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ramsayxme · 6 months

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Chapter One / Chapter Two / AO3 Link

Authors Note: TW- forced sex, forced oral sex, slight violence, Ramsay things, abandonment, etc etc.

Chapter Three: Your Reward

You finished your bath alone. A servant came in to add wood to the fire, allowing you to have promised warmth for the night. The water grew cold as you soaked, hoping and praying to the Gods that the water would cleanse you of his touch. When the water was finally as cold as the air, you pulled yourself out and slumped in front of the fire, pulling your knees to your chest. You hadn't been given another nightgown. You wrapped a pelt around your shivering and damp body as you allowed yourself to air dry in front of the fire.

Once you dried, you padded naked to the door. You knocked aggressively. "Can I get some clothes?" You yelled. A man was on the other side, keeping watch of your door, and he hollered back to you in a gruff voice. "Lord Ramsay has not delivered any clothes for his prisoner." You huffed, slightly annoyed. You walked over to your bed and laid down, covering yourself with the blankets. It was nearly impossible to tell what time of day it was here, your tiny window only ever showed overcast snowy skies.

You closed your eyes, exhausted from the last 48 hours, and wanted to attempt to get some sleep while Ramsay was likely on a hunt or doing whatever it was that evil Lord's did during the day. You closed your eyes, and drifted to sleep.

******************************

You stirred, waking up. Your room was nearly pitch dark, the fire completely dead. The only light you could focus on was the lit candles on your small table. You jumped, realizing that Ramsay was sitting at the chair next to your table, staring at you as you woke up. He had a wine cup in front of him, no doubt full to the brim. He had no expression on his face as he stared at you. You closed your eyes again, hoping that he wasn't really there and you were imagining things.

"I brought you the clothes you asked for." Ramsay's voice echoed in your room, breaking the silence. You groaned, your body was aching. You opened your eyes to look at Ramsay. "Thank you...M'lord." You whispered as you sat up in bed, making sure the blankets stayed over your naked skin. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" He asked you. You gingerly rubbed your face, softly allowing your brain to turn on again. "No, Rams- My Lord. I don't know." He chuckled. "You slept all day and all night. You poor, tired thing." He suddenly stood up, the chair scooting loudly.

You believed him. You had been so exhausted, you could imagine yourself sleeping that long. "I'm sorry, My Lord, I was very tired." You watched him intently as he walked over to your bed, sitting on the foot of it. "It's quite alright. I forgive you." He smiled, his eyes strangely calm. You didn't understand his dynamic, one minute he was angry at you and the next, loving and soft. He leaned forward towards you, and whispered, "I missed you yesterday. I came by last night but I saw how deeply you were sleeping. I didn't want to..." his eyes rolled around their sockets, searching for the right words. "...disturb you."

You forced a gentle smile. "Well, thank you for that. I needed the rest. That was... very kind of you." Ramsay chuckled, placing his hand on top of your leg over the blankets. "Kindness is what I am known for, My Lady." You weren't sure what to do, so you just softly smiled at him. He stood up and walked to the window, staring outside. "You deserve a reward, you see." He began.

"Last night after I visited and then left, the servant who was in charge of locking the door seemed to have forgotten his duties. Your door went unlocked all night long as you slept!" He exclaimed. Your heart sank. You could've escaped. You mentally scolded yourself for not being more vigilant. "But! Don't you worry, I took care of him. He won't be guarding your door any longer... come and see!" He beckoned you with his hand. You slid off the bed, dragging the blankets on the floor behind you, still covering your body.

You reached the window and Ramsay draped his arm over your shoulders, pressing his cheek against yours. "Look, there." He pointed outside. Your eyes followed the imaginary line until you saw it. Hanging on a wooden platform, there was the bloody and fully exposed muscular system of what was once a man. You gasped and looked away, burying your face into Ramsay's shoulder. He chuckled. "Aww, you are so innocent. That was the man that failed to lock the door, you see? I could've done that to you when you tried to run away. But, I showed you mercy." He cooed into your ear, his free hand playing with your hair.

"Are you ready for your reward?" He asked, using his index finger to tilt your chin up to look at him. "Are you going to flay me?" You asked, lower lip trembling. Ramsay smiled empathetically and cradled your face with his hand. "No of course not. Your reward isn't being flayed, silly girl. Your reward is pleasure." You stiffened, unsure of what he was alluding to. "Go, lay on the bed." He pointed towards your bed. You reluctantly made your way and laid down, burrowing under the covers. Ramsay began unlacing his shirt as he approached you. You prepared yourself to be used once again by him, and a knot formed in your stomach.

You closed your eyes, listening to Ramsay's leather fall to the floor along with his trousers and the clatter of his knives. You felt the weight on the bed as he climbed on top of you. You opened your eyes, expecting his face to be in front of you, but it wasn't. You saw him lifting the covers at the foot of the bed, and crawling head first in. "Let me please you." You heard him say under the blankets. Your body stiffened as you felt his shoulders between your ankles, and then up to your thighs.

He pushed your knees up, resting your thighs on his shoulders. You clamped your legs together, but Ramsay softly spread them. You felt your stomach churn, but this time, it wasn't with anxiety. You felt your core warm up as he began kissing your inner thighs softly, gently sucking as his lips grazed your skin. You held your breath as his hands traveled up, squeezing your breast softly, rubbing his thumb over your nipples. You whined, your body at war with itself. Ramsay was coaxing you gently with kisses, begging you to relax as he kissed as high as he could on your thighs.

You exhaled a moan as his lips met your wet cunt, kissing and sucking gently. He hummed with delight as he felt you were already wet for him. He gripped your thighs with his hands as he pulled your legs apart, allowing him full access to your most sensitive area. "Ramsay I-" You tried to say, but were cut off by your own gasping as he swirled his tongue around your clit. He was very good at this, which was making your body go into a pleasure induced swim even if you didn't want it to.

He continued to kiss your folds, his tongue snaking inside you as his nose pressed against you perfectly. You allowed your eyes to close as you sank deeper into his trance. You reached under the blankets and started swirling your fingers in his curls, gently gripping at his hair. He groaned as you did so, causing vibrations to gently tickle you as he licked. Your grip on his hair tightened as he licked faster and more passionately. "Doesn't that feel good?" He groaned, his lips grazing your clit. You moaned in response because unfortunately, it did.

You had never been eaten out before, but Ramsay definitely knew what he was doing. Your body was shivering under his touch, a flick of the tongue was enough to send a rolling wave of lust over you. You wanted him badly. You tugged at his hair and lifted the covers. "Ramsay, I want-" He reached up and covered your mouth with his hand. You whined into his hand as he silenced you, his other hand made its way down to your core.

"I know what you want." He whispered while pushing two of his fingers deep inside you. You lifted your hips, begging for more. He slowly slid his fingers in and out of you, the slow pace driving you crazy. Your hips began grinding on his fingers as he kept kissing your clit. You felt yourself climbing towards orgasm, and Ramsay could tell. He read it on your face. He pulled himself up, and his fingers slid out of you completely. Ramsay lie down next to you on the bed and he put one of his toned arms behind his head.

He grinned at you, his face slick with your arousal as he grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked you down to his waist. You immediately took his hard cock in your mouth. "That's right, good girl." He groaned as you began allowing his cock to fill your throat. You bobbed your head slowly up and down on his length, you couldn't quite fit all of it in your throat without gagging. Ramsay seemed to enjoy the gagging, though. You felt his hands on the back of your head as he applied pressure, pushing your face down on his cock.

You groaned, gagging on him. He exhaled loudly as you gagged around him, your throat contracting on his twitching cock. "Ahh, that feels so good..." His voice was raspy and low. You wanted him inside you. At this moment, you didn't care that he had flayed a man earlier today just for fun. You didn't care that he would probably hurt you within the next hour. You didn't care that he was Ramsay Bolton.

You pushed yourself up, Ramsay staring at you wide eyed. You quickly straddled him, his cock soaking wet with your spit. He chuckled as he saw the desperation in your eyes. "You want me badly, don't you?" He reached out, squeezing your hips. You nodded, whining as you rocked back and forth on his lap, his cock nudging at your entrance. "Take me then. After all, this is your reward."

Ramsay kept kneading at your hips and thighs as you guided his cock inside you. Your body was sent into a euphoric state as he filled you, moaning loudly as your walls stretched to accommodate him. Ramsay was watching you intently as you filled with pleasure, his eyes wide and tracking your face as you slid up and down. Sweat began forming on his forehead and on you as well. Your legs were already so sore from everything you had been through and he noticed you struggling to keep a decent pace.

Ramsay smiled, flipping you over so he was on top. "I'll take care of you, you just enjoy your reward..." he began thrusting into you. Your eyes rolled back as you allowed him to fuck you at his own pace. You didn't realize how badly you wanted him until now. You dug your fingernails into his back as he thrusted, groaning while you dug them in deep. You felt the warmth of your orgasm approaching as he continued to keep the pace. You started to tip over the edge, spilling over and flooding with pleasure. Ramsay didn't slow as he fucked you through your orgasm.

You were panting, aching, and trembling as Ramsay pulled out of you and threw you to the floor by your hair. You slammed onto the ground hard and looked up at him, your body and mind spinning from being so full of pleasure to suddenly thrown on the floor. Ramsay stepped forward, his cock dripping from being inside you. He grabbed your hair and lifted you to your knees, forcing his cock into your mouth. You didn't have the strength or energy to fight back as he fucked your face.

You barely had caught your breath before his cock was in your throat and you were gagging on him again. He groaned words to you, but you were in such a haze that you didn't understand them. He let go of your hair and you fell to the floor, leaving his cock unattended. He growled angrily as he lifted you up and threw you on the bed face first. He slammed his hand down, smacking your ass cheek so hard you let out a shriek. "I said bend over!" He barked. You must've not heard him the first time, as you positioned yourself on the edge of the bed.

His hands grabbed your hips and he fucked you from behind, slamming your thighs into the side of the mattress. He kept smacking your ass, leaving you whining like a pathetic whore. You could tell Ramsay was close to finishing as he got more erratic with his thrusts. He flipped you over to your back, and he straddled your stomach. One of his hands immediately went around your throat while his other hand began stroking his cock which was twitching and ready to release.

He began choking you as he jerked himself off, he was completely sweaty and his face was very serious. You couldn't help but swoon at the sight in front of you. You almost felt lucky to see him like this. Suddenly, the hand choking you pulled back and landed swiftly across your cheek, sending a ringing through your ears. He smacked you across the face. You cried out and Ramsay came, his warm cum hitting you in the face where he slapped you and sliding down to pool in your neck. He held a fist full of your hair from the top of your head as he finished cumming.

