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k4marina · 8 days

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— ii. Dragon Rider || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: a new routine in a new world

warnings: idek lol. unedited and not properly read (i kept falling asleep lmao)

series masterlist

~ 2.5k word count.

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

[gif found on pinterest]

Never in my life have I regretted anything more than I did now.

“Me and my big fucking mouth,” I grunted, getting up from the ground and dusting my leather pants. Gray Worm looks at me with a slightly amused expression. Of course he would, he just dropped me onto my ass for the fifth time today.

It had been almost two weeks after the Small Council meeting. There had been a few more since then, but no major topics were discussed, other than Varys begrudgingly backing what I had said about Cersie having scorpions when asked if his little birds had any news. The new armor and weapons for the Unsullied are also being made. After a few talks with Daenerys, Gray Worm, a few Unsullied commanders, and I, the new armor design was decided on. Surprisingly the Unsullied were very artistic people and had great ideas.

And, within the past two weeks, I’ve been tortured everyday, my limbs aching all the time, threatening to fall off. Everyday, I’ve been woken up at four in the morning for my sword lessons with Gray Worm for five hours a day. When I said I wanted to learn, I didn’t mean I wanted to train to be the world's best swordsman of all time.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I say towards him, wiping away the sweat on my face.

“I have no idea to what you are referring to, My Lady.” Gray Worm says, feigning innocence.

“You can’t call me ‘My Lady’ and then drop me on my ass for the fifth time.” I pointed out.

Gray Worm smiled and got into a fighting stance and I mirrored. “Your defense has gotten better; however, your strength and stamina is lacking.”

He gave the signal and charged towards me, going to swing towards my left. I sidestepped and blocked the hit with my sword before knocking it back. This time, I went for the attack, but Gray Worm expertly blocked me and knocked the sword out of my hand. The sword clattered against the stone ground, landing a few feet away from me.

“Maybe it’s best we stop for today.” He says, picking up the sword and placing it back onto the rack. I let out a sigh of relief and walked over to the inches, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat away from my face and neck.

“Be honest,” I said, turning towards him. “Am I a lost cause?”

He snorts out a laugh and shakes his head. “Apologies, My Lady.” Once he’d composed himself he answered, “No, I do not believe you are a ‘lost cause’. It may seem difficult now, but it will get easier later on.”

“Wow, wise words,” I said sarcastically, taking a swig of water from the canteen. “They should call you ‘Gray Worm the Wise’.”

“I’m pleased that you think I am someone with wisdom.” He says, giving a small bow, making me chuckle.

After the lessons, I took a bath in my room, this time with the help of the servants. The first few days I would have them leave so I could bathe myself, but I guess over the days it just naturally happened. Once bathed and dressed in a white dress with gold embroidery and pearl beads before I made my way to the hall to have breakfast with Daenerys.

Not only was it a good way for us to get to know one another (mainly her learning about me) as well as discussing future events and how we would maneuver through it. However, not all of it. I had made the decision to not tell her about Jon Snow or the White Walkers, I think that’s something she should organically go through. All she knows about Jon is that he’s the King in the North is Jon Snow, Ned Stark's “bastard” and the former Nights Watch Lord Commander who came back from the dead.

The doors to the hall were swung open for me and I walked in, spotting Daenerys at the head of the table, looking through some documents. The sound of the doors closing, snapped her out of her thoughts. When she saw me she smiled, which I returned.

“What did I say about bringing work to the dining table,” I lightly scolded. She gave me a sheepish look and protested, “it can’t be helped, it's important work. As Queen I’m expected to do this and more.”

I walked over to her, carefully taking the documents and setting them off to the side. “Dany, you’ve been a Queen since you married Khal Drogo. You need to step back and take some time to just be Daenerys. Otherwise you’ll grow overworked.”

“Alright, alright. If you’re so sure.” She nodded towards the servants to begin serving the food. Like always, an array of food was laid out for us to eat. We both began to eat, making small talk and updating each other with any new updates.

“Gray Worm has been telling me that you’re quite exceptional with a sword,” She teased.

I playfully rolled my eyes, groaning, “not you too.” She let out a laugh, teasing me some more. “What? He says you’re a fast learner. He says he’s never seen someone land on their arse five times in a row.”

“Right, that’s it.” I huffed. “I’m running away.”

Daenerys laughed some more and I tried to hide my smile. Truthfully, she reminded me of my younger cousin in Volantis, Mera. Both of them had a heart of gold and an innocent child-like soul deep down.

“The servants told me that you refused to have your hair braided.” Daenerys points out. She’s not wrong. Instead of braiding my hair I opted to leave it in a ponytail or let it down.

“Well, I haven’t won any battles.” I said. “Each one of your braids represents a battle won, I haven’t won anything.”

“So if you win you’ll braid your hair?”

“Sure, why not. Why? Do you not want me to?”

“No, no. Actually, I would quite like that.” She smiled.

I eyed her suspiciously, “don’t tell me you’re planning on putting me in the frontlines.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Your lessons with Gray Worm are going well. Who knows, by the time we’re ready for war you’ll be a master swordsman –or rather swordswoman.”

The rest of the breakfast went fine. Daenerys and I decided to take a stroll around the castle ground claiming she has something to show me. She dropped off the papers in her office before taking me through the back of the castle to the open fields in the back. The wind swept by us, carrying the saltiness of the ocean and the fresh scent of grass.

“Where are we going?” I asked as she led me deeper into the field.

“I just wanted to show you something. They’re right over there.”

We stood atop a hill and at the foot of the hill on the other side resting were Daenerys’ dragons. I felt my heart stop. No way. What the actual fuck. My mouth ran dry as I looked over the three dragons. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion, all in their full glory. I looked over to Daenerys who was already looking towards me.

“You’re serious?” I ask. She smiles and nods. “What if they don’t like me and decide to eat me?”

Daenerys laughed, her cheeks turning pink. “They will do none of that sort, I swear. I have a strong feeling that they will like you.”

Carefully she led me closer to the three dragons. With every step they just grew more and more. They towered over the two of us and stood with immense power. And to think that these three are just a small fraction of the size of Balerion and the rest of the Targaryen fleet.

We stood a few feet away but I could still feel the heat that they emitted from their bodies. Their majestic eyes that were probably the size of my head watched me carefully. Shiny scales adorned their bodies that looked to be about the size of my hand or bigger. Their one claw nail was the same size as my limbs.

Holy fuck was this crazy. I’d read about these dragons and even saw a few drawings made by people who’d seen them in textbooks, but being this up close and personal with them was a whole other experience.

Oddly enough, for such dangerous creatures, they seemed to emit a sense of calm.

“You feel it too?” Daenerys eyes my reactions to the dragons. “Their calm.”

I nodded. “I thought my heart would be doing somersaults in my chest, but it’s not.” After the initial shock, I felt my body relax.

“They’re so beautiful.” I said to no one in particular.

We hung around them for some time, allowing me to get used to their presence while Daenerys told me stories about her and her dragons.

I looked over the dragons. Drogon, named after Daenerys’ husband Khal Drogo. Rhaegal, named after Rhaegar the Dragon Prince. Viserion, named after Viserys the Beggar King.

Daenerys followed my gaze to the cream and gold scales dragon that laid on the grass alongside his brothers. Viserion and Rhaegal seemed to play fight while Drogon watched.

“Despite their playful nature, those two are the oldest.”

“What?

The dragons carefully made their way over to where we stood. Drogon moved towards Daenerys, moving his tail around her as if giving her a hug. Rhaegal moved around behind us, opting to lounge. Viserion, however, moved closer to me. His green eyes bore into mine, as if it was trying to communicate with me.

He brought his face closer to me, like a dog wanting to be pet. I glanced back at Daenerys who nodded.

Viserion tilts his head when I carefully bring my hand up to stroke his gold and cream scales. A deep purr comes from him, nearly startling me. He nuzzles his head into my palm and purrs some more. It wasn’t like a cat's purr, more like a deep bass.

“Would you like to fly him?” Daenerys asks.

“Yes,” I replied without a thought, too entranced at the dragon in front of me.

She moves around Drogo, standing to the side of him.

“Stand like this,” she says. “This is what I find the easiest.”

I mimic her stance, standing besides Viserion. Drogon crouched down and Daenerys carefully stepped up, using his scales and spikes to seat herself atop the dragon.

I copied her, being careful to not hurt Viserion (not that I’d be able to) and sat myself on top of the gold dragon. It was uncomfortable, almost like riding a really large horse with spikes and scales. How Daenerys was able to ride her dragons without a saddle or harness was beyond me.

My hands gripped onto the spikes on Viserions back, holding on tightly as the gold dragon began to shift around from a crouched position to fully stand. My hands gripped onto him tighter as I tried not to fall off. I peaked over its massive body to see that Viserion was getting ready to take off.

“W-wait!” I looked towards Daenerys who was watching from atop Drogon. “Why is it taking off? What do I do?” Panic filled my voice.

There was no way in seven hells that she thinks that I can fly, right?

“Hold on!” She grins just as Drogon takes off into the sky. VIserion gets ready and I can already feel myself slipping off. He takes off just as I adjust my position, hunching down and tightening my grip onto his spikes.

Wind rushes past my ears and my hair flows all over the place. Instinctively, I closed my eyes while Viserion flew in the air. I could hear Daenerys call for me from across the sky.

“Open your eyes!” She says. “You’ll be safe, I promise.”

Carefully, I opened them. It was brighter up in the sky than on the ground and had a lot less clouds. I could hear the, surprisingly, gentle flaps of Viserions wings. I cautiously looked down, seeing that we were miles off the ground, so far up that we could see Dragonstone Island and I could feel my stomach start to buzz.

“Don’t look down,” I look up to see Daenerys. “When it was my first time I was terrified, as well, but you cannot let your fear control you or else it will transfer to your dragon.”

I nodded, taking in her words and sitting up straight with confidence. Despite still feeling uneasy I managed to get my grip on things (literally). Daenerys’ words rung in my ears.

“Your dragon,”

I’d read of Dragons bonding with non-Targaryens or non-Valyrians, case and point being Hugh Hammer riding Vermithor during the Dance of Dragons. But it would make sense if I could bond with Viserion in light of recent findings.

“Alright, let’s see what we can do.” I said to Viserion and I.

—

Daenerys and I spent the rest of the day riding our dragons. It was challenging, especially the part where you literally have to hold onto for dear life, but rewarding in the end.

In the end Viserion and I had truly bonded. He would know what I was thinking or how I was feeling without even saying a word to him. At first I thought it was just the two of us getting the hang of each other, but Daenerys explained that this was what she and Drogon felt. It was hard to believe that I was a Dragon Rider. But then again, this past week has shown that anything could be possible.

Getting off the Dragons was harder than getting on, my dress snagging on its scales, but not ripping entirely.

“I can help you with your riding,” Daenerys says as we walk back into the castle.

“I’d like that.” I replied. “I’m sure we can find books in the libraries that can help us too.”

“Have you uncovered anything else?” She asks, expectantly.

I shook my head. “Nothing of significance. I’ll keep reading and let you in on my findings.”

We split off so we could clean ourselves up and get ready for dinner. The bathtub was already ready for me when I entered the room. I pulled off my dress and sunk into the steaming hot water. The tension in my shoulders loosened and I dipped my head back to rest on the edge of the bathtub.

The weight of my necklace lay heavy on my chest, a firm reminder of my… predicament. I tried not to think about it all, otherwise I’d just spiral into some rabbit hole. Some days I wonder if it’s all some sort of dream. A long, vivid dream that I can't wake up from. A knot pulls at my chest, and my throat closes. My eyes flicker up to the ceiling, tears threatening to fall. I took a deep breath, the only thing I can do is take everything in day by day.

And then I fully submerged myself into the water.

a/n: finally, it’s here :) mb if there’s any spelling mistakes, i tried to proofread it but i kept falling asleep and couldn’t be asked anymore 😭 i’ll fix it later, trust 🙏.

comment to be on the taglist!

@wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @daenerys713 @ministark @laanswife @idohknow @jromanoff

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axelsagewrites · 11 months

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Hey hiii I love your writings! Can you write something platonic about Edmure Tully and the Snow fem reader? Strangely enough, I like this guy. I hope you write. Thanks in advance<3

Edmure Tully*Who We Call Family

(Platonic) Pairing: Jon x sister!reader, Robb x halfsister!reader, Edmure x fem!reader

Summary: The reader finally gets some respect for the first time in their life and gains a new family member from an unlikely source

A/N: inspired by book Edmure since the show did this man so fcking dirty

Word count: 1588

Masterlist Here

When Jon rode off to join the nightswatch you had never felt so alone. Jon was one of your few comforts in the world. Robb stood by your side as your brother rode off to his new family at the wall but even Robb did not know what it was like to be Eddard Starks bastard.

When Robb rode off to war you refused to be left behind again. Something you often regretted once you learned of Bran and Rickon fate at Theon Greyjoy. So much had changed. Even at war you still felt Catelyn’s eyes glaring at you around the camp. She had protested for as long as her lungs allowed at your presence but even, she couldn’t deny Robb needed fighters’ men or women. Even with her distain she knew that you would lay your life down for your brother.

It didn’t make it any less hard. Sansa was a prisoner. Arya was missing. Bran and Rickon were betrayed. And Jon was gone to whatever fate the wall allowed him. Robb was the only one left in arms reach. But now he was riding off again and not taking you with him.

In the tent that acted like a council room Robb laid out his plan he and Edmure Tully and some other lords had planned. “We shall ride west tomorrow into the westerlands and meet the Lannister’s in battle,” he began to explain to the lords, Catelyn, and yourself. Even in this council meeting she refused to meet your eye unless to glare, “Lord Edmure will stay in Riverrun to protect us from the rear while we prepare to storm Ashemark and the Crag,”

After some protest, questions, agreements, and strategies the meeting is finally drawing to an end, “Sister stays behind,” Robb said as the men began to leave. Catelyn paused, looking at her son with raised eyebrows. Since he had been declared king Robb no longer kept your familiar ties in the background, “We’ll be fine mother,”

Finally, she left, and you were left with Robb, “What is it?” you asked.

