#both the oldest daughter of lords who want to marry them off to princes
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Akemi from Blue Eye Samurai and Arianne Martell from ASOIAF would get each other.
#both the oldest daughter of lords who want to marry them off to princes#though doran Martell is a much better guy#both have younger brothers they resent#both headstrong and emotionally intelligent using their sexuality and people skills to get ahead#both wanting power but without being power hungry#I just think they should grab a drink together#akemi#blue eye samurai#arianne martell#a song of ice and fire
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Arlī(Anew)-Chapter 1
Word Count: ~1,644 words
Rating: 18+
Warnings⚠️: Uncle/niece incest
Description: She was not her uncle’s first choice Naery’s knew that, but she would do her duty.
AN: This story takes place from episode 5 onward. I’ve changed things up a bit but I’ve kept the timeline intact.
Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9
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115 AC - Dragonstone
Naerys had been told by her septa that a woman’s place in this world is a precarious thing, but she had not known what it meant until now. She was the blood of old Valyria though she did not feel it. She lacked the true spirit of her dragon rider ancestors. It mattered not now. Today was her wedding day and she had been every inch the Valyrian bride. She knew her duty. Naerys was to be her uncle’s long-awaited prize.
Her uncle’s wife, the Lady Rhea Royce, had died. It had been an accident. Lady Rhea had fallen off her horse and broke her back hawking. A tragedy, but that did not stop the murmurs around court and the Vale. The whispers only grew when her uncle had gone to Runestone to claim his late lady wife’s seat.
The king dismissed them of course. Daemon had been away from the Vale in the Stepstones at the time. Short of him being in two places at once, Lady Rhea’s death was an unfortunate incident. And with it, Daemon was freed from his ill-fated union. Free if he chose to take a woman to wife.
Her uncle did not have to remarry. He was a second son who stood to inherit nothing. Daemon had not been his brother’s heir for years. In that time, king Viserys had more heirs. His eldest daughter had sons of her own now. House Targaryen’s future stood secure, but the prince had made it clear that he intended to marry again.
The small council suggested that a match between the Prince of Dorne’s daughter and the rogue prince would be ideal. She was said to be beautiful, she was an avid rider, her High Valyrian was near perfect, and most importantly she was her father’s heir. A second son could not want more in a bride. Daemon had rejected the match with a chuckle that bounced around the throne room.
A Martell bride would bring him his own seat. It would finally bring Dorne into the fold with the rest of the kingdoms Viserys ruled over, but he had not wanted it. He had already been made to take one wife he did not want. He would not take another. This time around Daemon Targaryen had wanted a wife of his own choosing.
Daemon had informed her uncle’s small council that he wanted a Valyrian wife and Dragonstone. He would take his niece Naerys, his half-brother’s only daughter, to wife. The prince had Caraxes, fought in wars, and he would now have her. His final trophy. A young Targaryen wife. A naive impressionable girl and a seat for them to rule over.
The council had all scoffed at his initial request. “Our niece is too young for you brother,” her uncle, the king, had told him.
“She is not Rhaenyra my prince,” Naerys uncle Lord Corlys Velaryon had chimed in as well. “You will find her wanting.” As she was his ward it was his job to worry over her safety and future marriage prospects.
Daemon’s involvement with the king's heir and oldest daughter, Princess Rhaenyra was an open secret. Though she was herself now married to Lord Corlys son Ser Laenor, with them both being at court it was only a matter of time before the two might rekindle their affections for one another.
Naerys was too sweet. A shy little thing who had seen little of the world outside of Driftmark. She would not be an adequate replacement for the worldly Prince’s true desires. It was not until Daemon threatened to go to Lys, find his mistress, and take her to wife, that the king then conceded much to the disappointment of some at court.
No one had dared to voice their objections once the king agreed to the match apart from the queen and unsurprisingly the princess. Her father had once been the king's hand. Ser Otto Hightower and Daemon had never seen eye to eye. It seemed that the father's grudge had passed onto the daughter. Queen Alicent had tried to remind her husband of his brother’s ways, but the king dismissed her concerns.
Rhaenyra had initially laughed upon hearing the news that Daemon had wanted to take her for a wife. “Let my uncle have his little Targaryen bride,” she had exclaimed with glee to anyone who asked her opinion on the matter. “My dear little cousin and his duties at court should keep Daemon occupied. He will do his duty to his king and his heir.” The meaning was not lost to those around the Red Keep.
“If he wants to plot it will not be easy with the whole court watching him,” the princess had added. Naerys would often find her cousin staring across a room in search of their uncle. The man would sometimes meet her hopeful lilac gaze though his eyes would often drift to a pair of deep violet ones.
Rhaenyra’s tune changed upon finding out that they would not reside in the Red Keep and would be given Dragonstone. She then joined in with Alicent. Naerys own opinion on the match had not been asked for her opinion on her future union with her uncle. In the end, Daemon had gotten what he wanted. A young unspoiled niece for a bride and their family’s seat Dragonstone.
The ceremony itself had been nerve-racking. Her uncle had insisted upon a Valyrian ceremony. Naerys did not know half the words. Her Valyrian had always been less than satisfactory. Daemon had not laughed when she stumbled over the words. He never had when it came to her. Even when her face grew hot at his vulgarity he simply grinned at her.
Naerys had not been able to cut herself nor when the priest had called for the binding. Daemon had to do it for her. Seemingly taking pleasure in her anxiousness as he brought the blade to both of their lips and then hands with a self-satisfied smirk. The feast afterward had been a blur.
“Come here sweetling,” Naerys' new husband had called her once her new lady’s maids had left, breaking her out of her daze. They were alone in her bed chambers. Her uncle had been kind enough to allow the dispensation of the bedding ceremony. There was no need to when they all knew that this marriage would be unlike the prince's first.
Naerys felt the urge to pretend she had not heard him. She had been made to change into a sheer gown that did little to hide her figure. Her aunt Princess Rhaenys had tried to warn her of what might occur on her wedding night, but it did little to calm her. When Daemon called for her again she knew that she could not avoid him.
Naerys reluctantly made her way out from behind her changing screen, her eyes briefly landing on her uncle who stood by her fireplace. The fire's glow bathed him in its warm light and cast shadows across the room. From the corner of her eyes, she could see that her husband's gaze followed her across the room. He did not waste time pulling her into his arms when she finally reached him.
Daemon did not say anything as he stroked her silver curls. For a time they stood in silence. His gaze fell back to the fire. The only thing that could be heard was the crackle of it and the faint sounds of the feast down below.
“I suppose I will need to break you in.” He seemed to be thinking out loud, but that did not stop Naerys from pulling back from him. Daemon did not move to stop her as she turned away to face the side of the room. Her arms came up to cradle herself as her dark eyes landed upon what would soon be her marriage bed.
“Give him heirs Naerys.” Her uncle Ser Vaemond had whispered in her ear before her husband took her away to her new chambers. That is what she was there for. A mere plaything for her uncle. To appease him, birth his children, care for them, and console him when needed.
Naerys was wanted for her blood and what she could offer him with it. She was the blood of the dragon even if she did not feel it. She was a dragon rider. She might have even been queen had her father, but she felt even younger than her sixteen name days at that moment.
“Come niece, I will not harm you.” Naerys turned slightly to see that he held out a pale hand towards her. She hesitated to take it, but her fate was sealed whether she took it or not. She gave into her husband's demand, reaching for his outstretched arm with her small brown one. He laid another kiss on her head when she was close enough. She heard her husband sigh as he pulled her back into him.
“Ao issi gevie byka mēre.” Naerys only made out half of his words.
“Do not worry little wife,” Daemon hummed lightly. He drew circles upon her back with his right hand. It was almost soothing until he began to pull her gown up with his other hand. “I will not mind teaching you.” His hands drifted down to her newly exposed rear making the young bride tense up once more. As she closed her eyes she was confronted with the realization of why they were here, to begin with.
With any luck the sooner they consummate their union, the faster he would leave her and go back to his own quarters. Rhaenyra was with them on Dragonstone. The young bride was not naive. She was not her uncle’s first choice, Naerys knew that, but she would do her duty.
Translations:
Ao issi gevie byka mēre: You are beautiful little one
Ao3 link:
#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen x oc#daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader#house of the dragon#houseofthedragon#hotd#hotd fanfiction#prince daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen x reader#posting this before I chicken out#daemon targaryen x black!oc#daemon fanfic#daemon targaryen x black!reader#bnhotdfic
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Hope this will cheer u.. write an AU Daemyra, Viz let them marry.. and Daemon is remembering how adorable she was as a little girl declaring to everyone who would listen that she will marry her Uncle. Getting steamed when anyone flirted w him because she won’t share him 😆 😂 😆
Oooh, I have an au in which they do marry early and have a bunch of kids.
I think I know exactly what to do with this:
(How come I can never do drabbles? This is 1.4k words long)
. . .
Daemon patted Daena’s back, walking side to side to burp her as Rhaenyra covered herself, her dress already skilfully made to allow their children to feed whenever they requite – and she was able to give them.
Oh, their 7th was still so small, barely bigger than his arm, and the most beautiful thing. She was still all scrunched up, even in his arms.
"Look at that little princess," he cooed as he heard the soft burp. "There you go, well done."
He glanced back at Rhaenyra, who kept her eyes on them closely.
"I will be departing today," she lamented, her voice tinged with sadness. "Lord Baratheon wishes to discuss potential future betrothals.”
Daemon raised his eyebrows.
A betrothal?
Gods, that word was being thrown around too much for his liking.
"He has many daughters," he remembered, somewhat relieved. "Isn't his oldest the same age as the twins?"
Which was good, because Daemon would never engage one of his, his little girls were too young.
“She is,” Rhaenyra agreed, sitting by his side on the long seat, leaning in to look at their little girl. “Cassandra is eight, Marin is seven, Ellyn is six, and Floris is four.”
Daemon hummed a little, looking at Daella, caressing her little nose. Oh, she looked just like Viz when he was her size.
“Father intends to offer Aemon and Daeron’s hands to Ellyn and Marin,” Rhaenyra told him. “Cassandra instead of Ellyn, if he is willing to wait for the marriage and doesn’t mind the age gap”
He frowned. Aemond?!
“Viserys talked to me about a betrothal between Aemond and Aemma,” he told her. “Our daughter said it herself she intended to marry him.”
Aemma was just like Rhaenyra. She was a little version of her mother, with the same looks and very similar attitude. And just like her mother before her, she adored her uncle.
His wife gave him a shy smile.
"Not Aemond, my love," she corrected gently. "Aemon. Our Aemon."
Daemon stopped, looking from Daena to his wife.
“Our Aemon?” he repeated.
Aemon who had just turned five and still slept with a stuffed animal?
“I told him I want to speak with you first,” Rhaenyra continued. “The plan would be for the two girls to be fostered by me in s few years, once they flower. They’d be our daughters’ companions, and once Aemon is 16 and Daeron is 17, have a double wedding ceremony.”
He breathed slowly. House Baratheon was an alliance he wouldn’t turn away.
"What do you think?" he inquired. "You are his mother."
Rhaenyra smiled bittersweetly. It was a hard spot, having to think as both a parent and a member of the royal house looking for good alliances for their princes and princesses.
“I think it’s a good alliance,” she agreed. “We’ll introduce them when they are older. They might dfall for one another, my parents did.”
Daemon nodded positively slowly. They had eleven years ahead of them, ensuring that their little Aemon wouldn't be married off prematurely.
They had eleven years ahead of them, their little Aemon wouldn't be married off prematurely.
"I'll stand by whatever decision you make," he affirmed.
Rhaenyra exhaled, nodding, and leaned onto him.
“Have a safe travel,” he wished her.
She smiled sadly, kissing his cheek.
“I’ll return as soon as it is possible,” she promised. “I’ve said goodbye to the children already.”
He leaned onto her, kissing her cheek.
“We’ll miss you too,” he assured her. “I love you.”
His wife closed her eyes for a brief moment.
“I love you too.”
The wet nurse brought Daena down to the nursery, and Daemon strode to look for the older children. Visenya and Helaena were in their embroidering circle, Viserys, Aegon and Aemond were learning to spare with Harwin Strong. He was his wife sworn shield, and much more respectful to Rhaenyra than Criston Cole ever were – Strong didn’t nurture any wishes of replacing Daemon.
What caught him by surprise—though it really shouldn't have—was finding Aemma right there among them, on the balcony right above them, with both her elbows resting on the stone and resting her chin on her little hands.
“What are you doing, little princess?” he asked, walking to her.
Aemma turned to him, surprised.
"I'm watching them," she asserted, her tone resolute. "And I'm protecting Aemond."
He couldn't help but suppress a chuckle as he approached her, and his daughter swiftly ran into his welcoming arms. Daemon lifted her up, planting a loving kiss on her cheek. She was growing so quickly.
"What are you protecting him from?" he probed gently. "All the swords they're using are dulled."
He would never allow Viserys to practise with real swords, his son wasn’t ready for such a danger.
"From them!" she exclaimed, pointing with an accusatory little finger.
He followed her finger, and adjusted her little hand quickly when he realised who she was pointing at.
Below, Alicent and her ladies-in-waiting were observing the boys' sparring session.
He cast a gaze down at the trio, noting that Viserys was under Harwin's watchful eye, while Aegon and Aemond engaged in a playful bout with their training swords.
"They keep calling him cute!" she accused, her frustration evident. “They said he was talented and adorable! I’m the only one who can call him cute and talented!”
Daemon couldn't help but chuckle. She was so endearing, just like Rhaenyra. He remembered being 20 or 21 when she began talking about him as her future husband. He could still recall the day she marched up to him, poked him, and declared, "You'll be my husband." She had been resolute from the very start.
Viserys had thrown a party in an attempt to introduce him to suitable suitors—daughters and granddaughters of every lord in Westeros who aspired to be close to the King, or future King; he couldn't quite remember if it was before or after their grandfather's passing.
Rhaenyra had shadowed him throughout the event, a true princess in her red dress. She allowed no one to approach or even touch him. Daemon had been quite relieved, for he had no desire to find a wife, even though Viserys wanted him to, and he certainly had no interest in dancing with anyone.
"Your mother once shielded me from six dozen ladies," he recounted, smiling at the memory. "We were at a ball, and His Grace was determined to find me a wife."
Aemma frowned, appearing perplexed.
"But Mama is your wife."
"Yes," he affirmed. "But she's only been my wife for nine years. The ball happened long before that."
His daughter emitted a soft hum, her attention still firmly on him.
"She didn't allow anyone to dance with me, not a single lady would dare to," he informed her. "She was incredibly possessive. Just like you are with Aemond."
"Of course," Aemma replied, crossing her arms. "You were her future husband, and he is my future husband."
Daemon chuckled, shaking his head, and turned his eyes to the boys when he heard a change in sound underneath.
"Aemma!" he heard, a breathless call cutting through the air.
His daughter wriggled out of his lap, and he gently placed her on the floor. He watched her trot over to the small set of stairs, waiting for Aemond to ascend, looking sweaty and dust-covered.
"Aemma, I'm finished," he announced, "We can play castle now."
Daemon arched an eyebrow. Was that a page from his older brother's playbook? But if his little Aemma shared her mother's possessive and self-assured nature when it came to her future husband, she differed significantly from Rhaenyra in one aspect.
"Without bathing?" she questioned, stepping away from him and wrinkling her nose in disapproval. "Noble knights do not stink."
He stifled a laugh; they did indeed stink. They stank quite a lot. However, he had no intention of shattering his daughter's little dreams.
Aemond pouted a bit but ultimately relented.
"I'll take a bath," he conceded without further protest. "Then we can play."
His daughter nodded decisively, and Daemon sighed, shaking his head. He could hear the chuckles from the observing ladies. Aemma wasn't the only one smitten with puppy love, and Daemon wasn't the only one who had fallen under her charming spell.
"With soap," Aemma insisted. "And I'll be waiting for you in the playroom."
She walked to him and grabbed his hand.
“Come daddy.” she called.
He chuckled, waving at Aemond with a hand.
“Goodbye, nephew,” he smirked, turning around.
They still had a good eleven or twelve years before anything happened. He should enjoy the free amusement.
#rhaenyra x daemon#daemyra fluff#daemyra#daemon x rhaenyra fluff#daemon x rhaenyra#rhaenyra targaryen#rhaenyra targeryan#queen rhaenyra#daemyra fic#daemyra drabble
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The Targeryan Prince
Part One
The Arrangement
Daemon Targaryen X Reader (Y/N)
Warning: nsfw, smut, fingering,
Y/n does not trust men. As the second oldest daughter of Lord Stark, you have a duty to please them, whether you are in court, or at dinner, or out and about, your entire life is a sacrifice to whether or not men like you.
It had gotten worse when your mother died. Your father became more easily frustrated and violent, and he began to indulge in excessive drinking. The only other female companion you had was your older sister, but your father had recently married her off to another Lord in order to retain some political power of some sort.
Your sister and her husband had come for today’s court, so you had a companion to sit with, one you had not seen for six months. She is pregnant now, her belly was just beginning to show as it is her first child.
“How has father been?” she asks in a hushed voice.
“He’s the same,” you reply, being careful to keep your voice down as well.
“You know y/n, getting yourself a husband could take you away from here. Not all men are like Father.”
You pause for a moment. You had never considered marriage as an escape from your present situation, you had only ever viewed it as being sent from the house of one man to the house of another. You had no use for that. Men tended to view women the same, whether they were their mothers, daughters, wives, or sisters. Women were intended to fulfill only two major roles: daughters maintain political alliances through marriages, then become mothers when they were wives.
As you were deep in thought, considering what your sister had just said, there is suddenly a low hush that comes over the court. You make eye contact with your sister, and you see that she is just as confused, when suddenly your attention is drawn to the entrance. Standing there is a tall man with long white hair and purple eyes. He’s wearing some showy armour, black, with attention-drawing things coming out of the helmet. It takes you a moment, but you recognize him as a Targaryen.
“That’s Daemon Targaryen, King Viserys’ brother,” your sister says, leaning closer. You had forgotten that she and her Lord husband had done some travelling after they were married, and being higher up in the political chain, her husband would more than likely have been special enough to have an audience with the King on King’s Landing. It impressed you a little that she knew who this terrifying Targaryen was, and what he was called.