His breathing was heavy as he stood up, leaving you on the bed covered in his seed. He smiled at you as he threw you a cloth off the floor. "Keep doing good things and I will reward you more often." He grinned as he pulled his clothes back on. You laid there, wiping his cum from your face and neck. "You do look lovely like this..." He chuckled as he pulled his shirt over his head. "Now, be a good girl and clean up this room. I'll be back for you tomorrow." Ramsay swiftly left the room without another word.

You finished wiping yourself off and sat in silence, allowing your body and mind to process what just happened. On one hand, you were humiliated and hated him for using 'your reward' as a chance to just get what he wanted... but on the other hand, you were pleased to be the lady who he used for his pleasure. You were confused and ashamed as you splashed the cold water from your last bath on your face, washing yourself up. You argued with yourself as part of you wished he would come back for more.

Chapter Four

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dragons-and-handcuffs · 8 months

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Imagine...

Ramsay truly loving Stark!reader and that is why she captured winterfell. He is just beyond obsessed with you. He is convinced that he can make you love him and what better way to do it than to make you realize how good he can make you feel. He claims you and fucks you in every corner and tower of the winterfell castle, telling you how much you mean to him. Leaving one of his hounds in your room to "protect" you but actually it's to make sure you don't try to escape. Tying you up on the Bolton cross and teasing you or punishing you till you beg him to fuck you. He just loves to see you give yourself to him. Developing Stockholm Syndrome is inevitable and he just makes you addicted to his touch. And now instead of worrying about your family you just worry if you will be able to satisfy Ramsey. Imagine lying on the bed naked with your legs spread, waiting for him to come and claim you

#hotd #game of thrones #game of thrones imagines #hotd fanfic #hotd headcanon #hotd imagine #hotd imagines #hotd one shot #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #got imagine #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones imagine #ramsey bolton #ramsay bolton #ramsey bolton imagine #ramsay bolton imagine #got fanfiction #got one shot

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axelsagewrites · 9 months

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Kinktober 2023 List

Welcome to my first ever kinktober, a month long of smutty drabbles and one shots. Hope you all enjoy and if you want added to a charecter/fandom tag list so you dont miss anything let me know <3

NSFW under cut

Masterlist Here

Day one: discrete fun with Robb Stark – deciding to take his teasing to a new level Robb decides to take the sex toys out of the bedroom

Day two: marking with Jace Velaryon – jealous is an understatement for what Jace is feeling so he decides to fix his problems by showing everyone who you belong to

Day three: phone sex with Jamie Tartt – even though he loved to play the long nights away from you were almost impossible to bare so he often found himself hitting call at late hours of the night

Day four: body worship with Podrick Payne – Podrick feels honoured just to be able to touch your body and wants you to hear his praises

Day five: role reversal with James Potter – James is used to being in charge, but things change when one night you decide to give him a taste of his own teasing medicine

Day six: over stimulation with Jon Snow – Jon is eager to please but even more eager to make you a mumbling mess who doesn’t know their own name by the end

Day seven: stepcest/cam girl au with Daemon Targaryen – after Daemons new stepdaughter moves in daemon finds out her naughty little secret

Day eight: dubcon kidnap au with Ramsay Bolton – Ramsay can’t stand the idea of such a pretty creature going unappreciated any longer

Day nine: edging/orgasm denial with Rhanerya Targaryen – since you’re used to get everything you want Rhaenyra decides to show you good things come to those who wait

Day ten: throne/semi public sex with Danerys Targaryen – being the queen is a stressful job and it is your job to help your queen relax even if that means risking getting caught

Day eleven: knife play with Ivar the Boneless – people whisper and wonder how someone so sweet could marry someone so angry, but they don’t see what Ivar does when you’re underneath him

Day twelve: exhibitionism with Tormund – while wildlings talk freely about sex Tormund enjoys watching your blush at even the mention of it making it even more fun to tease you when you come to tend to his wounds

Day thirteen: primal play with Remus Lupin – usually when Remus runs around the forest its not by choice but tonight, he is chasing his favourite prey

Day fourteen: sex toys and teasing with Sansa Stark – after finding a sleek pink vibrator in her top drawer you decide to see what it can really do

Day fifteen: voyeurism with Aegon Targaryen – while you are visiting his family Aegon discovers a secret passage and what he accidentally sees through the cracks makes him want you instantly

Day sixteen: caught in the act with Roy Kent – when Roy came home all he wanted to do was curl up in bed with you but when he heard a buzzing from under the sheets his plans took a very different turn

Day seventeen: mommy kink with Cersei Lannister – while she may be rough and callous to most others Cersei finds herself dotting on her sweet girl in her chambers each night

Day eighteen: corruption kink with Alicent Hightower – a new septa arrive at court but none of the thoughts on Alicent’s minds are holy

Day nineteen: choking with Bjorn Ironside – you may have been captured by the enemies, but the punishment Bjorn gives you is starting to feel like a reward

Day twenty: bondage/wax play with Margaery Tyrell: people may whisper about her brother’s bedroom habits but none of them see the things she gets up to with her ladies’ maid

Day twenty-one: face fucking with Cregan Stark: to gain his loyalty Cregan demands that you earn it, and he enjoys watching the tears streak down your face as you do

Day twenty-two: daddy kink with Sirius Black – the word just slipped out one time but now it’s all Sirius wants to hear from your lips

Day twenty-three: brat taming with Sandor Clegane – after growing sick of a princess’s bratty attitude Sandor decides to teach her how to behave

Day twenty-four: thigh riding/dry humping with Ragnar Lothbrok – after taking a Christian girl prisoner he decides to show you the pleasure a heathen can feel

Day twenty-five: breeding kink with Ned Stark – there is a reason why Ned has so many children and it’s not as noble as many assume

Day twenty-six: collaring with Aemond Targaryen – not wanting to share Aemond decides to invest in something to show that you’ll always be his and only his

Day twenty-seven: double penetration with Jamie Tartt and Roy Kent: they both like you and when they came to settle it once and for all neither of them expected this out come

Day twenty-eight: mutual masturbation with Oberyn Martell – you always heard that the dornish were more sex positive than most, but you hadn’t expected Oberyn Martell of all people to show you just how good it could feel

Day twenty-nine: face riding with Heleana Targaryen – while Heleana appeared shy outside of your chambers when you, her maid, came to tend to her at night she was anything but shy

Day thirty: teacher student au with Jamie Lannister – he knew it was wrong to ask you to stay after class but after one too many short, short skirts he could no longer keep his thoughts at bay

Day thirty-one: orgy/group sex with Aegon, Aemond, Jace, Daemon, and Rhaenyra since after all sharing is caring

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what-do-1000-swords-look-like · 9 months

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Rewatching 8x05 for writing reasons, which is just a brilliant episode, despite any reasons some might have to hate it, valid or invalid. Miguel Sapochnik is directing and you see his talent and epicness in every shot (that man deserves a freaking Emmy already, I said what I said) but also there are so many things being shown here that if you muted the episode after Daenerys makes her decision, during the battle scene, you would be able to tell exactly what each character is thinking and what's really going on in the story besides the surface action.

Which brings me to that one scene that a lot of people said the woman being attacked as a stand-in for Sansa in the episode for Jon. They are correct and here's how.

Jon is walking through the melee, only coming to life to defend himself when Lannister soldiers are trying to attack him. The Northerners aren't listening to him, they're attacking innocent civilians, Grey Worm is on a killing spree, Davos is trying to help people get away from the bloodshed, Dany is burning the city, Tyrion is off somewhere horrified, Cersei is watching in terror from the Red Keep... But during this scene, the sound is muted to a point where the sounds of battle happening all around Jon sound very far away. We're now seeing what Jon sees, we're in his shock fugue with him. We see on his left civilians, namely women, being brutalized by soldiers -> he keeps walking. We on his right a woman being knocked down to the ground while a child is watching in horror, blood spatter and bodies all around her (and obviously traumatized & also in danger herself since no one is left to protect her) -> he keeps walking. He then sees a Lanniser soldier telling people to run, something his soldiers should be doing (and something he himself should be doing like Davos) but he's not. While the sounds are still muted, Jon notices another Lannister soldier about to rush him and he goes into autopilot & fights the soldier off. He then looks around in horror.

This is not what he signed up for and he almost looks lost, like he doesn't know what to do. Then the sound comes back fully and he hears a scream. In all of the melee, chaos, and death around him, he hears this one woman above the rest and turns to see her being dragged into an alley to presumably be assaulted by one of his own men.

Sure enough, she's about to be and she is trying to crawl away when the man catches her again. Jon ends up saving her, threatening to run his sword through the man. When the latter tries to fight him off to go back to assault this woman, Jon kills him and tells the woman to hide.

So how is this woman standing in for Sansa besides the obvious?

Two ways.

1) Ramsay was the former Warden of the North, the former bastard of Roose Bolton who was a Northerner who "served" Robb Stark, the first King in the North, before betraying him to the Lannisters. The soldier Jon faces off with is a Northerner and is supposed to be under Jon's command as Warden of the North and the former second King in the North.

2) Sansa is who stirs Jon into action when he feels lost.

Every.

Time.

And the parallels between the gif above with Dany and the dagger to the Northern soldier that had Jon's sword run through him, and Jon's staring almost sadly at the man, realizing he had to kill one of his own are far from being coincidental.

Not only was this a precursor to what would occur in 8x06 (and why Jon would make the decision he did) but it also is symbolic of the dynamic between Jon and Sansa as a whole. She's the one who stirs him into action, no matter how terrified or traumatized or angry he might be in that moment (like the shock fugue). No matter how lost he might feel. She gives him direction and dare I say a purpose when he has none (after his death; after the WW are defeated & Dany has gone into tyrant mode).

No wonder we weren't allowed to see Sansa's (or Arya's) reaction to the news of his being a Targaryen.

No wonder Jon told Melisandre not to bring him back if he lost the Battle of the Bastards (after Sansa told him if he lost, she wouldn't be going back to Ramsay alive).

No wonder Jon was not happy with Sansa on the dock in 8x06.

She's always stirred him into action when he doesn't want to be or know how to do it himself (after his death).

He passed a woman he could have saved.

He passed a child he could have helped.

He saw someone on the other side helping and doing the right thing.

The only time he steps in to help someone else is the woman about to be assaulted.

(x) "You are the shield that guards the realms of men. You've always tried to do the right thing. No matter the cost. You've tried to protect people. Who's the greatest threat to the people now?" (no reaction)

"Do you think I'm the last man she'll execute? Who is more dangerous than the rightful heir to the Iron Throne?" (no reaction)

"And your sisters? Do you see them bending the knee?" (a little bit of a reaction)

"Why do you think Sansa told me the truth about you? Because she doesn't want Dany to be queen." (more of a reaction)

"No, but you do. And you have to choose now." (he hesitatingly goes to confront Dany and then 🗡️)

It's not just about her being his "sister" or because she's Lady Stark or family or because they were the last two Starks once upon a time. She literally stirs him into action and gives him purpose. Her pushing to go back to Winterfell led to him caring about the WW invasion again. Her being the one he chooses to protect ended a tyrant and changed history, leading for her to become the first Queen in the North and regain Northern Independence, where she can be forever safe.