He said before he finally looked at you. Robb knew just how stubborn you could be so he knew it would not be easy, “I need you to stay- “

“Oh no Robb- “you began to protest but it was no matter.

Robb crossed the room to grab you shoulder, “I need you in Riverrun,” he said.

“I need to be by your side in battle like always,” you said as you smacked his hand away, “Robb I’m not losing another brother not now ever,”

“I need to leave someone I can trust. I already made that mistake with Theon,” Robb said, raising his voice. You knew your voices were both loud enough by now to be heard outside the tent, but it didn’t matter right now. “I need you to be my shield. If the Lannister’s come from behind- “

“I want to be beside you in- “

“I need you here- “

“But- “

“But I am your king!” Robb all but yelled across the tent. Silence fell across the room as Robb seemed to release what he said, “If I say I need you here,” Robb began to say his voice finally lowering, “I need you here. I don’t want to lose another sister,”

“We’ve not lost them yet,” you said but your words were thin. You could only hope they were telling the truth when they said Sansa was alive.

“That we know off. You know what the Lannister’s are like. They’ll burn Riverrun to the ground if they think it will stop us. I need you to put out the fire,”

When you finally left the tent with Robb you could feel the lord’s eyes on you. even more so when Robb put his hand on your shoulder and told them you would be leading the defence at River Run. There were protests all round. She’s a girl. She’s a bastard. She’s a child. Nearly every one of his council men protested; except you noticed Edmure Tully.

When Robb had finally calmed the men, he dismissed them to sleep and prepare. Edmure walked up to you, “Lady- “

“Im not a lady,” you cut him off.

The man gave a sorry smile, “Apologies. What shall I call you then?”

“Most call me bastard,” you said but Edmure just waited for you to continue, “but (Y/N) will do,” you added.

“Alright (Y/N),” he said with a seemingly genuine smile on his lips, “Shall we discuss our plans to protect Riverrun tonight or over breakfast?”

“Now will do,” you said but you couldn’t help but squint at the man. Apart from Robb he was the first lord to take you with any kind of seriousness, “You can tell me your ideas while I walk to my tent,”

“Very well my- “he said before catching himself and correcting himself with a sorry smile again. As you walked, he began to explain the defences they had available and how many men Robb was leaving behind with you. he even seemed to take your own concerns seriously.

As you stood outside your tent, Lord Tully about to wish you goodnight, you thought of something, “What of the small folk?”

“What about them?”

“Tywin isn’t against killing the innocents for war. If he was a Targaryen, he would’ve burnt half the north by now,” you said, “When he comes for your people what is the plan for them? Winterfell has molestown for when winter comes. What do we have when the Lannister’s come?”

“The smallfolk in the Riverlands are under my protection,” any hint of laughter had fell from Edmure face, “When the Lannister’s come the smallfolk know they have my protection,”

“Will we house them? In Riverrun?” you asked.

“They are my people, my responsibility. When the Lannister’s comes, I will give them my own bed if we run out,” he said sternly.

You couldn’t help but smile lightly at his words. A lord who cared for others was rare especially when the others had little money. “Good to know my lord,” you said opening your tent, “Goodnight my lord,”

“Goodnight (Y/N),”

True to his word when Tywin began to burn villages through the Riverlands the smallfolk came in droves to Riverrun, and none were turned away even as his lieges tried to yell at Edmure about their supplies. It had caught you off guard at first when Edmure defended you to his men. Up till now it had been Robb who had told the men of for laughing at the sound of your voice. Now it was Edmure who bellowed across the room at his men’s sniggers at your suggestions. The northerners respected you for fighting beside them. You couldn’t figure out why Edmure did.

“Robb seems like a good kid,” Edmure said as you ate dinner with him, something you had come to do almost every night since Robbs departure. “Truthfully I’ve not spent much time with him,”

“Well, he is my brother Edmure,” you laughed as you sipped your wine, “I kind of have to like him,”

“Trust me,” he laughed, “that’s not true. You’ve met my sister,”

You couldn’t help but blush at his words. His own sister had been the bane of your life for so many years. “I’m sure deep down she’s lovely- “

“Deep deep down,” he laughed as he topped up the wine for you both, “I love the lass, but she is absolutely awful at times,”

“Can’t argue there,” you said under your breath, but he had heard.

Edmure smiled as he sat back in his chair. “I do love her though. We don’t choose who we’re born with, but we choose who we call family. she is my sister still,”

“She’s a good mother,” you said, sitting the wine down. Edmure shot a confused look, “Not to me,” you corrected with a slight laugh, “But Robb loves her. she adored all her children. I’ve never seen a mother love so much,” you said without realising the sadness lacing your words.

Edmure smiled lightly, “It must be hard,”

“Can be,” you said, picking the wine back up and drinking the whole glass down, “But worse happens, I shouldn’t complain,”

A few beats of silence fell over you both. Edmure looked up from his wine, “For what its worth. I’ve never met a mother who didn’t love her babe. Just not all are so lucky as to keep them,”

You tried to smile but your lips wouldn’t seem to move. Instead, you just filled your cup again, “To mothers,” you said with a watery smile, lifting the cup to toast.

“To daughters,”

The next day Edmure had tried to bring the conversation from last night up only for you to shoot him down. “For what its worth you can talk to me- “

“My lord- “your conversation was interrupted by one of your men sprinting up to you both, “It’s Tywin, he’s left Harrenhall,”

“He’s going to try pass the fords,” you cut the man off looking at Edmure.

“Quick gather to men,”

The day was long, and the fight was longer, but you managed. Edmure by your side most of the fight. Tywin had to retreat, not able to catch up to Robb from behind. You could return to Riverrun content with two things; Tywin was not going to run up behind Robb and that family was who you choose. You wondered what Catelyn would think when she learned Edmure had become family.

Taglist @clairacassidy

#edmure tully imagine #edmure tully #edmure tully x reader #edmure tully x you #asoiaf #asoiaf imagine #asoiaf x reader #a song of ice and fire #a song of ice and fire imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #games of thrones imagine #game of thrones imagine #jon sister reader #jon snow x sister #robb stark sister reader #platonic jon snow #platonic robb stark

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whisperofjasper · 2 years

Text

Ser Harwin Strong - Across The Ballroom

pairing: ser harwin strong x targaryen!afab!reader

summary: reader is the second born princess and could not give a fuck about the wedding or the politics of king’s landing. all she wants is to rid herself of her dress and fly off on a dragon. thankfully for her, she comes into acquaintance with a certain knight of the realm as the night delves into chaos.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: first fic on the account! let me know what you thought and feel free to shoot me a request.

warnings: violence, mentions of incest, blood & injury

Y/N wanted nothing more than to leave the ballroom, rip off the ridiculous frock her dear stepmother had picked out for her and take off on her dragon Vaehra. But, alas, as the sister of the bride and princess of the realms, she was duty-bound to remain. She was surprised that her father hadn't thought to marry her off at the same time. However, she supposed it would deprive the kingdoms of Westeros of another week's worth of libations and debauchery.

She was her sister's opposite that night;. At the same time, Rhaenyra was donned in virginal white with rubies in her hair, while she was clothed in the traditional Targaryen black. She couldn't say the dress was ugly; it was woven intricately with threads of crimson and gold. The red of her house takes the form of their famed dragons in flight and mid-battle. And the lines of gold make the images of waves to honour the house Velaryon. It was beautiful, but it had been decided that she had no need for air at the feast.

Sitting at the grand table, she waited with her father, sister and Lyonel Strong. She was seated next to the Hand and Alicent, but the queen had yet to make her appearance. She had tried conversing with Lord Strong though he seemed preoccupied with watching the masses fall into the room. Drinking deeply from her goblet, she shot a disdainful look at Jason Lannister, who, like always, was trying to worm his way into the good graces of the crown. However, his twin was more palatable, Tyland had a seat on the small council, and from what Rhaenyra had shared, he had a good head on those shoulders.

From the corner of her eye, a head of dark hair caught her attention, and her focus was pulled to one of the great tables, where the two sons of Lord Strong. Larys was the younger; she hadn't spoken to him much since his time at The Keep, but she knew he was one of keen intelligence. The eldest son, Ser Harwin, was the captain of the Gold Cloaks. He was considered the strongest man in all six kingdoms and one of the realms' fiercest knights. It was also known that he was one of the finer-looking young lords, many having put too much faith that their titles alone would secure them a wife and the gold in their pockets. She watched him laugh and drink with those seated with him, fighting a smile when he'd get overly invested in some tale and bump into his brother. Eventually, Y/N had to look away, noticing that her father and Lord Strong were giving her looks after laughing at one of his antics and following her line of sight.

"Lord Corlys of House Velaryon!" Ser Westerling's announcement quieted the hall as the Velaryons entered, led by Lord Corlys and her cousin. Behind the couple followed their children, Leanor and Leana, remembering their childhoods together. From what she could remember, Leanor had never been cruel or cowardly, which she hoped he carried into adulthood. Gods knew that Rhaenyra would need a husband to withstand the pressures of the throne. She smiled genuinely as their house made the approach, wanting to foster as much goodwill as possible. As Lord Velaryon and his family took their places at the head table, Y/N's focus stayed on the courtiers and the one who seemed to be solely interested in Laenor. He hesitated to join the rest of his company, making Y/N's eyes narrow.

Everyone had begun to sit when her uncle swaggered in, and the room was silent. In the months leading to the wedding, the rumour that Rhaenyra and Daemon had shared an intimate night in a brothel swept the keep. Y/N didn't know what to make of it; her sister had sworn that they hadn't done anything, and her maidenhood was intact. The fallout had caused both princesses to have increased guards, which had been stifling for her. The only times she was truly left alone were in the evenings or when she flew Vaehra. Her father motioned for a chair to be brought for Daemon; the only option, if he threw her uncle out, it would only further spur on the rumours.

"Be welcome as we join together in celebration. Tonight is only its beginning. We honour the crown's oldest and fiercest ally, House Velaryon. Reaching back to the days of Old Valyria and the Age of Dragons. With House Targaryen and H..." Her father's speech was cut off by the queen finally making her appearance; dressed in green, she had the attention of the hall, more after her house stood as a sign of respect. It was hard to think that Alicent had once been as close to her as Rhaenyra; they were all sisters. They had been raised together and had been each other's closest confidants during the hardships of being a highborn lady in King's Landing. Which she had all but thrown away when she had married their father, less than a year after their mother and infant brother's passing. Rhaenyra and Alicent reconciled for a time, finding some semblance of their old friendship. But Y/N, she couldn't forgive her or her father, no matter how dearly she loved both. So the pair now were distant, and that was at the best of times. It didn't escape Y/N that the dress she was wearing was most likely an attempt at rekindling their relationship.

"Congratulations, Stepdaughter. What a blessing this is for you." Rhaenyra's face and Alicent's removed attitude made Y/N rethink her understanding of their relationship, making a note to question her sister about it once the festivities were over.

"At the end of it all, a royal wedding... between my daughter, my heir... your future Queen... and Ser Laenor Velaryon, the heir to Driftmark."She applauded her father's speech, watching with mild interest as her sister and the groom took the dance floor. They moved across the floor, the steps a traditional valyrian wedding dance. She drank from her goblet, paying little mind to Alicent and Lord Strong, taking a considerable effort to not roll her eyes and the pomp and pageantry. She took in the hall for what felt like the dozenth time, her gaze again drawn to Harwin, but her eyes locked with his. Y/N watched as he continued to converse with those near him, but his gaze remained unflinching. Heat rose to her cheeks under his gaze; it was a rare occurrence that a man would have the balls to look at her. Hiding her smile behind her goblet, his laughter at her sudden shyness made her look away, coincidently timed with the end of the couple's dance.

"I think I'll join Rhaenyra on the floor, Father. Your Grace. Your Lordship." Giving each a curtsey reflecting their station, she rounded the table to find her place in the growing crowd before the musicians began the next song. The smile she had, fell when she was met with the face of Jason Lannister, who was grinning like he had just won a grand prize.

"Your highness, what a coincidence." His tone was thick with sarcasm that she supposed was meant to be charming for the lion.

"Yes, how coincidental we both find ourselves dancing at a celebration, my lord." He laughed at her words, ignoring her disdainful look, flicking his hair over his shoulder, which was unneeded. As the music started, the crowd danced merrily, some fumbling their steps thanks to the freely flowing wine.

"Now that the princess is to be wed, what lies before you?" She was taken aback at his boldness. Her reaction apparently was what he wanted; he looked at her like she was his next hunt. "For so few houses in the realm are worthy of your hand." Y/N was spun out of the view of the Lannister bastard before she had a chance to castrate him. She saw her sister opposite her, Rhaenyra's grin was infectious, Y/N finding her own. The two danced in the middle of the crowd, turning and clapping with the melody, quickly becoming the focus of the celebration. They laughed merrily, and Y/N quickly embraced her sister.

"I'm happy for you sister; let this marriage end any talk of the future of our house." Rhaeynra's eyes were misty, and they hugged for the second time before continuing the dance. She danced with many in the following hour; lords from across the realms had set their sights on her now her sister was unattainable. However, she had her suspicions that many were sour, seeing she was second in line and unlikely to sit on the throne. Y/N was tempted to leave the floor, her feet had grown sore, and the thrill of dancing quickly wore off. But a strong tug pulled her into the embrace of a muscular chest clothed in blue.

"Ser Strong, my apologies." She glanced up at him; a smirk danced on his face.