What could King Viserys’ brother want here in Winterfell? you thought to yourself. Intrigued, you listen intently to what the Targaryen is saying. It would turn out that Daemon seeks an audience with your father over a dispute with one of your younger brothers. Your brother interjects quickly in his defence, clearly frustrated by Daemon’s nerve to bring this matter to Father. Although Daemon remains calm, his arrogance is obvious; it could almost physically exist, and his disgust for your brother was written as clear as a history book on his face. Father settles the dispute fairly and invites the Prince to dine with us later in the evening, and much to your annoyance, Daemon accepts.
Once the court is released, you and your sister walk to your quarters. On the way there, she brings up the conversation from earlier:
“You do know that there are good men out there who would make a wonderful husband for you?”
“I’m sure one exists. How are you doing? Marriage treating you well?” The last question you gestured with a nod towards her belly, and a wink.
“It's been great,” she replies. “I know what you assume about men, but I am respected, and contrary to what you might expect, my husband has not laid a hand on me in an unwelcome way. He has not punished me harshly, nor has forced himself on me.”
“That’s awesome. I’m happy for you.”
Your sister and you start and turn when you suddenly hear laughter from behind you. When you both are facing the opposite direction you had been travelling, you come face to face with the Targaryen. Daemon has an amused look on his face, his mouth twisted in a sort of half smile. Amusement dancing in his eyes.
“Are you frightened of marriage? As a Lady, one would expect your education to have been solely based on that.” Daemon was looking right at you as he spoke. The joke clear in his voice.
“I assure you, Prince, my sister has been...” Your sister starts to defend you, but the Prince interrupts her.
“No man will ever want you if they overhear you belly-aching about them.” He says, keeping his gaze on me.
“And I’m sure no woman will ever want you if the rumours are true. Did you really murder your first wife? That’s hardly a way to get marriage proposals, even if a woman wanted you.” You shot back.
“You should watch your tongue. I am a guest in your father’s house.”
You glance over at your sister and see that her face has gone red. You decide rather than continue to argue, that instead, it would be best to get to your quarters where they can drink tea and talk in private. She is pregnant, you remind yourself.
“I suppose your right, Prince.” You say after a few moments. “I apologize for any feelings I might have hurt. You are a very welcome guest in this house.” And with that, you take your sister by the arm and lead her down the hall.
You and your sister retire to your chambers and spend the rest of the early afternoon talking. Your sister was fuming about the Targaryen and his nerve, “How dare he approach us in our Father’s house!” She exclaimed. While you did agree with her, you decided it would be better if you defused the situation. She was pregnant after all, and keeping her calm was more of a priority than fuming with her.
“I have been visiting your horse every day,” you say in an attempt to distract your sister. This works, and she expresses regret at not being able to ride with you that day, to which you assure her that there will be plenty of time once the baby is born.
After almost an hour, the conversation is interrupted by your Father’s messenger.
“Y/n, your Father wishes to see you in the council chamber.”
You are surprised by this, and one glance at your sister tells you she is as surprised as you are. Your sister begins to get up to come with you, but the messenger insists that it is just you the Lord wishes to speak with.
On your way to the council chamber, you run all the scenarios in your head. What could Father possibly want? you wonder as you walk down the quiet hallways. You are worried because he has never asked you to come to the counsel chambers before, and the only time he has summoned one of his daughters there was to betroth your sister to her husband...
This thought makes you stop in your tracks, and your heart skips a beat. No, Father is not arranging my married, no suitors have come, you assure yourself.
As you enter the council chamber, you make a quick note of those who are in attendance. Your Father is seated in direct eyesight to you as you enter the room, and to his left are seated his three closest advisors. Father had never been a trusting man, so it seemed natural to him to have three advisors, rather than one. Seated on his right, to your dismay, is the Targaryen. Standing around in various positions are the guards.
“Father, you summoned my presence,” you said, successfully hiding the tremor in your body from your voice.
“Y/n, my second eldest child, please sit,” your father replied, gesturing to the seat directly across from him at the end of the table. You obediently take your seat.
You take your seat, maintain your dignity as you do so, keeping your head high and looking your father in the eyes as you do. That was one thing your Father taught his children, including his daughters. “You are a Stark,” he had said. “Hold your head high and keep eye contact with your adversaries. You are well-bred and deserve respect.”
Once you were seated, your Father continued. “Prince Daemon he has made a generous offer for your hand in marriage, and being the prudent man that I am, I have opted to accept.” He leans back in his seat when he finished.
Your blood runs cold, and you do everything you can to maintain the stoic expression on your face. Your worse fears had come true. The idea of marriage was inevitable, whether you liked it or not, but marriage to a Targaryen somehow rubbed salt in the wound. You struggled to accept this, and it must have been written plainly on your face because your Father says: “This is not up for debate or negotiation.”
After a few more moments, you rescind, and respond with; “Very well Father. Am I to leave with the Prince tonight to be wed at Kings Landing?”
“Yes. Go and get yourself ready.”
That afternoon your sister had to console you in your tears, as you and your handmaidens readied your things for Kings Landing. You dutifully attended the dinner that evening, but you could not bring yourself to speak to the Targaryen a couple of times he made pleasantries with you, nor could you bring yourself to look him in the eyes, as your Father had taught you to do.
That evening, you began the trip to Kings Landing with escorts, without the company of the Targaryen, thankfully. The Targaryen opted to take his scaly, flying beast instead. He did offer to take you on the dragon with him, but the only answer he received from you was silence. The trip to Kings Landing was a long and lonely one, each step bringing you closer to wifehood and wifely duties you never wanted, and every night you went to bed you wept bitterly at the fact you were not born a man.
Once you arrived at Kings Landing, everything went quickly. First, you were introduced to King Viserys, Queen Alicent, and Princess Rhaenyra. You and the Prince were wed within the week, and then you were left very much to your own devices. The Targaryen did not visit you in your chambers, nor did he call on you to visit him, which left you with more anxiety and worry.
Twelve days after your wedding, it was late in the night and you were just about to blow out the candle when one of your handmaidens came to you with a summons from Daemon. It’s so late, why now, you thought to yourself. Nevertheless, took your time getting dressed.
The walk to the Prince’s chambers was a short one. Once you reach the door, you knock. After a millisecond, the Targaryen answers the door. “Took you long enough,” he remarks as you stride into the chamber. You turn around and notice he is only wearing a shift and trousers, nothing near as fancy as what you had put on. It dismayed you because you had hoped that perhaps the Targaryen had planned to talk with you, get to know you, before he tried to bed you, but the hour at which he summoned you should have told you otherwise.
“I am here my Lord,” you say, turning your face to look up at him.
He snorts derisively, rolling his eyes. “And you’re dressed almost as guarded as a knight about to go to battle. Did you not consider why you might have been summoned,” He replied bitterly.
“My Lord, I only wished to be modest in the halls,” you say quickly.
“No matter, I shall get what I want.” He strode over and took your chin in his hands. He brought his face so close to yours you could smell the alcohol on his breath. You closed your eyes to prepare for what was about to happen, and to your surprise, the Targaryen kisses you gently. You did not expect such gentleness from such a menacing man, but you find your body responding positively.
The Targaryen’s kisses trail from your lips to your neck, he gently pulls your hair back with his left hand as he descends his kisses farther down your neck. You find yourself distracted by this, and are surprised when suddenly, he grabs your waist with his right hand and pulls you tightly to him. You can feel his bulge pressed against your front, and you press your hands to his chest instinctively, in order to put some distance between your bodies.
Suddenly, the Prince chuckles. “Virgins are a double-edged sword,” he begins. “Their sensitivity causes them to respond to everything.”
You don’t respond. What does that even mean? you think to yourself.
While you were distracted by the Prince’s comments, you are drawn back to the moment when you suddenly feel his warm hand on the inside of your thigh. He snakes it farther and farther up until he reaches your area. You begin to feel a little uneasy. You realize that you are quite nervous. Your sister had told you at some point that her first time hurt, but the proceeding love-making sessions felt wonderful with her husband.
You subtly try to push his hand away, leaning in to kiss him harder, hoping that it’ll distract him enough that he won’t notice your intentions. Instead of moving his hand though, he responds to the kiss by rubbing your clit. At first, it doesn’t feel like anything, just as if someone had grabbed your arm, but after a few seconds, you began to enjoy it. You pull away your face from Daemon’s kisses, and focus on the feeling.
The Prince takes it a step further and proceeds to put one finger inside of you. He begins to rub you with his hand and you find yourself groaning with pleasure. Your legs tremble under the pressure.
Then, Daemon adds another finger. There is more pressure inside of you, but he makes up for this by being gentle. Once you relax into it, Daemon adds a third finger. A small whimper escapes your mouth, and you begin to redouble your efforts to push him away, firmly but not aggressively. The pressure was uncomfortable now.
It was then that the Targaryen suddenly splits his fingers open inside of you, and a feeling of pain shoots through you. You cry out and shove the Targaryen away from you successfully. He takes two steps back and watches you with an unreadable expression on your face, but you suspect that he is amused by this. You reach down to examine yourself and find a small amount of blood on your fingers. Before you have a chance to say anything, the moment is interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Daemon commands.
It was the same messenger who had knocked on your door. “The King wishes to see you,” the messenger relays.
The Prince nods, and once the messenger closes the door, he turns to you. “We will finish this some other time. You are free to go back to bed.” And with that, he pushes you out the door, and closes it, presumable to get dressed for his visit with the King.
You are furious as you make your way back to your chambers.
#house of the dragon#the house of the dragon#hotd#daemon targeryan#daemon#daemon x reader#house of the dragon fanfic#hotd fanfic
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An Unmarried Lady
Pairing: sandor clegane x Lannister! reader
Requested by: anon
Prompts: //
Summary: A Lannister woman with no husband was odd... Cersei and Tywin are determined to marry you off...
AN: ah! I haven’t written for Sandor clegane I’m so long!! This is my first like,,, imagine with him so I hope you enjoy it 💕 also, the reader is younger than Tyrion here ( I know he’s the youngest in the books and TV series but... just go with it okay :p)
Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, Joffrey Baratheon
Wine flowed freely when your nephew was in a good mood. A rebellion in the city had been quashed and Joffrey was adamant that a party be thrown to honour his victory. You rolled your eyes. Stupid boy. Still, it gave you an excuse to drink and dance without worrying so much about your reputation as the King’s Aunt. You might even be able to sneak away with Sandor...
Unfirtunately, your father and sister spent a lot of their time during these events conspiring about which knight or noble to shove in your direction. You sighed, taking a deep drink from your wine as Tywin walked over to you, a tall, dark haired man in his wake. Your eyes flickered briefly to Sandor before you plastered a sweet smile on your face as your father presented you to one another. “My youngest daughter, YN Lannister,” he said, eyes flicking between you both. You arched your eyebrows at your father as the man grasped your hand and pressed a wet kiss to your knuckles. You were clearly unimpressed.
“Are you not going to introduce yourself, Ser?” You smirked, knowing full well he was a Lord, not a Ser.
“I’m not a Ser!” He said, just as you predicted. Tywin sighed. “I’m Lord-”
“A lord?” You said in a mock-surprise tone. “You certainly don’t act like one, slobbering over my wrist. I’ve had better trained dogs,” you said slyly.
Tywin looked up to the ceiling, composing himself. “Lord Pyne. Go,” he said sharply as you turned to him, your hands on your hips.
“Your standards are slipping, father,” you said coldly, making to walk away but he grabbed your arm.
“It’s very hard to uphold such high standards when you refuse every suitor within two minutes of meeting him,” he said, glaring down at you. You stared back, challenging him. His eyes softened slightly- the perks of being the baby sister in the family.
“When you can find me a good, honest man who isn’t an arrogant bastard, father, then I’ll consider letting him court me,” you said, eyes not leaving his.
He sighed, exhasperated. As far as he knew, you had been single for far too long. “YN. You must understand, an unmarried Lannister woman... you haven’t been courted since your first bleeding,” you flushed slightly. “People talk, YN,”
“People talk about Cersei and Jaime fucking, father,” you hissed, tugging your arm out of his grasp. “People talk about Tyrion frequenting whore houses and burning his way through the people’s taxes in fortified wine. I am the only child of yours who hasn’t got a poor reputation for incest and whoring. Your grandson is King of the seven kingdoms, each of your sons hold a position on the small council. Your oldest daughter was married off for the family’s gain. There are no more positions, no more seats for me to take. Focus on controlling that tyrant up there,” you nodded to the throne, “before you even THINK about marrying me off to some dimwitted lord who can’t tell his arse from his elbow,” you turned on your heel and stormed away from your father. He shook his head and receded back to Cersei as you went to find your favourite brother.
You breezed past Sandor, brushing against him, even though you didn’t really need to. You could just imagine his slight smirk as your skirts fluttered about his ankles and your hair flowed behind you.
Finding Tyrion, you huffed and sat next to him, stealing his goblet and taking a sip.
“Hey now, dear sister, get your own,” he said teasingly, though he grabbed another goblet from a serving girl. “Who has Father tried to pawn you off to now?” He smirked, knowing that was the only thing that could get you so riled up.
“Lord Pyne,” you said, rolling your eyes. Tyrion roared with laughter.
“Him? Ha! I bet he still has his mother’s milk in his belly!” He grinned, causing you to crack a small smile. “Ahhh, there she is, that beautiful smile. You break hearts, you know, YN, keeping that smile to yourself,”
You shook your head slightly. “I want to marry someone I love, Tyrion,” you sighed. “I don’t see the point in marrying me off to some Lord,”
Tyrion smirked. “Do you not want a lord, YN?” He nudged you. “Would you rather we get you a prince? A warlord? A great Dothraki warlord to carry you off on his horse and fuck you amongst the heathens?”
You rolled your eyes. “Don’t you dare suggest that to father,”
“Suggest what to father?” You turned to see your sister standing over you.
“Tyrion’s had the bright idea to whore me out to the Dothraki, seeing as you and father cannot find a suitor who doesn’t wear his arse as a cap,” you said, smirking. Cersei scrunched her nose up.
“He isn’t that desperate,” she said, sitting down with you, fussing over your gown.
“I beg to differ,” you said, batting her hands away. “Honestly, Cersei, I’ve just turned twenty two. Must you fuss over my dress like that?”
“Yes! We must be presentable. And you really ought to start wearing your hair up like mine,”
You snorted. “Cers, I have much better things to do than preening myself for hours on end,” you tucked your hair behind your ear. You did not favour the high hairstyles that your sister so often sported. You preferred to wear it down with simple plaits and discrete jewels for decoration.
“You need a husband, YN. You ought to have been wedded and bedded as soon as you bled,”
“I bled when I was twelve, Cersei,” you growled, sitting a little straighter, eyebrows knitted together in a deep frown.
“Our little sister wants to marry for love, Cersei,” Tyrion said quickly diffusing the situation, draining his cup. Cersei was about to argue when Joffrey spoke up.
“Aunt YN. Come,” you sighed, glaring at Cersei before pushing through the crowd to your nephew. You sunk into a slight curtsey, never going as low as you should.
“Your highness?” You said, looking him in the eye. He may be your king, but you were still his aunt.
“I’m bored. My dog here says he has never danced. I want to see him dance,” you flushed as the room went silent. Sandor stood staring straight ahead, and you swallowed.
“My lord?” You said, standing tall and staring him down.
“No man would allow his wife to dance with such a creature. But you have no man, do you, Aunt YN?” His lips curled into a sadistic smirk as you gritted your teeth.
“No, your highness,” you said stiffly.
“Hound. Dance with my Aunt YN. Perhaps you will scare here into wedding and bedding a lord,”
The room was silent. You flashed your eyes to your father briefly, but he was glaring at the King. Cersei has her lips pursed and Tyrion looked thunderous.
“Yes, my Lord,” you said sweetly, nodding slightly at Sandor.
“Play something!” The king demanded, clapping his hands and lounging in his throne. Sandor took your hand and you guided him into the proper dancing position. “Closer, Hound!” Joffrey snapped. “Show my court what a good little wife she would make,”
“Your majesty,” Tyrion said lowly, warningly.
“Quiet, uncle! Play!”
You took a deep breath as the music started, dancing the steps perfectly, the way you had learned since you were a little girl, while Sandor just stepped along, holding you. If the entire court wasn’t watching and Joffrey wasn’t demanding a circus performance, it would have been quite nice. Sandor’s jaw was tight as you danced, and he squeezed your hand and hip.
Joffrey clapped, laughing at his clever little performance that he had coordinated. The court began to laugh along nervously, and you shut your eyes, looking at your feet, unable to show Sandor how humiliated you felt. “Tell my court, Hound! Tell my court how she feels! Would she make a good wife? A good slut for a lord?”
“Enough!” You suddenly snapped, tugging away from sandor’s strong grip. The room suddenly descended into silence again as you turned to the court. “The King is tired!” You announced. “Ser Trant, Ser Moore, escort the king to his quarters, and ensure he eats his supper,” the king spluttered as the two kingsguards looked frantically to Cersei and Tywin. They nodded, and soon the king was escorted to his room like a spoilt child. “Play on,” you said, clapping your hands and smiling sweetly, gesturing for people to commence dancing. Tywin offered his hand to a highborn lady and soon others followed his lead. You stared up at Sandor with wide eyes.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, but he simply grabbed your hand and took you away from the dancing, sitting with you in an alcove, away from prying eyes.
Well, most of them.
“Father,” Tyrion said, smirking at his father and sister. “The next suitor shouldn’t be a Lord, or even a Ser,” he said, nodding over to the alcove, where you pressed a chaste kiss to the scarred side of sandor’s face. “I think we’ve solved the mystery as to why sweet YN has been impossible to court,”
Tag list : @diksy1112 @zodiyack @soleil-dor
#sandor clegane x reader#sandor clegane imagine#game of thrones#cersei#tyrion lannister#tywin lannister#sandor clegane#the hound#request
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Random and Not So Random thoughts while watching Bridgerton: Season 1, Episode 4
Oh they're at court.
Also she's not a commoner. She's the daughter of a Viscount.
Another Daphne brag moment, but homegirl really got the juice. She's bagging mfs over hand holding and dancing.
