edge off of you as you entered the final resting place of your family. It was quiet and glowed warmly from the torches, revealing that there was one other living person already there in front of your father’s statue.

A man who turned out wasn’t Jon’s father. It must have been bittersweet for Jon to discover his true parentage.

“How fortuitous that you’re down here right when I need you most.” You smile shyly at Jon.

His lips turn up gently. “Something told me that I should come down here.” Ghost pokes his head from around the corner, red eyes two beacons of light. “Or rather someone. Besides, you used to come down here when you were younger. Something about it being quiet soothed you. For a child that was scared of everything, the crypts have never been a problem for you.”

“I felt like our ancestors were protecting me. Like they each gave me a piece of their courage.” The stoney face of Ned Stark looked down on you and Jon. Looking at the carved details of his face made you fill with sorrow. “I just wish Robb and mother could have been buried here too. . .”

“They may not be physically here, but their spirit is.” With the small amount of light offered to you, you catch sight of the scars on Jon’s face. Faint silver lines that told the story of his life at Castle black. They oddly suited him and his often serious expression. Catelyn may have never loved Jon, but Robb loved him just as much as Bran or Rickon. As hard as you searched his face, you just couldn’t see any Targaryen traits. Even if his father had been Rhaegar, Jon was of the north. The Stark in his veins was enough to overwhelm the Targaryen.

Gingerly, Jon wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you against his side. You focused on his warmth, the desires of your heart starting to become louder. There had always been an unspoken bond between you and Jon. Neither of you spoke of it out loud, afraid that even speaking of it would bring ruin to the both of you.

But he wasn’t by blood your brother. The truth was out.

Cheeks feeling warm, you take a step away from him. You laugh a little bit at yourself. “What kind of queen am I to show my fear? Mother would never have let her cards slip so easily. Sansa reminds me so much of her now. . .”

“You’re only human. You fear losing your home and people you love. You’re a good queen (y/n). Lord Ned would be proud of you and all that you have done. Winterfell once again belongs to the Starks because of you.” Dark eyes delve deep into you, eyes that wanted to let you know that everything would be okay and if not, well, Jon would stay by your side just like Storm. Until the very end. In the face of Daenerys Targaryen, Jon had to refer to her as queen; it was clear to all though that his real queen was you. He would not forsake you. Now now, not ever. Besides Robb, no man had ever loved you quite as much as Jon did.

Reaching your arms up, you cup his face with your palms. Easily Jon lets his face fall into your hands, nuzzling his nose into your touch. How easily Jon trusted you and put down his walls.

You wanted to hold him, place your head against his strong chest. Like you did when you went to the Wall to ask for his help. Years apart had changed you both greatly yet Jon’s arms still felt the same from when you had last embraced him.

Perhaps it was too bold of you, but being with Jon made you feel bolder; You sprung up on your toes and kiss. To finally kiss him after years of longing and confusion. If you were to die, you wanted to do so without any regrets. You wanted to let Jon know just how much you loved him and how you had never stopped. Relief had washed over you the moment Jon revealed what he had learned from Sam. That he wasn’t your half-brother which would still be looked down upon in the north if you were to have any sort of romantic relationship with him. Cousins were commonly married to one another.

Surprise took him as he slipped backward a little bit, but Lord Eddard Stark’s statue was enough to keep him up. It didn’t take long for him to melt against you. If you were to die, you wanted Jon to be the last thing you tasted.

Targaryen and Stark, perhaps the pair were always inevitable. The dragons had conquered the north centuries before, but had still been able to respect Torrhen Stark by giving him the title of Warden.

In his eyes you saw no dragon or wolf. You just saw Jon. Your Jon that you had known since you were a babe. Your best friend, your confidant, the one you had loved since you were a girl.

As he pulled away, stars filled his gaze as he breathed heavily.

“I love you Jon. More than a brother. More than a cousin. More than any man I have ever known.” You lower your gaze, feeling the sun in your cheeks. “If. . . If we are all to die tonight-”

Jon abruptly grabs your face and once again you’re kissing him. “We will live to see the sun rise. Not much good has prospered for me being half Targaryen, except for one thing.” To your utter shock, Jon bent down on one knee while still holding your hand. “My Queen, if you would have me it would be my honor to stand beside you for the rest of my life and after.”

You wanted to slap him initially for taking so long to propose, but you went with your second reaction: you threw yourself against him in an embrace. Both of your winter pelts smooshing against the other. “And how long have you been sitting on those words?”

Chuckling, Jon holds onto you as Storm and Ghost watch. “For years. It was never feasible until now.” You knew he could hear your heart beating fiercely. “We have no choice but to defeat the White Walkers now.”

Yes, you wouldn’t let the Night King take this one great joy away from you. For your future with Jon, you had to be brave. You would be brave. Jon had always been a source of courage for you.

The next kiss you gave him was of a different nature. Seductive and enticing, sweeter than any honey. You still wanted a taste. “Are you opposed to escorting me to my chambers?”

A boyish smile makes your chest flutter. “Of course, Your Grace.”

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #asoiaf fanfiction #game of thrones #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf fandom #jon snow #jon snow x reader #jon snow fanfiction #jon snow imagine #jon snow x you #jon snow fanfic

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evax3 · 1 year

Photo

AND NOW MY WATCH BEGINS

– CHAPTER 5, TEASER

No one comes forth to bar their way. Castle Black seems as much a ruin as Greyguard, where they'd come down after climbing the Wall. Looking up, he tries to make out if sentries are walking the seven hundred feet above, but he sees no one on the huge switchback stair, scrambling up the south face of the ice.

Where is everybody?

#almost ready!!#fic teaser #jonerys #snowstorm #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #jonerys au #canon au #jon snow x daenerys targaryen #the night's watch #ghost is literally the best boy ever #secret relationship #secret identity #jonerys fanfic #and now my watch begins

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axelsagewrites · 10 months

Note

Hi. Can I request Edmure x female Snow (Jon’s sister) where Edmure, reader, Jon etc learn her heritage and after dany’s mad queen thing is reader selected to be queen and Edmure her consort. Maybe smut too, either way more Edmure.

Edmure Tully*My Queen, My Love

Pairing: snow!f!reader x husband!edmure

A/N: I did change your request slightly since I just couldn’t think of how to write danny as the mad queen or how to get the plot going so now its edmures reaction to her heritage and danny naming her as her heir and them celebrating with some soft smut at the end so I hope you still like it!

Word count: 2705

Warnings: talks of death/red wedding, praise, ‘my queen’ honorific, f!receiving oral, fingering, slight teasing, thighs, soft smut 18+

Past

When Jon left for the wall, you thought you’d never see him again. When your sisters got taken as hostages in the red keep you thought they were as good as dead. When Winterfell was taken you thought your youngest brothers were gone for good. Everyone around you began to drop like flies and if not for Edmure you would have thrown yourself from Riverrun’s walls when you got the news of Robbs brutal murder and at a wedding no less.