"You're forgiven," He tugged her back to him as she made to leave again, "as long as you dance with me, as a show of goodwill." Then, in his arms, the ballroom fell away, and the other guests faded into the aether, leaving only them. As they danced, she was acutely aware of his body and when it came close to hers. Crossing the floor, she would feel a rush of heat race through her body when his fingers grazed against her own, pulling her deeper into his thrall.

"I must say Ser Strong, you are quite the dancer, it is most suprising."

"Because I am of the City Watch?"

"No..." She grinned at his confused smile, feeling like she had gained the upper hand on him. They drew closer together as the dance required; out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of white and black cloth in the centre of the floor. "...because the moniker 'Breakbones' suggests an entirely different skillset. Makes one question what skills you have with your hands." Her hand dipped down to take his hand, and she pressed the faintest kiss to his wrist while keeping eye contact with him. Then, she smiled, watching his green eyes darken and swallow his words.

"I must take my leave. Thank you for the dance." Y/N walked deeper into the fray, refusing to look back for fear of her composure breaking and dissolving into a puddle of blushing giggles like a child. Heat flushed to her cheeks; she wasn't used to having such an attraction to a man. In the years after Rhaenyra's ascension to the heir, she carried a small torch for a Lord from the Reach. Still, it couldn't compare to the fire that burned in her gut at the thought of the imposing presence of Harwin Strong.

Screams pulled her from her thoughts, and more and more voices of terror filled the large room, echoing and amplifying the cries. Guests began to panic, rushing in every direction to escape the cause of distress. She lost her footing and tumbled to the ground, her head, back and stomach being kicked or tripped over in the chaos. Then, pushing through the pain, she could stand again, seeing the cause of the terror. Ser Christan Cole was beating Ser Joffery Lonmouth, the younger boy clearly losing the battle and most likely his life as Cole refused to yield. Then, in her daze and distraction, she was thrown again by the crowd falling forward into the banquet table. She felt the sting of glass and metal cutting into her skin before falling to the ground, feeling a sharp but intense pain in her left wrist that made her cry out in pain.

"Princess! Princess Rhaenyra!" She heard the gruff but unmistakable voice of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard calling through the crowd, the rest of the Kingsguard descending onto the floor with him. The sound of flesh hitting flesh grew louder; she curled into herself, fearing the fight had come closer. A large, warm hand pressed into her back gently, making her jump in fear, throwing her uninjured hand in the direction of her would-be assailant. Harwin's face was void of the previous snark and flirtation, now set with focus and what she believed to be anger. He caught her wrist as if it were nothing, smoothly pulling her up and over his shoulder before heading for the exit.

Y/N tried to order him to let her down, but with his pace and her position on his shoulder, her injured wrist cried under the weight of her torso. The screams from the banquet became distant echoes before he let her down with far more care than he did for their exit.

"Easy, I've got you Princess." She didn't know if it was his words or the events of the riot that made her knees go weak; regardless, she began to buckle in his arms. His grip tightened as he tried to keep her upright, coincidentally bringing his face closer to hers.

"What happened in there?" Her focus had begun to return to her, a sudden fear for her sister spiking in her chest.

"Cole, he started attacking Ser Joffery. Ser Westerling saw to your sister, I saw to you." Y/N nodded, holding her injured wrist, trying to not jostle it. Harwin took it in his arms, shooting her an apologetic look when she gasped at the pain. "The Maesters will be overworked with the events of tonight, seeing to the more urgent matters. If you'd allow me, I can wrap this until they can see to your care."

"You know how to..." She began to ask with a raised brow.

"I'm a knight and member of the city watch, Your Highness; I wouldn't have survived this long without some knowledge of mending injuries." She blushed at his comment, feeling foolish for thinking otherwise. Then, whilst looking down at her wrist, she felt his hand gently tilt her chin to look at him. "Do not look away from me Princess. I could feel your eyes from across the ballroom, and if I could wish for only one thing, it would be for you to keep looking at me." His eyes had grown dark again, and his words soft.

She knew at that moment that the lord was going to cause her a lot of trouble. And it was a good thing that she loved trouble.

#A Song of Ice and Fire #game of thrones #house of the dragon #ser harwin #harwin breakbones #targaryen!reader #harwin x reader #ser harwin x reader #harwin strong #harwin strong x reader #house of the dragon imagine #game of thrones imagine #a song of ice and fire imagine #whisper of jasper

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myocsfanfictions · 2 months

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The Wolf, the Stag and the Snake (Book 2)

ASOIAF Fanfiction

After the new King of the Seven Kingdoms had killed Lord Stark many things had happened. Life is no longer how it used to be, with the War of the Five Kings beginning, follow Antea Stark, Cassandra Baratheon and Cyel Sand trying to survive in a world that is becoming everyday more dark and dangerous.

MASTERLIST

《 Previous - Next 》

Chapter 2

ANTEA

Her nights had become rather restless. After learning about her Lord father’s execution, Antea Stark had trouble falling asleep. The anger she felt was so great that it made her tremble. The sorrow that she felt was so painful that every time she had the chance to be alone, she’d cry and scream. She had noticed many lords looked at her as if she was crazy.

She is a woman. She is too soft. They liked to say.

But they had no idea what it felt like to be her. Antea had no way to release that fire of anger that had been lit up inside her. She hated the Lannisters, yet she could only hate them. She had no way of getting close to those men. She could not take a sword and twist it in the belly of Joffrey Baratheon. She couldn’t. But she could hate them. I hate that cowardly boy who had no shame in killing her Father with false accusations. She could only hate them. And that was how she spent the nights when she could not sleep. She prayed to all the gods she knew so that something terrible would happen to every living Lannister and that they could lose everything they hold dear and die in despair.

“I feel your anger, sister. But you need to gain back your senses,” Robb had said one night, visiting the chamber that had been given to her. Their journey had brought them all to Riverrun, the castle where her mother had lived her youth, where both Robb and Antea had come into the world fifteen years before.

Antea had turned to him with crossed arms. Shadow was now always with her, sitting at her feet to not let anyone get close. “I’ve got my senses, brother,” she spoke, “I’ve never had my mind more clear.”

“Antea, people talk,” Antea scoffed.

“Let them!” She exclaimed, “My Father had been killed. I’m never going to see him again,” Robb took a breath, looking down, “They have destroyed us, Robb,” she said sadly, “They’ve destroyed us since they walked through the gates of Winterfell.”

Her twin brother, now the King of the North, walked to her, taking her hands. “I swear to you, Antea. I’ll bring justice. I’ll avenge Father.”

Antea felt the tears in her eyes as she observed her brother. Her hands moved, taking his face between her hands so that their forehead could touch each other, “We’ve lost father, Sansa is in the Lannister’s hands, only the gods know what was of Arya, and we almost lost Bran, and you are fighting a war. We are scattered,” she let out a sob, “I’m so angry.”

“My sweet sister,” Robb said, taking her hands to have her look at him, “We’ll be back at Winterfell soon enough, but I need you to keep yourself grounded. I'm king now, the lords holds expectations.”

Antea got free from her brother's hold, “Expectation...”

“My King,” the voice of the guard outside her tent made the two turn towards the entrance, “Theon Greyjoy, my King.”

Antea took a breath, brushing away her tears.

Her brother spoke, “Let him through.”

Shadow nudged Antea’s leg, making the girl look down so that their eyes could meet. Shadow understood her. Like always.

The sound of Theon’s steps made her look at the boy. He was wearing his jerkin. The golden kraken was embroidered on his chest. His eyes traveled between Robb and Antea, indulging on her face longer. Action that made her look away. She didn’t want him to see her cry.

“Lord Edmure is looking for you,” Theon said to Robb. Antea heard her brother take a deep breath before turning to his sister.

“Try to stay calm,” he said, holding her hand, “Sleep. Rest. I’ll see you in the morrow. Agreed?” He asked with a firm tone when she didn’t look at him. “Antea.”

Antea bit her lips, “Yes, my king.” Robb had not appreciated her answer, but he had no time to stay and fight with her. He took a frustrated breath before leaving the tent.

“Am I sensing a tense feeling in here?” Theon said, still not leaving. That was not new to Antea. Lately, he had been observing her closely. She had seen him looking at her at every opportunity that he had. But not only. Since the death of her father, Theon had been by her side more often than not.

“You don’t have to tell me how to behave,” she told him with a nervous tone, pacing back and forth, “The King had already spoken his mind.”

“I’m not here to tell you how to behave,” Theon said with a frown, surprising her when his lips turned up into a smirk, “My lady wouldn't listen anyway."

When they got the chance to be alone, Theon did not use her new title. Being called princess was still a foreign sound to her ears. A sound full of sorrow. If her father were still alive, she'd still be a lady and her brother heir to Winterfell, not the King in the North.

“Yet, it pains me to see you like this,” that made her scoff in frustration.

“Is it a sight so unbearable? To watch a daughter who lost her father?” She asked, clenching her fingers into a fist as she turned her back to the young man, “I’ve lost so much more than just my lord. Yet you all can’t stand it. Why do my feelings bother you so much? Why is feeling considered a weakness by men?”

She knew they all said that. Antea had listened with her own ears. The lord of the North observed her as if she was a twig on the verge of breaking. They liked to underestimate her because she was a woman. But that had nothing to do with women or weakness.

Antea had always been known to be different from her siblings in matters of feelings and expressing them. She had a hard time controlling her emotions, but she managed most of the time. Yet, this was a new kind of feeling. Much greater than she had ever felt. And she felt as if it was impossible to keep it in.

“You’ve mistaken my words,” Theon spoke, “I consider you anything but weak,” Antea dared not to say anything, letting him continue, “I’ve watched you for ten years, and I figured you’ve got a temper, and your stubbornness can be unbearable,” he let out a little nostalgic laugh, as she could hear him moving closer, “But I also know that you are protective and generous and your smile is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever lay my eyes upon," when he gently touched her arm, Antea could not help but let him move her so that their eyes could meet. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest, feeling him so close. "It pains me to see you filled with so much sorrow, knowing there's little I can do."

A tear rolled down her, wetting her cheek. Her breath got stuck in her throat when she felt his hand coming to touch her face. Drying her tear with his thumb.

"Theon..." she whispered as her eyes moved from his eyes to his lips. He was so close to her.

"Theon loves you, Antea," she remembered her sweet sister Sansa's voice. Those words made her blush as she looked over to Septa Mordane to be sure she hadn't heard. "Cyel, tell her it's the truth," Sansa said, almost begging the girl to keep with her needlework. But Antea didn't miss her smile.

"Love is a big word, sweet sister," Antea had whispered. But Sansa had looked at her as if she was really silly.

"He always looks at you," she had explained, "And he smiles."

Antea rolled her eyes, "He always smiles," she had answered. But Sansa had shook her head elegantly, like always.

"It's a different kind of smile."

Antea was close to thirteen when Sansa shared her thoughts. And Antea had blushed deeply. Theon was older than her and handsome and charming. She remembered that she hadn't been able to talk to him for the entire day after what Sansa had told her. Suddenly, feeling shy in his presence.

Maybe it's true, she had wandered. Maybe he truly has feelings for me.

She had kept thinking when they had danced together, not so long after.

But that good feeling soon had been replaced by realization when she had heard Theon speak with her twin brother about a girl he had bedded.

Antea had never realized that Theon could indulge in such behavior, but then she heard servant talk, and she had seen girls blush at his passage. That had cut deeper than she thought.

So, she kept on with her life, thinking of Theon as a dear friend. Not sharing her thoughts with anyone, not even Cyel. Theon liked women, but he did not have any interest in her.

But now, what was happening was something that she had not expected to happen. She felt confused, surely due to all those sleepless nights, but at the same time, his touch was so comforting. The same way it had comforted her when she had known about her father's death.

"My lady," he whispered, moving closer. His hand remained against her cheek. Antea moved her fingers to rest on his wrist. But not to move him away, if anything, to keep him close to her. Her eyes were full of tears.

"I'm so tired, Theon," Antea admitted after a moment of silence, "I feel nothing but pain."

His hold on her tightened, "I'd do anything to ease your heart, my lady." Antea let out a little sob.

"Why?" She asked before he could make sure she'd look into his eyes.

"Don't you know?" He asked, making her blush as he leaned forward, slowly pushing his lips against hers.

That was a strange feeling, the one Antea felt when their lips touched. She had never been kissed before, but with ease, she found herself kissing Theon's back. She had been hesitant at the beginning, not knowing exactly what to do. But the more she followed his movement, the more she found herself comfortable feeling his touch. Her hands traveled from his arms to his chest, gripping the cloth of his vest, as she was afraid he would walk away. But he didn't. Theon kept kissing her, holding her close when his hands found her hips. His touch and his lips brought her so much warmth, a feeling that she had almost forgotten those days. Feeling all those judging faces of the other lords. Of her king. But there in Theon's arms, she felt much more safe. Understood.

Soon, her fingers found his hair, pulling him closer. Allowing him to explore her mouth as it pleased him. And she savored every moment, feeling at ease in his arms.

"Antea," he whispered against her lips, "You're crying, my lady," but she took his face in her hands, stopping him from moving away. "Please, Theon." She whispered. He kissed her tears before his lips found hers again.

Antea closed her eyes, getting lost in that pleasurable feeling that was taking over her. She liked how his hand touched her hip, bringing her closer to his chest. She did the same, feeling the need to have him close.

"Princess Antea," the guard outside her chamber spoke, interrupting them. "The lady Catelyn is here for you."

Dread took over Antea as she took a step back from Theon, who looked at the door.

"Yes," Antea had been quick to answer, still short of breath.

"Meet me in the morrow," Theon was quick to whisper.

"What?" She whispered, eyeing the door.

"Meet me in the morrow," he repeated, "In the gardens." Antea found herself nodding her head. Her gesture made him smile.

Theon was quick to turn when the door opened to let Antea's mother enter her chamber. And only by the look on her face, she could see that the Lady Stark was not pleased by what she was looking at.