Violet dgaf. She's hungry now, damn it!
Oh he's buying jewelry already.
Ooooooh the way she imagines the Duke behind her. Honey yes. That scene was hot.
Too bad she came back to reality.
Hyacinth is my spirit animal.
Lady Whistledown ain't ready to write Simon off yet. She's waiting on the Dukes Hail Mary.
Shit. So am I.
I have never seen someone look so depressed in such an exquisite piece of jewelry. It's like the necklace chokes her. Testament to the acting and script for that though. It truly represents a trap.
Awww Simon is wearing that heavy bag out. I would say poor Simon, but he made this damn bed.
I love Alice and Will. They are the kind of wholesome love I need to keep my heart steady watching this damn show. She's his rider and I love it.
Alice roasting Simon over Daphne. Get. Yo. Girl. Mane.
I always cringe when a man tells a woman to smile.
Poor Marina. Portia is determined to find her the oldest mf. She's playing smart though.
Those damn dingbat sisters.
Maybe Penelope does care.
Well at least the least mean sister got a caller. They're awkward/cute.
Eloise girl, I love feathers in hair. Your one dimensional preaching is wearing me out again.
A boxing match date? I'd be down.
The prince legit seems like a nice guy. And Daphne is trying....but she's CLEARLY hung up on Simon.
Oh look Simon's losing focus on his friend because he's too focused on Daphne and the prince.
Ok mf! Take that shit off and roll them sleeves up. It turns me on too sis!
Oh look at the sweet family talk with the prince. Girl he'd give you any and everything you wanted.
But you and the Duke are just ATE TF UP about each other!
Mondrich for the win!!!!
Oh Benny. You've got a new friend. But what kind of friend? Give me more of this.
Well Anthony is smug and pleased as punch. Simons courtship of Daphne has ended. She has her perfect suitor. And Simon is leaving England to go rake and fuckboy about.
Though Simons hard slammed shot when the prince approached says he's anything but happy.
Violet always worries about the wrong shit.
Hyacinth always wants to know the good shit.
Be Hyacinth.
Oh fuck the prince is ready to propose. That shit escalated quickly.
SIMON!!!!!! Now would be a good time for that Hail Mary.
Good job Anthony. Way to realize that the women in your life have agency over THEMSELVES.
Violet always beating around the damn bush.....but she is still 100% #teamduke
Aw Daphne you're gonna break down snitching on yourself.
If it wasn't real with Simon you wouldn't be so ate up about it, and you would be rocking tf out of that necklace from the prince instead of crying.
There's a reason for the black in her outfit. For Daphne, who is normally all pastel blues, that black is her mourning. It's her 'attempting' to put to death her feelings for the Duke. And also I think mourning the loss if the bond they shared. Maybe I'm reading too much into it. But this seems like a very deliberate show with it's details.
Danbury ripping Simon open before she sends him off. Big energy.
She knows everything you thick headed mf. Why won't you just listen?! You letting your rank ass daddy live rent free in your soul.
He's so jaded it hurts.
Ayyyye this Trowbridge party looks like the real deal.
Oh gawd. Marina and the old man.
Mr. Finch and the cheese frock. Jesus who wrote this. I love it
Cressida you have been Daphnes biggest hater all season and now you're mad that she's with the prince. He was never gonna marry yo basket headed ass anyway.
Oooooh shit Simon sees the 'intimate painting' and has 2nd thoughts.
Go. Get. Yo. Girl.......Bitch.
Ooooh Benny's at the new homies spot and it's lit!
Naked models, easels, mingling between the classes. Yes indeed.
2nd sons having fun. Hell yes.
Damn Even Sienna at the ball...as a performer of course.
And Anthony looking tongue tied.
Violet....you need to chill. There take another sip.
Portia trying to shade Lady Trowbridges style is comical. Both of y'all bitches gaudy as hell.
Oh shit Phillipa lost her man.
Wtf is wrong with Lord Featherington?
And wtf are you doing Eloise?
Ayyye she just let her have it. You think servants have the time to be Lady Whistledown? I'm dead.
"Get out."
Ok Penelope with your saucy ass.
Well fuck! You just pushed him right to Marina. You played yourself boo.
Oooh the prince is about to shoot the big shot and Daphne keeps running away.
She done spotted Simon. Its over.
Fuck off Cressida.
Rip that mf necklace off girl.
Simon followed her ass outside.
"Miss Bridgerton." Motherfucker, call her Daphne.
"I came to say goodbye." Man. Go to hell.
Daphne serving those barbs. You not ready to keep playing with her.
Damn, Simon. If you're not gonna give her what she wants, get out the way.
Tell his ass sis.....even if you don't believe it yourself.
Really Simon? You stand there quiet as a mf church mouse whiles she's pleading with you to say something.....then you take off after her once she walks away from your shit
I swear.....men.....yall mfs really do shit like this. Speak up! Or...LET. ME. GO.
She's really cracking on his ass and I'm here for it....but wtf us up with his "I forbid you." Who tf are you to me? I'm glad she ain't playing with his ass.
Ooooh he called her Daphne and grabbed her.
Oh honey this is what fulfillment feels like, isn't it?
He's definitely fulFILLing her all the way up!
Oh shit Anthony caught them.
At least he finally landed some decent blows on Simon.
This RAKE ass mf still won't marry her.
Oh Simon.....for once.....Anthony is in the right and you the wrong. You are really about to die over your fucking daddy issues. Boy bye. Again.
Poor Daphne.
Wait, how did Cressida know she was in the garden?
That can't be good.
At least Benny is having a good time.
Dearest Portia, when you go looking for shit, it usually falls in your lap.
Marina keeps carrying on about Colin and Penelope is crushed.....or scheming....or both.
Aww Penelope let her hurt feelings cause a fight with her bestie. Her jealousy is seething.
Daphne still out here having to educate Anthony....though I get the need for the duel. And he still thinks he's running something.
Ooooh this is why they brought up 2nd sons.....Anthony is prepping Benny to take over. Well Benny, at least you had one good night out.
Colin caring for drunk Violet is parenting goals one day.
Oh great, now yall wanna bring Colin into the shit.
Simon raiding Wills spot for booze was so uneccesarily loud.
So Berbrooke alludes to her dishonor and Simon caves his fucking head in. Simon legit dishonors her and he's just like ,"Kay, guess I'll go get shot now." Someone get this man some therapy.
Oh great Anthony is back at Siennas door with more of his bullshit. Girl. Close that door.
No, not after you've let him in and climbed his torso. I guess y'all fuckin again.
He lost all the money and now he's fucked up.
Her face while he cried, is literally the face of every woman sick of a mediocre man's shit.
Oooh now they're all riding off into battle like the fucking idiots they are.
Colin is so pure.
I knew that Cressida shit would come back.
Well at least Anthony was willing to care for Sienna in his death....but damn mf, treat me right while WE'RE here.
Oh the dramatics of drawing a gun.
Nobody is here for Simon's weak ass apologies and I'm okay with that.
Hurry hurry Daphne.
Daphne down....but she's alright.
Call them idiots just like they are.
Simon still being a hoe about this shit. You really about let her be ostracized because you're a fuck boy.
Ultimate fuck boy line...I can't be with you because I love you too much. Fucking hell.
They do obviously love each other though.
Hold up.......you CAN NEVER, or WILL NEVER give her children. Don't play this like you have a reproductive issue.
So your reason for not marrying her is that you "can never" give her children and you know that's what her heart desires.
You playing with fire, Simon.
I wonder how much shit I let slide with his character just because he's portrayed so well by the phenomenal Regé-Jean Page.
No, I do love Simon's damaged ass. He just makes me so mad.
So the duel resumes......or not.
Daphne said, "Fuck them kids, give me my husband." Or something like that.
Well. This us an uncomfortable arrangement even though both of these idiots are in love.
Simon's evasion will most certainly come back to bite him in the ass.
But I'll be here with my popcorn and tissue, rooting for these cool kids to make it!
#bridgerton#bridgerton reaction#bridgerton season 1#simon x daphne#daphne x simon#lady danbury#the duke of hastings#daphne bridgerton#anthony bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#colin bridgerton#eloise bridgerton#penelope featherington#marina thompson#portia featherington#will mondrich#violet bridgerton#hyacinth bridgerton
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Can I request a Zuko x Platonic reader? Where the reader was a servant to his family, and she had been with Zuko since they were young. And she had many of the same beliefs that his mom did. So maybe just some scenes throughout their entire childhood. The only specific one I would like is when Zuko gets banished, and he fights his father. Like how she reacts. And maybe add in some scenes when theyre both with the Gaang? Sorry if this is convoluted!
Please enjoy~🍰
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It all started when you were young. You were at the palace often but you didn’t quite understand why. Your mother had told you it was to play with the prince and princess. You didn’t know it was to simply entertain them.
As you grew older your responsibilities became more serious. Cleaning, cooking, laundry, everything other than playing as you used to. Once you wrapped your head around the situation, you were a maid. No longer a welcomed guest of the royal family, but a servant. For the most part Zuko and his mother remain kind to you and treat you as an equal.
Yet there was one thing he didn’t know. You sided with his mother. Her beliefs were against all fire nation rules and traditions. She believed they were wrong and unjust and so did you. You were the only person who knew of her plan to leave. You had planned on going with her, that was until one fateful day.
There were times his mother saved you from the wrath of the fire lord. She would state that you were just a child and she would guide you to be better. She was like a mother to you. Kind and soft you just wish her daughter was that’s way. At least you had Zuko.
—————
Growing together you always had your little quirks together. Like sneaking off to play or stealing sweets from the kitchen. He would always be the one to pull you out of your duties so you’d have a break. The education they would deny you was taught by him. Zuko would always try his best to teach you what he knew.
Many of the other maids and servants always teased you both. Saying that you both were cute together or how he would one day marry you. Zuko would become as red as his robes and you the same. Maybe deep down inside you did have something for Zuko
Not that you would say it anyway.
Zuko was challenged to an Agni Kai by his own father. When word got around you were petrified. How could a father fight his own son with no remorse? You had hoped that he wouldn’t go full power on him, but you were wrong.
The fire lord gave it his all with no intention of holding back. He didn’t care if he was his own flesh and blood. You had to stand in horror and watch, watch as his eyes widen in fear. How his body trembled in front of his father. You heart hurt to see it happen and not be able to do anything of it.
All because he spoke out of line against something that was cruel. It was all so quick you couldn’t catch your breath between actions. After it was all done things cleared out and you rush to the infirmary. He was patched up and should be okay minus the burn to his flesh. You could sense something else in the room aside frompain.
In the eyes of the household he had dishonored his father and himself. You wanted to stay and go through everything with him but...you couldn’t. This couldn’t be the place where you life ended. The night that Ursa and yourself fled the castle, you make one final stop. You had placed a heartfelt letter to him and placed it on his bedside. Kissing his head gently you gaze upon him one last time...
————
About 3-4 years later you found one another again. It was shocking for the most part, after hunting down the avatar for so long you both on the same team. You had been traveling with Aang after he left The Earth kingdom. Soon after was when you realized Suko was after him. What happened to him? He wasn’t the same as you remembered. 
He was full of hate and rage, it scared you honestly. There was day he attack but was caught off guard by you. He froze in place doing nothing but stare at you. After that day he questioned exactly what he was doing and why. He couldn’t get you off his mind and the look of fear in your eyes. Your eyes should only have happiness and joy in them. Instead he had put fear I to them.
He took this time to really think on everything and hence he had decided to join you. Everyone was shocked when you explained that you both go way back. Sokka was convinced he was blackmailing you, just to get on the team.
According to them, you were “too nice and kind to be his friend ”
It took some convincing and action to prove he was serious. After some time the gang warmed up to him. All that was left was for you to catch up.
——
While everyone slept you both stayed awake with the moon and talked.
“You’ve really grown” he said in a hushed tone. You really had grown not only physically but mentally. You had matured into a strong intelligent woman.
“So have you, but you changed..” you said in a semi-hurt voice. He scratched the back of his head with a guilty look
“Yeah I know...I was mislead by anger and hunger for honor. But I know better now, I know...I know that wasn’t who I’m supposed to be. Not who you wanted me to be” he reached for your hand
“I’m sorry for not seeing things sooner, for letting you go through so much, for abandoning you...could you ever forgive me?” He gave your hand a slight squeeze
You smile softly and look at him with a longing look “how could i stay mad at my oldest friend?”
————
Some nights old memories would haunt you. So many possibilities could happen. The fire lord finally ending you, Zuko harming you, your friends dying or never saving the world. They were silly since you knew you were much stronger than that. Yet sometimes you find yourself panting with tear filled eyes.
Now you had Zuko to hold you at night. Safe and protected in his arms. If you had a nightmare he would hold you close in place and shush your fears away
“Sshhh It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’m not leaving, you’re okay” his soft yet husky voice calming your instantly. He would kiss your tears away and hold your close. He would tell you statues or play with your hair just to distract you from your mind.
————
“Hey you alright?” He asked as you stared deeply into the fire. You mind drifting to different realities and thoughts.
“Hm? Yeah, just lost in thought I guess” you sighed
He nudged you a bit, a way of telling you to proceed “..we’ve just come so far and I’m proud and all but, it’s just amazing that we’re here now and how you and I got back together after years” you rambled. His fingers interlaced with yours and whispered
“Well, I’m here for the long run. Whatever is coming well do it together.” He smiles at you. That smile, the things it did to you. Made your head spin or could calm down your nerves, sometimes even both. He leaned in slowly and let’s his lips crash on to yours in a soft yet passionate kiss
He was right. Even after al this time, whatever trials you may face you would do it, together
*******************************************************
I hope this was okay!❤️
#zuko x reader#atla zuko#atla x reader#avatar the last airbender x reader#avatar the last airbender#zuko looks hot dont @ me#zuko fanfic#atla fanfic#anime#fanfiction#anime x reader
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unintended | part one
| part one - through the veins of history |
Pairings: king!bucky x princess!reader, king!steve x twin!princess
Summary: The moment you have come of age, you are being ripped out of the place you call home and into the kingdom of Cydonia ruled by King James, your betrothed. Neither of you pleased with the situation, neither of you being honest. Between fights, snarky remarks and glaring, do you find time to breathe? Is it possible to reconcile or even love one another?
Warnings: arranged marriage, insulting, being mean on purpose, a bit of a slow burn, the reader has a twin!
A/N: This is part one of my entry in @sillyqt writing challenge. I chose to write an Arranged Marriage AU. This is pretty cliche to write it with a Royal Au, but I just love those very much. If you catch it, this is written like a one-shot, but it is very much a series. A huge massive thank you to my friend @nsfwsebbie for beta reading this and also explaining what a beta is haha. I love you and thank you for being there for me, it means a lot.
Deviders by @whimsicalrogers
Once upon a time (yes this is how our story begins) in a kingdom rich of wisdom and the newest inventions, the tale unfolds as the king and queen’s daughters become of age, ready to be wed.
Their first born, John, the heir away to meet his betrothed. The perfect time to focus on their two daughter’s Y/n and Julia. The twin’s inseparable since birth, but strikingly different in personality. No one would know upon first glance.
Julia, the oldest by a minute, is what one would describe the perfect princess, queen, mother and wife. A girl grown into a beautiful woman called the Princess of grace by the people. Both strikingly beautiful and intelligent unlike anyone her age.
Y/n, however, is none of the above. The kingdom named her the Queen of hearts, although the lack of a throne. Many people, near and far, say that she is the most beautiful woman they have ever seen, but her interests are far from what is expected from a wife. Stubborn, loud and unfashionable for a royal. Y/n can’t sit still to read a book, or participate in any of the sewing circles, no, she’d rather ride a horse alongside her friend Clint. Y/n runs through flower fields and sneaks into the kitchen to help, shooting arrows instead of drinking tea. She rides to town to drink beer with the commoners. But despite the lack of Royal-ness, the people love her.
Tony on the other hand worries that no prince or king will ever ask for her hand. He blames himself, giving her all the freedom, but he couldn’t ever possibly have it any other way. He loves his two daughters and would give them everything to be happy, even if it meant that they would live in his castle forever.
Their King Tony and their Queen Pepper, hold the philosophy that love is the only way to rule a kingdom. If you love your people and your country, it will show in the way it blossoms under your rule. Now that it’s time to send off their daughter’s, they want nothing more than for them to marry someone they love.
But that’s not what times like these allow.
You opened the heavy door (to the despair of the guard standing next to it) to reveal your father sitting behind his desk and your mother standing behind him, one hand resting on his shoulder. Julia sat on one of the two chairs opposite Tony, gracefully smiling your way.
You immediately felt that something was off, you had that feeling already when a guard told you that your father expected you in his office. The feeling didn’t falter as you sat down next to your sister and two portraits caught your eyes.
Your father cleared his throat, leaning forward. “As you know, as a princess comes of age, she is ready to be wed.” Tony’s eyes flickered between you and Julia. “So, your mother and I searched far and wide to find suitable men and we think we made the right decision.”
Julia beamed with excitement, but you grimaced at the thought of leaving your home. “And who have you chosen, father?” Your head turned toward the two portraits.
“Julia, dear,” your mother started, pointing to the painting of a young man with blue eyes and dark blond hair, “King Steve, amongst many others, has asked for your hand and we think that he is the perfect man for you to marry. Handsome, wealthy and a king the people describe as kind and thoughtful.”
Julia’s smile grew at your mother’s description of her future husband. You noticed she’s doing that thing she always does when she’s excited; straighten her back.
“And you, Y/n,” You looked at Tony, eyes growing wide, “we have chosen king James for you.”
Chosen, that’s the key word here. They have chosen him, not the other way around.
“A very intelligent young man, a fighter strong and passionate for the health and protection of his people. Undeniably handsome as you can see.” Tony said, your mother chuckled and you took a closer look at the King.
He is indeed very beautiful, long dark hair, blue eyes and his face structure carved sharply. You pondered for a moment. There are far worse Men out there, lords and prince’s alike who show no worry for their appearance, but James looks wealthy. The gold trim, gemstones and a crown with fine details. His short beard trimmed and groomed to your liking, a King nice to look at, at least.