Your stomach churned at the memory, and you wondered what your own fate would have been if Robb had not sent you and Edmure back to Riverrun to defend it from Lannister attacks. Sometimes you wondered if he knew, if somehow Robb felt the unease in the air of the twins. When you hugged Robb goodbye for the last time you clung on, but you did not know why you did or why your direwolf star was so reluctant to leave Greywind’s side. She, like ghost, was a pale white but unlike his red eyes hers were the palest of purples, so pale you wondered if they were clear in certain lights.

You were only halfway to Riverrun when you heard the news. You tried to back, hell bent of trying to avenge Robb with a sword, a wolf, and only three men but Edmure had to hold you back. He screamed at you in the forest ‘do you want to die? What of your sisters who will they have to save them when your dead at Walder Frey’s feet? Dying won’t bring him back.'

'My father is dead. My brothers are dead. The girls are as good as dead and only the gods know where Jon is, you screamed it back, face wet with tears and your voice tearing the air. I have no one.'

'You have me and you have star and the gods be good your sisters in time, but you won’t have anything if you run without thinking.'

His words swam about your heads for the weeks you spent traveling with Edmure and the two others Robb had sent with you. Your gold ran out quickly and there were no friends for you to find. That was until you came across the man with half his face scorched off. You’d found him in a heap at the bottom of a mountain and were shocked when you noticed his shallow breaths.

You didn’t know why you felt the need to stop your travels for a week to nurse him back to health, but you did and when he was not insulting you or trying to start fights his roughness started to slip. 'Did you see a girl dressed as a boy? Brown hair, face like a pinched arse, a tiny needle of a sword. Goes by Arry.' Arya. Your sister was alive. You had hope again.

Eventually the gods turned your fate. You may have lost the two guards Robb had sent with you in skirmishes, but you were left with Sandor and Edmure and eventually the brotherhood found you. With them came travels and with travels came Jon. Finally you had Jon back. Then Sansa too and with the hope Arya was out there you dared continue.

Meanwhile you had Edmure beside you the entire time. He backed all your decisions publicly and debated you in private but never to berate. He helped you heal the wounds you couldn’t reach and didn’t eat till he made sure you had your share. He was the rock securing your tie to reality.

You remember his reaction to meeting Daenerys Targaryen, first of her name. Its not her dragons we should fear. A woman who brings the Dothraki across the sea on the hope of a promise not given to her holds power. Her words hold power.

While Sansa was sceptical of her you felt yourself drawn to her. As time went on you began to view her as more of a friend than a foreign queen. You found yourself added to her small council. Despite Tyrion being her hand, it was you she turned to in her dilemma.

Then one day Jon barged into one of your chambers, insisting it could not wait a day longer. He forced Edmure to leave the chambers despite you insisting that the man who had become your husband could hear anything he had to say. 'Ned Stark was not our father sweet sister, but he was not a stranger either.' You felt the colour drain from your face as he spoke. 'Bran, he saw it, Lyanna Stark on her birthing bed. Twins in her arms. We had a mother sweet sister and a father too. Rhaegar Targaryen.'

Present

After he broke the news, you demanded he leave, not wanting him to speak another word till you could bare to tell Daenerys yourself. Then Edmure returned. As you told him everything Jon had revealed you felt your world spinning as Edmure sat silently taking it all in.

The feel of Edmures hands grabbing yours slowed your rant, your breathing steadying. “Breathe my love. It is going to be okay,”

“But what if its not?” You asked, a break in your voice.

You looked to the man that had kept you afloat during this war with wide eyes brimmed with tears. His hand gently moved to hold your face, “You are still you, my love. This does not need to change your world unless you choose it too. Your brother will back you; he always has. I am here for you love. We are safe, we will survive this,”

“What if she thinks us a threat?” You said, voice barely above a whisper, “Rober Baratheon would’ve murdered them in their cribs if he had got there in time to swing his hammer. What will she do to me?”

“She has shown you no signs of tyranny, no signs of madness. If you lie to her, scheme against her, she will know but even if ned Stark was not your father you still have his honour,” Edmure said, leaning to kiss your forward softly, “and you have me. I may not breath fire, but I would fight any dragon for you,”

You watched as Daenerys face turned as Jon told her the truth with you by his side. “If it were true, you would be the last living male Targaryen. Are you here to threaten my claim?” She asked, her face twisting into betrayal.

“No,” you said, finally speaking up in the silence, “Jon has no interest in the iron throne, do you brother?” You said, scared when he paused for a moment before agreeing with you.

Daenerys turned away, pacing to the fire in silence, “Leave us,” she said, her head raising to face Jon, “and do not speak a word of this to anyone. Swear it,”

“I swear it your grace,” Jon said, nodding his head solemnly before leaving.

As the door shut Daenerys finally turned to look at you, “I assume Edmure knows,” she said dryly, “Who else?”

“No one your grace,” you said, crossing the room to try come to her side but she backed away, “No one needs know if you don’t want them too. But you cannot deny you need a family,”

“I have my dragons,” she said, almost spitting the words before looking into the flames, “A woman told me once they would be my only children,” she said with a softer tone.

"When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east," you whispered back, having heard her tales of her first marriage many nights.

“When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves,” she said, her eyes not leaving the flickering flames, “I believe I will see my child when I die. The son a witch stole from me. The family I was told to dream about having as a child, gone. What is a queen with no heirs?” She said, finally looking from the flames. “If I was to name Jon my heir people would cross their fingers for the day I died. Your land has never cared much for their queens,”

You paused for a moment, thinking back to the talks you had with Edmure the night before. “There is another way your grace,” you said, moving over to sit in the armchair by the fire, Daenerys moving to the other, “The northerns have never liked to bend their knee to the south but what if you didn’t make them? Allow Jon to be king of the north, recognise Robbs kingship and his will naming Jon as his heir. No southern lord is going to fight for a bastard to sit the iron throne,”

Daenerys sat back in her chair, thinking over your words carefully, “And what of you? You would stay in the north to take the throne after him?”

You shook your head lightly, “No your grace. He may be my brother, but you are my queen. I will follow you south, fight your battles and die for you, if need be, serve however required,”

Daenerys paused, chuckling slightly under her breath, “Even as my heir?” She said, her eyes hard to read.

“Unless you have children,” you said but Daenerys just laughed and stood again.

“No. My dragons are my children. One of them is already dead. My womb has been cursed and the child bed is more dangerous than any battle ahead. Now I will not have children. But I will have an heir. An heir who will act as a delegate to the newly independent north. You,” she said, finally turning back to see you, “You shall be my heir and you shall rule when I am gone. Not your husband, not Jon. You,”

The feast announcing Daenerys decision was one of the last moments of joy for many before the long night. You sat at the head table, Daenerys on one side and Edmure on the other. He held your hand under the table, his thumb stroking over your hand. Jon sat on the other side of Daenerys; a shoddy silver crown placed on his head unlike the one Daenerys wore made of gold.