"My lady," Theon was quick to bow to her mother. Who looked at him rather coldly. "I'll take my leave, now," then he turned to Antea, bowing to her, "My princess," she didn't answer, but she had to do everything that she could not to let her cheek get red when she saw the smirk on his face when he looked at her.

Antea observed him walk away, still feeling his lips against her own. But her memory of the kiss the two had just shared had to be put aside. She had to face her mother.

"Why was Theon here?" The woman asked, with a tone that got Antea a shiver on her back.

"Robb was here as well," Antea was quick to answer, "But then he had to meet with Uncle Edmure." But her answer didn't ease her mother's gaze.

"But why was Theon here?" She asked.

Antea took a breath, sitting on her bed, immediately followed by Shadow, who sat at her feet.

"I was crying, Mother," she answered, "Theon was... comforting me."

Her mother studied her expression. And Antea prayed to all the gods that she wasn't showing any sign of flushing on her face.

"It is not appropriate for him to be in your chambers alone," her mother said.

Antea caressed Shadow's head, "Nothing happened," she lied, "How's grandfather?" She asked, trying to move away from the subject of Theon.

"Not well at all, I'm afraid," her mother's eyes were different from what had happened to Antea's father. She was hiding it well, but Antea fell her close. Sharing the same sadness. And the condition of Lord Hoster Tully was perceived even heavier now.

"As I've noticed your sorrow," her mother spoke, coming to sit next to her daughter, "I know you are suffering," Antea didn't answer, "But it's time for you to get back your strength. Your brother needs you," her mother said touching her hair.

"You know I would do anything for our family," Antea answered with honesty, "But I've felt so angry since my father..."

"I know, child," her mother said, "But since this war is far from over, we need to make the lords see that our house still stands."

"I do not want people to see me as weak, Mother," she said.

"They won't," her mother answered.

Theon doesn't, Antea thought. Feeling again the pressure of the boy's lips on hers. And that made her heart race.

"I've sent a raven to Winterfell," his mother said, getting Antea's attention back. She often wondered about her little brothers and how Rickon was growing up. How Bran was feeling. "Bran is to be wed. Not now, of course, but soon the ravens with words of his engagement will fly in the Seven Kingdoms."

"With Cyel?" Antea asked with wide eyes.

Her mother nodded her head, "It's time for all of us to do our part."

The night had passed with Antea tossing and turning. The expectation on herself, the words of her mother, Theon’s lips. Everything was spinning in her head. There was so much that she felt. The sorrow for her family, the anger towards those judging lords, the weight of reality, knowing that she indeed had to do what was expected of her, and guilt. Guilt because if she thought about Theon’s touch, she had finally felt a moment of peace. But was it fair to her father’s memory?

In the morrow, Antea had joined her brother to break their fast. It had been a quiet meal, and both still felt very sensitive about their argument from the night before. But Antea had another reason to feel queer with her brother. She had never held secrets with him, yet she did not want him to know what had happened between her and Theon.

“They are forging my crown,” Robb said as he ate. “They want to make it look like the crown of the Kings in the North.”

Antea took a sip of milk, “Does it make you eager?” Robb scoffed.

“You’re angry at me for some reason?” Antea lowered her eyes. It was strange. She knew he was her brother, she was looking at her beloved twin. And yet, his new title was heavy on everyone. She had been one of those agreeing with him. But she had not thought about the consequences. Her brother was now more exposed to risk than ever.

“I do not wish to lose you, Robb,” she admitted without rage in her voice, “Loosing father had been a pain so great that I fear I’d lose myself if something like that would happen again,” she felt Shadow resting her snout on her legs, and Antea was quick to caress her head.

Every time Antea felt something very strongly, it was like her direwolf would feel it as well and share it with her. She had been so attached to her pup that sometimes she dreamt of being her, running and hunting with Grey Wind.

In moments of sorrow, Shadow felt the only one who could understand her truly.

“I promise, it’s not going to happen,” Robb said, taking back her attention. “I’m in talks with the lords to look for another solution. One that will not require battlefields and fights.”

Antea’s eyes widened, “Truly?”

Her brother smiled. It was so strange to see his face covered with a beard. He seemed so much older. “I still need time, but I’ll try this solution.”

The girl nodded, feeling relieved that her brother didn’t have to fight anymore. Or Theon.

She remembered how she had feared during the battle to take back Riverrun from the Lannisters, how she had waited for her brother to return and how she felt relieved when she saw him ride back with words of victory, how she had looked at Theon, feeling tears when she saw his usual smirk on his face. All of that was coming to an end. And of that, she was glad. But there was a thought that lingered in the back of her mind.

“What of the Kingslayer, though?” She asked. They couldn’t let him go, even with peace.

“I do not intend to free him,” Robb answered. Antea had no permission to talk to the prisoner. Her brother had forbidden her to. Robb knew how much she hated him for what he had done to Bran. But he knew well how much she hated the Lannisters and how Shadiw was quick to attack every time Antea got angry. Her pup could be very quiet and calm, as she could attack a man without a second thought. That happened when Antea had enough of those lords observing her. She still remembered Lord Bolton’s face as the soldier held his arm.

After she had broken her fast, her brother, the King, was required by the lords. And Antea could not go. But she had somewhere to be.

She walked through the corridors of Riverrun. She had been born in that castle, but she had no memory of it. She had been nothing but a child attached to breast when it had been possible for her to go home. Winterfell.

Riverrun was different from her castle. And its defenses were impressive, by what she came to know. They could easily open the gates to transform the castle into an island surrounded by water on all sides. She knew it would have been a sight. But a sight she did not wish to see.

Antea made her way to the gardens. Her hands were sweating, and her heart was racing at the thought of seeing Theon after what happened. She had no idea what to expect.

When she stepped outside, she saw Theon standing on a side, bowing his head when Lord Rickard Karstark passed. Antea did not know what to do.

What should I say? The girl asked herself. But when Richard Karstark noticed her presence, he bowed, “Good morrow, Princess Antea,” she felt her cheeks burn when she saw Theon turning in her direction.

“Good morrow, my lord,” Antea answered politely.

“Your beauty is a welcoming sight, my princess,” the man said. There was a hint of sorrow in his voice. Antea knew why and could understand. He was still mourning his sons, lost during the Battle of the Whispering Woods. His sons had saved Robb’s life. An act she would never forget.

“The King will be pleased by your presence, my lord,” she said with courtesy. The man bowed one last time before entering the castle. When the heavy door closed at her back, Antea started to feel nervous again as her eyes met Theon’s.

“I’m glad you’re here, my lady,” he said, stepping closer. Antea felt the shyness grow inside of her. Remembering the kiss they’ve shared, “For a moment, I thought you would not be coming.”

The smile never left his face as he spoke to her. “I wanted to meet you,” she said, lowering her gaze for a moment, “I think we need to talk about what happened.”

Theon took a breath before nodding his head. Then he offered his arm to her to take. “Shall we take a walk?”

It would have been more fitting. She didn’t want her mother to know what had happened. So Antea accepted his arm, letting him guide her through the gardens. Shadow had already disappeared. But she was there. Antea could feel her eyes on her.

“What did you want to talk about?” Asked Theon, making her glare at him.

“You know,” she answered, trying to speak with a hushed voice. That seemed to amuse him.

“You are too shy to call it by its name?” He said, righting his grip on her arm when he felt her try to pull back.

“I will not be mocked, Theon,” she argued as the boy tilted his head to the side.

“That’s not my intent, my lady,” he said, the smile never leaving his face, as he leaned forward, “It’s just, you’re so lovely, I might want to kiss you again.”

“Theon…” she whispered, giving a quick look at their surroundings to be sure no one was around.

“You don’t want me to?” He asked, not moving away.

I want you to, she thought. Her eyes moved to his lips so close to hers. She would have liked to feel them pressed on hers again.

“Why did you kiss me?” She asked instead. Theon lowered his gaze for a moment.

“Because I’ve wanted to for quite some time,” he answered. For quite some time? What did he mean? For how long? But before she could ask anything else, he kept walking once again. “But I wanted for you to try something this day.” Theon leads her through the gardens, further from the castle. Until she saw a bow resting on the ground next to a target to practice. Something like twenty arrows were stuck on the ground.

“Archery?” She asked, turning to the young man next to her, who showed his smile.

“I wanted to take your mind away from sad thoughts,” he answered, “I meant it when I said my heart ache not to see your smile again.”

Antea looked at him, moved by everything he was doing for her. But a single question came to her mind, “Why?”

Theon smiled, taking her face gently between his hands, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs, “Don’t you know?” He asked her before leaning forward and pressing his lips on hers once again. And Antea found herself closing her eyes, savoring that kiss that filled her with all those same sweet feelings of the night before.

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

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hyacinthecanard · 8 months

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Lyanna survived and lived hidden with her son in Greywater Watch. But when news of her brother Eddard taken prisonner in Kingslanding came, the wolf-blood is too much and she joins Robb Stark's forces to try to free him.

#14yo jon hasn't hit his growth spurt yet #just imagine catelyn's face when this ned lookalike comes out from nowhere #howland is just lyanna what are you doing here #jon snow #house stark #asoiaf #lyanna stark #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #r+l=j #war is a mother-son bonding time #my art #it was supposed to just be a sketch #fanart

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raventreehall · 3 months

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a storm of swords dash simulator

🍋ladyjonquil Follow

i don't want to reveal too much but i had a really great day today hawking and riding and received some really exciting news (and maybe a potential marriage offer!) wow wow wow!!! haven't felt like this in so long 🥰

🤡florianthefool Follow

i'm so happy for you my jonquil

🐦littlefinger Follow

thanks for sharing my lady

🏹kissedbyfire Follow

PISSED OFF AT MY BF RN 🤬🤬🤬 NEVER TRUST A SOUTHERNER AND ESPECIALLY NEVER TRUST A CROW!!!!!!!

👸🏼daenerys-targaryen-tracker Follow

🐎raeqqo Follow

by the law of the dothraki she must return to vaes dothrak to take her place alongside the crones of the dosh khaleen. it is known.

🐉3heads Follow

shut up and go sack a defenseless city or something

🍁weirwoodzz Follow

hey do you guys remember when theon greyjoy took winterfell last year and killed the stark boys? has anyone heard anything else about that? feel like it kind of just disappeared from the news cycle, what happened to greyjoy?

🪓cerwynnation Follow

lord bolton's bastard killed him

🍁weirwoodzz Follow

oh really? wow. kind of extreme but deserved i guess

💗ramsays-sharpest-blade Follow

Ramsay isn't a bastard, King Joffrey legitimized him two months ago and Lord Roose is going to make him castellan of the Dreadfort soon. He loves his son and trusts his abilities. Plus, Ramsay is being awarded for his efforts in saving Winterfell and putting a stop to the ironborn raids in the North by being betrothed to Arya Stark—would a bastard be granted that honor? I don't think so.

Also, Theon isn't dead, Ramsay is (rightfully) flaying him for his crimes in the dungeons beneath the Dreadfort. Gods, I'd love to see Ramsay thrust the knife under his skin!!!!! 😜

#ramsay bolton #house bolton #our blades are sharp #theon greyjoy

🐐the-goat Follow

i'm boutta come into thome real money real thoon 😈 💎💎💎💎💯

🏰freygirl73 Follow

ughhhh my sister is getting married tmrw and my brothers keep going on about getting revenge on king robb while he's here for the feast... like i just wanted some food :/// iswtg that's the only good thing about my siblings weddings and now they're saying there won't even be any and i'm gonna have to go into hiding before the bedding ceremony or something. why can't my family just be NORMAL

🐟greenfork Follow

TW: Red Wedding, death, violence

A masterpost on what happened at the Twins and what it means for the Northern independence cause, the War of the Five Kings, and the realm in general.

Also a bunch of links on how you can help people affected in the Riverlands.

Keep Reading

🍵bowlobrown Follow

HELL YEAH BROTHER 🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀

🔥heatofdorne Follow

i wanna ***** ********* on ellaria sand's **** and *** ****** then call in oberyn and ***** **** them both until **** *****

🤎pate7534 Follow

🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀

🌊onthesunsetsea Follow

why are there so many crabs on my dash rn

🐺direwolfing Follow

TYWIN LANNISTER IS DEAD 🦀🦀🦀🦀

💙cassssanna Follow

actually i think it's still for king joffrey

🦁lann1sporter Follow

lol i thought it was for robb stark

🥂arborgold Follow

maybe it's for the mountain?

⬛️ freezingmyarseoffonthewall Follow

DOLOROUS EDD LORD COMMANDER 300 AC

⬛️ freezingmyarseoffonthewall Follow

DOLOROUS EDD WILL LEAD US TO VICTORY AGAINST THE OTHERS

🕊️ just-a-humble-sparrow Follow

mother have mercy i was walking by the great sept of baelor (i wanted to pay my respects to our blessed king joffrey) but i was blocked by a knight of the kingsguard—i believe it was one of the kettleblacks, unfortunately i always forget which one has been elevated to the kingsguard—because the queen was keeping vigil over her son, so i prayed outside instead. yet only a few minutes passed when i swear i saw the kingslayer arrive (he seemed to be missing a hand!) and enter. then, and this is the most disturbing part, i swear to the father that i heard noises of fornication coming from inside! i know for a fact that the only other person inside was the queen mother. could the rumors be true? i feel dirty even writing this. i wonder if i should tell my septon.