It was always Sansa for him, starting in 6x04.

#jonsa #jonsa meta #jon x sansa #jonsaposts #metaposts #gotposts #game of thrones #got #jon and sansa

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farity · 8 months

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Obsession, part 14

"What is happening?"

Helaena watched Aemond grab his guns with one hand while texting with the other.

"Bolton went to her office. She was picking up her stuff."

Aegon walked behind his brother, a sniper rifle strapped to his back. "Looks like I might get to use this baby today."

"I'm getting mom," Helaena said, putting down her yogurt and racing up the stairs.

* * * * *

"I fucking knew it. I knew I should have gone with her. I should have fucking-"

"Stop it!" Aegon snapped. "You can't be with her 24/7, plus she wouldn't put up with it."

Aemond turned to his brother, eye sharp with fury. "You're an expert on my wife now?"

"Fuck off, twat."

"Tell me, what's she doing right now, is she terrified for her life and wondering if she can trust me when I say I can keep her safe?"

Aegon groaned. "You're insufferable. You can't control the world, Aemond!"

Aemond muttered something under his breath that sounded to Aegon like I fucking should, but stayed silent as he drove to his wife's former place of work.

Beside him, Aegon tried his best to appear confident, but he knew that if anything happened to his sister-in-law, Aemond might not recover. He might not survive it with his sanity intact.

Whatever's left of his fucking sanity, fucking control freak.

And Helaena. She would go back to being a timid little shit who spent hours on her spreadsheets and lists and drawing bugs or whatever shit she did instead of starting to blossom as she had lately.

He stopped himself from thinking about how he would react if anything happened to Aemond's wife. As much as he loved Helaena, he didn't understand half the shit that came out of her mouth, but his sister-in-law, he'd had a couple of good conversations with her. She saw through his bullshit and was still nice to him. Probably how Aemond had fallen for her. Because fallen for her, he had. Fucking moron probably didn't even realize it.

It is I who studies history and philosophy, he mimicked Aemond in his mind. Yeah yeah so fucking smart, can't even tell when he's in love. Fucking twat.

If he got his hands on that fucking Bolton bastard, he'd gladly hold him down while Aemond flayed him alive.

* * * * *

"Aemond Targaryen. It's been a while. I'm here with your charming wife."

"I want to speak with her," Aemond said, parked outside the office building.

Ramsay laughed. "Oh no, you don't get to call the shots, boy-o, let me tell you what's going to happen."

"Don't do it, Aemond!"

Aemond's heart nearly stopped when he heard a gun go off after his wife's scream, but then he heard her cry out, "stop shooting her, she's already dead!"

"Next one goes in your gut, pretty girl," Ramsay said. "You are very pretty," he said.

When there was a sound of disgust from his wife, Aemond had to smile. She wasn't cowering. She wasn't pleading for her life. She might be terrified, he admitted, but she hadn't frozen in fear.

"You're going to annul this marriage and marry one of the Baratheon girls."

Aemond laughed out loud, rage going all the way to his fingertips.

"And I'm going to take your wife with me to make sure you do what I say. Because if you don't, she and I are going to have some fun."

He listened helplessly as there was a small struggle, then he heard her screaming again. "Don't you fucking agree, Aemond!"

"I'm coming out with her now. We're going to get in my car and you're not going to try anything or she gets a new hole in her head."

Aemond had parked in direct view of the main doors, but a couple of rows away, by one of the many trees in the parking lot. He had enough cover and the perfect angle, but when he saw the door open he still felt his heart sink.

Bolton had one arm wrapped around her, crouching a little so his head was next to hers, and as Aemond checked his watch, he saw the numbers slowly crawling up.

Good.

He was using her as a human shield, hiding himself against her as much as possible, and he heard Aegon's softly whispered, "fuck".

He crouched down, taking in as many details as he could. Bolton had his gun against her temple. She had a red mark on her cheek, but otherwise seemed unharmed. She wasn't making it easy, dragging her bare feet and throwing her weight around.

That's my girl, he thought to himself. She had to know that Bolton wanted her alive and healthy if he was going to use her as a bargaining chip.

But then Bolton slapped her, and Aemond felt his vision go red with rage.

"Steady," Aegon whispered in his ear.

Fuck steady, Aemond thought, and ran towards his wife.

* * * * *

You saw him then, coming out from behind a tree, and your heart sank. Ramsay Bolton straightened up and began to turn, to aim his gun at Aemond, and you shoved against him with all your might, your feet stinging from the gravel as you pushed. The bullet went high and then you were falling, Bolton's weight bringing you down, your sight blurry as you hit the ground.

There were two more shots, Bolton twitching with each one as you began to crawl away. There was something on your face and when you wiped a hand across your eyes, it came out covered in red.

You felt strong hands lift you off the ground and turn you around, and then you were staring at Aemond, who was turning your head this and that way, squeezing gently down your arms, then sides and hips to ascertain that you were okay.

A car pulled up and you tensed, your fingers digging into Aemond's sweater.

"It's Helaena," he sighed. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you? I know he hit you."

"I'm fine," you managed, before Helaena crashed into you and wrapped you up in a massive hug.

"Hel, what have I said about following me?"

Helaena didn't respond, simply kept her arms around you and you felt tears begin to gather in your eyes.

"You're going to step on him," Aemond warned, and Helaena turned around, looked down at Ramsay Bolton, and kicked him twice. "Clean up," he said, tapping his earpiece. "Let's go home. Where's Aegon?"

"I got the kill shot, baby!"

You turned to see Aegon strutting over, silver hair sparkling in the sunlight.

"I got the kill shot," Aemond corrected.

Three men, including the two that Aemond had sent with you, came around. "We got all of his men, boss," one of them said before Aemond nodded and placed an arm around you to guide you to his car. "We'll clean up. Cops won't be here for another ten."

You stumbled, the pain in your feet sharper now that the danger was over, and when you turned one over to look, there were little cuts and scrapes all over the sole.

"Come on," Aemond said, lifting you in his arms.

"I can walk, Aemond!" you protested.

He ignored you and kept walking to his car. "I know, I've seen you do it."

* * * * *

He'd called ahead to the housekeeper to have the fireplace on and some hot tea. She'd started to shiver on the drive home and gone very silent, and when he tried to remember back to a time when violence and guns had frightened him, he realized he couldn't.

Carrying her into their home, he noticed her hands and feet felt like ice, and took her all the way to their bathroom, took her into the shower himself, let the hot water warm her.

If anything, she started shaking harder, and he ended up sitting on the shower floor with her, letting the heat of the water slowly seep in. He began taking off her clothes and she let him, raising her arms when he took off her sweater. There was blood on most of her clothes, on her skin, and he held her close while he soaped up the washcloth and scrubbed the red spots on her hands and face. He was careful when he went over the two marks Ramsay Bolton had left on her cheeks, felt his face alight with anger when he saw the scratch near her eye, probably from the ring Bolton liked to wear. The ring he had reportedly taken from his father after murdering him.

He slipped off the leggings and underwear, slowly took off her bra, and held her with the water beating down on the back of her neck. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face into his skin.

"I'm sorry," he said, over and over. How many times had he said it. How many more times would he have to say it.

"I was so scared," she finally said.

He brushed her hair off her face, "I know, I'm-"

"When I saw you burst out from behind that tree I thought he was going to shoot you."

He blinked. "You were scared for me?"

She nodded. "Yeah, and then he started to aim and I had to stop him bec-"

He pulled her against him, his mouth crushing hers, the thought that she could have possibly been frightened on his behalf one he had never considered.

There was a gentle cough at the door frame. "The tea is ready, sir."

* * * * *

"Thank you for everything," Aemond said, his gaze still on his wife.

"Is there anything else I can do?"

He looked up at the older lady and shook his head. "No, thank you, we've got it."

"We are all very glad you are safe, ma'am," she added before leaving.

"Thank you," his wife called out. "Aemond, I can barely move."

He brought the cup to her lips. "You don't need to move, you just need to let me take care of you." She sipped at the sweet, floral scented tea, closing her eyes at the delicate taste.

He'd wrapped her up in a fluffy towel, then in his own heavy robe, since hers was lighter and shorter. While she sipped at her tea and protested that she could do things by herself, he tended to her feet. There were a few scratches and a couple of cuts, but nothing worse, and he thanked every single of the Seven for the fact that she was almost unscathed.

"Do you want to go to the main house for dinner? I know everyone wants to see that you're ok, but if you would rather stay here, I will let them know." The fireplace had warmed her up, the bloom coming back to her cheeks.

She held the tea cup in her hands for a moment. "I think I'd rather go see everyone, if that's okay." When he nodded, she pulled him down to her and placed the cup aside. "Thank you for taking care of me."

He couldn't look at her just then, knowing that he was taking care of her only because she'd been in danger because of him, because of House and family bullshit. He nodded again and made to pull away but she held on.

"Aemond."

"Hmm."

She shrugged off the robe and he couldn't help but look. The towel had become loose around her and as she moved, it fell to her waist. "I want you to make me forget."

He didn't move, eye on her breasts.

"Please."

He looked up then, reached up to cup her face, tamping down on the anger that resurfaced when he saw the marks Bolton had left on her. She didn't need his anger right now. He kissed her jaw, her cheek, brushed his lips gently over the bruises and drew her down to the nest of blankets he'd placed her on.

When she sighed, he kissed her neck, the hollow beneath her throat, back up to her shoulder. "You're so beautiful," he whispered against her skin. "So precious to me."

When he closed his lips around one nipple she arched against him, her fingertips going up and down his arms as he settled his weight between her thighs. He let go of her breast, going back up to kiss her lips. "So brave. So very, very brave."

He shoved down the sweatpants he'd put on after their shower, kicked them off and reached down to guide himself. When he started entering her, she sighed, and he kissed her again. "I would burn down the world for you," he murmured, and filled her completely.

He pulled back slowly, drawing a soft moan from her, and pushed back, feeling the feather light fluttering of her around him. She wrapped her legs around him, her mouth reaching up to his, and he let her take him, let her tongue push in and explore, let her hands tighten on his hair as her hips rocked.

She let her head fall back when she came, the heat of her pulling him along as he let her take him into the darkness.

* * * * *

"He killed her so easily," you said, "she was nothing, just something he used to get to me."

"Did she have family?" Aemond asked.