After the festivities you walked back to your chamber, slightly lightheaded from the wine but with Edmures arm wrapped around yours to steady yourself. “One day you will be a queen,” he hummed, smiling down at you, “The title suits me,”

“Hopefully not for a long time,” you said, kissing his cheek as you stumbled to your chambers, “Excited about your future promotion?” You joked with a drunken grin.

He shook his head with a chuckle, “the title is yours not mine. I will not rule for you love for you will be my queen. Though I hope you will at least allow me on your council when the time comes,” he said as you turned into the corridor your chamber lay in.

“Of course,” you said, hugging his arm tighter, “You have always been my hand. Without you I am nothing,”

“No, my love,” he said as he unlatched the chamber door, “You are everything and more,” he said, kissing your lips softly in the chamber doorway. “Give me a moment to light the fire,”

As Edmure stoked the flames you began to slip out of your northern clothes, leaving them in a pile at the side of the bed and leaving only your shift on for coverage. You sat on the foot of the bed, watching as Edmure finally had the fire burning bright before he took his own outdoor clothing off.

“You look divine my love,” he said as he sat his neatly folded tunic on the armchair by the fire. You held your hand out to him across the room, silently beckoning him over. Edmure did as you asked wordlessly, gently taking your hand and moving to stand between your legs. He bent down, pressing a slow soft kiss to your lips. Your hands rested on his shoulders, his cupping your jaw lightly before he stood up straight again, “It is time for rest my love,” he said, moving back to kick off his boots.

You shook your softly at him, a smile toying your lips, “We are celebrating tonight remember?” You said, standing so you could wrap your arms around his waist to pull him closer. His body, left with only his trousers, pressed flush against yours leaving no gaps between your skin. “Wont you celebrate with me, husband?” You asked, a teasing smile on your lips.

“I suppose some celebrating could be in order,” Edmure said with a light chuckle. He lifted your chin with his fingers, his head dipping to reconnect your lips. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him closer somehow. You were breathless as Edmure walked you back till the backs of your thighs hit the bed frame. “Lay down my queen,” he said, panting as he pulled away from your lips.

“I am not queen yet,” you said, the wine making the idea more funny than terrifying. None the less you moved to lay on the bed, letting your shift bunch up to reveal more of your thighs.

Edmures eyes scanned your thighs, soaking in your frame. You couldn’t help but notice the outline in his trousers by this point but you did not protest as he began to crawl up the bed to you, kissing your calf then knee and up to your thighs, “Let me serve you my queen,” he said as he placed a kiss to your inner thigh, “You have always been my queen,”

Your breathing was ragged as you felt him kiss up your inner thighs, his breath fanning over your skin making it tingle. Your fingers ran over his hair, toying with it softly, “Serve me husband,” you said, aching for his mouth which was less than an inch from where you wanted it to be, “Serve your queen,” you inhaled sharply when you felt him place a soft kiss to your wet cunt, his lips moving up to place another wet kiss to your clit. Your fingers tugged his hair gently as he began to lick soft stripes up your cunt, his pressure increasing with each lick to tease the feeling. While you were usually the one doing the teasing Edmure wanted to make sure this was truly a celebration for you tonight as his tongue worked its wonders while his hands softly squeezed your thighs.

His mouth moved up, his focus turning to gently sucking your clit as curse words slipped from under your breath. His hand slipped from your thigh, slowly grazing over your skin till his fingers began to tease your hole. You moaned lightly when you felt his fingers slowly slipping in as he had practised many times with you over the years. You could feel your thighs tighten around his head and how he moaned sending vibrations through your wet cunt.

You could feel your body tightening, a knot forming in your stomach as Edmure began to hit your sweet spot, his fingers curling gently to hit closer with each move. “Yes,” you gasped, your fingers suddenly tightening in his hair, “Like that,” you said, your voice caught as your body tightened.

Edmure did exactly as he was told as he felt your thighs begin to twitch. Your body felt close to bursting till your orgasm spilled over you, your legs clamping around his head as your body tensed up, toes curling. Edmure did not attempt to remove his tongue or mouth as he let you ride out your wave, only moving when he felt your legs begin to release his head.

He came up for air, his face slick and an adoring smile on his face, “You truly are amazing,” he murmured, kissing your thigh before moving up to lay beside you.

You turned, trying to reach for his trousers to return the favour but Edmure caught your wrist, raising your hand up to his lips to kiss, “Not yet love. Catch your breath my queen,”

You laughed lightly at his words, “Are you always going to call me that?” You asked.

“Yes, for it will always be true,”

Taglist @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy @valeskafics

#edmure tully x you #edmure tully x reader #edmure tully imagine #edmure tully #edmure tully fanfic #game of thrones smut #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #asoiaf #asoiaf x reader #asoiaf imagine #asoiaf smut #edmure tully smut

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istumpysk · 1 year

Text

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Epilogue (Chapter 72)

Finally.

Pretend that's Kevan Lannister.

Please welcome our new POV, Kevan Lannister. His bedchamber is covered in Tywin posters.

The light of the torches made a fiery blaze of Ronnet Connington's long red hair and beard. "Send me against my uncle, and I will bring you back his head, and the head of this false dragon too."

Let the Aegon debates begin!

Shoutout to @decadelongsummer for highlighting yet another "complicated" relationship between uncle/aunt - nephew/niece.

+.+.+

Lannister spearmen in crimson cloaks and lion-crested halfhelms stood along the west wall of the throne room. Tyrell guards in green cloaks faced them from the opposite wall. The chill in the throne room was palpable. Though neither Queen Cersei nor Queen Margaery was amongst them, their presence could be felt poisoning the air, like ghosts at a feast.

I don't want to spoil the story for you all, but whenever someone is referred to as a ghost they usually die.

I know, I know, disappointing. I thought Cersei might make it too.

+.+.+

Behind the table where the five members of the king's small council were seated, the Iron Throne crouched like some great black beast, its barbs and claws and blades half-shrouded in shadow. Kevan Lannister could feel it at his back, an itch between the shoulder blades. It was easy to imagine old King Aerys perched up there, bleeding from some fresh cut, glowering down.

My goodness, an itch between the shoulder blades?

Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold … - Jon XIII, ADWD

That Iron Throne sounds menacing.

"This Iron Throne you speak of sounds monstrous cold and hard. I cannot bear the thought of jagged barbs cutting your sweet skin." - Daenerys III, ACOK

Next you will be offering me a suit of magic armor and a palace in Valyria. "If Daenerys is no more than a sweet young girl, the Iron Throne will cut her into sweet young pieces." - Tyrion II, ADWD

Sansa felt limp with exhaustion as she made her way down from the gallery. She wondered how badly Joffrey had cut himself. They say the Iron Throne can be perilous cruel to those who were not meant to sit it. - Sansa VIII, ACOK

Hopefully it doesn't kill another monarch!