❤️‍🔥stannis-sweep Follow

stannis has literally been telling y'all and you didn't listen 🙄

🏳️ bannerless Follow

is it just me or is lady stoneheart kinda 👀

#ran out of the separators just imagine them #a storm of swords #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #a song of ice and fire

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rise-my-angel · 11 months

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

Masterlist

Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn)

Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Pre Series Content and Extras:

Woes of a Modern Day Love (a modern!au)

Scattered Memories of the Starks

Shadows of their Hatred

The Lost Chapters of Jon Snow

NSFW Alphabet (contains spoilers for Part 3 and 4)

Interlude of Jealous Desires

A New Life's Darkened Lust (continuation of Ashes of Various Grey)

Part 1:

Wolves of the Lone Stag

Mouth of the Lion's Den

An Intrigue Drenched in Blood

Standing Behind a Betrayal

A War of Tragic Beginning

Part 2:

King and Queen in the North

Shadow of a Fiery Stag

Reunion of New Enemies

Pleasure of Conflicted Desire

The Sanctity of Children

What Lies Beyond The Veil

Part 3:

The Cost of Our Sins

Dragged Through the Violence

Only the Cold

Fire for the King's Blood

Part 4:

Ashes of Various Grey

Plans of Pain and Horror

Afraid of a Ravens Flight

Trust in the Gentle Rasps

Visions in Eyes and Flames

A Bastard or The White Wolf

Part 5:

Home of Bloodsoaked Stone

Blazing Fire of Storming Ice

Ghostly Dreams of Old

Sailing Through the Glow

The Last Dragon

The Winter Rose

Part 6:

The Clash of Three Kings

Shrouded Truth in Sickness

Winged Shadow in the Sky

Light in the Darkest Storms

Peeking the Realms Woes

Blood, Roses and All Lies

Broken Love of the Dead

The Souls Tethered in Death

Wolves of the Past and Back

The Crows and The Sight

Part 7:

A Brewing of New Mystery

Great Wolves of White Mists

Darkness Heavy in a World

Past Becomes the Present

The Thing in the Night

Waving Tides of Turmoil

Greenish White Boodraven

Dark Blood of Blinding Light

And Wait for the Snows

Part 8:

Into the Haunted Forest

Fist of the First Men

Through the Frost Fangs

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

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targaryen-dynasty · 4 months

Text

SEMPITERNAL.

final part of Precious Delights

Dad!Maegor Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, p in v, breeding kink, slight praise kink, kinda medieval daddy kink (?), size kink, lactation kink, lactating, pregnancy, pregnant sex

WORDS: 4.3 K

NOTES: Precious Delights comes to an end with this. I‘m a bit sad, because I really started to love the series, but I think I've managed to end it in a good way. Thanks to everyone that joined me on this journey.

It was going to be a day of revelry. The construction of the Red Keep had been completed, and your husband found it fitting to throw a feast in celebration for those who had taken part in it.

Taking on a fatherly aura the moment your twins took their first breaths, Maegor didn’t want the festivities to start without his precious family present, even though you were meant to depart for your chambers once they started to indulge themselves in bawdier things.

“You have to sit still if you want Mama to finish the braid quickly,” you warned the little girl sitting in front of you, though there was no sharpness to your tone, knowing you could not expect your daughter to sit still for so long. She was just three summers old after all, and just as excited about the feast as everybody else.

Your own flowing locks loosely cascaded down your back and shoulders, not combed and unbraided as you had been taking care of your children the whole morning, often taking their care into your own hands as they were a blessing from the Gods above. And, while Visenya was clad in a black dress that once belonged to you when you were around the same age, your swollen curves still were concealed by a white nightgown.

The raspy chuckle you heard, as your little girl didn’t remain still long enough for you to finish the task properly, prompted you to turn your head towards your husband, sitting in a stool not too far away while the barber tended to his hair and neatly trimmed beard.

You raised an eyebrow in innocent enquiry at the sound, which briefly changed into something different while your eyes flickered over his frame. He was dressed, but barely. His cloak, and most pieces of his wardrobe, still were draped over a chair across the room from where he sat. His torso was exposed from the waist up, covered only by the leather breeches he wore.

Maegor had a grin on his lips – entirely different to the expression he usually wore around servants and maids. In the confines of your chambers, he often lowered his guard, not too concerned about what others thought was proper. But in the presence of other people, he was always focused on remaining harsh and cold, wanting to display his dominance and power.

“Have you been at this all morning?” Maegor asked, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes trailed over your body just like yours had done before. A hint of nervousness filled your veins, and you scolded yourself internally for your thoughts to stray towards things you should not be thinking at that moment.

Not bothering to hide the blush that covered your cheeks, you finally replied. “Yes, I started at first light, not long after you left. I was hoping to finish before sundown, but this little one…,” you emphasized the word, causing your daughter to glance over her shoulder, flashing her father a big smile, “... has other ideas.”

You continued to braid her hair, trying to stop the braid from becoming too tight whilst also keeping the little princess’ fidgeting at bay. The barber was done trimming Maegor’s beard at this point, packing his utensils and scurrying off at once.

“You would think that at three she would be more disciplined,” you sighed, smiling softly at your daughter. “But she takes after you.” Briefly pressing your lips into a thin line, you wondered if you had overindulged yourself in the bantering the moment the words slipped past your lips, and if Maegor knew you were just joking. Partially, at least.

Visenya was the spitting image of your husband in more ways than one. Not when it came to the looks, as she was taking after you in that, but her rambunctious spirit was most definitely one of the attributes she shared with him. Aerion, however, was a different story. His looks resembled Maegor’s more and more with each passing day, while he had inherited your gentle presence.

As Maegor chuckled, your frayed nerves calmed again. “You might have been better off dressing yourself before attempting to braid her hair,” he jested.

“And I thought you might have helped, instead of sitting there and making witty comments,” you replied, glancing at Maegor, and trying to disguise your slight frustration as playfulness, directing your husband to your current predicament.

You knew you couldn’t expect the King to take care of his children, not on an important day like this, but you also knew that Maegor more often than not had deferred his duties in the past in order to bond with the twins.

Not wanting to admit defeat, you continued to braid your daughter’s hair, fighting against her lack of patience, and trying to finish before she kicked the entire braid off her head. Eventually, you were successful, pulling the braid into a bun behind little Visenya’s head.

Maegor rose from his seat, and walked over to where you sat behind your daughter. He focused his attention on her, admiring her and your work for a moment, a soft sigh escaping him as he scooped her up into his arms.

You smiled at the sight, your heart swelling in your chest, more so as you watched the gentleness with which he handled her. In a feeble attempt, Visenya tried to escape his bear hug, grumbling slightly as he snuggled her head and smelt her hair. It was the same as whenever you did it, but something in your children’s scents was just too intoxicating.

Tilting his head back, Visenya’s little hands grazed over his beard, seemingly enjoying the feeling of the coarse hairs under her fingers just as much as you did, before she placed them at the sides of his thick neck for stability.

He smiled softly at your daughter, a smile that scarcely graced his features when looking at you. It was gentle and loving, and whenever his eyes met yours, his expression was tinted with desire and longing.

“Does Mama not know that your Papa is a skilled swordsman, and not a hairdresser?” Maegor asked your daughter in a playful tone, swaying her in his arms and pressing his lips to her temple. She was giggling uncontrollably, barely comprehending what he said, clearly keening at his affection and attention.

When the doors to your chambers opened, the wet nurse came in with a styled and dressed prince at her side. Getting Aerion ready had taken you one hour at most, and was far less complicated.

Upon spotting his father carrying his sister in his strong arms, the boy all but barrelled towards him in jealousy. The wet nurse failed to pull him back, leaving him as he tugged on the leg of Maegor‘s leather breeches, demanding to be picked up as well.

You used the opportunity and leaned past Maegor, trying to fix a stray strand of Aerion’s silver hair – but the excited boy didn't have any of it.

“My my, look who is here,” Maegor said with a smile, kneeling down while carrying Visenya on his hip.

The boy hugged his father tightly, squeezing him with all the strength he could muster with his tiny arms, which left Maegor chuckling. You could not feel any greater joy than seeing the brute of a man, mostly known for his harshness, so soft and full of affection for his children.

“I want up, Papa. I want up, now,” the boy demanded, wrapping his arms around Maegor’s neck. The sight was adorable, and you could see on your husband’s face just how much he basked in your children’s affection.

“Up you say, mh?” Placing a hand under the boy’s bottom, your husband lifted him up with ease, carrying both children on his hips.

You sighed, bringing a hand to your swollen belly as you planted your feet firmly on the ground, and slowly rose from your seat. It was evident Maegor had wanted to help you, to reach out to support you, but with both arms filled with your twins, he could merely offer you his forearm for you to hold onto.

This pregnancy was not as woeful as your first one, truly a blessing from the Gods above. And your husband was more generous this time as well, allowing you to walk the gardens and the keep all by yourself, despite it taking you a bit longer to be with child again. The pregnancy in general was not that strenuous for your body, though your breasts and bump had swollen to ridiculous proportions already, and you barely exceeded the fifth moon.

Approaching them, you brought both hands up to their cheeks, the pad of your thumbs brushing along their soft skin as they leaned into your touch. “That is enough, you two,” you hummed, smiling softly. “You must go with Erena now. We have guests arriving soon, and Mama is not ready yet. It would not do to keep our guests waiting.”

The twins pouted, but with neither you nor Maegor being too lax with them, they knew there was no chance they could stay for any longer. You motioned for the wet nurse to approach, before you cupped your children’s faces one by one, and pressed a kiss to their foreheads.

“Aye, you have heard your mama,” Maegor said, having your back. His eyes had taken over a half-lidded look as they were all but glued to your features, your lips mostly, watching you and admiring your motherly aura.

He put both of them down, but not without ruffling your boy’s hair in a way that had you taking in a deep breath, trying to keep the anger of him destroying Aerion’s hairdo at bay.

Clinging to the wet nurse's hands, they left the room at once, no doubt going to their chambers for her to read them a book. There were merely two servants around you at this point, stopping in their tracks as Maegor’s deep voice rang out. “Leave us,” he ordered sternly, his usual demeanor crawling back to the surface.

It was the side of him your children were not meant to see, at least for now, and with Maegor’s paw coming to your swollen belly once you were alone, the softness returned. Cupping your bump gently, he looked down at it in awe.

“Are you ready for the feast?” you asked, smiling softly at him before your eyes trailed over the expanse of his bare chest.

“I am, for as long as you’re by my side,” he said, his other hand trailing over the slight curve of your waist. Both his hands now rested where the swell was, feeling the gentle curve of your bump. When he spoke again, you could hear a tinge of jealousy in his voice, his words making you chuckle. “But I fear the crowd will pay more attention to you than me.”

Bringing your hands up to his face, you cupped it just like you had done with the twins before, your thumbs brushing the stubble on his jaw. His eyes softened, fixing yours. “I can not wait for you to be with my fourth child,” he spoke with a mischievous grin.

You raised a brow. “Oh, only if you will be the one carrying the babe,” you retorted, the tease in your voice and sparkle in your eyes hinting at something only he would understand. “I doubt this pregnancy will spare me from the terrible birthing pains, and I do not know whether I can endure it for a third time.”

Maegor sighed at your words, his hands running over your sides once more, before one moved to the back of your head, threading into your thick locks. Gently tugging your head back, he leaned down to press a kiss to your jaw.

“Would you like me to try?” he chuckled against your skin, pulling back just enough for you to spot the smirk on his lips. His tone had taken on a huskier edge, one that always forced you to squeeze your thighs together. “The Gods will be on our side this time. There will be only one babe, I am sure.”

Licking his lips, he kept his grip on your hair, and pulled your face towards his. You anticipated a kiss, but alas, he kept a few inches between your faces, your heavy breaths fanning over each other's lips.

You tried to chase him for a kiss, but Maegor kept your head in place. “I hope you know the dangers of challenging a Targaryen man,” he teased.

Oh, you did know. More than once had he proven that it was just not wise to challenge him. It was impossible for him to resist a good challenge, no matter how bold or brazen. Your late brother Aegon was the perfect example, and also the reason he and his dragon Quicksilver were slain by your uncle in the Battle Beneath the Gods Eye.

Slinging your arms around his thick neck, you kept your eyes locked with his, a mischievous glint flickering in them. “I shall take my chances,” you replied, biting your bottom lip.

That was the last bit that caused his resolve to crumble. Bowing his head forwards, he pressed his lips to yours fervently, void of any gentleness. Your hair was released, only for him to snake one arm around your waist and bring the other to your arse. Cupping it, it was easy for him to lift you up, holding your body to his in a cradle carry with your lips still connected.

You pulled back from him to chuckle breathlessly. “We can’t… not now,” you laughed, bringing a hand to his bare chest as if you meant to stop him. “Our guests will soon arrive.”

But he was not having any of it. “Oh, is that so?” he taunted, slowly walking towards your marital bed, shrugging his shoulders when he came to a stop. “Let them, they can wait.”

You stared up at Maegor with wide eyes as he placed you down on the bed, one of your hands cupping your bump, while the other just rested on your chest, your full breasts hard and heavy. He stood at the side of the bed, and began to undo the laces in the front of his breeches.

As much as you wanted to lock your gaze with his, your eyes always trailed down to where his fingers were fumbling with the laces, your breathing growing heavier and your mouth running dry.

Maegor was the most handsome of all men, and his other skills were unparalleled. Even though his cock was the only one you had seen, you knew Maegor was very well endowed, and probably possessed one of the most beautiful cocks in Westeros.

Unable to wait any longer, you tugged the skirts of your nightgown up as much as your bump allowed, and shimmied your way out of your smallclothes. Your swollen belly was obvious, but you hadn’t thought of it as so obtrusive. But your husband didn’t seem to mind, if anything, he was even more determined and motivated to have his way with you.

Maegor eyed you just as hungrily, and his jaw set as he noticed the slight glistening of your womanhood as you spread your legs. You were eager and ready to take him.

Stripping the last of his clothes off, Maegor joined you in bed, making himself at home between your parted legs. Leaning over you, careful not to put any of his weight on your bump, he planted kisses to the side of your neck, trailing up to your lips. His large frame completely covered your significantly smaller one, making you feel protected and safe as your fingers entangled into his silver strands, tugging on them gently and keeping his lips locked on yours.