But all that aside, the pit in your stomach knew that this was the end. The end of your freedom, the end of your life (a bit dramatic, but alas). The fear settled in of what life would be like once you move to King James’ kingdom. Once you become Queen, there are certain duties to uphold, an image for the people to portray and you did not feel ready for it. You never have.
“When will we be meeting our betrothed?” Julia leaned forward, her face beaming with excitement.
“In a fortnight, my dear.” Pepper grinned, knowing Julia’s eagerness.
There were things you wanted to say, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Protesting against your fathers wishes when all he ever did was give you everything your heard desired. You exhaled, relaxing against the chair. Your father noticed.
“Y/n, I know how you feel towards this whole thing, but you have to understand that James can give you everything you want. All we heard about him only puts a positive light on him and that’s all we could ever ask for, a kind man.”
Your father placed his hand on Pepper’s and from the corner of your eye you saw the pleading look on Julia’s face, begging you not to throw a fit. A simple nod is all you managed to do and both of you were dismissed.
Julia walked alongside you through the corridors, silent, stealing glances at you and you knew there was something she wanted to say. “Just say it already!” You groaned, throwing your head back.
“I just think that you are really lucky! You could be so happy with King James!”
You turned your head, the sad look on your sister’s face making you angry. “I’m happy here! I won’t ever be a good Queen or a good wife for gods sake!”
“If you would just give King James and his kingdom a chance-“
“I don’t want to!” You interrupted her, walking up to the doors, a guard ready to pull it open. “I can open my own goddamn door!” You grunted; the guard stopped in his track letting you push the door open.
Julia exhaled, dropping her shoulders. You walked down the steps onto the grass, long strides towards the training grounds, leaving your sister behind. The sound of swords clashing together, grunts and heavy boots walking on the dirt, your dress dragging through it.
You saw Clint from afar, a smile immediately breaking out, your face lighting up. He stood behind one of his students, holding the boy’s arm and showing him the way to position himself. A wave of your arm and Clint turned his head to you, letting go of the boy to let him shoot the arrow, missing bullseye by millimetres.
“How’s your highness doing?” Clint bowed to you, cracking a smile.
“I want to throw myself off a cliff, but other than that, I’m great!” Clint embraced you into a hug, ignoring the frightened look on the boy’s face. “You’re getting pretty good, Peter!” You ruffled his hair and watched his cheeks turn crimson red.
Peter smiled shyly, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’ before turning to away. You giggled at the shy boy, gesturing to Clint that you wanted to talk.
“What’s going on?” Clint asked softly once you were away from the training grounds and you looked up to meet his eyes.
“I’m betrothed to King James.”
Clint’s mouth opened and closed, walking next to you through the woods. “Wow.” You cocked a brow, uncertain of what Clint meant. “I mean, sometimes I forget how grown up you are. Must admit that I didn’t think about you getting married.”
“I know. It all feels so sudden.” The wind blew through your hair, warm air carrying the promise of summer. “I don’t want to go.” You whispered, eyes filling with tears.
Clint stopped, pulling you against his chest. His hand gently brushing through your hair. “It’s going to be ok. From what I’ve heard, King James is very kind and gentle, I couldn’t imagine him ever hurting you and besides, I’ll be there too.”
You immediately lifted your head, eyes wide as you stared at him. “Really? I didn’t know you would be coming with me.” You heard fluttered at the idea that Clint would be there with you.
“Of course I am! I’m not leaving you to go to a foreign country without your best friend.” Clint wrapped an arm around your shoulders, leading you back to the castle.
The idea that you would be all alone in a foreign country, with no one to confide to was frightening. But with Clint by your side, there was no reason to be afraid.
As the weeks turns into days and the days turned into hours, the reality became so much more touchable. Things packed and farewells said, Julia was the first to say goodbye to her home.
Your day would be tomorrow, but even just having to bid your sister goodbye was enough to bring tears to your eyes. The only thing worse than this is knowing that she’ll stay there forever. That she is to become Queen and have children to look after, no more time for shenanigans instituted by you. Dragging her along on a horse to adventures she could barely reach due to the lady like way she rode a horse.
But what frightened you the most is that she’ll forget you, off to a distant land and living what she has been training for her whole life.
Hugs and kisses were exchanged, Tony crying while Pepper made sure Julia had everything. The next time you’ll be seeing her is at her wedding. An obscure though. But that night you prayed to any god, hoping that Steve is everything your parents said he is.
The morning of your departure was dreadful. A maid helped you get into the simple red and white striped dress, pinned your head up against your protests and send you off to breakfast.
Your parents were awfully quiet. Tony and Pepper wouldn’t say it, but you are the life of the party, the one lighting the room, bringing smiles and laughter to everyone. With you gone, they wondered how different life would be.
The week-long journey was one thing to think about, having time to mentally prepare, but the pit in your stomach grew and grew with every passing minute. You didn’t want to marry anyone, if you had a say in this matter, you would be on a ship, travelling the world, but the day you were born your fate was sealed.
Clint helped you into the carriage, a look back to your parents and the tears started flowing. Your beloved home no longer a place you come back to every night, where you would spend time in the garden or ride to the town.
You sat back, leaning your head on the window. Your hands gripping the skirt of your dress, rolling the fabric between your fingers. A new country waited for you to be discovered, new adventures to be excited about and that’s what you clung onto.
The journey was dreadful. Sleeping in tents wasn’t the problem, it was the destination that turned your stomach around. Clint did everything to cheer you up, letting you ride a horse instead of sitting in the carriage, telling you more stories of his time in the red circle. The red circle is a secret bunch of assassins ordered to take care of ambushes near the border. Your father brought them to life at the early stage of his reign and they successfully scared away anyone trying to enter the country with foul intend.
The stories are wild and never cease to amaze you. Clint told you about the time he was ordered by Tony to train the knights, having experience in stealth and strategy. Clint, you notice every time, is the proudest telling that particular story.
The week came to an end quicker than you thought and with it the Kingdom of Cydonia presented itself in all its glory. Your new home till the day you die.
The town you rode through was so different from your home. Red bricked walls made up the structure of the houses, not the white ones you were used to. The streets branched off to even smaller ones, children running through, chasing each other.
As you rode through further, a market came to view. Shops instead of little stands, sings telling you what was sold, and women dressed without caps. That was something you were excited about, electricity running through your body seeing the women’s’ and little girls’ hair braided or laying atop their shoulders. The different hairstyles amazed you.
Cydonia looks so much brighter than you imagined.
A long and wide path before you made way for the castle and your breath caught itself in your throat. The white such a contrast to the red houses of the rest of the Kingdom. The castle grand in size, bigger than you could’ve thought. A day wouldn’t cover it, you would need at least a month to roam through these halls.
A gate was opened and the path lead to a fountain, behind it you climbed off your horse and were welcomed by a tall and muscular man. He introduced himself as Sam and lead you up the steps to the door, inside the grand entrance.
Inside was more marble than you have ever seen. Pillars, walls, stairs, all made of marble. The floor in a black and white checkered pattern. Your mouth wide open as you were led through the castle to your chambers.
You walked in and practically ran to the windows along the wall, pressing your hands to the glass. Your chambers looked over the garden and you gasped at the beauty of it. A rectangular pond in the middle of the grass, flowers at the back with a pavilion, trees as far as you could see.
Your heard Sam chuckle behind you walking to stand next to you. “Do you like it, your highness?”
“Yes.” You breathed, fogging up the glass. Turning around you took in the room. Simple, but still cosy. A four-poster bed to your right, opposite it a fireplace with a little table and plush, velvet chairs. Yes, you could see yourself being content here.
“A maid will be here shortly to dress you for the welcoming ceremony, Princess.” Sam smiled and bowed low before leaving the room.
Clint walked around, examining the room further. “This place is fancy!” His eyes wide as he looked at the gold details.
“I know right?” You walked over to the fireplace; a painting was hung above it. A woman smiled down at you. “I wonder who this is.”
The door opened and a young woman entered the room. Hair fiery red and her face structure sharp, if she didn’t smile at you right now, you would be very much intimidated. “Good evening, your highness. I’m Natasha, your lady in waiting.” Natasha curtsied before you, with a warm smile. “Do you have a gown in mind that you wish to wear?”
“Oh, yes the light blue one, with the pearls.” You went over to your crate holding a few of the finer dresses. To Natasha’s horror, you rummaged through the crate, pulling out the dress holding it up for Clint’s approval.
“I think that’ll do!” Clint smiled, placing his hands on his hips.
With Natasha’s help you got dressed and chose the jewellery you wanted to wear. Your hair was pinned up with a few strands framing your face. Against Natasha’s protests, she loosened the hairdo a little, giving it a more relaxed look.
The walk through the halls was truly challenging. Questions burned in your head. What if he isn’t what everyone says? What if he’s mean and vicious?
You straighten your back the way Julia would, holding your head high. The crown on your head heavier all of a sudden. You know what being in the presence of the King means, pretending. Pretending to be the person they expect you to be.
You stood in front of the massive double doors, hyper aware of what’s going to happen. You were announced and the doors were opened to reveal the lavish room. You took a step in and awed within yourself of the long throne room. There were royal guards all along the walls, windows high letting the evening sun in. Only your steps echoed off the high ceiling and with each foot set in front of the other, James came to view.
There he stood, dresses in white. Quite different from the portrait your parents showed you. Still indescribably beautiful, but his hair is short the crown sitting atop his chestnut brown hair. Hie beard also shorter, but you liked the look. You smiled feeling happy to be betrothed to an at least very handsome man.
As you came to a stop before him, you lowered your body to a deep courtesy, only raising yourself when James offered his hand. You gently placed your hand in his, soft skin meeting another. You noticed the scarring disappear behind the fabric. He kissed the back of your hand and you exhaled sharply as your eyes met his.
The painting didn’t do the blue justice, not at all.
“Your highness, it is a pleasure to welcome you Cydonia.” King James smiled happily. He was taken aback by your beauty. He wanted to behead anyone who told him about you, the tales of your beauty not even close to what you are. He was sure to never have met someone quite as striking as you, but he feared you just wouldn’t be the right fit for him.
A princess through and through. Trained to perfection, with little personality. Nothing but the throne in her head, waiting to give birth to an heir. He feared you would be just as boring as the next princess.
“The pleasure is all mine, King James.” You did your best to sound as delicate as possible, almost mimicking your sisters voice.
King James offered his arm and you held on to it as he led you through another set of doors leading to the equally lavish dining room. A long table was set for just the two of you and he offered you the chair to his right. James sat on the end of the table, smiling sweetly.
Your nerves were starting to get to you, trying to remember how to eat properly. At home it didn’t matter what spoon you used, Tony and Pepper never minded you eating quickly and getting up before anyone else to go to your archery training with Clint. But here you felt out of place. You imagined Julia sitting opposite you, what she would do next. You ate in silence trying your hardest to concentrate on the way you ate.
James peeked at you from time to time, your posture straight as a stick, taking the littlest bites and saying you’re full even though half the food was still on your plate. His worst nightmare came true, but he couldn’t defy his mother’s wishes.
“Do you paint, Princess?” James asked, folding his hands before him.
You pondered for a moment whether to lie or not. You don’t hate painting per se, but you don’t do it either. “No, I don’t, your majesty.”
James nodded. “Do you ride horses, perhaps?”
“Yes, I do, but only a little.” That was a lie, but you couldn’t exactly tell him that you ride hoses like a man or that you shoot arrows while doing it.
James nodded again; eyebrows knitted together. “What do you like doing for fun then?”
You thought, but nothing that you do for fun was acceptable for a future queen to do. “I uh attend the sewing circle.” You chewed on your lower lip, hoping that the King would approve, but James looked confused.
He couldn’t lie, she was boring. What were they going to do together? Attend the sewing circle? Ride a horse for about ten minutes at one mile per hour and then go to sleep? If his mother hadn’t brought her in here, he sure as hell wouldn’t have. There was so much more to life that he wanted to do. If he had the chance, he would travel, not get married and… Maybe if she doesn’t want to be here, he could get rid of her. A few hurtful words here and there and she would be running off to wherever she came from.
She is gorgeous, sure, but he can do little with that. “How can you possible not enjoy painting?” James leaned back into his chair, watching the colour drain from her face.
You shook your head slightly, taken aback by the sudden change of character. There was no proper way of responding and you were stuck. Opening and closing you mouth trying to scramble for words.
“Any Queen in this dynasty mastered the painting skill, so I expect you to do the same.” James was on the brink of smirking. There was truth to his words, all Queens in his family were skilled painters, but it wasn’t a necessity.
You on the other hand were furious. This was a direct insult to your character. He was not only insulting your intelligence, but also your education. Implying that your parents were careless about your expertise in the royal education. Before you could think about your choice of words, they just came right out.
“Well, everyone said you were such a great warrior, then why is your arm scarred? Looks pretty ugly to me!”
James’ jaw dropped. He was expecting a lot of things, but not this. He stood up; his hands balled into fists, ready to leave the room, but you weren’t finished.
“I don’t know if I could marry someone like you. A king? No. A fool more like it.” You crossed your arms in front of your chest.
James was speechless. Sad even. He had never felt so exposed, ever. And here you were, picking apart his worst insecurity.
“Oh, and by the way,” you pointed to your chin “you have food in your beard.”
James touched his face, running his hand through his beard. This was it. He walked away, out of the dining hall and into the corridor. She had insulted him and humiliated him. He almost lost his arm for his country and she just about ridiculed him for it.
You sat at the table, now alone, a triumphant smile on your face, digging into the last bits of food on your plate, leaving the meat.
[ part two ]
#1ksillyqtchallenge#king!bucky#king!bucky barnes#king!bucky x reader#royal!bucky#royal!bucky x reader#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky fluff#bucky barnes fluff#king!james barnes#princess!reader#bucky barnes#james bucky barnes#james barnes#slow burn#king bucky#king bucky barnes#unintended
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Closed starter for @thelonewendwater
After his father had left to King's Landing with Robert Baratheon as his hand of the king and his mother had ignored for days the matters needed to be discussed because of how much his brother Bran's accident had affected her, it had become a routine for Robb to tend to the problems the northerners told him and to listen to maester Luwin's advise about how to deal with more serious topics (like the amount of money they had lost after the royal visit) as, what he thought wouldn't last too much since it wasn't his turn to be Lord just yet, didn't seem to have an end and only got worse once Catelyn left as well under the suspicion that the Lannister were actually their enemies and that his father was in danger.
In addition to that, being the oldest also made him have to take care of his two little brothers who stayed in Winterfell with him because they didn't have a reason to leave unlike Sansa, who was going to marry prince Joffrey's, or Arya, who their mother thought could use her time at court to learn how to be a proper lady, like she should be eventually. Which made Robb laugh sometimes as he didn't thinking that would be possible at all, taking into account how much she seemed to enjoy playing with the wood weapons and the rebellious personality that she had.
However, even if it was difficult and a few days he actually couldn't do it, he did everything he could to conceal both of those duties. Trying to always leave some time to play with Rickon or to go riding with Theon and Bran, who, after the gift Tyrion Lannister had made him, was able to do it almost the same as before he became a cripple. They often didn't go very far but it seemed to make the younger Stark very happy to get to leave the castle's wall and feel independent for at least a little while so he made sure to give him at least that since it wasn't dangerous at all as the Greyjoy and him didn't take their eyes off him.
It was one time when he came back from riding with Bran that he was informed by the maester that the daughter of Lord Brant Wendwater had arrived with the horses and dogs her father was supposed to send them “ I will receive her in a moment ” Robb answered before he looked at his friend “ help Bran get off the horse and call Hodor in case he wants to go somewhere ” Theon gave a nod and did what he was told as the Stark himself left to welcome their guest “ Lady...Mariela ” there was a small pause as he remembered his lessons on the members of each house sworn to his “ welcome ” he smiled “ I apologise for making you wait, I was just told of your arrival ”
#𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞? 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐫 > threads#𝐢𝐯. 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 > verses — Lord of Winterfell#thelonewendwater
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Menelaos and the Trojan
Uhhh same Paris/Menelaos AU as yesterday, from Menelaos’ POV. Sorry I don’t make the rules.
***
The Trojan prince offering up his rooms, loudly and far too bold as he steps up, cutting the head of one of Troy's most noble families off in his own intended offer isn't even old enough to have a house, or at the very least he hasn't married yet. Alexander of Troy stares across the megaron where he's standing next to his oldest brother, the arm Prince Hector had thrust out not strong enough to hold him back. He must be of an age with Helen, and if one put Helen and Alexander next to each other, it would both prove Helen's faultless beauty and the divinely blessed gifts still lingering in the bloodline of the princes of Troy. Menelaos stares down at the sweet-featured, bare face, soft brown curls falling about his forehead and cheeks, eyes wide enough he could drown in them if he lingered too long and doesn't find it in himself to refuse.
It would be rude, anyway. Alexander was first in his offer.
No one in the megaron laughs at the way Alexander lights up, though they might be sorely tempted; they can all tell what is going on here, and any aggravation must flee in the face of such earnest youthfulness.
Youthfulness that would be an excuse for many things, from many people, but Menelaos finds himself quite flummoxed by that doe-like gaze on him, Alexander - "You can call me Paris, my lord." - eager to show him anything he might want. It's fortunate he deals with the necessary propitiating sacrifices as early as possible, for there are far too many of those looks, of not-so-shy, but also far-too-brief, glancing touches at any time Alexander can engineer it. The boy is offering, and Menelaos is left wondering how he might warrant it. Handsome he might be, certainly, but Alexander of Troy should, much like Helen, surely be able to command the whole world with a glance. He might not possess whatever flawless, godlike beauty got both of his kinsmen snatched up by the Deathless Ones, but one glance from under those thick, dark lashes and Menelaos finds himself struck by the memory of the first time he realized Helen had grown up.
(Helen had always been pretty, a breathlessly beautiful child who seemed much like the imaginary ideal of whatever women and men conjure up in their heads when they consider the possibility of their future children, the woman's stomach swollen with promise under her own and her husband's hands. It wasn't until a couple years ago, a little before Tyndaeros had grimly set about trying to head off disaster when it came to his darling, divinely-gifted flower of a daughter, that Menelaos had been shocked silent, choking on his tongue even fully grown as he was, at the sight of her.