The end of it was this hunched black beast made of razor edges and barbs and ribbons of sharp metal; a chair that could kill a man, and had, if the stories could be believed. - Eddard XI, AGOT

All day the lords made plans, and late into the night. It was the hour of the wolf when at last Maegor allowed them to take their leave. The king remained behind, brooding on the Iron Throne as they departed. Lord Towers and Lord Rosby were the last to see His Grace.

Hours later, as dawn was breaking, the last of Maegor's queens came seeking after him. Queen Elinor found him still upon the Iron Throne, pale and dead, his robes soaked through with blood. His arms had been slashed open from wrist to elbow on jagged barbs, and another blade had gone through his neck to emerge beneath his chin.

Man to this day believe it was the Iron Throne itself that killed him. - Fire & Blood

Of course we can't be sure that's what happened.

It might also have been a person or persons unknown, entering and leaving the throne room through some hidden passage. The Red Keep has its secrets, known only to the dead. - Fire & Blood

+.+.+

He had seen no reason for Tommen to join them. Kinder to let the boy remain with his mother. The Seven only knew how long mother and son might have together before Cersei's trial … and possibly her execution.

Throughout this chapter Kevan's going to give us the impression Cersei's end is near.

Pretty clear indication she has a ton of story left.

+.+.+

Mace Tyrell was speaking. "We shall deal with your uncle and his feigned boy in due time." The new King's Hand was seated on an oaken throne carved in the shape of a hand, an absurd vanity his lordship had produced the day Ser Kevan agreed to grant him the office he coveted.

You hear that? When Kevan dies, Mace runs this show.

Lmao, over Cersei's dead body.

+.+.+

"How many men-at-arms accompanied Ser Ronnet to the city?" Ser Kevan asked.

"Twenty," said Lord Randyll Tarly, "and most of them Gregor Clegane's old lot. Your nephew Jaime gave them to Connington. To rid himself of them, I'd wager. They had not been in Maidenpool a day before one killed a man and another was accused of rape. I had to hang the one and geld the other. If it were up to me, I would send them all to the Night's Watch, and Connington with them. The Wall is where such scum belong."

"A dog takes after its master," declared Mace Tyrell.

+.+.+

"Black cloaks would suit them, I agree. I will not suffer such men in the city watch." A hundred of his own Highgarden men had been added to the gold cloaks, yet plainly his lordship meant to resist any balancing infusion of westermen. The more I give him, the more he wants. Kevan Lannister was beginning to understand why Cersei had grown so resentful of the Tyrells.

#JusticeForCerseiLannister

+.+.+

Randyll Tarly and Mace Tyrell had both brought armies to King's Landing, whilst the best part of the strength of House Lannister remained in the riverlands, fast melting away.

Relevant information for later.

There's two armies in King's Landing, both belonging to the Reach.

The Lannister forces are dwindling.

+.+.+

"Storm's End." Lord Mace Tyrell grunted the words. "He cannot take Storm's End. Not if he were Aegon the Conqueror. And if he does, what of it? Stannis holds it now. Let the castle pass from one pretender to another, why should that trouble us? I shall recapture it after my daughter's innocence is proved."

How can you recapture it when you have never captured it to begin with?

I'm going to be sad if Mace is never given the opportunity to embarrass himself on the field.

+.+.+

"No man doubts your daughter's innocence, my lord," Ser Kevan lied, "but His High Holiness insists upon a trial."

Lord Randyll snorted. "What have we become, when kings and high lords must dance to the twittering of sparrows?"

I'm obsessed with Randyll Tarly, therefore you're reading everything noteworthy he says in this chapter, in case you see something I don't.

+.+.+

"We have foes on every hand, Lord Tarly," Ser Kevan reminded him. "Stannis in the north, ironmen in the west, sellswords in the south. Defy the High Septon, and we will have blood running in the gutters of King's Landing as well. If we are seen to be going against the gods, it will only drive the pious into the arms of one or the other of these would-be usurpers."

+.+.+

"… as for Connington," Tyrell repeated, "what victories has he ever won that we should fear him? He could have ended Robert's Rebellion at Stoney Sept. He failed. Just as the Golden Company has always failed. Some may rush to join them, aye. The realm is well rid of such fools."

Everything about this screams House Tyrell switching sides to Aegon.

Whatever is left of House Tyrell.

+.+.+

If this truly is the Golden Company, as Qyburn's whisperers insist—"

"Call them what you will," said Randyll Tarly. "They are still no more than adventurers."

"Here and here. All along the coast, and on the islands. Tarth, the Stepstones, even Estermont. And now we have reports that Connington is moving on Storm's End."

"If it is Jon Connington," said Randyll Tarly.

"Once Paxter Redwyne sweeps the ironmen from the seas, my sons will retake the Shields. The snows will do for Stannis, or Bolton will. As for Connington …"

"If it is him," Lord Randyll said.

"Connington may have more than the Golden Company. It is said he has a Targaryen pretender."

"A feigned boy is what he has," said Randyll Tarly.

Of all the council members, Randyll Tarly is the most dismissive of the Golden Company and Aegon.

I'm not sure if that means he's staying put, or switching to Aegon's side. I've flip-flopped on this opinion half a dozen times.

+.+.+

"We have these tales coming from the east as well. A second Targaryen, and one whose blood no man can question. Daenerys Stormborn."

"As mad as her father," declared Lord Mace Tyrell.

That would be the same father that Highgarden and House Tyrell supported to the bitter end and well beyond.

She's getting there!

I don't think it's a coincidence we're being reminded of House Tyrell's loyalty to House Targaryen.

+.+.+

Grand Maester Pycelle bobbed his head. "Dragons. These same stories have reached Oldtown. Too many to discount. A silver-haired queen with three dragons."

"At the far end of the world," said Mace Tyrell. "Queen of Slaver's Bay, aye. She is welcome to it."

"On that we can agree," Ser Kevan said, "but the girl is of the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and I do not think she will be content to remain in Meereen forever. If she should reach these shores and join her strength to Lord Connington and this prince of his, feigned or no … we must destroy Connington and his pretender now, before Daenerys Stormborn can come west."

Mace Tyrell crossed his arms. "I mean to do just that, ser. After the trials."

Mace Tyrell will deal with Aegon ✨after✨ the trial, got it?

Who's ready for some spoilers?!

In Arianne II TWOW we'll learn the Golden Company secures Storm's End.

But that's not all.

"Has no one told you?" Halden Halfmaester favored her with a smile thin and hard as a dagger cut. "Storm’s End is ours. The Hand awaits you there."

Daemon Sand stepped up beside her. "Shipbreaker Bay can be perilous even on a fair summer's day. The safer way to Storm's End is overland."

"These rains have turned the roads to mud. The journey would take two days, perhaps three," said Halden Halfmaester. A ship will have the princess there in half a day or less. There is an army descending on Storm's End from King's Landing. You will want to be safe inside the walls before the battle."