"An ex-husband she was still in love with. We should let him know."

He nodded, holding you closer. "We will let him know." He kissed your temple, nuzzled your cheek. "How are you, really?" he finally asked.

"How did the guard know the cops were still minutes away?"

Aemond took a deep breath, and looked at you.

"Do you own the local police?"

He smirked. "I wouldn't say we own it."

"Aemond."

"We have a lot of influence over major institutions throughout Westeros."

You rolled your eyes at him. "You own the local police."

"I didn't say that."

"Look, I just need to know. If I'd met Ramsay Bolton out and about somewhere I would have had no idea who he was. I can't live like that, not knowing who is after us."

Aemond nodded. "Fine. We should all talk about what's going on, anyway. I'm sure Helaena has made a spreadsheet about it."

"Come on," you said, standing up from the sofa. "Let's go to dinner."

* * * * *

He watched her while she slept. She was curled up on her side, facing him, her breathing steady.

She was alive, and she was whole and healthy.

He kept reminding himself of that, while the guilt of being the source of the danger she'd been in to begin with wouldn't let him sleep. The knowledge that she'd chosen him, again and again, despite knowing what he was, what his family was, overwhelmed him.

When she'd mentioned having self-defense classes he'd instinctively balked at the idea, but she hadn't backed down and he figured he could get her the best instructors, instead of having her go to some random idiot who could get her injured.

She sighed in her sleep and reached out for him. He felt her small hand on his arm, placed his hand on top of hers. He wasn't worthy of her. Wasn't worthy of her love, that was certain. He didn't know why she wanted him, why she loved him, but it sure as hell wasn't working out in her favor. She'd lost everything she owned, she'd been attacked by a psychopath, she'd become a public figure, which she'd never sought before.

When he looked back at her, he realized she was looking at him. "I can hear the self-hatred from here," she said, and then rose on her elbow. "Come here."

He laid down next to her, and she pulled him over so that his head rested on her shoulder.

I should be comforting her, he thought, but as she stroked his hair, he closed his eye and let her soothe him. He felt the first tendrils of sleep drift over him and for once, didn't fight against it.

* * * * *

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esther-dot · 1 year

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Daenerys is capricious and inconsistent in the extreme. She romanticizes the Dothraki but campaigns against Slaver’s Bay, never realizing that Drogo was just as bad as any of these masters and that the Dothraki helped prop up Slaver’s Bay’s markets. She’s for or against slavery depending on which positon benefits her at any given time. She has no set rule of law, and she exacts punishments on a whim. She’s unpredictable. Can you imagine living under someone and not knowing what was or wasn’t against the law, or what might or might not get you tortured or crucified ?

And she has an extraordinary capacity for self-righteous violence. This is tricky, because at face value it makes her violence look somehow better or justified. Someone who crucifies slavers without a trial garners more sympathy than Ramsay Bolton flaying and crucifying people who’ve just surrendered. Notice how Daenerys and the Boltons are the only parties in the books, besides the Meereenese slavers, who use crucifixion as punishment. Daenerys is also thematically linked to the Boltons in one of her thoughts, where she thinks about making peace with men she’d sooner flay. How intentional this parallel between Dany and the Boltons is, I can’t say, but it’s definitely there but people let this stuff slide because, right now, at this time, the targets of Daenerys’s self-righteous violence are targets that we ourselves also want to see punished. But remember that Daenerys sees pretty much anyone who would stand against her conquest of Westeros as an enemy equally worthy of these extreme acts of violence. It’s one thing for Daenerys to aim her anger at slavers, but it might be another thing entirely for her to aim it at, say, Tommen, the Starks or the Martells. It actually wouldn’t surprise me if GRRM is making a statement here about violence and how bias and perspective play a role in when violence is "acceptable" and when it isn’t. I also think it’s naive for anyone to expect Daenerys punishments to somehow get more lenient when she gets to Westeros; at some point, she will almost certainly target someone who, from readers perspectives, doesn’t deserve it.

You explained this so well, anon, thank you!

I believe that what he is doing with Dany is trying to show how choosing violence says something about you, but also changes you. The decision to harden yourself to suffering and violence (which Dany thinks she must do because she thinks she must take Westeros) are a problem because if you succeed, why would you not choose those means more often? Martin believes you are meant to see the cost of taking life, to feel it, so you do not do it easily, thoughtlessly.

The Starks have this belief that's introduced in Bran I for a reason,

...we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die. (AGOT, Bran I)

Careful, measured justice matters, and Dany struggles to constrain herself to that. So yes, right now, we aren't as alarmed as we should be because the people who die seem guilty enough to most fans so they let it slide, but she will eventually kill someone who isn't, many someones.

I believe the Bolton / Dany parallel is intentional, there are examples from the book as well as the show (mixture of both, show dialogue, similar shots from the show). There are book only posts, but for some reason I'm not turning them up at the moment.

#dot chat #anti daenerys

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zalrb · 10 months

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Speak!

Link to part 1: http://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/164720175550/trust-jonsa-one-shot Link to part 2: http://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/181817838525/an-entirely-different-way-pt-2

Link to part 3: http://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/182562584780/passion

Link to part 4:https://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/184333793460/survival

Link to part 5: https://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/184637430325/the-happening

Link to part 6: https://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/627229549053214720/nothing-has-changed-everything-has-changed

Link to part 7: https://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/695978201342672896/agony

Jon Snow was dead. With each step he took toward the altar, he’d buried another piece of himself until he stood, waiting, for his bride as not much more than a hollow husk. Truthfully, he’d already been dead for a while. Since his conversation with Arya.

He’d been dressing when she’d entered his rooms, fastening his vest with leaden, sombre hands and when she’d walked through the doorway, he’d turned to grin at her somewhat morosely.

"Let me guess,” he said. “You're here to tell me what a fool I am for agreeing to this wedding. It's a little late. I’ve already asked Tormund to say the first words."

Arya shook her head. "I'm not here to tell you anything." She’d smiled, her eyes softening a bit. "No one can tell you anything, Jon."

"I don't know about that,” he said. “Sounds more like Sansa."

Jon briefly closed his eyes -- how quickly his thoughts turned to her, how eagerly his tongue spoke her name. It was a problem he needed rectified and an instinct he never wanted quelled and a threat he relished to a peace he longed for. It was a multitude of conflicting emotions. It was Sansa.

"That's why I'm here."

Jon turned around to face her completely, raising his eyebrows.

Arya paused. "She'll never forgive you for this, you know."

Oh, did he. "So, you came as her ambassador."

"I came for you, to see if you're prepared for that loss."

He wasn’t. He couldn’t think of anything worse except for what would happen to his home, his countrymen if he went back on his word. And the fact that Sansa refused to see that, that she would severance herself from him, leave him, made him angry.

"Sansa thinks she knows better than everybody else,” he said gruffly. “But I am doing this because--"

"Jon, your Queen?” Arya walked up to him, her tone getting firmer.

“Our Queen, Arya.”

“I know a killer when I see one. And if somewhere she knows about..." She looked at him pointedly and his lips parted. She knew. He knew she knew. But she wouldn’t say it out loud.

"Then Sansa is a threat to her in more ways than one and that's something I will have to deal with."

"Don't speak so dangerously," said Jon.

"I’ve never been afraid of danger.” She kept her gaze steady. "Sansa will never abandon you but tonight you will lose her, do you think you can survive that? Do you think we can survive that?"

He rubbed his eyes. Why was everyone being impossible? "I have to choose what's best for everyone, regardless of how I feel or what I want. We don’t have the luxury of following our … we have a duty … we … I gave my word before I even knew that I’d---”

Jon couldn’t even finish the sentence. It physically pained him

Arya continued to look at him. "I know you think you've made your choice. But don't be surprised if there comes a time where you might have to choose again."

Sansa couldn’t recall the last time a wedding had been a joyous occasion. Tyrion had been kind in their marriage but she hadn’t known what to expect beforehand and the trepidation and unease of that ignorance had made her nervous and fearful the entire ceremony. The night she’d married Ramsay, she’d thought she was going to be sick, walking through the godswood she’d walked through many times as a young girl but with Bolton banners everywhere and toward a family who had slaughtered hers. Upon seeing Ramsay’s face her own became a mask of impassivity while rage and disgust and fear roiled within her. Before either wedding, her mother and brother had been slaughtered at one, ripping out a large piece of her that she would never, even if she’d attempted to, get back. The only glimmer of joy had been when Joffrey, her tormentor, had died an agonizing death at his wedding but that demise had not been the liberation she’d prayed for.

And now, this wedding, between this man and that woman. This wedding that’d had the entire castle in a frenzy of preparation for days. This wedding was plaguing her with a keen, aching sorrow that made it impossible to speak, near-impossible to breathe. In the midst of dressing for the occasion, she would sometimes stare at her own hands, wondering who they belonged to So much had been taken from her over the years, but this loss was something she couldn’t have imagined because she couldn’t have imagined Jon in the first place, of what the two of them together awakened in her. She couldn’t imagine passion. She couldn’t imagine…

Sansa closed her eyes. Stop it. Stop.

It was done. They were done. Before they even started. She had to let it go. There was no other way. Her heart had been broken a thousand times before this, and loving Jon Snow would be yet something else she’d survive. She knew how to endure, she knew how to rebuild, she ---

Suddenly, she heard a creak and felt something inside of her ignite. That spark, it was only triggered by one person’s presence. She turned toward the door, looking at it with such concentration as if that was all it took for her tear-brimmed eyes to see through to the other side, to see through to who she knew, in her gut, was standing in the corridor. She willed him to come in, to knock, to whisper her name, to yell in anger, to do anything to let her know he was there, he was hers.

Jon stood outside Sansa’s door, poised to walk in. He wanted to hold her and yell at her all at once and his hand trembled with the urge to push open this barrier between them and take her in his arms. Soon, his entire body thrummed with the desire to see her, to go to her. His mouth moved wordlessly, and he furrowed his brow, conflicted. It felt physically impossible to stay on this side of the door, everything in him strained to see her, yearned to touch her. The desire was overpowering, transforming into an uncontainable force that made him agitated, made his breathing ragged, he was going to come undone --

And then it was gone. He’d buried it all at once, removing himself from how he felt, shrouding himself in a numbness so complete, it was as if he belonged to himself. He was gone.

He murmured, “Goodbye” and we walked down the corridor, making his way out to the godswood.

Sansa sank onto a chair, her hand suddenly splayed on her chest as the spark died as quickly as it had flared within her and something in her body shifted. Something that told her, it was all over.

The knock was unexpected. It wasn’t Jon. Sansa already knew that. But it surprised her when she opened the door to find Daenerys in full wedding dress.