His cock was hard, pressing snugly against your soaked womanhood, sure to coat the underside of it and the sac of his stones in your arousal. You couldn’t help but to grind your hips against him, rutting your swollen folds against his hard member which prompted him to groan against your lips.

“Be still, would you,” Maegor scolded, but his tone was void of any harshness.

But you couldn’t. Not when your body craved to be filled by him so badly. And Maegor seemed to notice your despair. He sat back on his haunches, looking down at you. The pout on your lips had him smirking smugly. “You have teased me long enough,” you whimpered, innocently batting your eyelashes at him. “It’s what I deserve after this strenuous morning.”

Raising his brow, Maegor sighed – he was admitting his defeat. “I shall make it quick for you then.”

His hands roamed over your bump, the white silk allowing them to slide over it with ease. He then proceeded to lean to the side, fetching one of the pillows next to you and folding it in half.

Maegor hooked one hand beneath your knee, and used that grip to lift your hips, slipping the pillow beneath them to slightly raise your body for him, and make your back arch in a way that was not uncomfortable. It caused your swollen breasts to spill from the low neckline of your nightgown, the white silk dampened and darkened by the droplets of milk that had oozed out of your hardened buds.

“Let me take care of you, mama,” Maegor drawled, his dark blown eyes traveling over your frame. Despite most of your body still concealed by your nightgown, he couldn’t be any more attracted to and aroused by you than he was in that moment.

Gripping the base of his cock, he used your arousal to tug on him once, twice, before aligning the tip with your throbbing entrance. He was completely focused and careful as he pushed inside, moving slow enough for you to feel every vein and ridge of his cock drag along your walls.

“Gods be good,” you moaned, enjoying the feeling of being stretched out by him, bliss taking over your senses.

Your husband remained upright, his hands on your knees as he started with a slow, deep grinding. Your smaller one found his and held onto him for stability and to feed your longing for his touch, your eyes never leaving his. You felt the familiar heat building in your belly quicker than usual, the coarse hair around his member grazing over your sensitive pearl every time he moved and fueling the pleasure you felt.

“You truly were made for me,” he grunted, a large hand moving to splay over your bump, covering most of it. ��The most beautiful woman in the realm, swollen with my seed and carrying my children.” With a blush covering your cheeks, you bit your bottom lip, stifling a wanton moan.

Noticing the color on your cheeks, Maegor smirked, slightly increasing the pace of his hips, his cock hitting deep enough to drag over the spot that had you whining and whimpering. You were squeezing him so well, making it impossible for him to keep going for much longer – not that you had time to do so anyways.

Your pearl throbbed with anticipation, and your cunt clenched and convulsed around his member, announcing your approaching peak and coaxing grunts and groans to escape his parted lips.

You tipped your head back into the pillows, unraveling beneath him as you closed your eyes in bliss.

“So good,” he groaned, reaching to rub your bump before trailing his hand up to your full breasts. “I shall fuck you full of my seed, and bed you until your womb runs dry.” You weren’t sure if it were his words, the thoughts accompanying them or the sensual rolling of his hips, but your brain went fuzzy with pleasure, clouding each thought to the point you couldn't think straight and answer him.

His big hand tugged the neckline of your nightgown down to the point it ripped at the seam, freeing your breasts from their confines. It could have been a growl or a groan rumbling in his chest – either way it sounded threatening and dangerous, lured out by the sight of your leaking breasts. Clamping one of your darkened buds between his calloused fingers, he squeezed it to force some more droplets of milk out of it, coating his fingers in it.

Bringing them up to his lips, he sucked them clean with a groan, only for him to pay equal attention to your other breast not long after. It was not much, but already helped enough to relieve some of the pressure and ease the fullness.

You bit your bottom lip and started up at him with half-lidded eyes, a teasing grin on your lips. “Want to get your fill, papa?” you asked, feigned innocence weaving itself through your tone.

Maegor panted heavily, his eyes glued to where his fingers were milking you. “You little minx,” his husky voice drawled, interrupted by strained breaths. He was close. “Later.”

The coil in your belly tightened each time his body rutted against your pearl in combination with his fingers on your breasts, and it eventually snapped and allowed your peak to wash over your body with a loud cry. Maegor watched you mesmerized, relishing in the way your cunt fluttered around his cock with relief etched onto your features.

He seized the opportunity, and bowed his bull-like body forwards, placing one hand next to your frame to support his weight as he increased the pace and intensity of his thrusts. Your cunt melted around his hard member, sucking him in with each snap of his hips.

You couldn't deny the slight aching that started to blossom between your legs, growing more apparent with the repercussions of your peak slowly subsiding, but you knew Maegor was racing for completion at this point, his breathing ragged and his jaw set.

“When this babe is born…,” he rambled, panting in between the words. Strands of his blonde hair fell in front of his eyes, a sheen of sweat on his skin. “… I shall fuck another into you. I can not get enough of watching your body swell with my seed, making it clear to everyone that you are mine.”

“Y-Yes, Gods, please.” The flush on your cheeks grew hotter, matching the growing volume of your whimpers and moans. Suddenly, the thought of another babe growing inside of you didn’t seem too bad.

It was with a final thrust of his hips that his body finally relented, his cock spending in a burst so strong Maegor stilled his movements. You felt him twitch and throb inside of you, spilling his seed and painting your walls as you milked him for every drop.

The sight was divine. His muscular body crouched forwards slightly, blonde strands framing his chiseled features, beads of sweat highlighting his flexing muscles, and his jaw set tight enough you feared for his teeth.

If you weren’t with his child already, you would have mounted him to make sure his seed would bear fruit.

Every muscle in his body was tensed, until he eventually collapsed into the vacant spot right next to you, careful not to put any weight on your swollen belly. His flaccid cock slipped out of you in the process, causing you to pout at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

But you were quickly distracted when you looked to the side, studying him carefully. The blissful smile on his lips sent heat straight through your veins again, reigniting the fire and longing for more. You traced your fingertips over his sharp cheekbones, while his hand had remained splayed over your bump in a protective manner.

Moving to lie on his back with his arms crossed behind his head, mischievous thoughts filled your head, inspired the moment you glanced down at his thick cock. Teasing and arousing you was a weapon only Maegor possessed, and he wielded it so perfectly – intended or not.

“Mh, our guests may have to wait a little longer,” you said, voice laced with desire.

It was a bit troublesome for you to get up, but once you managed to do so, you moved to straddle your husband’s hips, his cock trapped between your soaked womanhood and his lower stomach.

He watched you with an eyebrow raised, but made no move to stop you. You rutted your hips over his length, coating him in your mixed essences and coaxing him to full hardness again.

Maegor propped himself up on his elbows, a groan leaving his lips, and brought his paws up to graze over your sides. He understood what you wanted, and was eager to give you just that. With unsurprising strength, he fisted the silk of your nightgown and tore it in half, exposing your whole body to him.

You gasped, more because of the chill air hitting your hot skin than the shock of the sudden movements.

Licking a flat stripe over the curve of your full breast before wrapping his lips around your hard bud, Maegor sucked on it a few times to swallow some of your milk. You moaned at the stimulation, tipping your head back as your cunt clenched around nothing.

He pulled back with a string of saliva connecting his swollen lips and your skin, glancing up at you mischievously. And when he spoke, his voice was husky and strained, teasing you with a smug smirk on his lips. “I think they will understand.”

Maegor Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @watercolorskyy @xxxkat3xxx @baedebnam @simonedk @heavenhatesme @valyrianglass

General Taglist: @heimtathurs @croatianprincess @nina2697 @sirenangelroyal @malfoytargaryen @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @kyuupidwrites @boofy1998 @thekinslayersswordhand @sagelovesreading @jiminie-08 @doublesparrows @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @recorddust @tsujifreya @melsunshine @docmartinis @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @nockerin @moonlightfoxx @bbgmonsay @thatmysteriousblog @ashovertheriver @black-dread @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1 @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowystark @goldyfishsstuff @connorsui

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francy-sketches · 4 months

Text

POV they caught you chasing cats in the red keep

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #valyrianscrolls #myrcella baratheon #tommen baratheon #my art #last art of the year n it’s them <3 very on brand #just thot the description of myrc in ble was cute n I wanted 2 draw it 💙#pretty as a doll in blue satin so true 💙#that stag’s supposed to be embroidered in pearls cut I couldn’t figure out how to draw it. use your imagination #black pearls ofc #tried 2 post this n it got sent to the void if you see two of it that’s why. hopefully not tho

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fragileheartbeats · 2 months

Note

Can you make an original Valyria house (like Targaryen and Velaryons). A house that had the most beautiful people and rode ice dragons?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐑 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝑃𝐸𝑂𝑃𝐿𝐸 𝑂𝐹 𝐻𝐸𝐴𝑉𝐸𝑁 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

─ 𝘐𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯 𖤐

─ 𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘦𝘴, 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴 𖤐

House Celestyr, descended from the ancient and mystical bloodlines of Old Valyria, stood as a beacon of beauty and grace amidst the dragonlords of their age. Their sigil, a majestic ice dragon mid-flight encircled by a ring of stars on a field of iridescent blue, symbolized their affinity for the heavens and the frozen beasts they tamed. Their words, "Beyond the Flame, Our Essence Soars," whispered of their nature, transcending the fiery passions of their kin to embrace the ethereal and the intellectual. The members of House Celestyr were paragons of ethereal beauty and physical perfection, their stature towering and their features fine. Their senses were sharp, able to detect the faintest whisper of a threat or the subtlest of nature's wonders. Resilient to the ravages of time and ailment, they were the embodiment of the Valyrian ideal, their slender forms housing a strength that belied their graceful appearance. Their connection to the ice dragons of the Shivering Sea, creatures as rare and enigmatic as the house itself, granted them a dominion over realms both frostbitten and arcane. The Celestyrs were lovers of the world's innate splendor, drawn to the sea's endless depths and the night sky's diamond brilliance. Their home, the Fortress of Frostfire, was a marvel of architecture, perched upon the edge of the world where the sea kissed the stars. Libraries and gardens adorned its halls, reflecting the house's unquenchable thirst for knowledge and beauty. Yet, the Celestyrs were not untouched by flaw. Their pursuit of perfection could breed a dangerous pride, and their hearts, though resistant to darkness, were not immune to the lures of power and vanity. It was their challenge to navigate the fine line between their noble pursuits and the temptations that came with their gifts. Among them, the most radiant was Valyra Celestyr, a name that echoed her house's affinity with the skies above. Daughter of a Targaryen princess and a Celestyr king, she possessed a beauty that seemed to cast a spell over all who beheld her. Her hair was a cascade of gold-silver strands that shone with the light of the stars her ancestors adored, and her eyes, a shimmering violet, held the depth of the cosmos. Valyra was the epitome of her house's virtues, a lover of nature, art, and the mysteries of the world. Her intellect was as renowned as her beauty, and her presence was as soothing as the sea breeze. But it was not just her mind and looks that drew people to her; Valyra's spirit, kind and unassuming, was a stark contrast to the ambition and intrigue that often surrounded her. The history of House Celestyr is a tapestry woven with threads of light and shadow, its legacy enduring in the legends of a people who soared beyond the reach of fire, to dance with dragons in the frost-kissed heavens. Their tale is a reminder of the beauty and peril that come with extraordinary gifts, and of the eternal dance between the lofty stars and the mortal hearts that aspire to reach them.

Chapter 1

@fragileheartbeats . Don't plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

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k4marina · 3 months

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heart of the dragon sneak peak :)

here's a little peak at the next chapter of heart of the dragon 🙈

On the far left, where the line of paintings began was a family portrait. There was writing engraved on a golden plaque underneath the painting.

“Aenar Targaryen, First Lord of Dragonstone.

Gaemon Targaryen and Daenys Targaryen.”

Underneath Aenar’s and his two children's names were the names of his many wives, five to be exact. I haphazardly read through the names, most of which were of Valyrian women, a few from different areas of Essos.

“Vellela Irnoran, that’s most likely from the Free Cities, Naqari Ghe- shit, how do I say this? Ghezihl, oof, that has to be Ghiscari. Jelaehna Vellar..ys.”

Jelaehna Vellarys. Jelaehna Vellarys. Vel-lar-ys.

“No fucking way.”

lmk what u guys think !

@wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @ministark @laanswife

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bardsansa · 8 months

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queen myriah nymeros martell, newly crowned, at the coronation of her husband, king daeron ii. 184 AC.

visenya and rhaenys, alyssa velaryon, the six wives of maegor, alysanne, aemma arryn, alicent hightower and rhaenyra i, helaena, jaehaera, daenaera velaryon, daena the defiant, naerys

#really REALLY proud of these colors. at coronations esp of husbands i imagine queens go full targ but considering the importance of—#dorne joining the 7k i thought martell colors would be appropriate.#it was really difficult to find clothing of al andalus (islamic spain) which grrm has said inspired dorne #however i could find traditional palestinian clothing and palestine was also listed as inspiration so that’s what i did.#imo thobe-inspired pieces are traditional rhoynish ‘martell’ clothing whereas everyday and other areas/houses #have various inspiration. anyways! real proud of this #mine #my art #procreate art #artists on tumblr #digital art #procreate #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #a song of ice and fire #myriah martell #queen myriah martell #myriah nymeros martell #queen myriah nymeros martel #house martell #house nymeros martell #dorne

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jeyneofpoole · 4 months

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modern theon is living out of his car (robb’s first that he crashed into mailbox and gave to theon for free) in the parking lot of asha’s apartment complex. sometimes she sends qarl down with a plate of food and a joint because she feels a little bad but not bad enough to let him enter her home. he’s effectively homeless because balon kicked him out for wearing eyeliner and the last time the starks went on family vacation theon lost bran and rickon in the disney world gift shop so they’re not feeling super charitable but sometimes jon will let him climb in through his window because he’s hoping theon’ll show him how to do tricks on his skateboard (theon lied about doing a kickflip once) and theon’s not about to tell him he’s a fraud so he’s taking advantage of the whole thing because it’s january and his car is missing a door (cardboard duct-taped over the hole) and benjen gets jon the best weed in town so usually theon’s able to mooch if he’s annoying and/or persistent enough.