It was only then he'd first, with the hapless knowledge that he certainly couldn't quite offer enough to sway Tyndaeros in his favour, broached the possibility of wanting Helen to Agamemnon. His brother had looked at him pierced him full with that dark stare of his and laid both hands on his shoulders, promising he would have what he wished for.
He hadn't believed, then, but he should have - ridiculous he hadn't! Agamemnon would do anything for him, and Menelaos was now both far more aware of it and far more careful with that knowledge than he'd been when he was little.)
He is married; not that that necessarily would stop anyone as Alexander isn't a girl and this would, in the end, mean nothing. But Menelaos isn't married to just any young woman. He is married to Helen of Sparta, daughter of Zeus and Leda, and her beauty could probably kill with a careless glance and selfless, unaware smile. It is a weighty argument, and yet it rings like a sword struck against a bronze shield when Alexander offers a similarly generous smile. He hasn't yet quite seen Helen smile like that at him.
Attempting to field Alexander off with hunts, with spars to teach him his sword better, for the young man favours the bow, doesn't work quite as Menelaos had hoped. Alexander glows in both the sunlight and his success during hunts, and he does not mind losing his weapon or being corrected when they spar; he listens with an attentive little frown marring his smooth, high forehead, and Menelaos has to squash the urge to reach out and rub it away.
It works even less the time Alexander oversteps, straining too far and Menelaos' feint has the boy spilling to the ground, staring up at him from between his legs, dark-eyed and flushed, chest heaving.
"That didn't go so well!" he laughs, easy as anything, and Menelaos despairs of his own slipping control.
(Why he needs to hold onto it seems less and less clear, but he thinks of Helen smiling, maybe some day like Alexander has smiled at him over these past several weeks, and somehow finds a scrap of fortitude in the depths of his being, though those depths are dangerously close to his cock.)
"You'd be dead if that was what I was aiming for, Alexander," he admonishes, but his voice is weak, and Alexander gives him one of those low-lidded looks he can no longer tell whether they're calculated or as careless as most of Helen's looks.
"But that's not what you'd want, is it?"
"You're a rascal," Menelaos snaps, helps Alexander up and tries to ignore the clever, long-fingered hand gripping his.
Somehow, he leaves Troy, his sacrifices done, his stay as a guest over, without having taken so much as Alexander's mouth, no matter how eagerly the boy was offering those potential kisses.
Three years later, and Menelaos stands on the stairs to the megaron, looking down into blue-green eyes as earnest and treacherous as the sea, and sees only wanting welcome still. He'd expected, if he'd ever expected to lay his eyes on Alexander of Troy again, to be given dismissive kindness, perhaps embarrassed amusement and mutual reminiscence of youthful misbehaviour, long after Alexander had grown into full manhood.
The twenty year old standing in front of him is still bare-faced and long-haired, his curls a godlike spill over his shoulders past the fillet glinting in the sunlight, and Menelaos finds the smile he's speared by even more deadly than the last time he saw it. Perhaps because now he knows what it means to have Helen smile in such wise at him, and while it doesn't mean any less that she does, that Alexander has always smiled at him in such a way, even years later, is a gift few would be afforded.
He still doesn't know what he did to deserve Alexander's ardent attention, but faced with it in full after forgetting the force of it, each and every one of his defenses are left lacking.
He could kiss the young man and be done with it, but Menelaos knows that wouldn't be enough. He could invite him out to a hunt - they do entertain their guest with several, of course, and Alexander is as skilled and glowing in success as always - and he could find an excuse to leave them alone in the forest, tip the young man to the ground. Perhaps that might still the aching desire for the guileless, open offer of affection, for Alexander's sleekly muscled body, but Menelaos fears he'll have poured oil on a fire instead of water.
Being afraid of a young man like Alexander of Troy, someone he could most certainly best in armed combat, is ridiculous, but he isn't really afraid of Alexander.
He's afraid of himself, of failing his brother; they'd worked hard to get where they were, to get back their home, and Agamemnon had worked hard to be able to ensure Menelaos could have what he wanted. And here, then, he wants for something else entirely.
Alexander isn't a woman.
It's a fact Menelaos is well reminded of when he wakes up, Alexander hovering above him in the dark, soft mouth spilling pleas against his. Alexander isn't a woman, and there will be no problems left behind them if he should, finally, give in. What is a kiss, against that? Besides, he's leaving for Crete tomorrow. Menelaos crushes his hand in Alexander's hair, tightens his hand about that bare hip, sleekly narrow and inviting touch just as much as the gentle swell of Helen's hip does, and presses the young man close.
Just a little while.
What could that hurt?
By the point Alexander's ship is riding the waves, Menelaos is more interested in finally taking the boy up on all the offers he'd so far refused than anything that might come of the future.
#greek mythology#the iliad#trojan war#menelaus#paris of troy#Menelaos is surrounded by pretty young things#and don't know what to do about any of it#lightart#for troy and sparta
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Nessian "arranged marriage that neither of us wanted, but then we fell in love only for our parents to break off the engagement, now we're trying to arrange everything so that it is back on without anyone knowing we're in love" AU
ooo! this is DECADENT
1. The whole thing started off because they were both separately helping Feyre and Rhysand hide that they were in love from their controlling parents.
2. SHENANIGANS ensue, their parents end up seeing Cassian and Nesta together while they’re covering for Feyre + Rhys and decide it’s time to mend the feud between families- it’s perfect, Cas as the younger son isn’t going to inherit, Nesta as the oldest absolutely needs a husband but has been scaring off suitors for years. And look! They already know each other
3. NESTA IS FURIOUS. FURIOUS. Cassian, like all versions of himself that will ever exist is like: God, she’s a nightmare. But like, one I want to keep having forever and ever and ever? SO ANGRY, SO BEAUTIFUL
4. There is at least one sexually charged fencing match. Cassian has already had his uhoh, she’s goddamn amazing moment, Nesta is so very attracted and that makes her even angrier. She’s not going to give in! Not going to let her choices be taken away! Give away control of her business to A MAN. But sweet holy gods is the whole fencing thing working for her.
5. They get locked in the spare ballroom they were using for the match. Cassian talks Nesta out of breaking a window and trying to just jump down three stories. Nesta says fuck you, I’m not going to jump, I’m going to slide over to the solarium roof. Cassian seizing on literally anything, is like: You guys have a solarium? Why?
Nesta, angry and confused because this HOT HOT HOT man is trying to steal her fortune, he should know about the semi-famous Archeron gardens: My sister breeds orchids.
Cassian, praying she will stop eyeing the damned window and also trying not to think too hard about how unbearably flattering her little tight pants beneath a open kirtle fencing outfit is: That’s brilliant. Vanilla ones too?
Nesta, deeply suspicious, because her grandfather became famous for smuggling vanilla orchids back to their country and then completely cornered the market before he got really into international shipping: Yes
Cassian, looking away to hide the sweat literally trying to drip down his face: That’s so cool, you guys must make the best cakes.
Nesta: Cakes???
Cassian, thanking every god he can think of that she sounds at least curious: Yeah! [ proceeds to spend the next half hour telling her about how he learned to bake from his mom before she died, when he was really little. Nesta’s nods of acknowledgement destroy his self control so he goes on: yeah, I was sent off to be trained for the army after that, but it turns about they don’t actually let nobles fight? I cook for Rhys and Az all the time, but my dad hates it. I’d be a chef in another life, you know? And (looking at her and remembering with certain shy, mounting horror that this incandescent, perfect woman is his fiance) or at least, like bake cakes for my family?}
Nesta, internally, realizing this HOT HOT HOT man probably doesn’t want her money?? But whose greatest ambition would be to bake for her with those big beautiful hands. because she HAS noticed the way he looks at her, but was too angry to deal: CAKE. CASSIAN MAKES CAKES.
Aloud, and honest enough that she winces a little: That sounds wonderful.
Cassian, lighting up like a supernova: Maybe i could make you dinner sometime? Not that I don’t know that you have a great cook. And staff-but-
Nesta, interrupting because is he keeps blushing and rambling her mind will be lost: Tonight. When we get out of here.
So they have dinner, after the maid Elain bribed to lock them in for a certain amount of time pretends to have just stumbled on them while dusting the east wing.
And Cassian is funny. And shy. And kind. And Nesta is FURIOUS, because this big beautiful soldier man that she didn’t get to actually chose herself is great? Sure she’s seen him act like a brash asshole before, but there’s more to him??
6. BUT DISASTER. Lord Archeron finally discovers what Rhys and Feyre have been getting up to and calls everything off, says their houses honor has been tarnished, he’ll be damned if his daughters marry into that family.
7. Nesta feels like she’s been punched through the chest. Cassian is heartbroken. She writes him letters, and he sends her back all these silly gifts because he doesn’t know how else to convince her he really, really does adore her: homemade patisserie, exotic houseplants because of that one time she said she didn’t like bouquets, rare books, and tiny clever daggers she can stick in her hair.
Nesta is like, yep. I’m just going to love him forever.
8. The Archeron sisters, all three screwed over by their father in one way or another, decide they’re not just going to lay down and let him set them up new betrothals.
But! Helpfully! The king hates him. (Elain totally hasn’t been quietly courting his son or anything, so the royal family isn’t totally RIDE OR DIE COMPLETELY ON THE ARCHERON GIRLS SIDE OR ANYTHING.)
Nesta’s all like, I resign myself to duty, and throws herself into the family business. Reporting back all the while all those taxes their father stiffed the crown on and tariffs he avoided and international laws he just ignored.
9. LORD ARCHERON GETS THROWN IN PRISON FOR THE REST OF HIS DAYS
10. Nesta inherits the family title, Cassian shyly shows up on her doorstep and never leaves again. Feyre and Rhys have an insanely grandiose wedding, only overshadowed by the fact that it’s been announced Elain is marrying the crown prince and is someday to be queen.
Nesta and Cassian have this little tiny family wedding inside the solarium. It’s so private people in the kingdom are still habitually shocked when Lady Nesta Archeron, explorer of the high seas, richest woman in the land, always excuses herself early from royal events to get back to her husband.
Cassian comes to the palace sometimes, but overall the bowing and scraping makes him insane. Except for family stuff that isn’t a national occasion, he makes every excuse to stay home with the kids. Nesta’s the famous one, he gets to hang out with their five amazing, terrifying daughters, who all know daddy makes the best cakes in the world.
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The Royal Romance.
Second Chance Romance. 
A/N: I’ve decided to go into my own little TRR/TRH world and create an AU. This will be fun! So; Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*
Rated: Mature. | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual from me. 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Characters: King Marquise Rys (LI) and Queen Shanelle Dawkins (MC) | All Characters: names (except MC) and some plot dialogue are property of Pixelberry. | Current Word Count: 5,430 words. (more or less. I stop counting after editing and re-editing. 🤷🏾♀️)
Chapter 1.) Return
Shanelle sat at the bottom of the grand staircase of the Beaumont estate trying to wrap her head around all that had happened since the coronation.
Marquise the man she’s madly in love with; went from Crown Prince to King of Cordonia right before her eyes. Then her world came crashing down; as she was framed. The utter humiliation cost her the one thing she wanted more than anything; it cost her him. Someone set her up and she had no idea who it was. And she never got the chance to find out.
Instead she was sent back to D.C. with her tail tucked firmly between her legs. She knew she never had a chance against the ladies of the court; but her stubborn determination got her into the top 3 women for him to choose. And she just knew he’d choose her; until those photos of her and Tariq were shown. And her world came crumbling down.
When she got home she had to deal with her disappointed stepmom and VERY pissed off father. They love her dearly and never want to see her hurt. But; her father’s furious that she up and left on a whim over a man she barely knew. So for the past 2 years; she’s been under lockdown. While she tries to pick up the pieces of her broken heart and shattered life. Her daddy was gracious enough to give her the receptionist job at his surgical practice. That way he could keep an eye on her.
Life for her went back to being relatively normal and quiet. Until one Sunday morning as her daddy got ready to preach; two very familiar faces showed up. After church announcements were read; visitors were encouraged to stand and give their home church and affiliation. That’s when Maxwell and Bertrand stood up from their pews. “Good Sunday morning to you all! My name is Bertrand Beaumont; and I am the Duke of Ramsford and this is my brother Lord Maxwell Beaumont. We are delighted to be here and thank you for your hospitality!”, he explained to the congregation. “Yeah! It’s great to be here! We’re actually here to see Shanelle. But I don’t see her though. Ohhh! There she is! She’s in the choir loft Bertrand. Hiiii Shanelle!”, Maxwell quipped as he waved at her.
She was mortified and her daddy was pissed. When he turned back to face her; he mouthed the words, “Pastor’s Study! Now!” when he turned back to the congregation; his face was neutral. “Thank you Mr. Beaumont! I’m sure you, your brother and my daughter have much to discuss.” With a deep breath; she collected Maxwell and Bertrand and quickly ushered them into her dad’s office.
Once inside; she just had to hear what both of them had to say. “Maxwell as happy as I am to see you and Bertrand; WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?”, she asked him while trying to keep her voice down. “A Happy Reunion? We missed you.”, he replies. “It’s been 2 years!”, she said to him. “We were hoping that you could lead us to Jesus?”, he said sheepishly. “If I didn’t love you so much; I’d hit you with a bible! Also; you didn’t answer my question.”, she told him. “It’s Marquise. He needs you.”, he said to her. “No he doesn’t. Besides he’s married. The wedding was in all the papers.”, she told him.
That’s when Bertrand spoke up. “About that. Maxwell is right. He’s miserable. Cordonia is in need of an heir. Madeleine doesn’t want children, not that he’d touch her anyway...They are in the last stages of getting a divorce.”, he said to Shanelle. “You’re joking, right? They’re getting a divorce?”, she asks Bertrand. “No jokes. Technically since they haven’t consummated the marriage, it will be annulled.”, he replied.
That statement took her breath away.
“He just doesn’t want anyone, if it’s not you.”, Maxwell told her. “This is insane. If he wants nothing to do with her; why did he marry her?”, she asks. “He felt like he had no choice.”, Maxwell replies. “Right now, Cordonia looks weak. If we don’t have an heir soon there will be an uprising.”, Bertrand explains. “So what are you asking me?”, she asks them both. After a glance between them; Maxwell spoke, “Come back to Cordonia and be the Queen he needs. We all need you.” “Come back? After all this time? After everything that happened? I can’t do that. I can’t go through the hell again. We still don’t know who set me up. I can’t. I just can’t.”, she told him. “Marquise will make everything right. We just need you to give him a chance.”, he said to her. “Maxwell I don’t think you understand what that scandal did to me. The humiliation alone has left me scarred and scared to even consider love ever being a possibility in my life.”, she told him.
That’s when Bertrand laid a hand on her shoulder and said, “1 Peter 4:8 Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.” “I’m not saying to ignore your pain. But if you come back it could be a chance to heal. Just tell me you’ll think about it.”, Maxwell said to her. “If I decide to do this again; how do you know we won’t wind up right back where we started?”, she asks.
“It’s because I know in my heart that he’s been miserable since the moment you left. I also believe that the moment he lays eyes on you the part of him that died will be resurrected. He will know what it feels like to breathe again. He won’t let go of that feeling...he can’t.”, Maxwell explains. “You really believe that he’s still in love with me after being apart for 2 years?”, she asks. “I am telling you he has been holding his breath for 2 years. He is a shell of himself without you. Just the mention of your name; brings a twinkle to his eyes that we haven’t seen in years.”, he says to her.
She sighs. The thought of him being miserable without her was starting to get to her. “Oh my God. My life finally gets back to some form of normalcy; and here you two come back to flip it upside down again.”, she says with a small chuckle. “What’s life without a little plot twist?”, he teased. “Maxwell Beaumont! You’re impossible! And I mean that in the most loving way possible.”, she replies. “Right back at you, babe.”, he says to her. “Lady Shanelle. We need your answer. It’s imperative.”, Bertrand says to her. After taking a deep breath and pacing for a bit; she says to them, “I can’t believe I’m about to do this…again but gentlemen…let’s go get my king.”
Both were ecstatic. “Wonderful!”, Bertrand said to her. “Woo! My girl is back!”, Maxwell quipped. “Not so fast you two! We still have one more hurdle.”, she said to them. “What?”, they ask. “My dad. He’s not gonna let me go.”, she replies. “Let me handle that! No one can resist the Maxwell Beaumont charm!”, Maxwell said to her. “Good luck with that!”, she told him.
After service was over; her father and stepmom joined them in the study. That’s when they laid out the plan for Shanelle to return. But her daddy wasn’t trying to hear it. “No! Absolutely not! You are NOT going back! Not after everything that happened!”, he growled. “Daddy—“, she started to say before he cut her off, “Shanelle, don’t you dare! I am not about to watch you get your heart broken by that man again!” “Daddy it wasn’t his fault!”, she told him. “It might as well have been his fault! Do you think I want to deal with vultures in the media at my door again? Do you think I want them crowding my office again?!”, he asked with his voice raised. “Rodney…calm down!”, her stepmom Jackie told him. After taking a deep breath; he spoke. “All I’m saying is that I don’t want to see my baby girl get hurt again. After watching what that jackass Damon did to you; and now this so called king? No! I’m not going witness you get hurt all over again!” “Daddy please…”, she begged. “No! I’m not having this conversation with you.”, he told her.
Shanelle looked to her stepmom for help. That’s when Jackie sighed and said, “Rodney you know that you can’t stop her.” He looked at her like she had lost all sense. “Jackie! Who’s side are you on?”, he asks his wife. “As many times as RJ has come home from a failed relationship; just for him to jump into another one. You can’t be mad at our oldest daughter.”, she tells him. “But Jackie; Shanelle is—“, he started to say, “a grown woman. Just like Shana is a grown woman. Shana packed up herself and R3 just to move all the way to Seattle for her wife. And let’s not forget; RJ lives in Boston with his what, 3rd girlfriend in the last 9 months?”
He pouted. “My point to you Rodney is this: if you didn’t have anything to say to our two younger children you have nothing to say to our oldest child. She loves him. She wants to be with him. We can’t stop her. We can only love and support her. As we should.”, she told him. He looked at his wife then to his oldest daughter and says, “okay! Okay! I know when I’m beaten. Just promise me that you’re not making a mistake.” Shanelle smiles softly at her dad and says, “I promise daddy. I know what I’m doing.”