Sansa blinked. “Your Grace. I… I was making my way to your rooms---”

“That’s alright,” said Daenerys. “I move at my own pace.”

“Evidently.”

Daenerys walked into the room and glanced around. “I wanted to give this to you before the ceremony.”

She handed Sansa a scroll that she unfurled and began reading.

“It will say that as my prince consort, Jon will have another title as King in the North, which is what Tyrion had explained when discussing the political aspects of this union.”

Sansa remained looking at the piece of paper, sensing Daenerys was waiting for some sort of expression of gratitude but she did not give one.

Daenerys prompted her. “It is exactly what we discussed.”

“Well, what you and Jon discussed,” said Sansa, putting the paper on her desk.

Daenerys’ face became steadily less congenial. “I have compromised a lot, Sansa. I even conceded to the Northern customs for this wedding.”

“Which was smart as you’re in the North and want to the favour of our people,” said Sansa simply with a shrug. Every move Daenerys did was calculated and she was rather bored with the assumption that she didn’t know when her strategies were simply common sense. “A Northern wedding and a title with no power.”

Daenerys scoffed. “It holds considerable power.”

“Just not sovereignty,” said Sansa. “He bends the knee to you, we bend the knee to him, nothing changes. He’s just the Warden of North except he’s not in the North and has a fancier title and you’re counting on our loyalty to Jon to quell any idea of a rebellion as he would be by your side.”

Whatever congeniality Daenerys was putting on had now evaporated. “The Seven Kingdoms are my birthright, the North is my birthright and I love this land like---”

Sansa clasped her hands together. “What is it that you love about the North in the short time you’ve been here?”

Daenerys blinked, taken aback by the question. She tried to recover. “I discover something new about this place everyday. Each discovery more beautiful than the last.”

“Mm.” Sansa nodded. “But do you love the conviction we have in our beliefs? Do you understand our beliefs? Our wilfulness and loyalty. The passion with which we uphold our ideals, which may be very different from your own? Our might, our---”

As Sansa continued to speak with more and more feeling, Daenerys got the distinct impression that she was not only describing her country and countrymen. And when she finished, she took a deep, shuddering breath as if her own words moved her to breathlessness.

Daenerys cleared her throat and patted down her dress. “I am marrying him when I am in no need of a husband,” he said. “That is proof enough,” she said, opening the door. “It’s time.”

“Your Grace,” said Sansa.

“How do I look?”

Sansa gave her a once over. “It’s a dress fit for a Queen.”

Jon couldn’t feel the chill on his bare face, he couldn’t feel himself within his body, couldn’t even feel worn or tired, or detached, he felt … gone. Tormund, who stood next to him, was more nervous than he was. He could see Arya looking at him curiously but couldn’t even bring himself to pretend. He just … was. He’d snuffed it out -- the spark that had enlivened him since the Red Woman brought him back and now he was nothing more than an animated corpse and that was all he would be. That was the choice, the sacrifice he’d made.

He saw them approach but his vision was unfocused, saving him from seeing her, from noticing her, keeping his heart dead.

Sansa, once again, found herself in the godswood. Her feet, once again, propelling her toward her heartbreak. They passed by soldiers, passed by faces she knew until they stopped in front of Jon and she felt as though she’d shatter on the spot.

Tormund glanced awkwardly at Jon who gave an encouraging nod and then he spoke, his voice raspy. “Who comes before the gods?”

Sansa didn’t answer right away. She couldn’t. If she did, her voice would break and betray the depth of her pain and she’d already bled in front of Jon enough for a lifetime. She willed herself to swallow her sadness and relax her throat and once she did, she answered.

“Daenerys of the House Targaryen.” Sansa paused before saying the words that had shackled her to a man she’d despised. “A woman trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who … who comes to claim her?”

Jon hesitated and then stepped forward. Even in such a state, he was drawn to her. His eyes shifted to Sansa’s and when, after a few seconds, they locked, the furious pain that made hers shine with unshed tears lanced through his chest and catapulted him into an internal free fall. He didn’t feel rooted to the ground he was standing on. Nothing about the wood seemed real or possible, it wasn’t possible that he was where was, watching himself stare at the woman, at the two women in front of him. This body wasn’t his, this life wasn’t his. He was aware everyone was waiting for him to recite the expected answer.

He opened his mouth. He paused for a second, an eternity and then ---

Commotion in the near distance. Clanging. Shouting. Everyone turned to look toward the distraction. Voices could be heard.

“Assassin! Assassin!”

Everyone started moving. Jon and Brienne rushed toward Sansa, Brienne standing in front of her, Jon crushing her to him, cloaking her. Greyworm rushed to protect Daenerys, joining her with Missandei. Arya, readied, had her blade drawn, covering Bran. A few soldiers ran toward the commotion. Everything was happening so fast.

In a manner of seconds, men entered the clearing with the severed heads of the apparent would-be assassins.

“What has happened?”

“They opposed the union.”

Daenerys’ head snapped toward Sansa and then her eyes widened near-imperceptibly at seeing the way Jon held onto her.

His stomach plummeted. “No,” he whispered. “Daenerys---”

She addressed Sansa. “Did you know about this?”

Sansa remained silent, her eyes narrowed in fury.

“Speak,” said Daenerys. “Speak!”

#jonsa #jon snow #sansa stark #GoT #game of thrones #jonsa fanfiction #sophie turner #kit harington #jon x sansa #sansa x jon

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iceywolf24 · 2 months

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Since Bran has been watching winterfell I think we may see him really tested in TWOW.

and her boy lying there broken, the sweetest of her children, the gentlest - Catelyn III AGOT

The Bastard himself was dead Bran learned that evening over supper. Ser Rodrik's men had caught him on Hornwood land doing something horrible (Bran wasn't quite sure what, but it seemed to be something you did without your clothes) and shot him down with arrows as he tried to ride away. They came too late for poor Lady Hornwood, though. After their wedding, the Bastard had locked her in a tower and neglected to feed her. Bran had heard men saying that when Ser Rodrik had smashed down the door he found her with her mouth all bloody and her fingers chewed off. - Bran V ACOK

"Some people hurt others just because they can," said Jojen.

"And it wasn't Theon who did the killing at Winterfell," said Meera. "Too many of the dead were ironmen." - Bran II ASOS

Bran has a gentle heart, but we know he's seen the vile things Ramsay has done through the heart tree.

Bran has already repressed what Jaime did but some of that anger is still there shown when he thinks about how he could "tear out the kingslayer's throat".

In Winds, we may see his gentle heart tested as we learn his thoughts about what Ramsay has done.

Seeing someone truly just torture and hurt people the way he does and enjoy it.

He has heard of it before with Lady Hornwood but to see it personally especially with what he's done with Theon and Jeyne who he's known his entire life, especially the later who has never harmed anyone.

Not to mention Beth, Old Nan, Palla, and the others being held in the dungeons, Bran yielded Winterfell to protect everyone only to see them being hunted like animals.

"If ice can burn," said Jojen in his solemn voice, "then love and hate can mate. Mountain or marsh, it makes no matter. The land is one." - Bran II ASOS

Once outside the godswood the cold descended on him like a ravening wolf and caught him in its teeth. He lowered his head into the wind and made for the Great Hall, hastening after the long line of candles and torches. Ice crunched beneath his boots, and a sudden gust pushed back his hood, as if a ghost had plucked at him with frozen fingers, hungry to gaze upon his face.

Bran's love for his people bringing out a hatred in him.

Bran being Ice that burns away at the Boltons and Freys.

#asoiaf #bran stark #asoiaf speculation #bran and theon #bran and jeyne #bran and ramsay #twow speculation #the winds of winter #bran speculation

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wpmorse · 7 months

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She bit her lip. "You may not recall, my lord, as I was littler then . . . but I had the honor to meet you at Winterfell when King Robert came to visit my father Lord Eddard." She lowered her big brown eyes and mumbled, "I'm Arya Stark."

Jaime pg 999

Jaime sees Arya Stark escorted home by Steelshanks to be married to Ramsay Bolton. You know, I think the Lanisters get treated unfairly. After all, didn’t they rescue Arya from that mean old Hound, return her to King’s Landing, nurturing her so well that she had an amazing growth spurt that made her look far more mature than her 12 years would suggest? It feels like it’s been forever since I drew Arya enjoying strawberry pie with her loving sister and… Okay, I’ve taken this bit as far as it will go. Pray for Jeyne. She does not deserve this. This was another one where I considered having Jaime in the shot but decided it would work better as a portrait.

#asoiaf #a storm of swords #pen and ink #illustration #jeyne poole #steelshanks

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vermithorn · 1 year

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→ VERMITHORN'S 500 MILESTONE EVENT !

hello! <3 thank you so much for reading and supporting my work! y’all don’t know how happy it makes me when you reblog and comment hehe. i’m very proud of this epic milestone so i wanted to celebrate ≧^◡^≦ english isn’t my first language so having a little platform to show my writing means the world to me !

,,what are we doing?

i don't want to do full-length fics or long one-shots because god help me i cannot, so i'm going to do little drabbles of a character + a kink/fetish of your choice !

,,what characters can i request?

hotd. aemond targaryen, aegon ii targaryen, daemon targaryen, cregan stark, jacaerys velaryon, harwin strong. got. robin arryn, ramsay bolton. others. osferth.

,,what kink/fetish can i request?

→ i'll leave that to you, but here's a list if you need help choosing (it's a website with 200+ kinks/fetishes explaining them).

but a few i like to write: breath play, spitting, pegging, mommy kink, + to be added.

,,what i cannot request?

→ scat/vomit, feet, age play. and some other kinks/fetishes i cannot remember at the moment but i’ll let y’all know !

i do not write male!reader, please refer to my guidelines.

,,a little message !

i invite all of you to participate in my little event, i’m so happy to be part of this community and i would love to give some,, little gifts hehe !

* FINISHED REQUESTS:

aemond + mommy kink

osferth + anal

aemond + pegging

aegon ii + degradation

WIPS !

tagging a few mutuals to spread the word (and if you want to participate, even better hehe. also i hope i don’t bother y’all with this! besos <3)

@vhagarlovebot @aemondryvers @taranthese @jacaerysthinker @sapphire-writes @valeskafics @targaryenbrainrot @aemondsversion @aemondsmoon @aemonds-princeregent @ichorai @ilikeitbetterangsty @fairysluna @inthedayswhenlandswerefew @helaenistic @starkskeep @aegon-fanfics @bornbetter @chrispumpkin @lovelykhaleesiii @arcielee @f4ll-for-you @aemvnd @oneeyedvisenya @marthawrites @theold-ultraviolence @jasonsmirrorball @gothtargaryen @babygirlyofthevale @xfancyuu ≧'◡'≦

#vermithorn #vermithorn's 500 milestone event !#<3 #very excited for this #please send in your requests :-)

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istumpysk · 9 months

Text

OPERATION ICEBERG: THE TIER LIST

THEORY:

The miller's boys were Theon's sons.