#imagine all of this happening AND he has frosted tips #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #valyrianscrolls #theon greyjoy #robb stark #jon snow #asha greyjoy #qarl the maid #benjen stark #balon greyjoy #modern asoiaf

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myocsfanfictions · 2 months

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The Wolf, the Stag and the Snake (Book 2)

A Song of Ice and Fire FanFiction

MASTERLIST

Next 》

CHAPTER 1

CYEL

Winterfell felt different. She would be lying to herself otherwise.

Lady Cyel Sand remembered well the always-present happiness inside the dark walls of the most important castle of the North. Since she had left her father’s lands at the age of four. Dorne was so different from Winterfell, and yet there had never been a day where Cyel had felt lonely.

The Stark children and their laughter had brought joy to her every day. They studied and learned their duties, and they played and ran together. The eyes of the Lady of Winterfell, of course, were always on them, strict yet loving.

Cyel had learned many things from Lady Catelyn Stark, which was so very different from Cyel’s lady mother. Phelya Rosemberg had learned to be stubborn, always to try and see the best part of life and people, while Lady Stark had witnessed what being a good lady liked by her people.

And then there was Lord Eddard Stark, a man to whom Cyel owned so much; he had been so kind and so caring to both her and her mother. He had the power to make Cyel feel safe, only like her own father made her feel.

And she already missed that feeling…

Since the raven arrived to Winterfell announcing that the Lannister had killed the Lord of the North a part of her felt different. Knowing that she would have never witnessed the kindness of her lord and his wise words left an emptiness in her heart that hurt. And her sorrow only grew when she thought of what his lady wife and children might be feeling.

Robb, Lord Stark’s heir and now King in the North, was at war against the Crown to avenge his father and free his youngest sisters, Sansa and Arya.

Cyel thought about them every day, and she prayed and cried. It felt like a lifetime had passed since they were all safe inside Winterfell, but it was like that no more. The girls were trapped in the South, with the House that had murdered their lord father; she really could not imagine how that all felt.

Her thought went to her best friend, too, the King’s twin sister, Antea Stark, who had now joined her brother in the Riverlands with their mother. The both of them would not have come back any time sooner, for the moment.

She often thought about Theon Greyjoy, the always smiling boy, ward of the Starks as she was. And for this reason, she felt him as close as a brother. He was at war as well, and she was afraid to lose them all.

“How is Brandon feeling?” her mother asked.

And then there was Brandon Stark, the boy she felt more close to. The two of them had always got along, played, and studied together, but now even that had changed.

After Robb's coronation, Bran had become the Prince of Winterfell, along with his little brother Rickon, and since the King was at war in the South, Bran was now holding Winterfell.

"He is strong, but sure he suffers," Cyel said as she was brushing her long dark hair.

"Poor boys," Phelya said, and Cyel could see that her mother was trying all she could not to cry, but she was suffering as well. Phelya had spent many years in Winterfell in her youth. She loved Ned and his siblings so much, and now they were almost all gone: Brandon, Lyanna, and Ned. Only Benjen was still in this world, but it had been so long since he wrote to them.

"I'm so sorry, mother," Cyel said, turning to her mother. She was pale and tired; it had been happening since she came to know what had happened, and Cyel was worrying. Phelya had gotten sick one year before, she was finally gettig better, but then...

"I've always loved this castle," Phelya said with a sad smile, "Even more than my own. I see the same love in you and maybe even more."

Cyel stood up to walk to her mother and knelt before her.

"Mother?" she whispered.

"This world is a dangerous place. I prayed that you would never find out how cruel it could be, but I think I cannot shield you from it anymore." Phelya said, taking Cyel's hand, "You've got a place in here, a position, and for that, I have to thank only Ned. Do not take it for granted, my Sun; fight for yourself, like your father always told you."

Cyel felt like crying, it had happened before, the fever was back. Her mother was tired and shivering, and Cyel was not sure what she was talking about.

"Mother," she said, taking the woman's hands, trying to be as gentle as possible, "I think it is better for you to lay down and rest." In her mother's eyes, she could see tears, but the woman nodded, and she let Cyel help her to bed.

"I have to go to the Maester now," Cyel said as she covered her mother in furs, "You remember?"

"Yes, the wards are coming," Phelya answered, and Cyel nodded her head.

"I'll make sure Dorea is with you while I'm gone," Cyel said, caressing her mother's hair. The woman nodded.

"You are my Sun," she said, "Always remember to cherish that light in you, the light that I love so." Cyel was doing all she could to stop herself from crying, her mother didn't need that. So she decided to kiss her on the forehead instead.

"I love you, mother."

She went down the steps of Winterfell. Her mother was worring her, it had been so long since she had felt like that, but before she never lost her smile. Now it was different, now she felt so much pain, a pain that Cyel didn't know how to cure.

As she walked the corridors of the castle, she forced a smile on the servants, always so kind to her, as they were getting ready for the arrival of their new guests.

"Is the chamber arranged with enough furs?" Cyel asked as she saw Heren.

"Yes, my lady, as you've asked," she answered.

"Could you take a look again?" She asked with a small smile. "They come from the South; I'm afraid they will find the North whether rather unbearable."

"If it pleases, my lady," Heren said kindly before going towards Jon's former chamber.

Cyel had been given the duty of setting the castle for the arrivals. Decorations and the arrangement of the chamber. Even if that had been difficult to let the Stark boys agree on which chamber would have been given to the Freys.

"I've already told Maester Luwin you cannot give them Jon's chamber." Bran had protested as he pulled himself up from his lying position, thanks to a bar that was now fixed just above his bed. Mikken had done a fine work so that Bran could be a little more independent inside his chambers.

"Would you listen for just a moment?" She asked as she observed him shake his head. Summer jumped so that he could lay just next to the boy.

"He told me you would have me change my mind, but you won’t. I won't change my mind." Bran said firmly.

"Do not be stubborn with me and listen," she said, sitting on the bed before he could start to climb onto the other bars so that he could reach the chair next to the window.

“Maester Luwin said I am the prince, and I don’t want them in his chamber. This should end the discussion.” He stated, but Cyel was used to his stubbornness.

“The discussion is open, and we are having it,” she said, “You are going to host guests-”

“I know that Cyel!” he exclaimed.

“Very well,” she answered back. “Then you know that we have to treat them with respect.”

“How does respect involve Jon’s chamber?”Bran argued with a frown.

“They are part of a noble house; we have to give them a proper chamber,” Cyel exclaimed back.

“I don’t want them there!” He fired.

“They need a chamber.” She answered.

“You move into Jon’s chamber then!” Cyel stopped observing Bran for a moment. His eyes always stubbornly hid the pain in them. Seeing him hiding those feelings made her heart ache.

“Bran, what is going on?” She asked softly this time.

“Nothing,” he answered, looking away. There was a time when he would say everything to her with a laugh and a sweet smile.

“I know you,” she muttered with sadness, and she noticed his body stiffen, “I know when there is something that you are keeping from me. And you don’t have to tell me if you don’t wish to. But…”

She took a breath.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” she admitted.

There was silence for a moment.

“I don’t want to fight with you as well,” he muttered, still not looking at her.

Bran took a breath.

"I do not want to replace him," at his words, Cyel leaned over to take his hand.

"My prince, is this what is troubling your mind?" He did not answer, but she held his fingers tightly, "We are not forgetting Jon, nor are we replacing him. But these boys will be your guests, and they need a proper place to lay." Bran bit his lips before turning to look at her with clouded eyes.

"It feels so different now," he said as his eyes stopped briefly on his legs.

"It is different," she said, searching for his gaze, finally finding it, "But I'm here, my prince. As well as all our memories. And we are not going anywhere."

Bran's lips turned up in a small smile.

As she kept walking into the corridors, the servants greeted her with a bow, and she greeted them with a little smile. Cyel touched the warm walls at her passage, remembering how, just a few months before, she used to run with all the Stark children. Laughing and hiding from the Maester, or the Septa. They didn't want for their words about their games to reach the ear of the lady Catelyn. But everyone knew that they all loved to play, run, and laugh.

How silent was that castle now. How sad it was to know that the kind lord Eddard Stark would have never walked through those gates, watching over his children, protecting all his people. How difficult was it to know that Robb was now King and at war? But now it was time to accept what had happened and try to move forward. She had to be strong for the friendship that she shared with the Starks, for the memory of Lord Eddard, for her mother, and for Bran's heart. She wanted to be strong for all of them.

I will not break, she told herself.

"Good day, Cyel," Maester Luwin's voice made her turn.

"Good day, Maester," she greeted the man. As he walked, the chain around his neck made a clear sound.

"The arrival of the two Frey boys is expected in a few hours," Cyel listened carefully, "I've seen your arrangements; may I say that you've watched and learned perfectly."

Cyel smiled, delighted to know that what she was doing was appreciated, "I've spoken with Bran this morning."

"He is already awake?" She asked curiously.

"Yes," the man answered with a smile, "He wanted to talk to me about something?" Cyel waited patiently for the Maester to keep talking. "He asked me quite an interesting question."

That made her smile, "I'm sure he did. Bran is very curious."

The man nodded, "Indeed, but this time was peculiar. The question was about you, my lady."

Cyel frowned, looking up at Maester Luwin, "About me?"

"Yes, Cyel," he said, "And the reason behind your staying in Winterfell."

She shouldn't have been surprised. Bran was smart and observant. And once his mind fixed on something, it would not let go.

"What did he ask?" She said, feeling like blushing.

"He was wondering why you hadn't been called back to Dorne after what happened to Lord Stark and the beginning of the war."

She had wondered about the same question as well. With the war, she had been afraid that her father would have wanted her back in Sunspear, and she dreaded that thought. She did not want to leave Bran alone. Not now.

But the raven never came.

"I've told him that it was a matter that we've had to discuss today," that made her frown.

"Today?" She asked.

He nodded, "A raven arrived from Lady Stark."

Cyel followed Maester Luwin through the corridors and up the stairs to the tower where his studio was at. She made every step with her heart beating louder and louder in her chest. Were they about to officially announce her and Bran's engagement? That made her nervous. How would Bran have taken the news? She did not want their friendship to change. She did not want to lose Bran.

As the Maester opened the door, Cyel noticed Bran sitting next to the window, looking at Winterfell below. Summer was sitting on his haunches at his feet. When he heard the sound made by the wood of the door, Bran turned.

"Good morrow, my prince," she said with a bow.

"Good morrow, Cyel," he answered with a certain nervousness in his thone.

He was dressed elegantely, a dark grey vest with the sigil of his house on the front. He was already dressed to welcome the Freys, as Cyel was wearing an orange dress with a tight corset adorned with golden embroidery shaped like snakes and soft sleeves and a gown that was easily moved by the wind. Her black hair was half tight up in braids, and the loose hair was adorned with pearls. They had to make an impression for the arrival of two new wards.

"Please sit, my lady," the Maester said, gesturing towards the chair next to Bran's. Summer got up, getting closer to Cyel. The werewolf looked at her with his deep golden eyes, nudging her clenched hands with his snout. His behaviour made her smile, then she reached out to caress the wolf's head. Her eyes, though, caught the Maester moving to change the position of the chair in which Bran was sitting so that he was now facing Luwin's desk.

Cyel and Bran shared a look as the Maester walked towards a little ironwood chest set on one of the shelves. The girl felt anxious as the man walked towards them. Bran seemed nervous as well, observing Luwin silently.

"You might be wondering why I need to share words with the both of you, today," none of them answered at the words of the Maester, "Yesterday a raven arrived from South," Cyel noticed Bran nervously looking down, Summer immediately got closer to him. "A raven from your lady mother, Bran."

That seemed to surprise the boy, who returned his gaze to the man with a frown and a worried expression. A different worry from before. He was surely worried about his brother.

"According to the lady Catelyn, the time has come for you to know the reason behind Cyel staying in Winterfell," the Maester opened the small ironwood chest to take out a rolled piece of paper. It opened it slowly before reading out loud, "With these words, the alliance between House Stark and House Martell will be consolidated through the marriage between Brandon of House Stark and Cyel of House Martell."

Cyel's heart was beating fast as she turned to look at Bran. The boy seemed to think about what had just been read to them.

"They want for us to be wed?" Bran asked, looking at the man.

"That had been agreed long before this day," he said, surprising Cyel as well. The Maester turned the document for them to see. The paper had gotten a yellowish color due to the many years, and at the bottom, those words had been signed both by lord Eddard Stark and her father, Prince Oberyn Martell. She could recognize his signature.

"Long before?" She asked, confused.

"The lord and the lady decided not to tell you because they wanted for you to get close on your own time," the Maester exclaimed, looking from Cyel to Bran, "They didn't want to impose anything on you."

"But now you are imposing me on Cyel," Bran's words hurt her, even if the venom was not meant for her.

"Bran, why would you say that?" She asked, turning to him. She could see the pain in his eyes as he looked at her.

"You think it too," he said, but she shook her head.

"No, that is not true," Cyel said with a firm tone.

"Cyel, look at me," he exclaimed, "Look at me..." his voice was full of pain. She hated to see him like that. Talking about himself like that.

Fighting the tears from falling from her eyes, she reached out for his hand, feeling relieved when he didn't pull away.

"Bran," he looked at her; he was doing everything in his power not to cry, "I'm looking. I'm always looking at you. There's no imposition here to me."

He observed her, "Why?"