Rodney stood up from his desk then walked over to her and hugged her tightly. “I love you so much, baby…I just…I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt.”, he told her as he hugged her. “I know daddy. I’ll be fine; I promise you that.”, she told him. When he looked at her; he smiled softly. “I guess you should go home and get packed.”, he told her. She kissed her dad on the cheek and she said, “I love you daddy!” He kissed her on her forehead and replied, “I love you too, baby.”
He then looked to Maxwell and Bertrand and said, “you two had better take good care of my daughter! Do NOT make me come all the way over there! Do I make myself clear?” Both nodded their heads emphatically. “Good! Now go get her packed up; before I change my mind.”, he told them. With that Shanelle, Maxwell and Bertrand were off to get her packed; then they made their way back to Cordonia.
As she sat at the bottom of the steps; she couldn’t believe she was back in the country she was humiliated in. “I’m here. I’m actually here.”, she said to herself. Or so she thought. “Yep! You’re here! And I’m so happy to have you back!”, Maxwell said as he sat next to her. “Thanks Maxwell. I’m just ready to get my man back.”, she told him. “I know. But you know that it won’t be easy, right?”, he asks. “I know. Everyone will be looking at me and wondering why I’ve come back after all these years.”, she replies. “That and there will be more women vying for Marquise and his hand.”, he told her.
“Greeeeeeat! Just what I wanted: another social season!”, she said sarcastically. “But at least it won’t be like your first one.”, he said to her. “It won’t be?”, she asks. “No thankfully. You won’t have to go through all the pettiness and hosting. Instead we’re going global.”, he told her. “I don’t get it.”, she said to him. “You are one of 7 women vying for Marquise. One from each continent except Antarctica. But the good thing is; we know that they don’t stand a chance. And while you’re vying; we’ll work on finding Tariq and clearing your name.”, he told her. “Are you sure that we can?”, she asks. “Yup because you’ve got me! Ohh! And them too!”, he said as he pointed to her left.
When she turned her head; in walked Drake and Hana. “Hana! Drake! You’re here!”, she said as she ran up to hug them both. “It’s good to see you too! I’ve missed you!”, Hana told her. “I’ve missed you too! I’ve even missed you, marshmallow.”, she said as she hugged Drake. “Missed you too Dawkins. It’s been way too long.”, he said to her. “Wait! Shouldn’t you be with Marquise?”, she asked him. “He asked me to help you. And here I am.”, he replies. “When was the last time you saw him?”, she asks.
“The day Maxwell and Bertrand left to get you. We’ve had to keep our distance between each other for appearances sake. And well…I might have a girlfriend.”, he replied. “Congrats! I’m happy for you.”, she told him. “And what about you, missy? What has the incredible Hana Lee been up to?”, she asked Hana. “I returned to Shanghai but I was wasn’t happy; so I came back to Cordonia last year, and I’ve been working with Marquise as one of his advisors.”, she told her. “Good. I’m happy to have you both here.”, she said to them. “What about me?”, Maxwell asks. “Yes you too; goof.”, she said as he walked up. “It’s good to have all of you by my side. I love you all so much! Now; let’s go get ready! I have a king to win!”, she told them.
After getting dressed; the group was off to the palace for the Freedom Ball and dinner. It was Marquise’s public appearance since his divorce was finalized a few days before. As each member of court was announced Shanelle was starting to feel nervous about seeing him and the rest of court. “Introducing Lord Maxwell Beaumont, Sir Drake Walker, Lady Hana Lee and Lady Shanelle Dawkins.”, the herald said as the group entered the room together.
The room went silent as all eyes landed on Shanelle. She held onto Maxwell’s arm for dear life. “How you doing?”, he whispered to her. “Every single eye is on me. How am I supposed to be doing?”, she replies. “Just take a deep breath and smile.”, he told her. She did exactly that. “There’s a silver lining in all eyes being on you.”, he said to her. “What’s that?”, she asks. “His eyes are on you as well as everyone else’s”, Maxwell said as he looked towards Marquise.
His eyes never left her. He watched as they walked in. He stood next to his parents and his brother as the court filed in. “Good evening everyone! It is good to see you all! Although the circumstances aren’t ideal it is great to be surrounded by all of you. I do hope you all enjoy yourselves tonight.”, he said to everyone in attendance.
After dinner was served guests mingled and danced; but Shanelle had butterflies in her stomach. She wanted to run and hide; and at the same time she wanted to be alone with him. As the ball was in full swing Shanelle spent most of it dodging questions about the scandalous photos and her whereabouts for the last two years. When the evening came to a close she was exhausted and ready to crash. Thankfully she and the others were staying at the palace and she would meet the other women vying for Marquise the next day at tea.
When she got to her room; she all but collapsed onto her bed. Just as she had dozed off there was a knock at her door. “Go away!”, she groaned. When she went and opened the door; Bastien and two of the King��s Guards were standing on the other side. “Oh no! Not again…”, she said out loud. “Lady Shanelle his majesty requests your presence. Please follow us.”, Bastien said to her. “O-okay! Let me put some shoes on.”, she replied. After throwing her heels back on she followed them to a secluded courtyard within the palace. When she entered the courtyard; there he stood. He had a glass in his hand that she figured was either whiskey, rum or scotch. “Your Majesty, Lady Shanelle as requested.”, Bastien announced. “Thank you. That’ll be all.”, he told him. “Yes your majesty. Lady Shanelle.”, he said as they made their leave.
She watched them leave then turned back to face him. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her mouth was dry and the butterflies in her stomach went into overdrive. After finishing his drink Marquise spoke, “you look beautiful in that gown. Aquamarine is a beautiful color on you. I’m glad I had that dress made specifically for you.” Her eyes went wide. “You did what?”, she asked him in a voice just above a whisper. “I wanted you to stand out and I knew this gown would do just that.”, he told her. “Thank you.”, she told him. “You must hate me not that I blame you. You have to understand that I have regretted my decision every single day.”, he said to her. “I don’t hate you, Marquise.”, she told him. “I’ll take that as a small victory.”, he told her. “I just want to know why. I thought you loved me.”, she said to him. “I do. God knows I do. Shanelle I love you with every bit of my heart and soul.”, he told her. She screwed her eyes shut to keep tears from falling. “Then why choose her over me?”, she asked while trying to keep her voice from cracking. “Shanelle…look at me.”, he said as he tilted her chin up.
When she opened her eyes; he saw the pain she had been in; over the last two years.
“I want you to hear me when I say I had no choice, Shanelle. I wanted to pick you. I wanted to make you happy. I wanted to make you my wife and queen. For two years I have been miserable. I didn’t want to go through with the marriage to her but again I had no choice. In order to ascend to the throne I had to marry her. It was the worst mistake of my life. For two years all I’ve done is longed for you. I’ve craved you. I’ve needed you. And God knows I’ve wanted you. I’ve wanted to touch you. I’ve wanted to see you. I’ve wanted to taste you. You are the love of my life, Shanelle. There is no other woman for me but you. There’s only you. I only want you. Which is why when I filed for divorce I told Maxwell that you had to come back. I had to have you again. I had to feel my American Beauty in my arms again.”, he explained as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.
She loved the strength of his arms, the smell of his cologne and his pretty brown eyes. “You know your other suitors would say that you aren’t being fair to them, your majesty.”, she told him. “I don’t care about being fair to them. All I care about right now is messing up your lipstick.”, he told her before he claimed her lips in his. She melted in his embrace. His tongue dueled with hers as their kiss intensified and deepened.
When their kiss finally ended; she was dizzy and thankful to have his arms around her. “Damn I’ve missed that.”, he whispered against her lips. He kissed her again; wanting to savor the taste of her lips. “I just kissed the softest lips that God has ever made.”, he sang to her. She instantly knew the song. “And I am so in love with the girl who holds the lips he gave.”, she sang back to him. “You know your songs.”, he told her. “I know my artists. And for the record I love Eric Roberson. I saw him in concert last month.”, she said to him. “I really don’t want to stop.”, he said to her. “Then don’t. Don’t stop kissing me. Don’t stop touching me.”, she whispered to him. “Shanelle…”, he said before crashing his lips into hers. When this shared kiss ended he was incensed by her. “I want you now!”, he growled. “I belong to you, my king. Take me as you see fit.”, she told him.
“Come with me.”, he told her as he led her to another door to the courtyard. After he turned on the lights she realized that they were in a bedroom. “This bedroom is beautiful.”, she said as she took in her surroundings. “Thank you. It’s one of the many spare bedrooms. I would bring you to my personal chambers but I don’t want to wait.”, he told her. “A bedroom is a bedroom to me. Although; you do owe me a future tour of yours.”, she told him. “Comme tu veux, mon amour.”, he spoke to her. “That’s French isn’t it?”, she asks. He nodded his head yes. “Thought so…I don’t speak French.”, she told him. “It means as you wish, my love.”, he said to her. She smirked at him. He placed a featherlight kiss on the inside of her right wrist. He continued kissing up her arm; sending chills running through her. “Do you like that, my love?”, he asks. “More than you know, Marquise.”, she replied. “Good. I have to make up for lost time, my love.”, he told her before he continued.
When he got to her neck; she shivered in his arms. “You’re shivering, my love.”, he whispered in her ear. “Your fault…your majesty.”, she whispered to him. “You dare accuse your future king of bringing you pleasure?”, he asks. “Yes your majesty I do.”, she told him. “Well then; it looks like I have work to do.”, he told her before kissing her again. As they kissed his left hand searched and found the zipper in the back of her gown; while his right tangled in her hair.
As his left hand slowly pulled the zipper down; his right pulled her head back gently so he could run his tongue along her neck. “Yesssssssssss…she moaned softly. She was a puddle in his arms. He nipped at her chin before saying, “I missed hearing your voice, my love. I missed hearing you moan.”, he told her. “Keep that up and I’ll be doing more than that, my king.”, she told him.
He smirked before he went back to sucking on her neck. When her gown pooled at her feet Marquise stopped long enough to marvel at her in her red lingerie. “Mon amour, tu es absolument belle.”, he told her. “You really love speaking French, don’t you?”, she asks with a giggle. “Second favorite language.”, he said with a small shrug. She smiled at him and asked him, “although you look fine as wine in that suit; it’s blocking my view so can we lose it now?” She pulled him into a searing kiss as she helped him out of his suit.
She loved running her hands up his body. His abs were a work of art to her. His shoulders are broad and beautiful. And when her hands went lower to his pants; she felt his bulging center. Which caused him to groan against her neck. “Mmmm! Someone’s happy to see me!”, she said to him. “You’ve no idea.”, he told her. “You look a little restrained, my king. Let me alleviate that for you.”, she told him with a coy smile.
He drew a sharp breath as she slid his pants and underwear down. She drooled over a very hard, very naked Marquise. “Ohhh sweet Jesus!”, she told him. “See something you like, my love?”, he asks with a wink. "Indeed I do!”, she says before biting her bottom lip. “Now why am I naked but you aren’t?”, he asks as he pulls her into his arms. “You don’t like me in lingerie?”, she replies with a question of her own. “I love it. But I think you’d look better out of it.”, he told her before picking her up and carrying her to the bed.
After laying her down on the bed; he slid on top of her and immediately went to work removing her bra and panties. He kissed her right shoulder as he slid her bra strap down and did the same to her left shoulder. With her straps down he focused on the cups.
He kissed over each cup; wanting to get to her breasts inside them. That’s when guided his hands to the clasp in the front. “Oooh! Sexy!”, he told her. “Thank you, your majesty. I was hoping you’d like it.”, she told him. “Ohhh I do! Now if you’ll excuse me, my love…”, he told her before diving straight for them. She was in heaven while he was laser focused on pleasing her breasts. Kissing, nipping, licking, sucking on and tweaking her nipples. He loved hearing her moan and feeling her body move underneath his hard body.
His mouth traveled downward to her midsection. He kissed along her ribs and stomach eliciting different sounds for her. “Don’t stop Marquise! Please don’t stop!”, she begged. He dragged his tongue along the top of her panties. “Taste me…”, she moaned. That was all he needed to hear from her. He used his teeth to pull her panties down. The heat between her thighs blazed for him. He kissed and massaged her thighs open. “Bonjour mon petit amour.”, he whispered against her thigh as he got closer to her center.
He watched her bite her bottom lip. He slid the fingers of his right hand; along her inner most folds, slowly coaxing her open for him. “Ohhh God!”, she moaned. She was wet for him; just what he wanted. “Time to eat!”, he said before sliding his tongue inside her. It caused her back to arch while she cried out from the pleasure. He repeatedly dragged his tongue from her clit to her entrance. It was enough to make her breathing stagger.
“God! Yesssssssssss!”, she moaned. She was on fire because of his mouth. She was so focused on him eating her out; that she didn’t feel him slip two fingers inside her at first. His fingers were just as magical as his mouth. He deliberately was driving her crazy. Soon her hips started to roll; as the speed of his fingers increased. She was trying to hang on for dear life as he gave her the most intense pleasure she had ever felt. Her orgasm was twisted around her blooming internal heat. Both were threatening to overtake her. “Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God! I’m so close! I…Ohhh God! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”, she shouted.
He gave her exactly what she asked for. It took one final swirl of his tongue to snap her orgasm; and to make her internal heat burn her alive. “YES! YES! YES!”, she screamed as she rode wave after wave of her crashing orgasm. When he let her go; she was shaking. “You’re shaking, my love.”, he said with a grin. “Gee your majesty; I wonder why.”, she replied as she tried to catch her breath. She brought his lips to hers; and tasted herself on his lips.
He pinned her hands above her head as their kiss intensified. When it broke; she was desperate for him and he craved her. “I want to devour you, my love.”, he whispered against her lips. “Thank God for birth control.”, she told him with a wink. “For now anyway. Because soon my love; you will be my wife, my queen and the mother of my future child.”, he told her. “I like the sound of that.”, she whispered softly. “Good. You’ve earned it, mon amour.”, he told her before he kissed her again. Their tongues tangled as they kissed. He wanted her and was determined; not to let her leave until he had her. “Take me, Marquise…”, she begged. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”, he told her.
He rolled onto his back and had her straddle him. With his left hand planted firmly on her ass and his right anchored to her right hip; he was in heaven. “God you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, my love.”, he told her. “Mmmmmm…Keep talking.”, she said to him. “Why talk when I can show?”, he asks her. She smirks at him and says against his lips, “show me, my king.”
He took her lips in his and savored her taste; while his hands kneaded her ass. In that moment; his hunger for her grew and drove him. He was obsessed with the touch of her skin on his. He rubbed his hardened length against her wetness. It caused her to moan against his lips. He circled her entrance which made her shiver in his arms. He broke their kiss to whisper in her ear, “mine! All mine!”
“Marquise”, was all she managed to say before he entered her. “God!”, she moaned. She was just the way he wanted her to be. “So beautiful! So wet! So tight!”, he moaned as she rode him like a pro. Feeling her bounce up and down on him was a high he had missed. “Yes! More! Give it to me! Take me!”, she moaned. “That’s it, my love! Take it! Take me!”, he shouted.
The sound of their bodies coming together; made her head spin. She was deep in a delicious delirium because of him. “Tell me how you want it, my love.”, he told her. “Harder! Give it to me! Don’t hold back!”, she said to him. He was more than happy to acquiesce her request. When he brought her down hard onto him; she let out a sound that was a half gasp, half moan. “Is this what you wanted, my love?”, he asks. “Yesssssssssss! Fuck me! Give me all of you, Marquise!”, she screamed.
He buried himself to the hilt inside her then pulled out again and again. She dug her nails into his chest; as she continued to ride him. It caused her orgasm to surge higher; and pushed her closer and closer to the edge of her climax. But she wasn’t quite there yet; not until he whispered in her ear. “Don’t hold back, my love! Let go! Let it out! Cum for me!”
“Marquise! Oh shit! I'm gonna cum! Oh fuck! Its coming! Yes! Yes! Yes! I—“, was all she could say before her orgasm erupted and took her with it. She collapsed onto his chest That was all he needed to hear her say. “Yesssssssssss! Cum for me, my love! Oh God it’s coming! Here it comes! It’s all for you!”, he said through gritted teeth as he went over his own climax. She soon collapsed on top of him; as both were covered in sweat, saliva and cum.
While his right hand skimmed her spine; she rubbed the scratches on his chest. “Sorry about that.”, she spoke softly. “Don’t be they’ll heal. Are you alright?”, he asks her. “Yes I’m fine. I just…I forgot what being in your arms felt like.”, she told him. “Well hopefully; I’ll be able to remind you throughout the competition.”, he said to her. “You do know; you’ll have to give equal time to all your suitors, right?”, she asks. He groaned in protest. “Now! Now! Be nice, Marquise!”, she warned him playfully. “I am being nice! They’ll be here won’t they?”, he asked.
She just chuckled at him. “It’s funny. You forgot what it was like to be in my arms; and truth be told, I forgot what it was like to have you in my arms.”, he told her. “I missed you Marquise…so much.”, she told him. “I missed you too, my love. I swore to myself that if you ever came back; I’d do everything that I had to; in order to keep you here with me.”, he said to her. She kissed him softly as she snuggled against his chest. “There is so much I have to make up for. So much I have to tell you; but it can wait. Right now; all I want is for you to fall asleep in my arms.”, he told her as she dozed off to a peaceful sleep.
😘
K.
#choices#pixelberry#choices stories you play#khoicesbyk#choices fanfiction#fanfic#the royal heir#the royal romance#queen of cordonia#queen shanelle#king marquise#king of cordonia
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What if Rhaenyra’s “Velaryon” sons looked like her?
No one will assume that Jace, Luke, and Joffrey are bastards. The Greens knew that Laenor was gay, but no one questioned the paternity of Rhaenyra’s sons until they looked so different. She and her husband both had silver hair and purple eyes; her sons had brown hair, brown eyes, and pug noses; at least Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella could claim to take after their mother. As Aegon II said, “Everyone knows [that they are bastards]. Just look at them.” The cost of laying with a married princess is so high that Alicent and co. will assume that Rhaenyra coerced Laenor into closing his eyes and thinking of Westeros.