Will we? Wondered Arianne. "Battle? Or siege?" She did not intend to let herself be trapped inside Storm's End. - Arianne II, TWOW

There's an army descending on Storm's End from King's Landing. Remember, there's only two armies in King's Landing - Randyll Tarly's and Mace Tyrell's.

Now, at this point in the story, Margaery's (and Cersei's!) trial has taken place. This is ✨after✨ the trial.

I have a question for the audience:

Do you think this army actually intends to lay siege or battle like Arianne (the author) would have us believe?

Wait, there's more!

+.+.+

"The magisters of Pentos have been known to lend money as well," said Ser Kevan. "Try them." The Pentoshi were even less like to be of help than the Myrish money changers, but the effort must be made. Unless a new source of coin could be found, or the Iron Bank persuaded to relent, he would have no choice but to pay the crown's debts with Lannister gold. He dare not resort to new taxes, not with the Seven Kingdoms crawling with rebellion.

Double check there is some.

+.+.+

"If that fails, you may well need to go to Braavos, to treat with the Iron Bank yourself."

Ser Harys quailed. "Must I?"

"You are the master of coin," Lord Randyll said sharply.

He will be in Braavos in Arya's first TWOW chapter.

Relevant information for later.

+.+.+

"The silent giant." Lord Randyll grimaced.

"Tell me, ser, where did this man come from?" demanded Mace Tyrell. "Why have we never heard his name before? He does not speak, he will not show his face, he is never seen without his armor. Do we know for a certainty that he is even a knight?"

We do not even know if he's alive. Meryn Trant claimed that Strong took neither food nor drink, and Boros Blount went so far as to say he had never seen the man use the privy. Why should he? Dead men do not shit. Kevan Lannister had a strong suspicion of just who this Ser Robert really was beneath that gleaming white armor. A suspicion that Mace Tyrell and Randyll Tarly no doubt shared.

They're rather calm given the situation. A dead man serving in the Kingsguard probably deserves a bigger reaction, no?

Anyway, this is your reminder we're on the hunt for eating, drinking, and bathroom breaks in all future Victarion chapters.

+.+.+

Whatever the face hidden behind Strong's helm, it must remain hidden for now. The silent giant was his niece's only hope. And pray that he is as formidable as he appears.

Notice we have no idea who will be representing the Faith in this trial by combat? Not even a hint.

It's because it doesn't matter.

+.+.+

"Whatever Cersei may have done, she is still a daughter of the Rock, of mine own blood. I will not let her die a traitor's death, but I have made sure to draw her fangs. All her guards have been dismissed and replaced with my own men. In place of her former ladies-in-waiting, she will henceforth be attended by a septa and three novices selected by the High Septon. She is to have no further voice in the governance of the realm, nor in Tommen's education. I mean to return her to Casterly Rock after the trial and see that she remains there. Let that suffice."

You sweet silly fool.

+.+.+

The rest he left unsaid. Cersei was soiled goods now, her power at an end. Every baker's boy and beggar in the city had seen her in her shame and every tart and tanner from Flea Bottom to Pisswater Bend had gazed upon her nakedness, their eager eyes crawling over her breasts and belly and woman's parts. No queen could expect to rule again after that. In gold and silk and emeralds Cersei had been a queen, the next thing to a goddess; naked, she was only human, an aging woman with stretch marks on her belly and teats that had begun to sag … as the shrews in the crowds had been glad to point out to their husbands and lovers. Better to live shamed than die proud, Ser Kevan told himself. "My niece will make no further mischief," he promised Mace Tyrell. "You have my word on that, my lord."

+.+.+

Tyrell gave a grudging nod. "As you say. My Margaery prefers to be tried by the Faith, so the whole realm can bear witness to her innocence."

If your daughter is as innocent as you'd have us believe, why must you have your army present when she faces her accusers? Ser Kevan might have asked.

Margaery is innocent.

Does the author want us to know Mace's army will be in close proximity to the Great Sept of Baelor?

+.+.+

The Grand Maester consulted his papers. "We should address the Rosby inheritance. Six claims have been put forth—"

"We can settle Rosby at some later date. What else?"

No way this doesn't become an issue down the line.

We've already covered the Rosby Ward Mysteries.

+.+.+

"Preparations should be made for Princess Myrcella."

"This is what comes of dealing with the Dornish," Mace Tyrell said. "Surely a better match can be found for the girl?"

Such as your own son Willas, perhaps? Her disfigured by one Dornishman, him crippled by another? "No doubt," Ser Kevan said, "but we have enemies enough without offending Dorne. If Doran Martell were to join his strength to Connington's in support of this feigned dragon, things could go very ill for all of us."

Don't worry Kevan, Dorne's going to end that betrothal for you.

+.+.+

"It would," Ser Kevan said wearily. Time to put an end to this. "Thank you, my lords. Let us convene again five days hence. After Cersei's trial."

Relevant information for later.

+.+.+

Randyll Tarly left the hall with his liege lord, their green-cloaked spearmen right behind them. Tarly is the real danger, Ser Kevan reflected as he watched their departure. A narrow man, but iron-willed and shrewd, and as good a soldier as the Reach could boast. But how do I win him to our side?

Kevan dies, leaving this up to Cersei.

On the show she won the loyalty of Randyll Tarly, but on the show she was playing Aegon half the time.

I'll continue to flip flop, but my instinct tells me Cersei is likely to blow this (up).

+.+.+

"Lord Tyrell loves me not," Grand Maester Pycelle said in gloomy tones when the Hand had departed. "This matter of the moon tea … I would never have spoken of such, but the Queen Dowager commanded me! If it please the Lord Regent, I would sleep more soundly if you could lend me some of your guards."

"Lord Tyrell might take that amiss."

Love how I spent time in a previous chapter arguing Cersei was controlling Pycelle in that moment, when I could have just referenced this quote.

+.+.+

Aye, thought Kevan Lannister, and Pycelle is not the only council member our Hand would like to replace. Mace Tyrell had his own candidate for lord treasurer: his uncle, Lord Seneschal of Highgarden, whom men called Garth the Gross. The last thing I need is another Tyrell on the small council. He was already outnumbered. Ser Harys was his wife's father, and Pycelle could be counted upon as well. But Tarly was sworn to Highgarden, as was Paxter Redwyne, lord admiral and master of ships, presently sailing his fleet around Dorne to deal with Euron Greyjoy's ironmen. Once Redwyne returned to King's Landing, the council would stand at three and three, Lannister and Tyrell.

The seventh voice would be the Dornishwoman now escorting Myrcella home. The Lady Nym. But no lady, if even half of what Qyburn reports is true. A bastard daughter of the Red Viper, near as notorious as her father and intent on claiming the council seat that Prince Oberyn himself had occupied so briefly. Ser Kevan had not yet seen fit to inform Mace Tyrell of her coming. The Hand, he knew, would not be pleased.