Cyel smiled at him, letting a tear slip from her eye, hoping for him to believe her, "You are the person most dear to my heart. When I look at you, that's what I see."

She wished he could see himself through her eyes. There was nothing wrong with him. His legs did not define him. He had survived a terrible fall. And he was still here. Alive. He was so strong. That's what she saw.

Bran blushed, averting his eyes, "You are dear to me as well," he muttered. She smiled.

The Maester looked at the two of them with fondness as he waited for the two children to look back at him.

"As betrothed," the Maester began to talk after Bran and Cyel shared a smile, "There is nothing that you should be worried about. You are both still young. But from now on, my lady, you'll be known and presented as Prince Brandon's betrothed. The North will know you as such, as the two Frey boys," Cyel nodded her head silently as Summer liked her hand, making her look down with a smile.

"There's something else," the Maester's words got her attention again. The man looked inside the ironwood chest, taking out another piece of parchment. It was rolled and held together by a sigil.

"Isn't that your House sigil?" Asked Bran curiously. He was right. Cyel could see the sun pierced by a spear.

"This was brought with you the day you and your mother arrived at Winterfell, Cyel," the Master said, "Your father wanted for us to read this once the engagement was official," Cyel looked at Bran, confused.

The Maester broke the sigil, reading the words to himself first. Cyel leaned forward as she saw the expression on the man's face.

"What is it?" Asked Bran, as curious as she was.

Luwin cleared his voice before reading out loud, "With these words, I, Doran Martell, Head of House Martell and Prince of Dorne, give the legitimacy to the daughter of Prince Oberyn Martell, Cyel Sand. From this day forward, she will be known as Cyel Martell, princess of Dorne."

Cyel's breath got stuck in her throat.

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

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littlest-gemini · 6 months

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A young princess Rhaenys with her parents Jocelyn Baratheon and Aemon Targaryen

#I imagined this like an in-universe family portrait #meant to show the future rulers of the seven kingdoms #that sure worked out great didn’t it :’)#rhaenys targaryen #rhaenys the queen who never was #aemon targaryen #jocelyn baratheon #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #asoiaf art #pre asoiaf #game of thrones

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vincentsambershades · 8 months

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How not to tame a dragon

Cregan Stark x Targ!fem!reader

Summary: when Cregan Stark informs his Targaryen bride that she cannot bring her mount with her to Dorne, all hell breaks loose.

(I usually avoid writing since English is not my native language (be warned). I was, however, inspired by some hotd-fics from my favourite creators and wanted to write something fun, about our favourite northern man, mister cregan, which I'm actually pretty proud of. So here it goes.)

Word count: 2.5k-2.6k

Warnings: 18+, angst, smut, fingering, p in v, tiny bit of breeding kink, flufffffff

When Cregan Stark was first presented with the young Targaryen princess he didn't fail to notice the fire that erupted from within her. A fire caused by her close attachment to her dragon. Her Cannibal, albeit frightening, had served the both of them well enough after their wedding. And even though Cregan was hesitant to ride on dragonback, his wife had charmed him in doing so relatively early in their marriage.

In spite of how much Cregan admired the beast, as well as the bond between his bride and her mount, there were moments when he wished he hadn't been married to a Dragonrider.

The princess was used to roaming Westeros with her loyal travel companion. Therefore, when the time had come for the newly wed couple to head to Dorne, in order to manage 'certain financial and commercial matters', as her husband had called them, Cregan prevented her from bringing her beloved dragon along. He insisted that a dragon, despite being a sign of force and power, would create an intimidating environment that would leave no room for impartial negotiation. He was right of course, as always, but the wrath of the dragon was easy to provoke.

"Cannibal is coming with us to Dorne! The cold of the North is no good for him! The heat will soothe him!" she was red in the face and as terrifying as the wild thing she had managed to tame.

"My love, you know we cannot travel with a dragon to Dorne, bringing your beast along will only serve as provocation which we cannot afford!" said Cregan only fuelling his wife's fury.

"This is outrageous!" she looked almost as if she intended to feed him to the dragon.

No direwolf would ever be able to save him from that fate.

She didn't speak to him for at least two weeks after that.

Around that time, their journey to Dorne began.

After long hours of travelling, as night was setting, time had come for them to rest and as Cregan helped his men set out camp for the night, his wife was taking a stroll near the frozen river. She was wrapped in more furs than he could count and looked as if she would tumble over from their weight any moment now.

She would appear comical had it not been for that sour expression on her face.

Separating her from her dragon seemed to toll on her more and more as the days passed. Her denial to exchange more words with him, other than 'Good Morrow' and occasionally 'Good night', didn't seem to improve her mood either.

It didn't matter to her that she missed him. The princess wanted for her husband to be the first, out of the two, to break. She wanted for him to seek her out, chase her and claim her all over again.

Cregan needed her too. He had always known that half her heart belonged to her dragon. That was what happened with all Targaryens.

He had come to terms with that.

Yet, there were moments, like this when the mere view of his beautiful wife had him hoping that he owned at least some part of her heart.

He felt silly. He knew that their marriage was a political arrangement. Her father had established that when the match was made. However, Cregan couldn't help but feel lucky to have found a match in the princess, their chemistry was undeniable and their times together were filled with all the passion other political marriages lacked. There was mutual understanding in their marriage.

Cregan shook these thoughts and concentrated on the task ahead. So called traders from Dorne had been entering his borders and tormenting villages on his coastlines. Of course, the Lord had tried to diplomatically remove them from his land but when the situation became unbearable and his ambassadors came back empty handed, he knew it was time for a formal visit to the far South. He had been tempted to use his wife's creature in order to intimidate them, but the thought of causing further commotion, when the throne was so vulnerable, prevented him from doing so. For a Stark, Cregan's will to maintain the peace was greater than his thirst for battle.

Cregan was lost in his thoughts as the men sat around the fire, passing around carafes of ale to warm them during the cold night. It took his companions quite a bit of convincing, but he finally accepted to take a swing.

"To keep you warm, Lord." insisted the man who was sitting on his right. Cregan took the carafe, offering the man a grateful smile, and drank generously.

Instead of downing more, he wrapped his coat tighter around him and relaxed while watching the flames. Cregan managed to lose himself in the moment. He didn't know what it was, the easy atmosphere or his companions' laughter, but something warm bloomed in his chest. How he had missed travelling. Roaming the North with his friends as the moonlight illuminated them.

It felt even better this time. Because in this particular occasion, he had her to share it with. His stubborn little wife. His fierce dragon rider.

And that was when it hit him.

Cregan realised he hadn't seen her in more than an hour. The last time his eyes had fallen on her, she was wandering around, kicking the snow with her feet. He didn't think she had headed for the woods, he knew she wasn't that careless. Before they began their journey he had, after all, made sure to inform her of all the dangers they might come across, wolves, bears and other animals humans shouldn't meddle with. Therefore, she had to be in their shared tent.

"What is it Lord?" the man turned to him again. Cregan attempted to hide the worry off his voice.

"Have you seen my Lady around?"

"I fear I haven't, Lord, she must be resting." offered the man with a toothy grin that did nothing to ease Cregan's worry.

Cregan rose to his feet swiftly, turning on his heels and heading to the tent where he found nothing but an untouched bed and a trunk he himself had placed there. He exited the narrow space, searching for any sign of his wife. His vision, despite being acute, served him little in the moment and the full moon, albeit helpful, didn't shine enough light upon the heavy snow. His mind ran several miles an hour, considering all the possible paths the princess could've taken. He began his search without being in control of where his feet took him until he reached the river. He looked for footprints but found none. Even if she had taken that route, the fresh snow would've covered her tracks.

His train of thought was rudely interrupted by a crack on the ice that had gathered at the edges of the river. The sound of the rapture was followed by a splash in the cold water and a womanly scream, one that undoubtedly belonged to his wife.

He followed the direction of the sound only to be met with the sight of the princess' attempt at defying the coldness of the river and swimming to the surface. Without second thought, Cregan rid himself of his fur coat, keeping on his less warm leather attire. He placed the heavy coat to the side and got in the freezing water aiming for his wife. She was easy to identify, even in the dim moonlight, and so he reached for her. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and pulled her out, letting her limp body rest against the snow covered ground but only long enough for him to pull his dry furs on top of her soaked ones. After she was securely wrapped in them, he carried her unconscious back to the untouched bed he had prepared for her.

"You stupid girl..." he scolded her while peeling her clothes off and leaving them near the fire to dry. Despite being close to the fire and covered in all the blankets Cregan could find, she was still shivering. "The blood of the dragon is not enough to keep you warm after all..." she had awakened during this time and was aware of everything he threw at her.

Had she been in her senses, she would've jumped at him for daring to question the fire in her veins. But she was weak and defeated as she watched him pull his own clothes off.

He knew there was only one way to warm her up fast and that was body heat. And no matter how mad she had been at him for the past two weeks, she couldn't help but feel grateful as he covered himself in the blankets and pulled her to him. His arms found their place around her waist and she buried her face in the crook of his neck inhaling the manly scent of him. He started running his fingers up her back, all the way to her damp hair, and down again, just above her rear. He grabbed her thigh, hiking her leg over his hip and drawing her closer. His fingers found her front and caressed the skin below her bellybutton, tentatively delving lower. She heaved a sigh, her now hot breath hitting his neck as he let his urges overtake him.

His hand found its place between her thighs. She was warm there. Warm and soft. He dipped his fingers in her delicate folds, finding her oversensitive bud and circling it. They hadn't coupled in a while and his desire for her was driving him crazy.

"Cr-Cregan..." she whimpered and for a moment he thought she was hesitant. That thought, however, didn't plague him for long. When he pulled away to look at her face, to search for a negative reaction, he saw her pouty lips regaining their colour and her eyes reddened with unshed tears and clouded with want, pleading for him to finally touch her.

"Please, please, please-" as much as he usually enjoyed her begging him to take her, he was quick to stop her whimpering by capturing her lips in a kiss. His lips felt hot against hers and as he replaced his index finger with his thumb on her pearl, reaching lower and teasing her entrance, she gasped offering him the perfect chance to deepen the kiss. His fingers felt heavenly inside her, pumping in and out of her always hitting the rough spot that Cregan knew made her see stars.

Even with his fingers inside her and his length, brushing against her lower stomach, the kiss was his personal way of reclaiming her, swallowing her whole.

She reached her smaller hand between their bodies, taking him in her hand and stroking him as he sat hot and heavy in her palm.

She pulled away and her slack expression, lust filled eyes and kiss-swollen lips could have made him peak at that instant.

"I want you inside of me, now." she stated and how could he refuse her. Especially when she looked so eager, practically begging him to fill her.

He was quick to pull his fingers out of her, leaving her with an empty feeling. She didn't complain though, not when the sight of him getting on top of her and settling between her thighs had rendered her speechless.

He lowered his hips, reaching between his legs to tease her with his tip before entering her in one forceful thrust. She let out a yelp and choked out a moan.

The feeling of him long and thick, stretching her out after weeks of refusing him couldn't compare to anything.

Except, perhaps, for the feeling of her, wet and warm and tight, around her husband. Cregan swore there was no other woman besides his wife that felt so perfect.

Her tears, from how intense their lovemaking was, had Cregan remembering their first time together, right after their wedding feast when he had her lay on silk sheets, broken her maidenhead and molded her to him.

"Cregan I need to-need to-" she tried to say while Cregan delivered licks and bites to the sensitive skin of her neck.

"What do you need, my girl?" he thrust in her hard and fast, the way she liked it as his lips landed on her breast, sucking lovemarks and taking her nipple in his mouth, making her moan loud enough for everyone around to hear.

"I n-need to peak, please!" she managed and who was he to deny her wishes. He led his fingers to her pearl, rubbing it while hitting her sweet spot.

"Suck a good girl for me, begging me for her peak. Do it, I want to feel you come apart on my cock" he commanded her and not long after that her climax hit her. She held onto him, her nails digging into his biceps as he kept his unrelenting pace. His murmurs of 'that's it' and 'good girl' were muffled by her hair. Endless mantras of his name left her lips as she rode out her orgasm, her hips moving involuntarily against his own.

"Do you want me to spill in you, uh, my love?" he asked almost mockingly as his thrusts grew uneven, a sign he was close.

"Sp-spill in me Cregan!" she yelped as he continued to abuse her insides. Her husband groaned at her lustful pleas, grabbing her face and forcing her to look him in the eye.

"I will, sweet girl. I will spill in you, make you round with my pup. You would like that, wouldn't you?" Cregan came apart with a satisfied moan, his warmth filling her and then running down her thighs as he grew soft and pulled out.

He didn't leave her side after that. He laid beside her, instead of on top of her, and pulled her to him. Her chest rose and fell as she tried to regain her breath and Cregan placed reassuring kisses to her forehead.

After a few moments of utter silence, he heard her sniffle and mutter something against his throat. He soon came to realise she was apologizing. He gave her a questioning look, wondering what she had to apologize for.

"I'm sorry for avoiding you for two weeks, it was stupid and immature of me and I'm so so-" he silenced her with a kiss to which she responded quickly.

"You have nothing to apologise for." Her expression was hopeful. "I understand what it is like to be parted from something or someone you've truly set your heart to. That's what staying away from you felt like" she gave him a nod before letting his words truly set in. Her confusion painted her face a scarlet red and her anticipation was later imprinted in her voice.

"What are you saying?" she questioned and he sighed softly, cupping her cheek and wholly giving into her.

"I love you infinitely, my fierce dragon princess. And you needn't say it back. Not unless it's your truth." a weak smile formed on her lips.

"I love you too, have loved since I married you, before that even." her cries ceased. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, inviting him to her. "I love you my wild man from the North, my wolf." he laughed at that, an honest heartfelt laugh, the vibrations of which she felt against her own chest, and proceeded to kiss her.

Cregan kissed his dragon princess like his life depended on it.

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