Rhaenyra's "Velaryon" sons looking stereotypically Targaryen with silver hair and purple eyes will SIGNIFICANTLY help her in the Dance.
1. Jace, Luke, and Joffrey ride fierce, adult dragons.
King Viserys I made a royal decree that dragon eggs be placed in the cradles of Rhaenyra’s sons in a futile attempt to prove that they were trueborn. The tradition of cradle-eggs started with Rhaena putting eggs in Jaehaerys' and Alysanne's cradles, but it wasn't revived until Viserys desperately wanted to prove that Rhaenyra's sons were trueborn Targaryens by the logic "Only Targaryens ride dragons!" Which... doesn't make much sense because half-Targaryens can ride dragons: See Rhaenys Targaryen (daughter of Jocelyn Baratheon), Laenor Velaryon, Laena Velaryon, Aegon II, Helaena, Aemond, Daeron....
In this TL, neither Viserys not Rhaenyra would feel pressured to have Jace, Luke, and Joffrey claim dragons immediately, because no one thinks that they are bastards. They will wait until their early teens 12~13 to claim dragons in the Dragonpit or Dragonstone.
In 120, Aemond will still claim Vhagar. As a 10-year-old, he wouldn’t have visited the Dragonpit or Dragonstone in order to claim a dragon of his own. The temptation of seeing Vhagar at Driftmark would be too great. Jace, Luke, and Joffrey wouldn’t try and claim their beloved aunt’s dragon within months of her death.
After her younger half-brother claimed the greatest dragon, Rhaenyra would hasten to have her sons claim the next-greatest dragons. Like a nuclear arms race, the Blacks and the Greens will try to claim the biggest available dragons in the all-but-inevitable fight over the succession after Viserys' death. In the OTL, the "Velaryon" boys were all bonded to their respective cradle-egg dragons; no rider can bond with more than one dragon. Currently, Jace is 6, Luke is 5, and Joffrey is 3, so they haven’t claimed any dragons yet.
When he is ~12, Jace claim Vermithor (the 2nd-greatest dragon after Vhagar) and Luke will claim Silverwing (the 3rd-greatest). The two brothers are only one year apart, so they would probably claim their dragons on the same day. If only Jace claims Vermithor, the Greens could have Daeron claim Silverwing immediately. They'd be so angry after seeing their half-uncle claim their beloved aunt’s dragon that they’d be eager to claim their own fierce dragons in order to counter her “stolen” one.
Tessarion, Vermax, Arrax, Tyraxes, and Moondancer would hatch on Dragonstone, not in cradles. Since the tradition of eggs in the cradle isn’t established, the Velaryon girls will head to Dragonstone when they are 10 to claim their own dragons.
The Greens would hasten to have Daeron claim Tessarion. Once Vermithor and Silverwing are off the market, Tessarion would be the largest unbonded dragon.
When he is ~12, Joffrey will claim Seasmoke, the dragon of his “father.” Joff was 3 when Laenor died, so he can claim the handsome grey dragon.
Baela will claim Vermax, and Rhaena will claim Arrax.
Aegon will claim Tyraxes; Viserys will claim Moondancer.
Stormdancer and Morning will hatch on Dragonstone and be eventually claimed by the next generation.
There are three wild dragons— Cannibal, Sheepstealer, Grey Ghost— but Rhaenyra would never let any of her children claim them. Other dragonriders seem likely to live for a few decades, so it’s not worth waiting for them to die in order to claim Vhagar, Sunfyre, Dreamfyre, Tessarion, Meleys, Syrax, or Caraxes.
This also means that Rhaenyra doesn't need to hold the dragonseed auditions and entrust her dragons to deeply untrustworthy people, such as Ulf and Hugh.
In this case, Syrax, Caraxes, Meleys, Vermithor, Silverwing, Seasmoke, Vermax, Arrax, Tyraxes, and Stormcloud are commanded by people Rhaenyra can implicitly trust. Aegon II only has Sunfyre, Vhagar, Dreamfyre, and Tessarion; Vhagar is the biggest dragon, but even she cannot withstand 2 or 3 adult dragons at once.
2. Rhaenyra’s half-brothers will have a less acrimonious relationship with her sons.
Aegon II, Aemond, Daeron would still hate Jace, Luke, Joffrey for stealing their “birthright,” the Iron Throne. However, they would not be as willing for J/L/J to die.
I sincerely believe that Alicent's sons truly hated Rhaenyra's "Velaryon" sons much more than her Targaryen sons. They were angry that a mere half-sister would inherit the throne before them, but they were outraged that she would plop her obvious bastards, the proof of her immorality, onto the throne after her.
When Blood and Cheese killed Jaehaerys, Aegon II vowed to descend on Dragonstone in order to kill his half-sister and her “bastard sons,” Jace and Joffrey (Luke was already dead at this point). Interestingly, Aegon II did not want to kill Aegon the Younger or Viserys, who were also on Dragonstone at the time; they were still Rhaenyra’s sons, but they were legitimate and looked Targaryen, so Aegon II was more reluctant to kill them. When he first offered the peace terms, Aegon II offered to take Aegon the Younger as his squire and Viserys as his cupbearer, but he refused to let Joffrey near him. Joffrey was 11, and he didn't participate in his mother's war any more than the 9-year-old Aegon or the 7-year-old Viserys. The Green princes hated Daemon, so being Daemon's sons wouldn't soften the Green princes towards Aegon and Viserys. Of course, by the end of the war, Aegon II was so warped by bitterness and vengeance that he was willing to chop up Aegon the Younger, similar to how Rhaenyra was willing to kill Jaehaera and Maelor by the end.
3. Luke doesn’t stab out Aemond’s eye.
Joffrey does not have catch Aemond riding Vhagar. Aemond got up at the crack of dawn to claim Vhagar before anyone could notice and stop him. Joffrey had a habit of waking up early so that he could watch his hatchling, Tyraxes. In this scenario, Joffrey wouldn’t have a dragon yet and wouldn’t wake up so early. More likely, the guards would be awakened by Vhagar’s roars and rush to find Aemond on the great dragon.
Let’s say the "Velaryon" boys still find Aemond before others do, and they still get into a physical tussle. In the real timeline, Aemond beat the three younger boys. They backed away, and the fight would have ended then. However, Aemond called them Strongs; Jace, who is normally level-headed and responsible, snapped and punched his half-uncle; Aemond started bashing Jace’s head with a wooden sword; Luke slashed across Aemond’s face with a dagger, trying to defend his older brother. In this scenario, the fight would stop, or it would be much less violent and a guard would eventually break them up.
4. Otto Hightower isn’t Hand when King Viserys I dies.
Lyonel Strong, Lord of Harrenhal, was Viserys’ leal Hand. However, he died in the fire at Harrenhal, and Viserys recalled Otto Hightower to be Hand.
In this TL, the Strongs won't die. I've narrowed down the murderer to Viserys OR Larys Strong and the Greens.
It was not Corlys. Mushroom thought that Corlys wanted to punish the man who had cuckolded his son. However, he knew from Day 1 that Laenor was gay and Rhaenyra had a stud to father her sons. He seemed to like his three “grandsons,” and he knew that his real grandchild (Baela) would become queen by marrying his “grandchild” (Jace).
It was not Daemon. Daemon would have liked to father Rhaenyra’s oldest son and heir, but his daughter with Laena was set to marry Jace and become queen. When he returned to Westeros in 117, he and Rhaenyra engaged in a physical relationship and Rhaenyra did not have any more “Strong” children; this suggests that she was so busy with her handsome uncle that she neglected her sworn shield.
Despite his denials, Viserys knew that Rhaenyra's sons were bastards. The incident with Aemond and Luke proved that the secret of his grandsons' paternity could unleash devastating consequences. If Harwin revealed her secret, Viserys would have to send his favorite child to the Silent Sisters, his grandsons to the Wall, and make an eternal enemy of the Velaryons. He didn’t count on his capable and strong Hand dying in the fire.
Larys had everything to gain from his father and brother dying. In one stroke, he would become the Lord of Harrenhal, and he had plenty of friends inside the castle to engineer an "accident." The Greens feared that Lyonel would secretly want his grandson Jace to become king and support Rhaenyra when Viserys died. As the Dance showed, a Hand is very powerful in between kings. They made a deal: Larys became a master of whisperers on the Small Council in exchange for his services.
In either case, neither party is motivated to kill the Strongs. Viserys has no proof that his grandsons are bastards, and there are no ugly incidents like Aemond losing his eye. Larys still wants to kill his father and brother, but the Greens have no real reason to off Larys. He might be pro-Black because his son is Rhaenyra's sworn shield, but he is law-abiding and capable; he could just as easily support Aegon II, because a brother comes before a sister in all inheritance systems and the Great Council of 101.
Lyonel could support either Aegon II or Rhaenyra, but he'd probably prefer Rhaenyra because he secretly knows that Jace is his grandson. He will definitely be more amenable to Rhaenyra’s claim than Otto Hightower, the Hand when Viserys I died. Otto was willing to die in order to make his grandson king (and he did).
In the real timeline, only one person on the Small Council supported Rhaenyra— Lord Beesbury— who was promptly killed; the Hand is the most powerful member of the Council and he can speak with the King’s voice in the interim between the monarch’s passing and the new one’s coronation. Lyonel’s support could make all the difference for Rhaenyra.
Let's say Lyonel still dies-- he gets a stroke, falls off his horse, or eats bad seafood. In this TL, RHAENYRA would probably become Hand. After Lyonel died in the OTL, Viserys "briefly... considered sending for Princess Rhaenyra. Who better to rule with him than the daughter he meant to succeed him on the Iron Throne?" However, he decided not to because "more conflict with the queen and her own brood would have been inevitable." In this case, there aren't the big, violent squabbles between the Green and Black princes, and the peace-loving Viserys dismisses smaller incidents as "horseplay." If Rhaenyra is the Hand AND heir when her dad dies, she
5. King Viserys I doesn’t die so soon.
Viserys became ill after cutting his hand on the Iron Throne. He contracted an infection and had to remove several of his fingers; he was greatly weakened and died in two years.
When Corlys named Luke the heir to Driftmark, his nephew Vaemond protested the decision; Luke was a bastard. Rhaenyra fed Vaemond to her dragon, and his cousins pled for justice from the king. Viserys received these Velaryons with fury, and he ordered that their tongues be ripped out. As he was descending from the throne, he cut his hand to the bone.
In this scenario, no one knows Rhaenyra’s sons are bastards → Vaemond doesn’t petition Corlys for Driftmark → Rhaenyra doesn’t kill Vaemond → Velaryon cousins don’t petition Viserys for justice → Viserys does not cut his hand → Viserys does not contract a deadly infection that permanently weakens him → Viserys doesn't die in just two years.
6. Visenya lives
Viserys died in early 129. At the time, Rhaenyra was heavily pregnant and located on Dragonstone; this gave the Greens the opportunity to seize the capital and crown Aegon II king. Her rage at Aegon II’s treachery induced early labor, and Visenya was born dead. Rhaenyra gave birth to five healthy children; she seemed likely to deliver a healthy daughter. Rhaenyra already has five healthy sons, but I’m sure she’d love and cherish her only daughter.
7. Rhaenyra could have relocated to the capital when her father was ailing.
In the real timeline, the fight between the "Velaryon" princes and Aemond in 120 was the inciting factor that led Viserys to order Rhaenyra and her sons to contain themselves to Dragonstone and Alicent and her sons to the Red Keep. Even though she attended the court for special occasions like feasts and to provide Maester Gyldayn for Viserys, Rhaenyra was largely absent from the capital since.
Rhaenyra would probably still spend the majority of her time on Dragonstone because of her hatred for Alicent and her half-brothers. However, when Viserys I becomes ill (he won’t cut his hand, but he’d still have gout and chest pain and wheeze), she could request that she and her sons relocate to the capital so that they can spend time with Viserys. This wasn’t an option available to her in the real timeline because of Viserys’ decision in 120 to separate the Greens from the Blacks.
8. Rhaenyra can go to the capital immediately after Viserys’ death.
If Viserys dies later on, Rhaenyra would have safely given birth to Visenya. She could launch onto Syrax and fly to the capital to claim her crown as soon as Viserys dies. She had 5 sons within 8 years, and then there was a 7 year interim between her last son, Viserys, and Visenya. She was now in her mid-30s, so she was unlikely to have more children; Visenya seemed like a happy surprise.
9. Aemond won’t kill Luke.
If the Dance still breaks out in the same way, Jace and Luke might not be sent as envoys. Since Rhaenyra isn’t ill after giving birth to Visenya, she herself could be one of the envoys. Also, a part of Jace’s reasoning was his desire to prove his uncles wrong and show that he was a true dragon-riding Targaryen; this insecurity does not exist because no one accuses him of bastardry, so he mightn't volunteer himself and Luke.
Assuming Luke still goes to Storm’s End: Aemond doesn’t have an especial grudge against Luke. In the real timeline, Aemond hated Luke more than any of his other half-nephews for stabbing out his eye; if Jace or Joffrey had been sent to treat with Lord Borros, Aemond would not have been so eager for revenge. Maris definitely couldn’t taunt him about Luke taking his balls and his eye, which snapped his already-fragile ego.
Luke has a dragon that could potentially beat Vhagar. Silverwing is not as old, fierce, or large as Vhagar, but she is the third-greatest dragon. Arrax, the OTL Luke’s dragon, was 1/5 of the size of Vhagar and was killed immediately. Aemond might not try and kill Luke if he knows that Silverwing could potentially kill his Vhagar. Aemond wasn’t brave, and he never engaged unless he was sure of victory; when Daemon and Nettles looked for him, Aemond hid in the Riverlands despite having a greater dragon; even when Daemon challenged him alone, Aemond waffled for 13 days until meeting his challenge, even though Daemon’s Caraxes was half of Vhagar’s size. Silverwing is bigger than both Caraxes and Sheepstealer. If Aemond does decide to attack Luke anyways, Luke could at least rip off one of Vhagar’s wings or fatally pierce her stomach while dying; Luke is a much less experienced fighter than his stepfather, but Silverwing is a prodigious dragon.
#dance of the dragons#rhaenyra targaryen#the strong bastards#velaryon#jacaerys velaryon#lucerys velaryon#joffrey velaryon#dragons
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✖ ▒ OH, WHAT A COINCIDENCE! i was just thinking of [ ELIZABETH OF YORK ]. most swear their resemblance to [ KEIRA KNIGHTLEY ] is unmistakable, but she has been around since the [ LATE MIDDLE AGES ]. it is rumoured that the [ CIS FEMALE ] was born in [ LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM ] in the year [ 1466 ], even though they don’t look a day over [ THIRTY ]. what a shame, though: they were once famed for being [ AMBITIOUS ] and [ STEADFAST ] ; yet now, they seem more and more [ STUBBORN ] and [ INTERFERING ]. but while [ ELIZABETH ] spends their days working as [ A POLITICAL AIDE ], they are already notorious around town for [ CRAFTING PRECISELY THE RIGHT WORDS AND FITTING THEM INTO SOMEONE ELSE’S MOUTH; METICULOUS & BEAUTIFUL PENMANSHIP; “ANCESTRAL” HALLS SHORTER-LIVED THAN YOU; THE CENTURIES’ OLD GLEAM OF A CROWN; A WAY TO WIN ON EITHER SIDE OF THE BATTLE ]. when you live forever, you might as well make the most of it. ( shannon. 20. bst/gmt+1. she/her. )
MUN STUFF:
hello hi there, friends! i’m shannon, i really hate ( most of ) philippa gregory, and this is the historical love of my life, elizabeth of york. i hope i make you all love her as much as i absolutely adore her. if you’re invested in the experience, i recommend listening to ‘the tower’ by ludovico einaudi while reading about her because it really helped me get my feelings about her down onto paper.
BASICS:
FULL NAME: her majesty queen elizabeth of england.
MONIKER / NICKNAME: lizzie; the white rose of york ( nicknames. )
TITLES: queen consort of england ( 1486-1503 ), princess ( 1466-1483 officially; regarded a princess by some after this date until her coronation as queen consort in 1486. )
GENDER && PRONOUNS: cis female && she/her.
DOB && AGE: eleventh of february, fourteen sixty-six ( age five hundred and fifty-four; immortally thirty. )
PLACE OF BIRTH: westminster palace, london, england.
ZODIAC SIGN: aquarius.
ETHNICITY: white.
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: biromantic
PHYSICAL APPEARANCE:
FACE CLAIM: keira knightley.
HEIGHT: 5 ft 7 in (170cm)
PHYSICAL BUILD: slim, rectangular.
EYE COLOUR AND SHAPE: brown; deep-set.
HAIR COLOUR AND STYLE: brown; varies.
USUAL EXPRESSION: neutral.
ACCENT AND SPEECH STYLE: received pronunciation; measured speed.
DISTINGUISHING MARKS / CHARACTERISTICS: pierced ears & an outline of the rennes cathedral tattooed on her wrist that she got done ten years ago.
CLOTHING STYLE: varies heavily; in her job, she likes suits now.
JEWELLERY AND ACCESSORIES: she still wears her wedding ring from the 1480s, and possesses earrings in the likeness of the tudor rose, though she can so rarely wear the latter.
FAMILY:
FATHER: edward iv of england
MOTHER: elizabeth woodville
SIBLINGS, IF ANY: nine full, two half.
EXTENDED RELATIONS: cecily neville (grandmother) && richard iii of england (uncle.)
SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S): henry vii of england (husband, 1486—, legally ended upon her “death” in 1503). there has and will be no one else.
CHILDREN: seven or eight, including henry viii of england.
HOUSEHOLD PET(S): none; they die too soon. she used to keep greyhounds in her heyday.
FAVOURITES:
COLOUR: red && white; the colours of lancaster and york.
WEATHER: when it is overcast but comfortably so, and rain is on the horizon so the air is refreshing when it caresses your face. quintessentially english.
FOOD ITEM: the christmas roast. it reminds her of raucous and happy times with her family.
BEVERAGE: burgundian wine.
TIME OF DAY: just before dawn, when everything is peaceful & the world could just seem... perfectly endless, and yet, so small.
TELEVISION GENRE: drama. political & nordic noir. think borgen & the killing.