Part two!

By the end of this chapter Kevan and Pycelle will be dead, leaving Mace Tyrell (Hand of the King), Randyll Tarly (Master of laws), Paxter Redwyne (Master of ships), Ser Harys Swift (Master of coin), and Nym on the small council.

Three to one, with Mace Tyrell in the driver's seat acting as Hand. The Tyrells officially control the realm, right?

WRONG.

Despite Kevan's death, Ser Harys will still take the (long) trip to Braavos to speak with the Iron Bank. Why?

The envoy from the Seven Kingdoms had taken two of his guards into his box to stand behind him and the Black Pearl, but the other two had been posted just outside the door to make certain he was not disturbed.

[...]

"How long do you think we'll be here?"

"Longer than you'd like," the old man replied. "If he goes back without the gold the queen will have his head. Besides, I seen that wife of his. There's steps in Casterly Rock she can't go down for fear she'd get stuck, that's how fat she is. Who'd go back to that, when he has his sooty queen?" - Mercy, TWOW

A queen sent him. That queen will have his head if he doesn't come back with gold.

That's quite the spoiler.

"It would," Ser Kevan said wearily. Time to put an end to this. "Thank you, my lords. Let us convene again five days hence. After Cersei's trial."

Not only does Cersei survive her trial, she's returned to power.

Why is the High Sparrow allowing that to happen? Why is a Tyrell dominated small council allowing that to happen? Why is Hand of the King Mace Tyrell allowing that to happen? Why is Queen Margaery Tyrell allowing that to happen?

I have a question for the audience:

Do you think it's possible Cersei killed most of these people at the trial?

I would also like to circle back to a previous question:

Do you think the King's Landing army from the Reach descending on Storm's End is there for battle?

If we are seen to be going against the gods, it will only drive the pious into the arms of one or the other of these would-be usurpers.

Side note, I'll eat rocks the day Nym Sand walks into King's Landing and serves under Cersei Lannister. Preposterous. I could laugh.

Tommen's the last one to die, and according to my watch he's got five days left. Myrcella is down to her last fifteen minutes, if she isn't already dead. That girl is arriving in a body bag.

+.+.+

The man we need is Littlefinger. Petyr Baelish had a gift for conjuring dragons from the air.

Is that a double entendre?

+.+.+

The three men walked together from the throne room. Outside the snow was swirling round the outer ward, a caged beast howling to be free. "Have you ever felt such cold?" asked Ser Harys.

Snow or ash?

+.+.+

The dry moat surrounding Maegor's Holdfast was three feet deep in snow, the iron spikes that lined it glistening with frost. The only way in or out of Maegor's was across the drawbridge that spanned that moat. A knight of the Kingsguard was always posted at its far end. Tonight the duty had fallen to Ser Meryn Trant. With Balon Swann hunting the rogue knight Darkstar down in Dorne, Loras Tyrell gravely wounded on Dragonstone, and Jaime vanished in the riverlands, only four of the White Swords remained in King's Landing, and Ser Kevan had thrown Osmund Kettleblack (and his brother Osfryd) into the dungeon within hours of Cersei's confessing that she had taken both men as lovers. That left only Trant, the feeble Boros Blount, and Qyburn's mute monster Robert Strong to protect the young king and royal family.

Love that segue! From iron spikes to the lack of personal bodyguards available to Tommen. Nothing strange going on here.

She paused upon the drawbridge that spanned the dry moat, gazing down at the spikes below. - Cersei I, AFFC

She left him on the drawbridge that spanned the dry moat with its bed of iron spikes and entered Maegor's Holdfast alone. - Cersei V, AFFC

"Should Ser Loras fall, Your Grace will need to find another worthy for the Kingsguard," Lord Qyburn said as they crossed over the spiked moat that girded Maegor's Holdfast. - Cersei VII, AFFC

Yet all these were as naught against the tragedy that descended on the court and king. On the twenty-second day of the ninth moon of 133 AC, Jaehaera of House Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the last surviving child of King Aegon II, perished at the age of ten. The little queen died just as her mother, Queen Helaena, had, throwing herself from a window in Maegor's Holdfast onto the iron spikes that lined the dry moat below. Impaled through breast and belly, she twisted in agony for half an hour before she could be lifted free, whereupon she passed from this life at once. - Fire & Blood

+.+.+

I could put Lancel in a white cloak, he reflected. There is more honor in that than he will ever find in the Warrior's Sons.

You can't save him, Kevan. Cersei Lannister never forgets.

+.+.+

His niece had been subdued and submissive since her walk of atonement, thank the gods. The novices who attended her reported that she spent a third of her waking hours with her son, another third in prayer, and the rest in her tub. She was bathing four or five times a day, scrubbing herself with horsehair brushes and strong lye soap, as if she meant to scrape her skin off.

She will never wash the stain away, no matter how hard she scrubs. Ser Kevan remembered the girl she once had been, so full of life and mischief. And when she'd flowered, ahhhh … had there ever been a maid so sweet to look upon? If Aerys had agreed to marry her to Rhaegar, how many deaths might have been avoided? Cersei could have given the prince the sons he wanted, lions with purple eyes and silver manes … and with such a wife, Rhaegar might never have looked twice at Lyanna Stark. The northern girl had a wild beauty, as he recalled, though however bright a torch might burn it could never match the rising sun.

Arya fandom in shambles.

I'd shower 8 times a day too, but I'm slightly suspicious about abnormal bathing habits knowing what I know about Jeyne and Theon.

This woman is actively plotting, we just have to figure out how.

+.+.+

I have no reason to feel guilty, Ser Kevan told himself. Tywin would understand that, surely. It was his daughter who brought shame down on our name, not I. What I did I did for the good of House Lannister.

His father ignored the sally. "The honor of our House was at stake. I had no choice but to ride. No man sheds Lannister blood with impunity."

"Hear Me Roar," Tyrion said, grinning. The Lannister words. - Tyrion VII, AGOT

+.+.+

"It had to be," Ser Kevan muttered over the last of his wine. His High Holiness had to be appeased. Tommen needed the Faith behind him in the battles to come. And Cersei … the golden child had grown into a vain, foolish, greedy woman. Left to rule, she would have ruined Tommen as she had Joffrey.

Won't take long either.

+.+.+

Only the knights of the Kingsguard were permitted swords in Tommen's presence.

Ser Boros Blount was in attendance on the boy king and his mother when Ser Kevan entered the royal chambers. Blount wore enameled scale, white cloak, and halfhelm. He did not look well. Of late Boros had grown notably heavier about the face and belly, and his color was not good. And he was leaning against the wall behind him, as if standing had become too great an effort for him.

I think I get it now.

"Ser Boros," the queen said pleasantly, "you look quite grey this morning. Something you ate, perchance?" Jaime had made him the king's food taster. A tasty task, but shameful for a knight. Blount hated it. - Cersei IV, AFFC

I predict Boros Blount will have a heart attack when he's in charge of watching Tommen, leaving Tommen unattended. Near a window.