TIER:

People's Choice!

It wouldn't be as fun if I picked everything. I trust you to choose the right one.

Low Probability: While not impossible, these theories are unlikely based on the current evidence.

vs.

Long Shot: These theories are largely speculative, based more on wishful thinking or obscure hints than on solid evidence.

vs.

Debunked: These theories have been directly contradicted by the text, George R. R. Martin, or other authoritative sources.

[Tier list overview]

EVIDENCE:

Theon had been intimate with the wife of the miller.

Theon knew the mill. He had even tumbled the miller's wife a time or two. There was nothing special about it, or her. - Theon IV, ACOK

A hooded figure, thought to be a figment of Theon's imagination, calls Theon a kinslayer. Theon knows he didn't kill Bran and Rickon, so why would he call himself that?

Farther on, he came upon a man striding in the opposite direction, a hooded cloak flapping behind him. When they found themselves face-to-face their eyes met briefly. The man put a hand on his dagger. "Theon Turncloak. Theon Kinslayer." "I'm not. I never … I was ironborn." - A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

After a transition from a Theon chapter to a Jon chapter, Ygritte tells Jon a story about a Lord of Winterfell who unknowingly kills his father. Theon, who called himself the Prince of Winterfell, could have done the exact opposite.

"So the son slew the father instead," said Jon. "Aye," she said, "but the gods hate kinslayers, even when they kill unknowing. When Lord Stark returned from the battle and his mother saw Bael's head upon his spear, she threw herself from a tower in her grief. Her son did not long outlive her. One o' his lords peeled the skin off him and wore him for a cloak." - Jon VI, ACOK

In one of Theon's initial chapters, he rather famously fails to recognize his own sister.

"I like to be on top." Where has this wench been all my life? "My father's hall is dim and dank. It needs Esgred to make the fires blaze." - Theon II, ACOK

Roose Bolton tells Theon the story of how he impregnated a miller's wife.

"This miller's marriage had been performed without my leave or knowledge. The man had cheated me. So I had him hanged, and claimed my rights beneath the tree where he was swaying. If truth be told, the wench was hardly worth the rope. The fox escaped as well, and on our way back to the Dreadfort my favorite courser came up lame, so all in all it was a dismal day. "A year later this same wench had the impudence to turn up at the Dreadfort with a squalling, red-faced monster that she claimed was my own get. I should've had the mother whipped and thrown her child down a well … but the babe did have my eyes. [...]" - Reek III, ADWD

Some believe Theon is dodging confronting his thoughts and emotions about the miller's sons, and being a kinslayer.

Robb was murdered at the Twins, and Bran and Rickon … we dipped the heads in tar … His own head was pounding. He did not want to think about anything that had happened before he knew his name. There were things too hurtful to remember, thoughts almost as painful as Ramsay's flaying knife … - Reek III, ADWD

"I have done terrible things … betrayed my own, turned my cloak, ordered the death of men who trusted me … but I am no kinslayer." "Stark's boys were never brothers to you, aye. We know." That was true, but it was not what Theon had meant. They were not my blood, but even so, I never harmed them. The two we killed were just some miller's sons. Theon did not want to think about their mother. He had known the miller's wife for years, had even bedded her. Big heavy breasts with wide dark nipples, a sweet mouth, a merry laugh. Joys that I will never taste again. - Theon I, ADWD

"[...] Tell me, my lord … if the kinslayer is accursed, what is a father to do when one son slays another?" The question frightened him. Once he had heard Skinner say that the Bastard had killed his trueborn brother, but he had never dared to believe it. He could be wrong. Brothers die sometimes, it does not mean that they were killed. My brothers died, and I never killed them. - Reek III, ADWD

COUNTER-EVIDENCE:

Someone call a steward, the math is not mathing. At the start of A Clash of Kings, Theon is 20 years old, Bran is 8, and Rickon is 4.

As Theon shrugged out of his wet cloak, the girl said, "You must be so happy to see your home again, milord. How many years have you been away?" "Ten, or close as makes no matter," he told her. "I was a boy of ten when I was taken to Winterfell as a ward of Eddard Stark." - Theon I, ACOK

"Bran, child, why do you torment yourself so? One day you may do some of these things, but now you are only a boy of eight." - Bran I, ACOK

When the Walders had arrived from the Twins, it had been Rickon who wanted them gone. A baby of four, he had screamed that he wanted Mother and Father and Robb, not these strangers. - Bran I, ACOK

The sons of the miller were of similar ages to Bran and Rickon.

For Theon to be the father, it would mean that the miller's wife had slept with him when he was a 12-year-old hostage/ward of the Lord of Winterfell, which is highly improbable.

It's somewhat more plausible that he slept with the miller's wife when he was 16, making only the second son his. But one has to wonder, what would be the point of one son being his and not the other?

The miller's boys had been of an age with Bran and Rickon, alike in size and coloring, and once Reek had flayed the skin from their faces and dipped their heads in tar, it was easy to see familiar features in those misshapen lumps of rotting flesh. - Theon V, ACOK

In A Dance of Dragons, Theon recalls his early years at Winterfell, where as a boy he would skip stones, hide treasures, and stalk squirrels. He notes that it was later when he first kissed a girl, and even later still when he lost his virginity to a girl in the godswood. All these things point to Theon becoming sexually active in his later teens.

Theon Greyjoy was no stranger to this godswood. He had played here as a boy, skipping stones across the cold black pool beneath the weirwood, hiding his treasures in the bole of an ancient oak, stalking squirrels with a bow he made himself. Later, older, he had soaked his bruises in the hot springs after many a session in the yard with Robb and Jory and Jon Snow. In amongst these chestnuts and elms and soldier pines he had found secret places where he could hide when he wanted to be alone. The first time he had ever kissed a girl had been here. Later, a different girl had made a man of him upon a ragged quilt in the shade of that tall grey-green sentinel. - The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

Theon claims he slept with the miller's wife "a time or two" (what potent sperm, must be a secret Tully) and specifically recalls seeing stretch marks on her stomach, indicating their sexual encounters happened after she had children.

Theon knew the mill. He had even tumbled the miller's wife a time or two. There was nothing special about it, or her. - Theon IV, ACOK

If Theon were the father of the miller's children, wouldn't there be some sign that the miller's wife begged him to not harm his own offspring?

The night before, it had been the miller's wife. Theon had forgotten her name, but he remembered her body, soft pillowy breasts and stretch marks on her belly, the way she clawed his back when he fucked her. Last night in his dream he had been in bed with her once again, but this time she had teeth above and below, and she tore out his throat even as she was gnawing off his manhood. It was madness. He'd seen her die too. Gelmarr had cut her down with one blow of his axe as she cried to Theon for mercy. Leave me, woman. It was him who killed you, not me. - Theon V, ACOK

It's not just the hooded man, Rowan the spearwife, and Mors Umber also call Theon a kinslayer, despite not knowing about his affair with the miller's wife. This suggests that the theme of kinslaying in Theon's story mainly stems from his internal conflict between his Stark and Greyjoy identities, as well as his guilt over contributing to Robb Stark's downfall, whom he views as a brother.

"Not us." Rowan grabbed him by the throat and shoved him back against the barracks wall, her face an inch from his. "Say it again and I will rip your lying tongue out, kinslayer." - Theon I, ADWD

"I am — " " — a turncloak and a kinslayer," Crowfood had finished. - Theon I, TWOW

And finally, the story of Bael the Bard has virtually no parallels with Theon's takeover of Winterfell.

STUMPY'S THOUGHTS:

Weeaaakkk.

If you're looking for a credible theory about Theon having a secret child, wait until we cover the daughter of the captain of the Myraham.

VOTE:

NEXT THEORY:

Curtain of Light 🙂

#operation iceberg #asoiaf theory tier list #theory 4 #the miller's boys were theon's sons

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ramsayxme · 6 months

Text

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / AO3 Link

TW - description of dead bodies, physical violence, oral sex, manipulation, ramsay bolton.

Chapter Six: Consequences

You were certain that Ramsay was starting to trust you. You were no longer confined to one room. Ramsay allowed you to wander the Dreadfort, inside and outside, as long as you stayed within the walls. He began providing you with warmer clothes since you were able to spend time outside. This morning, you were walking along the stables. Your long cloak dragging along the dirty snow, frozen patches of mud sticking up from the earth. You enjoyed the fresh air and taste of false freedom. You were starting to feel somewhat comfortable in the chaos.

You hadn't seen Reek since the torture. A small part of you felt nauseous when you thought about that night, but you shoved it down. Maybe Ramsay was right, he deserved these things. Who were you to decide? You didn't know his past. Perhaps you were just helping Ramsay bring justice. Something had changed that night, though. The way Ramsay looked at you had shifted, almost as if he felt a stronger connection with you... or perhaps you were making it up. You struggled to attempt to define how Ramsay felt about you, and struggled even more with how you felt about him.

You spent the entire afternoon in the stables. Animals calmed you. You knew Ramsay's favorite horses were gone, so you assumed he was on a hunt or traveling. You could spend hours brushing the horses and whispering your deepest thoughts to them, knowing they would never judge you. The day was drowned out by their whinnies and the distant barks from the kennels. When the sun started to set, you began to head back towards your chambers.

You turned the corner past the stables and saw Reek, pulling down a flayed man who had been posted up for a few days. The leftovers of his body had froze and Reek was yanking on him in a desperate attempt to separate the frozen muscles from the wood. You wanted to speak with Reek. You had a lot of questions and you knew he couldn't lie. Your curiosity got the best of you as you walked up behind him. "Reek..." you whispered. He jumped at his name, immediately cowering and tilting his head to the side. "M'Lady." He muttered, his eyes staring at the ground.

"Where's Ramsay gone to?" You quietly asked. "On a hunt, M'Lady. They left b-before sunrise." He stammered, his eyes refusing to blink as they were glued to the snowy ground at your feet. You wanted to speak to Reek alone. You knew this was dangerous if Ramsay found out, but you were dying to pry at the broken man. "Follow me, then." You started to walk towards the large stone archways. Reek drug his feet as he kept up with you. You brought Reek to your bed chambers, and sat by the fire, allowing him to defrost.

"Reek, I want to ask you some questions, okay?" You said, noticing you were dumbing your voice as if you were speaking to a small child, just like Ramsay did when he spoke to Reek. He nodded his head quickly, his eyes fixated on the fire and small whimpers escaping his throat. "I'm not going to hurt you..." You reminded him. Of course, it would be hard for him to believe you, but you wanted to try to reassure him. "Who are you?" You asked in a hushed voice. His cracked lips parted as he stuttered. "I...I'm Reek. I'm Reek."