+.+.+

The meal was served by three novices, well-scrubbed girls of good birth between the ages of twelve and sixteen. In their soft white woolens, each seemed more innocent and unworldly than the last, yet the High Septon had insisted that no girl spend more than seven days in the queen's service, lest Cersei corrupt her. They tended the queen's wardrobe, drew her bath, poured her wine, changed her bedclothes of a morning. One shared the queen's bed every night, to ascertain she had no other company; the other two slept in an adjoining chamber with the septa who looked over them. Cersei rose when he entered and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Dear uncle. It is so good of you to sup with us." The queen was dressed as modestly as any matron, in a dark brown gown that buttoned up to her throat and a hooded green mantle that covered her shaved head. Before her walk she would have flaunted her baldness beneath a golden crown. "Come, sit," she said. "Will you have wine?"

She's allowed to drink. That's a bit of an oversight.

Masterful performance by Cersei Lannister. When is this woman meeting with Qyburn? I want to know.

+.+.+

"I am well served. The girls are sweet, and the good septas make certain that I say my prayers. But once my innocence is proved, it would please me if Taena Merryweather might attend me once again. She could bring her son to court. Tommen needs other boys about him, friends of noble birth."

It was a modest request. Ser Kevan saw no reason why it should not be granted. He could foster the Merryweather boy himself, whilst Lady Taena accompanied Cersei back to Casterly Rock. "I will send for her after the trial," he promised.

She's scheeeeming. Why does she want Taena?

"Your Grace," that one said, in her sultry Myrish tones, "I have sent word to my friends across the narrow sea, asking them to seize the Imp at once should he show his ugly face in the Free Cities."

"Do you have many friends across the water?"

"In Myr, many. In Lys as well, and Tyrosh. Men of power." - Cersei II, AFFC

Drown, thought Cersei. "Highgarden has gold as well. You have my leave to hire sellsails from beyond the narrow sea."

"Pirates out of Myr and Lys, you mean?" Loras said with contempt. "The scum of the Free Cities?" - Cersei VII, AFFC

Does she want a sellsword company? Is that why Harys went to Braavos for gold?

The Lannister army is evaporating, the Reach army is probably going to Aegon, therefore she needs sellswords. If Daenerys has sellswords, Cersei will have sellswords. It is known.

+.+.+

"The bad cat?" Ser Kevan said, amused. He is a sweet boy.

"An old black tomcat with a torn ear," Cersei told him. "A filthy thing, and foul-tempered. He clawed Joff's hand once." She made a face. "The cats keep the rats down, I know, but that one … he's been known to attack ravens in the rookery."

"I will ask the ratters to set a trap for him."

He clawed Joff's hand once? Sounds like Nymeria. Has the Jon Snow black cat morphed into Arya the cat?

Sorry, no ratcatcher is going to trap her.

The princess [Daenerys] was six, and years past being weaned, but a wet nurse was summoned, for there were some who believed that mother's milk could cure Shivers. Maesters came and went, septons and septas prayed, the king commanded that a hundred new ratcatchers be hired at once, and offered a silver stag for every dead rat, grey or black.

[...]

None of it matter. A day and a half after she had woken her mother from sleep complaining of feeling cold, the little princess was dead. - Fire & Blood

+.+.+

Ser Kevan could not remember ever seeing his niece so quiet, so subdued, so demure. All for the good, he supposed. But it made him sad as well. Her fire is quenched, she who used to burn so bright.

Dumb. You're dumb.

The fire's only getting started.

+.+.+

Cersei lifted her chin, her green eyes shining in the candlelight. "Jaime? Have you had word?"

"None. Cersei, you may need to prepare yourself for—"

"If he were dead, I would know it. We came into this world together, Uncle. He would not go without me."

I guarantee it!

I cannot die while Cersei lives, he told himself. We will die together as we were born together. - Jaime IV, ASOS

We will leave this world together, as we once came into it. "He will not lose. Not Jaime. Not with my life at stake." - Cersei X, AFFC

And Jaime and I are more than brother and sister. We are one person in two bodies. We shared a womb together. He came into this world holding my foot, our old maester said. When he is in me, I feel … whole." The ghost of a smile flitted over her lips. - Eddard XII, AGOT

+.+.+

She nodded. "Uncle, may I ask you a question?"

"Whatever you wish."

"Your wife … do you mean to bring her to court?"

"No." Dorna was a gentle soul, never comfortable but at home with friends and kin around her. She had done well by their children, dreamed of having grandchildren, prayed seven times a day, loved needlework and flowers. In King's Landing she would be as happy as one of Tommen's kittens in a pit of vipers. "My lady wife mislikes travel. Lannisport is her place."

"It is a wise woman who knows her place."

He did not like the sound of that. "Say what you mean."

"I thought I did." Cersei held out her cup. The freckled girl filled it once again.

Not only is she drinking, she's drinking a lot.

Second time Cersei has inquired about Dorna.

"Hardstone has cleared the broken men from Darry castle," he replied. "Lancel's bride awaits us there."

"Will your lady wife be joining you for the nuptials?" - Cersei III, AFFC

She wants Dorna to control Kevan, but Kevan will die.

Ser Harys had been thrilled by his appointment, too dim to realize that he was more hostage than Hand. His daughter was her uncle's wife, and Kevan loved his chinless lady, flat-chested and chicken-legged as she was. So long as she had Ser Harys in hand, Kevan Lannister must needs think twice about opposing her. To be sure, a good-father is not the ideal hostage, but better a flimsy shield than none. - Cersei IV, AFFC

We still have Dorna's father to control.

I'm not sure where this is going. Surely Dorna will be in King's Landing for his funeral, then what? I'm a bit nervous to find out.

+.+.+

"Osney's brothers will not stand by idly and watch him die," Cersei warned him.

"I did not expect that they would. I've had the both of them arrested."

That seemed to take her aback. "For what crime?"

"Fornication with a queen. His High Holiness says that you confessed to bedding both of them—had you forgotten?"

Her face reddened. "No. What will you do with them?"

"The Wall, if they admit their guilt. If they deny it, they can face Ser Robert. Such men should never have been raised so high."

Cersei lowered her head. "I … I misjudged them."

I will not be a happy camper if the Kettleblacks are anywhere near Jon, Sansa, and Littlefinger.

+.+.+

Before he took his leave, he dropped to one knee and kissed his niece upon the hand. If her silent giant failed her, it might be the last kiss she would ever know.

I'm convinced, author. You convinced me.

+.+.+

The rest was shrouded in shadow … except beneath the open window, where a spray of ice crystals glittered in the moonlight, swirling in the wind. On the window seat a raven loitered, pale, huge, its feathers ruffled. It was the largest raven that Kevan Lannister had ever seen. Larger than any hunting hawk at Casterly Rock, larger than the largest owl. Blowing snow danced around it, and the moon painted it silver.