You shook your head. "No, no... who were you...before Reek?" Your question seemed to sting as he winced away from your words. "No. J-just Reek." You sighed, realizing that he was much more broken than you thought. You rested your hands on your thighs as you sat on your knees. Reek shifted around, unable to get comfortable. "Do you want a blanket?" You asked him, reaching for one of the woven blankets nearby. He squirmed. "If it pleases M'Lady to give me one."

You handed him a blanket and he quickly wrapped it around his quivering body. You stared at him for a moment before asking your next question. "Reek, Ramsay calls himself Lord Bolton, but we had dinner with Roose Bolton, the Lord of the Dreadfort. Why does Ramsay call himself Lord?" Reek cried under his breath. "R-Ramsay has asked me to call him Lord B-Bolton. He calls himself Lord Bolton because it pleases him...He is my Master. Ramsay will be Lord someday." Reek finally looked at you, his eyes seemed to open into his interior slightly. "You need to be careful around him." He whispered.

You scooted closer to him, realizing you were making progress. "I know, I know, he's hurt me too but he's also been very kind to me..." You were interrupted by Reek. "It's a trick, please!" He began crying, tears falling down his cracked and bruised skin. "Who were you before Reek?" You asked again, hoping to infiltrate his vulnerable state. "No! Just Reek! Always...forever." His eyes filled with tears as he looked at you. "Okay, okay...I won't ask that question anymore." You sighed, studying the broken creature.

Reek perked up suddenly. "He's coming back." He stated blankly as he stood up, shaking. You didn't hear anything. "M'Lady, he will hurt you if he knows we were talking!" His voice shaking with concern. "Hide!" You hiss, Reek shaking his head back and forth. "That'll be worse." His eyes sink back to the floor and he quickly rips the blankets off the chair and bed, collecting them in a heap in his arms, acting like he was gathering your linens for washing. Just then, you heard Ramsay. His voice echoed through the hallway outside your door, and his voice only grew louder as he approached.

He was laughing with another man until he reached your door. You heard him bid the man a good night as he swung open your door, grinning as he stepped inside. He was clean shaven, his hair messy from riding through the woods. His nose and cheeks were kissed red from the chill in the air. He wore his hunting gear, his bow still in his hand. He grinned at you, but his eyes quickly shifted to Reek standing near you. The smile across Ramsay's face died instantly when he saw Reek. Ramsay took slow steps into the room before pulling his face into a false grin once again.

"Reek?" Ramsay started, his voice dumbed down. "What are you doing in here?" Reek shifted his feet. "G-gathering the linens, M'Lord. I... forgot to do them earlier. I'm sorry." He scurried towards the door, but Ramsay stood in the way. "My love. Is this true?" He looked at you, eyebrows raised. You swallowed hard, praying to the Gods that Ramsay would believe you. "Yes! Reek forgot to get my linens earlier, so he came by a few minutes ago. He was just leaving."

Ramsay looked back at Reek. "Well, we can't have him get away with forgetting his job, can we?" He looked back at you. "If he really failed, he needs punished! He can't get away with it that easily, dear." Ramsay walked over towards you and draped his arm across your shoulders, leaning in to your cheek. "We need to punish him for this!" He hissed. "Reek, drop those linens and come over here." Ramsay squeezed you tight under his arm. Reek obeyed.

He hobbled over and stood in front of you and Ramsay. Ramsay nudged you. "Go on, love. Hit him." You felt your stomach churn but you knew you had to do it. Without hesitation, you pulled your arm back and slapped Reek across the face, hard. "Blacken his eye so he will not forget tomorrow." Ramsay demanded, breathing heavy as he watched you torture his plaything. You pulled back once again and punched Reek directly on the cheekbone under his eye. You knew it would leave a large bruise. "Good girl!" Ramsay chuckled, kissing your cheek.

Ramsay stepped forward and punched Reek himself in the same eye. "There!" He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "Now you will not forget." Reek sniffled and cried as he picked up the linens and scurried out of the room like a pest under a bright light. Ramsay turned to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close to him. He grinned as his eyes lazily scanned your face. He kissed your lips softly and whispered, "Now, I have something I want to show you." He took your hand and led you out the door and down the hall. He brought you to the dog kennels.

The dogs barked loudly in their dark kennels, each bark producing a huff of breath in the cold air. The walkway was illuminated by torches flickering against the walls. He pressed you up against the wall and kissed your neck, his hands hungrily pulling at your snug clothing. He wasn't used to you having so many layers on, and he grumbled realizing he couldn't paw at your bare skin yet.

He tugged your cloak, pulling you into an empty kennel, and shutting the door behind him. The dogs were still howling and barking until Ramsay's voice boomed loudly. "Hush! Sit!" Every single hound obeyed him instantly which sent a shiver up your spine. Even the wild animals didn't dare disobey their master. Ramsay kissed you deeply as he tugged at his own trousers. He was already aroused when he pulled the waistline down to his knees. "I missed you today. I'm quite exhausted, make me feel better." He put his hands on your shoulders and gently added pressure, coaxing you to your knees.

You gave in, sliding down to your knees in front of Ramsay. You felt your stomach flutter when his cock touched your lips. You were eager to please him. You began gently kissing the tip of his erection, swirling your tongue between your lips on him. He exhaled strongly as he pet your hair. You began slowly allowing the head of his cock to bob in and out of your mouth, his groaning told you everything you needed to know. Ramsay reached his hands up to his own head and ran his fingers through his hair before opening his eyes and gazing down at you.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He groaned, his cock still in your mouth. You pulled away from his member, a small pop as it left your mouth. "Yes, always." You continued to stroke him while you waited for the secret. Ramsay brought his hands down and stroked your hair before gripping it tightly. His teeth grit together and he bent at his waist, leaning down to your forehead. His voice spilled out smoothly, "I know you lied to me. I don't know why Reek was in your chambers, but I do know that you lied to me."

You froze, your hand stopped rubbing him. You could only peer up at him as he stood back up. He didn't say anything else, but he smiled a wicked grin and used your hair as reins. He yanked your hair, forcing your face against his cock. "I didn't tell you to stop." You instantly put your mouth back around him as he pulled your hair, forcing his cock down your throat. He fucked your face mercilessly. You gagged, sputtered, and spat as he used your face for his pleasure. He growled as he watched you suck him.

He reached one of his hands down to cup his testicles, gently massaging them while he shoved himself down your throat. His thighs were shaking and his needy hips pressed forward. You couldn't attempt to guess how many minutes it lasted before he started harshly moaning, filling your mouth with his cum. You swallowed as he caught his breath, leaving his member inside. He groaned as he slowly pulled his now soft cock out of your mouth. He tucked himself back into his trousers, tying them at his waist as if nothing had happened.

"Follow me." He beckoned you to stand. You carefully took his hand as he guided you out of the gated area and down the midsection of the kennels. "This one is my biggest and best girl!" He whispered into your ear, pointing to a huge hound sitting in the shadows of the biggest kennel. You nodded, watching the dog snarl. Ramsay smiled as he led you through the exit, silently walking to his chambers together. You didn't know if you should say anything about the lying.

Once in his bed chambers, you both crawled into his bed for the night. He apparently wanted your company since he didn't drop you off at your own chambers. You lay in silence as Ramsay shifted, making himself comfortable underneath the woven blankets. He groaned as he pulled you close to him. You were both on your sides and he rested his chin in the crook of your neck. He started drawing small circles on your arm with his fingers.

"You know, my love..." He began. "I told everyone we will be having our wedding tomorrow. I truly want you to be my bride." He whispered, sprinkling kisses on your shoulder as he spoke. "Ramsay, about earlier-" You wanted to bring it up, it was eating at you. Before you could say more, Ramsay shushed you, his hand gripping your jaw. “I know you lied. You don't have a good reason to lie to me, I am going to be your husband. That would be a shame, to lie to your future husband more than once. I am showing you mercy."

You nodded against his grip. He kissed your neck as he rolled onto his back. You heard him exhale a gentle smile. "Do you remember the big dog I showed you, the largest girl?" You whispered a response into the night, "Yes, I remember." Ramsay took a deep breath as he settled, his hand resting on your hip as he pulled you to your back, lying next to him. He turned his head, his curls falling on the pillow. You couldn't see much of his face in the dim light, but you could see the widened whites of his eyes. "She is the one who will rip you if you ever decide to lie to me again." Your blood ran cold as you lay still, listening to your lover gently fall asleep.

Chapter Seven

#game of thrones #ramsayboltonsmut #ramsaybolton #got #ramsay snow #ramsay bolton #smut #ramsey bolton #ramsey snow #asoiaf smut #asoiaf one shot #one shot #ramsay bolton x reader #house bolton #house bolton smut #roose bolton #reek #reek asoiaf #theon greyjoy

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dragons-and-handcuffs · 5 months

Note

Imagine. You are the lady of a powerful and noble house. Moreover, you are married to the lord of a powerful house. You even have a few children. Somehow you cross paths with Roose. Maybe Roose is taking over you, willingly or by force. You become pregnant as a result of passionate and wild nights. Roose is taking precautions to make sure you don't get rid of the baby. Birth is painful. Moreover, having Roose in the room and humiliating you is even worse. You finally deliver the baby. The baby is just like a mini copy of Roose. Despite your objections, he puts the baby on her breast. He name the baby Derek. Baby Derek acts as if he's demanding that you pet him. It hurts when he sucks your breasts. He's pulling her hair out. You finally break down and accept your fate with tears in your eyes. Then you get pregnant two more times. You give birth to two more boys named Domeric and Ramsay. Among the three children, Domeric is the one who resembles you in character. However, all three children were hurting you when they were babies and children, demanding your love. Roose finds it very enjoyable to turn you into a submissive wife.

Imagine you are begging Roose to let you go after giving birth. You don't even want the baby. But he just dismisses your pleas and forces you to feed his son. If necessary he will tie you up.

Imagine immediately he is having the maester check how soon he can breed you again. If Roose wants you to feel more pain or something he will regularly make you drink some that makes you extra sensitive. Your son is a Bolton and very demanding. Every time he feeds he leaves you in tears

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the-californicationist · 5 months

Text

Goldfish (SanSan AU) - 2/8

Warnings: descriptions of abuse, canon-mentioned abuse and domestic violence, mention of ramsay bolton, modern au, oral and vaginal sex

The sight of her red hair cracked him open like a rotten egg, and all manner of thoughts came tumbling out of him. He’d heard about her court case. Over the years, it had been hard on him to witness little bits and pieces of her life floating around him like ash in the air. If he had wanted to reach out to her, to touch her, to intervene in her life at all, the ash would have melted into his skin and stained his fingers black, and it would be his fault, so he never did. Even now, he was immobilized by her. Sandor Clegane stood there on the path, staring at her through the filthy, cracked bar window, mute and frozen. Sandor wondered for a moment if this was how it felt to meet Medusa’s gaze. He was a pawn to her regal power.