Not silver. White. The bird is white.

At this point I'm giving every bird the side-eye.

+.+.+

Then something slammed him in the chest between the ribs, hard as a giant's fist. It drove the breath from him and sent him lurching backwards. The white raven took to the air, its pale wings slapping him about the head. Ser Kevan half-sat and half-fell onto the window seat. What … who … A quarrel was sunk almost to the fletching in his chest. No. No, that was how my brother died. Blood was seeping out around the shaft. "Pycelle," he muttered, confused. "Help me … I …"

Then he saw. Grand Maester Pycelle was seated at his table, his head pillowed on the great leather-bound tome before him. Sleeping, Kevan thought … until he blinked and saw the deep red gash in the old man's spotted skull and the blood pooled beneath his head, staining the pages of his book. All around his candle were bits of bone and brain, islands in a lake of melted wax.

Once Grand Maester Pycelle came with a box of flasks and bottles, to ask if she was ill. He felt her brow, made her undress, and touched her all over while her bedmaid held her down. - Sansa VI, AGOT

+.+.+

Was this his nephew's work? "Tyrion?" he called. "Where …?"

"Far away," a half-familiar voice replied.

He stood in a pool of shadow by a bookcase, plump, pale-faced, round-shouldered, clutching a crossbow in soft powdered hands. Silk slippers swaddled his feet.

Those shadows can be dangerous.

+.+.+

The eunuch set the crossbow down. "Ser Kevan. Forgive me if you can. I bear you no ill will. This was not done from malice. It was for the realm. For the children."

You cut the tongues out of children.

+.+.+

"There are … there are hundreds of Lannister guardsmen in this castle."

"But none in this room, thankfully. This pains me, my lord. You do not deserve to die alone on such a cold dark night. There are many like you, good men in service to bad causes … but you were threatening to undo all the queen's good work, to reconcile Highgarden and Casterly Rock, bind the Faith to your little king, unite the Seven Kingdoms under Tommen's rule. So …"

A gust of wind blew up. Ser Kevan shivered violently.

"Are you cold, my lord?" asked Varys.

Speaking of shivers and cold, did you know it's believed the Shivers came to King's Landing because of harbor rats from the Free Cities?

And then the Shivers came, and the Stranger walked the land.

[...]

Many of the smallfolk believed that it was carried by rats; not the familiar grey rats of King's Landing or Oldtown, big and bold and vicious, but the smaller black rats that could be seen swarming from the holds of ships at dock and scurrying down the ropes that held them fast. - Fire & Blood

And those little buggers killed precious little Daenerys Targaryen!

It was the hour of the owl when Queen Alysanne was awoken by her daughter shaking her gently by the arm. "Mother," Princess Daenerys said, "I'm cold." - Fire & Blood

Personally, I believe they have an undeserving reputation. Nobody was able to prove the rats were even guilty!

Though the guilt of rats was never proved to the satisfaction of the Citadel, suddenly every house in the Seven Kingdoms, from the grandest castle to the humblest hut, required a cat. - Fire & Blood

+.+.+

"I thought the crossbow fitting. You shared so much with Lord Tywin, why not that? Your niece will think the Tyrells had you murdered, mayhaps with the connivance of the Imp. The Tyrells will suspect her. Someone somewhere will find a way to blame the Dornishmen. Doubt, division, and mistrust will eat the very ground beneath your boy king, whilst Aegon raises his banner above Storm's End and the lords of the realm gather round him."

All true, but when you stab Substitute Tywin dozens of times after the crossbow it kind of makes it look like retribution for Rhaenys.

Doubt anyone picks up on that though.

+.+.+

"Aegon?" For a moment he did not understand. Then he remembered. A babe swaddled in a crimson cloak, the cloth stained with his blood and brains. "Dead. He's dead."

"No." The eunuch's voice seemed deeper. "He is here. Aegon has been shaped for rule since before he could walk. He has been trained in arms, as befits a knight to be, but that was not the end of his education. He reads and writes, he speaks several tongues, he has studied history and law and poetry. A septa has instructed him in the mysteries of the Faith since he was old enough to understand them. He has lived with fisherfolk, worked with his hands, swum in rivers and mended nets and learned to wash his own clothes at need. He can fish and cook and bind up a wound, he knows what it is like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid. Tommen has been taught that kingship is his right. Aegon knows that kingship is his duty, that a king must put his people first, and live and rule for them."

Yeah, here's the thing about Aegon being trained in arms, it doesn't appear to be a strength of his. Oh well.

To me, it seems like Varys drops the facade whenever he's telling the truth.

Varys smiled apologetically. "I will not keep you long, my lord. There are things you must know. You are the King's Hand, and the king is a fool." The eunuch's cloying tones were gone; now his voice was thin and sharp as a whip. "Your friend, I know, yet a fool nonetheless … and doomed, unless you save him. Today was a near thing. They had hoped to kill him during the melee." - Eddard VII, AGOT

"I recall," said Tyrion. "You did not want to talk of it."

"Nor do I, but . . ." This pause was longer than the one before, and when Varys spoke again his voice was different somehow. "I was an orphan boy apprenticed to a traveling folly. Our master owned a fat little cog and we sailed up and down the narrow sea performing in all the Free Cities and from time to time in Oldtown and King's Landing. - Tyrion X, ACOK

"Perhaps he read a book and looked at the color of a bastard's hair, as Ned Stark did, and Jon Arryn before him. Or perhaps someone whispered it in his ear." The eunuch's laugh was not his usual giggle, but deeper and more throaty. - Tyrion III, ACOK

I guess we'll have to wait and see!

By the way, the part about being educated and possessing knowledge of history, law, and poetry is when it becomes clear it's not about Arya Stark. Sorry.

+.+.+

Kevan Lannister tried to cry out … to his guards, his wife, his brother … but the words would not come.

Lol, loser.

+.+.+

He shuddered violently.

"I am sorry." Varys wrung his hands. "You are suffering, I know, yet here I stand going on like some silly old woman. Time to make an end to it." The eunuch pursed his lips and gave a little whistle.

Ser Kevan was cold as ice, and every labored breath sent a fresh stab of pain through him. He glimpsed movement, heard the soft scuffling sound of slippered feet on stone. A child emerged from a pool of darkness, a pale boy in a ragged robe, no more than nine or ten. Another rose up behind the Grand Maester's chair. The girl who had opened the door for him was there as well. They were all around him, half a dozen of them, white-faced children with dark eyes, boys and girls together.

And in their hands, the daggers.

Wait, who had the last chapter again? Right, Daenerys.

Anyway, here's a bunch of rats children coming through the secret tunnels of the Red Keep to kill Kevan Lannister with daggers.

He's cold.

Final thoughts:

Fam,

WE DID IT!

Not to sound dramatic, but that was the worst experience of my life.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #epilogue

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