The Seven had created Sansa Stark with their most delicate of instruments. Her soft skin gleamed like a pearl, and those pretty almond eyes held the cold grey threat of her wolf inside of them. But, it was her hair that he coveted the most. Orange and gold flames framed her serious face, burning in long tendrils and floating as the wind plucked them from her nape. Sandor still feared fire, but he wanted to feel the tips of her flames as she leaned that body over him, feeling her soft locks dragging over his chest. Sometimes, when he dreamed, she was dressed in red, covered in red light, the red of her hair gleaming around her like a halo. Like horns.

She was not the little girl he had once guarded under Joffrey’s psychopathic command. He’d given up body-guarding for rich kids long ago, and she had certainly grown out of needing one. She’d been reborn like a phoenix, and that tore Sandor apart. All her innocence had been twisted and mauled by the Bolton bastard’s deathrolls, trying to take her down with him as his family fell into ruin. But, no one spoke of Boltons anymore. Nor Lannisters. The Starks had rewritten history. She had eradicated them.

The Hound could feel his old rage frothing at the surface of his skin, flushing his cheeks pink, making his hands itch to have blood on them again. She should never have been fed to those monsters. Where was he when they took her? When they violated her? His red valkyrie. She had needed him and he wasn’t there.

So, she’d taken care of Ramsay herself, hadn’t she? His pretty little wolf girl had fed her sadistic husband to her hounds. The irony was not lost on him. Sandor wished he had been collared and chained inside of Sansa’s kennel. Full of shame, he admitted to himself that he’d have eaten any number of men if it meant that she’d pet him and tell him what a good boy he was. He’d lay at her feet and lick whatever bone she wanted to toss behind the iron bars.

He needed to get his shit together. What the fuck was he doing, just standing there, looming over her through this filthy glass? Sandor ripped off the suffocating helmet and locked it onto the bike, tucking his gloves into the hole behind the seat. Trying not to look too eager, he turned toward the entrance and pulled open the heavy door.

She stood and moved to greet him. Any air of aloof surprise was abandoned as he felt her lithe arms envelope him beneath his jacket, resting her cheek on his chest.

“Sandor,” she said.

It was the only thing she said. But he heard it echo for eons in his mind. He was filled with insecurities; his fucked up face, his smell, the sweat on his skin, his hulking body. None of it was worthy of her attention. It was certainly not as valuable as that gorgeous little prayer she had sent out to him in the form of his name just now. He felt like he had been shot. Again.

He hugged her back. Well, his arms hugged her back. He was brainless and stupid. But it had been a reflex. Wanting to protect her, to shield her from things that had already happened. He wanted to squeeze her hard enough that time would walk backwards with them held together so she could be a girl again and he could stop her from falling into the sharp claws of other men.

She pulled back, smiling,

“Gods! It has been years, hasn’t it? How are you? I’m so glad you’re here.”

She was too friendly. Was it fake? Had her cunning now been used against him? Would she feed him to her dogs so that his flesh and blood could seep into the ground with Ramsay’s? He furrowed his brow, trying to decide how to play his cards when she had already won the game.

“Won’t you come sit down? Have a drink with me,” she asked him. He looked down at her and met her eyes. She was looking for something in him, and Sandor wasn’t sure if he had it. Disappointed, she turned her gaze away having come up empty, “I mean, if you have time, that is. I’m sure you’re meeting someone. I didn’t mean -”

“No,” he said, stopping her from tearing herself apart in front of him, “I’d like that, little bird.”

Her smile was his reward. Following her as if on a lead, he sat in the rickety chair across from her and gave her sister a polite nod. Arya was stuck at the bar and drinking with a ragtag crowd of mutts, all vying for her attention. Sandor had always thought Arya would have killed the Bolton boy herself. Discovering that her primrose of a sister had been more ruthless than anyone could have imagined was beyond comprehension.

“It’s good to see you, little bird,” he drank a huge burning gulp of whisky and shook his head, “You look well.”

She took a deep drink as well, keeping her eyes on him, a sly smile on her lips,

“I’m not. Well, that is. I’m actually the opposite of well. I am…it has been hard. Lately.”

“I heard.”

Her grey eyes locked onto his at that admission. Her expression was a true mix of fear and relief. Sandor leaned back in his seat, continuing,

“I’ve never read a more beautiful fucking headline. You are so…”

What was he going to say? You are so…delicious and full of the right kind of sweet sin that I want to devour you right here in this nasty little pub? That you are so…welcome to peel my flesh from my bones and open me up to lick me clean? You are so…often in my dreams and in my nightmares and in my mind as I fist my cock and chase my come that your image is seared into my head like a hot iron brand? He finished his sentence,

“You are so brave for what they say you didn’t do.”

A mirrored shine hinted at the corners of her eyes and she finally relented to his gaze, staring down at the stained table. She pulled her mouth tight against her teeth and said, just loud enough to get over the raucous music,

“Thank you, Sandor. I wish…I wish that I...never mind. What have you been doing now?”

They talked for hours, rushing to fill in the gaps that each other had missed. He’d only seen her as an adult a few times in his life, and it had always been like this - a mad dash to color in the blank pages. He wasn’t sure either of them could articulate why it mattered that they catch each other up. He’d never wanted to share any information with anyone else about his life like this, and he certainly didn’t want to hear about it from those idiots. It was almost comical to imagine Tormund over-sharing with him or begging for details as Sansa Stark was doing now, shamelessly.

Arya had come to sit with them for a while and was typing furiously on her phone. It kept pinging. Sansa looked over her shoulder,

“Do you need to go?”

Arya looked a little guilty,

“No, I’m fine.”

“Arya,” Sansa smiled, “Go. I’ll be fine. I’ll get a cab back into the city.”

“No,” Sandor spoke out of turn, “I’ll take you.”

“On your bike?” Arya raised her eyebrows as high as they would go, shocked that her sister would allow such a thing.

“It’ll be fine,” Sansa took a sip of her scotch, “I’ve ridden on bikes before. No big deal.”

Whose bike had she been on? Sandor bristled, his jealousy rising up out of the grave in which he’d buried it alive years ago. Whose waist had she held tightly around corners? Whose helmet had a stray red hair woven into the black fabric inside? A souvenir.

Arya shrugged,

“Alright, I’m off, then. You know where the keys are at. Let yourself in, Sans. Don’t wait up.”

With a saucy little wink, she drank the rest of her glass and left them there, prisoner to each other.

“You know,” Sandor flung himself off of whatever tightrope he had been walking, “I’ve got way better scotch at my place. You know what makes it so good?”

She was leaning towards him, hanging on his words, sure that he would reveal some magic that she had not yet discovered. She shook her head,

“No, what makes it good?”

Sandor smiled like a fox with a hen in its mouth,

“It’s free.”

She gave him a true laugh, and he bathed in it. She nodded, knowing she’d been had. They picked up their coats and headed outside.

“So, you know all about riding motorbikes with strange, ugly men, do you?” He handed her his helmet and swung a leg over the side, settling in and putting on his gloves.

She shook her head no, choosing now, in the cool, misty night to confess to him,

“No, I just told her that so she’d leave.”

“Seven hells,” he said under his breath, too quiet for her to hear him, “C’mon then. And hold on tight.”

Her hands searched around for a place to hold, finally deciding to snake their way under his jacket and down onto the waist of his pants, hooking her thumbs between the belt and the leather fabric. His skin crawled beneath her grasp like millions of locusts were screaming underneath, clawing their way out. Sandor’s blood rushed into his core, heading straight to his cock at the promise of her fingers raking across his hips, gripping his ribs, kneading him, needing him.

“Is this okay?” She asked.

Sandor didn’t answer. His mind was too loud with need and anticipation. He just started up the bike and headed east.

#asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #alternate universe #sansan au #sandor clegane #sansa stark #sansan #house stark #house clegane #biker!sandor #goldfish by the californicationist #a break from our regularly scheduled programming

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aegor-bamfsteel · 2 years

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I really don’t mind Alicent mourning Viserys in the show. Even thought it made sense, I liked how she reacted. It reminded me of my grandmother and her sisters. Their mother was horribly abusive (not gonna mention some of the stuff she did, it turns my stomach) yet all three cried when she died/at the funeral. It always made sense to me

If you found emotional resonance in that scene of Alicent mourning her abuser, I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong (nor could I; your reactions are your own. I’m sorry your grandmother and her family had to go through that.). I just disagree, because it’s so one-sided and out of nowhere to me.

GOT Season 7 had a more balanced take on a woman “mourning” a man who abused her, when Sansa Stark had some moments of reflection by with Arya after the execution of Petyr Baelish.

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Baelish was involved in her father’s death, molested her, sold her to be married to the horrific Ramsay Bolton, tried to isolate her from her siblings…yet despite all that, she wasn’t happy when he died. She told Arya, “It’s strange…in his own horrible way, I think he loved me” while acknowledging with Arya’s prompting, that she was right to sentence him to death as the Lady of Winterfell. She acknowledges that Baelish’s “love” for her was messed up, and that she needs to put her whole faith in the Starks, who love her unconditionally. And this is Season 7, acknowledged as one of the weakest seasons of the series (contrast Season 8 Sansa, who drew criticism for essentially telling Sandor that the abuse she faced made her stronger “I would’ve remained a little bird all my life”).

By contrast, Alicent mourning Viserys:

There’s no dialogue. Alicent watches at the window as the Silent Sisters wrap up desiccated mummy husband, she takes the crown and puts it on his chest, sniffling and crying as she does so. There’s no acknowledgment of the hell he put her through, forcibly wedding her at 15, the marital rape, constant belittlement, refusing to stand up for her and her kids in the face of D&R, almost waiting for her to be implicated in high treason, essentially telling her he views her as a replacement for Aemma. She doesn’t have any of her kids to play off of, as Sansa had Arya; her sons at least either don’t care or even seem amused that Viserys died, and they might be able to bring some balance to her grief. There’s no evidence in the scene that she’s sad for other reasons than Viserys dying, such as an inevitability of war/possible destruction of her family (quickly accomplished by a shot of her looking out the window at idk Helaena and kids playing in the courtyard). Sure, she’s mourning a man who abused her, but there’s no acknowledgment of that abuse, instead playing it off as the death of some great king, which…no.

When S7 of GOT has more nuance put into addressing the trauma of sexual abuse victims than HOTD, it’s time to do some rewrites.

#anti hotd #got #anti targaryen #alicent hightower #ask

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