FAVOURITE ERA LIVED: 1486-1503; the years of her marriage.
PERSONALITY:
HOBBIES: gambling & music & reading & dancing & writing & watching theatre.
PET PEEVES: people who chew loudly. tardiness.
ALLERGIES: none known.
MBTI TYPE: estj-a.
ENNEAGRAM TYPE: type one, with a two wing: “the advocate.”
SLEEPING HABITS: restless. not as regular as they should be.
OLDEST BELONGING: her wedding ring from the 1480s.
HOME: chester square, belgravia.
DAUGHTER, SISTER, NIECE AND WIFE
No one else will ever be all four to kings ( Edward IV, Edward V, Richard III, Henry VII ) but that distinction — much like your life — is marred by instability, grief and strife.
Your father became sick: whisperings of poison persist, and you must admit you are not sure of the truth. Your brother disappeared to the Tower: whisperings of murder exist, and you must admit you are not sure of the truth. But you are sure that your uncle met his end upon Bosworth field, and on the matter of your husband you are sure that you love him.
At first you were not sure, at first it was not easy, but such is love.
Sweet Elizabeth, daughter of scandal: the fairest of her father’s children by his second marriage to Elizabeth Woodville. They call her ‘common,’ though she is beautiful; they are not audacious enough to call you half-common, because it is only descendancy from the God-chosen King that matters to them.
There would be more daughters before Elizabeth Woodville gave unto her husband sons, and by then they are talking.
THINGS I PROBABLY DON’T NEED TO WRITE CREATIVELY BUT YOU DO NEED TO KNOW, A SAGA:
Elizabeth of York was the first-born daughter of Edward IV and his wife Elizabeth Woodville; she was widely believed to be the fairest of his children. She had two older half-siblings from her mother’s first marriage, and would have nine full-blooded siblings: Mary, Cecily, Edward (V), Margaret, Richard, Anne, George, Catherine, and Bridget. Bold denotes the two ‘Princes in the Tower’ and italics denotes siblings who died in infancy.
In childhood, she was betrothed to the future King Charles VIII of France, but the French failed to keep to their end of the agreement & it was called off. Previously, she had been betrothed to a noble’s son, but this too was repudiated after the father rebelled against Edward.
The former King Henry VI was briefly returned to the throne when Elizabeth was but four years old. Elizabeth, her siblings, and their pregnant mother lived under religious protection until Edward was restored in 1471.
In 1483, Edward IV died, and the unexpected nature of this death & the age of her brother — also named Edward — combined by the ambition for power held by her uncle the Lord Protector ( Richard, Duke of Gloucester ) threw the succession into doubt. Once again, they were forced into sancturary.
Ultimately, both Edward V and the younger Richard disappeared shortly after her uncle took the throne as Richard III, known as the Princes in the Tower, with much credence lent to the theory that they were murdered; the Titulus Regius, in declaring the late King’s controversial — as Elizabeth Woodville was a ‘common’ widower and the marriage secret — marriage invalid, bastardised their children and robbed Elizabeth of York and her siblings of status & rights to succession.
When whispers began of an effort against Richard for the throne, the strongest claim was undoubtedly Elizabeth of York’s own. But there had been no queen that ruled in her own right, and would not for some years, and so Elizabeth Woodville arranged for her to marry the Lancastrian claimant Henry Tudor, who traced his line through a legitimised bastard line.
It was illegal for a Beaufort to take the throne, but it was agreed that they would support his efforts, perhaps due to Elizabeth’s vitriol toward Richard for the disappearance of her son. Henry vowed to marry Elizabeth in 1483.
Henry Tudor won the battle of Bosworth Field and was crowned Henry VII: he married Elizabeth in January 1486, their first child, Arthur, being born that autumn.
The marriage initially was politics-born, but they came to love one another deeply, and there is no evidence of the king having kept a mistress.
FROM DEATH TO “DEATH”
18 March, 1496
The eighteenth of March, fourteen ninety-six, is immortalised in your mind as the day that you died. You were thirty that day — giving birth to your fifth child, Mary — and you are thirty now, utterly untouched by the centuries.
The death must have lasted mere moments; no one beyond your attentive husband noticed, and it was some time beyond then that the both of you began to believe it.
It was the tallest of the tales your mother told you in her confinement at Bermondsey before her death four years ago. But when they told you she was dead ( perhaps of plague, demanding a rushed & private ceremony ) it would take a fool not to wonder whether the machinations of Elizabeth Woodville, the queen dowager, would continue from beyond the ‘grave.’
( The Reaper himself surely could not stop so ambitious a woman: and were it not for the king’s mother, perhaps you could have been more like her. You wonder whether you would want to be. )
Time passed, and yet none upon your face. Henry holds you close in anxious murmurings of what they will do to you if you are discovered; whisperings between kisses of witch-burnings.
You know, though you wish that he was not, that he is right to be afraid.
4 April, 1502
For all the world and time, no worse news could be imagined; the existence of those without faith is one without pity or mercy & you have always tried to keep your love of God intact, but it is oh-so-difficult when the world itself is so malignant as to take your little prince away.
Why is it, then, that you must live and yet bury your son? Why must his wife live on and yet he must die? You are not a spiteful woman. But even you, in this all-consuming grief, must be allowed your bitterness.
You remind your husband of the grace of God: it does not help you believe it.
You remind your that you have a son and two daughters, and that Arthur is with God, and it does not help you believe it.
You remind your husband that you are both young and have time enough yet.
It does not help you believe it.
As soon as you are gone from him, having remained strong for Henry’s sake alone, you buckle, and you wail, and you scream in defiance; it is hopeless, of course, for you to have insisted on sparing him your grief. When you need him, he will always come, until he can no longer.
10th February, 1503
Your newborn daughter Katherine stopped breathing, and something trapped the scream in your throat like a reassurance: some hand over your mouth whispering wait, until the baby girl wailed and began to move again.
She is too young to have the burden of forever on those tiny shoulders, you think, but did any of you ever get a choice in whether or not you wanted to be Time’s Atlas? You say nothing of the occurrence to anyone bar your dearest beloved, who you trust with an implicitness thought impossible the day you married him.
How could one of the white rose trust one of the red?
Your blood still mars the bedsheets, too much of it, dark & damning; they thought the sanguine waterfall would never stem, skin growing paler and paler, until you were a paper ghost. Of course, you knew that you would not die. The doctors didn’t: they call you a miracle. The bells are rung for joy, but when they are gone, there is rue upon your husband’s face. Not long ago, they began to comment upon your unchanging visage, like an ever-fresh flower, and you both knew.
“It won’t be long before—” You press your finger gently to his lips, and he moves it away. “It’s time.”
“I know.”
11th February, 1503
The tower is just barely lit by the sun; you have been here many times before — a highlight of the fact the world still thinks the reality of childbirth, the suffering that comes with a miracle, to be a matter of shame — and he has always hated the separation from you, but this time, in the eyes of the nation ( he will deceive even his mother ) you will not leave it alive.
Cast your gaze back over your shoulder, and ask the most natural question of the immortal race: how did you get here?
To this liminal space, this balancing-act, between the past ( for this home of yours will be your past, your life with him will be your past, but your love for him will be your present, your tomorrow, and your always ) and forever? Can you process the endlessness of it — of forever — my love, where so many empires, overestimating their longevity, have failed; can you understand, darling, that you will watch the crumbling demise of so many more without him?
( When you see his vision misted over with tears, is your husband still the most beautiful, lovable thing you have ever beheld? He is. He is, and no matter how the centuries pass — no matter how many kings, queens and vagabonds you lay eyes upon — he always will be; they will brand him a penny-pincher and a miser as loss haunts him, but you will remember him like this, in the most pain he has and will ever be in, but selfless anyway, because here’s the kicker they all forget: he loves you. )
“My Lizzie,” he murmurs to you, kisses the backs of your fingers, and it is a vow. Even in the depths of his pre-emptive sorrow, he looks up. His mother always says he was God-chosen to be king, but it has always been you who puts him on his knees. “Happy Birthday.”
You promise yourself then — ruminating on the fact you have never had an unhappier birthday than this — that you will never forget it.
LIFE AFTER “DEATH” ( POST-1503 )
As is hinted, Henry knew of Elizabeth’s immortality & assisted her in faking her “death.”
Elizabeth has had a long time to live.
The sole large expense never recorded in the royal books by Henry was to send her away and give her a life of means: the most painful act her husband ever undertook, but which he did because he loved her so dearly. Henry never remarried: though he spoke of it ( had to, because his wife was ostensibly dead ) he staved it off with the instructions he gave to those searching for a second wife.
Hint: they perfectly described Elizabeth.
For some time, the parted couple sent letters, before they deemed even that a risk to their wellbeing.
Elizabeth was once a pious woman. She is not, anymore: an eternity of time and of watching all die around her will rob any woman of her faith. She was renowned for gentleness and generosity, and that is not entirely lost upon her, but the same grief that forged the Winter King from Henry has touched her, too.
She is more cynical, more bitter, but she is still trying. It was necessary for her to change: even at first, knowing she had forever to live, she had to force herself to accept the life Henry gave her & not bequeath her money to others who needed it more, as suddenly she needed it to maintain her own life throughout the centuries.
Throughout her life, though, this attitude has meant she has built up enough money to both give comfortably and be comfortable. For example, now, she is both heavily charitable but lives in Belgravia.
Many lives have passed: in just one, for example, she has been a teacher, just as she was to her son Henry. She has settled in this life on a political aide, so she can more obviously move the world.
The years have made her more ambitious.
She just hopes she will find hope — and her husband, because she knows that if he were dead he would feel it in her heart — before she indelibly becomes the Winter Queen.
TRIVIA ( some things I love & a note on some I have elected to ignore )
Obligatory note that I would sell my soul for someone to play James McAvoy as Henry VII.
Among other things, the Queen from “Sing A Song Of Sixpence” is reportedly Elizabeth of York, and Henry is the King counting his money.
However, Henry’s penny-pinching nature only blossomed after Elizabeth’s death ( or in this case ‘death’ ) and prior to that death he was very liberal in spending money upon his wife and family.
Elizabeth may also have inspired the Queen of Hearts on modern-day playing cards.
She was particularly tall for Tudor women — perhaps inherited from her father — as most were much shorter than five-foot six or seven.
History believes Elizabeth had little political influence, but that perhaps is not so true as they believe.
It is true that Margaret Beaufort exercised a grand deal of influence and was loudly opinionated, but Elizabeth was able to influence matters through gentle whispers in her husband’s ear, and through love. She did not live for the applause: never had done. Elizabeth was known to be heavily charitable. So why would she make fanfare of her achievements in her husband’s court?
I know Henry VIII isn’t allowed, but Elizabeth would bitch slap him. She would. It has to be said.
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Corruption of Innocence (1/?)
Prompt: The Capital was cruel. The people there even more so. If this arrangement truly was meant to follow through, Jaime knew you would be corrupted by Kings Landing. But staring at you now, with bright doe eyes and a soft smile on your lips as you engaged in a conversation with your brother, hushed so as not to be disrespectful, Jaime knew he would put all his focus and strength into making sure that never happened.
A/N: HERE IT IS!! THE FIRST PART OF MY GOT (sorta) REWRITE! PLEASE let me know what you thought, if you’d like another part and if you’d like to be tagged for future parts. I really have a lot planned for this series, but I won’t be encouraged to write if no one gives any feedback. This part also had very little Jaime/Y/N interaction, but you know me and my series ;) I like to develop relationships between the reader and someone else, other than just who she’s paired with!
Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. As usual, I hope you all enjoyed!
AGAIN, remember if you’d like me to continue this series, just leave a little comment or an ask letting me know. I will NOT continue the series if no one wants me to.
Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.
Pairing: Jaime x Stark!Reader
Based off of: Game of Thrones 01x01
Your reflection stares back at you, the frown on your lips evident. Your eyes trace the linings of your face, the intricate braids upon your head that cascade downwards into long H/C waves. The dark brown of your dressed line with small designs crafted by someone with a careful hand. It’s tight around your chest, cinched at the waist before it puffs out and flows around your legs.
You hate the reflection that stares back at you. The future that awaits you.
The news of the King’s visit to Winterfell traveled fast, and instantly, preparations began. Food, drinks and rooms were prepared for your guests while you and all your other siblings were dolled up in appearances for the royal family. Jon Arryn had died, you’d heard, and now King Robert was travelling to Winterfell, where your father was warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell.
It could only truly mean one thing. He wished for father to become his hand.
But the letter that had arrived from Kings Landing at hinted to more than just that. There was the proposed idea of the King’s son, Joffrey, marrying your younger sister, Sansa, to conjoin both house Stark and Baratheon. She’d been told of the news, or at least hinted towards it, and the smile on her face had been contagious. Every girl her age, some even older or younger, wanted to gain the attention of the Prince and you knew it made Sansa feel special that she might be that girl.
However, a marriage proposed for you had also been suggested. More demanded than suggested like Sansa’s and your heart had nearly plummeted to the pit of your stomach when you heard of who you were meant to be wedded off to. Jaime Lannister, the Queen’s twin brother, who was also nicknamed Kingslayer. Maybe it was his nickname, maybe it was the clear distaste in your father’s voice as he said his name, or maybe it was simply the fact that the man was much older than you were that made you dread your future with the man. You were only seventeen and the idea of marrying a man nearly double your age both confused and frightened you.
But when it came to the King, you didn’t have much of a choice.
You weren’t excited for the King’s arrival like your younger siblings. Instead, you dreaded it. That’s why you were hid in your room, simply staring back at your own reflection, lost in your thoughts.
A small nudge to your thigh pulls you from your thoughts however. Your gaze lowers, chin tucking in as your eyes fall on that of your dire-wolf, Antheia. A faint smile falls on your lips as your hand rises, gently falling on top of her fury head, scratching the dark brown and white fur. You remember when Robb, Bran, Jon and father had arrived home with seven pups. Six for each of the Stark children and a pure white one just for Jon.
When Robb had delivered your pup to you, he’d said he’d specifically chosen it for you. You’d scoffed at his words, rolling your eyes at your twin brother but he’d professed the story to be true, going on and on about how he knew that that dire-wolf was just the one for you. Eventually, you’d gone along with it. Because who knew, maybe it was true.
You’d instantly grown attached to the little pup, and even now, just a little while later, she was much larger then she’d been when you first got her. She was fiercely loyal to you, and you loved the way she followed you around everywhere. A constant friend by your side.
With a whine, Antheia turns to your door, causing your brows to furrow. She paws at the door gently while you watch on in confusion, until you hear the faintest sound of footsteps and a knock resounds on your door. You smile slightly at her keen senses, pushing yourself up to your feet. “Come in,” you call, making your way towards the door.
You expect it to be mother, probably to chastise you on hiding in your room and leaving it to the last second to arrive outside. But, as the door opens, it isn’t your mothers face that you see staring back at you, and rather Robb’s as he pokes his head in, a grin on his lips.
You roll your eyes at him; “mother tell you to come find me, didn’t she?”
“Of course she did,” Robb laughs, stepping into your room. “You really decided to push it to the last second, haven’t you?”
Shrugging your shoulders, you glance back at your vanity before grabbing your cloak off of the chair. As you wrap it around your shoulders, tying it off at the neck, you continue to speak. “She’s stressed,” you sigh, “and when she’s stressed, she places all responsibility on my shoulders. Can you blame me for hiding from her?”
Robb steps back, letting you walk past him out your bedroom, Antheia following closely behind, before falling in line next to you. “No,” he says earnestly, nodding your way. “Because father does the same with me.”
“It sucks being the oldest.”
“Can’t disagree with you on that one.”
The two of you share a laugh, falling in step with one another as you make your way through the halls of your home and outdoors to the courtyard. Along the way, your eyes fully catch sight of Robb’s appearance and you let a small smirk fall on your lips. “I see mother made sure you looked all prim and proper for the Queen.”
“All of us,” Robb shrugs, scratching at his cheek absentmindedly. “Jon wasn’t too happy to have his hair messed with.”
You let out a giggle, rolling your eyes. “He’s more picky with his hair than I am.”
Just as you finish speaking, the two of you reach the courtyard. Instantly, and before Robb can reply, you’re both hurdled forward by your mother. She sends you a narrowed look along the way and you smile faintly, eyes pleading in apology. As Robb falls to his spot next to father, mother only shakes her head at you, her grip softening to a comforting touch before ushering you forward. Without fault, you fall in your spot next to Robb, beside Sansa.
“Where’s Arya?”
Turning your gaze from the gates, you turn towards your mother, catching the worried look in her eyes. It’s then you notice the absence of Arya on the other side of Sansa.
“Sansa,” mother calls, voice sharp. “Where’s your sister?”
She simply shrugs in response.
Just then, little Arya comes running by. Before she can make it to her spot, she’s stopped by father, pulling her back in front of him. “Hey, hey, hey, hey,” he calls, “what are you doing with that on?” You smile softly at the sight of her little head swarmed by the large helmet on top of it, one of which father hastily pulls off, shaking his head at his youngest daughter. “Go on.”
She groans in response, eyes narrowed, but as she catches your gaze, you send her a small wink. It immediately causes a grin to fall on her lips, skipping over to her spot.
And just like that, the first horse rides through the gates. The first few guards are soon followed by Joffrey, the King’s son, who lets his eyes wander across the people before landing on your sisters. You bite your lip at the sight of her cheeks warming and her small, but rather giddy smile that instantly erupts upon her face. When you turn back to Robb, he seems just as displeased, if not more so.
A carriage arrives soon after, followed by the King himself. You barely pay mind to the King, your eyes too focused on finding your soon to be husband. You know very little about him, except of his golden locks and looks that you’ve heard plenty of girls, including your own handmaidens, rave on about.
You have to bow before you can get a very good look, the King slowing to a stop on his horse before crawling off of it’s back with the help of his servants. When the King finally falls to a stop in front of your father, three twitches of his fingers signals you all to arise, and following your father’s lead, you easily do so.
“Your Grace,” father greets, bowing his head.
There’s a moment of stilled silence as the King lets his eyes wander across your father’s figure as he pleases, before resettling on his gaze. Bluntly, he states; “you’ve got fat.” And it takes you by surprise, blinking as you have to desperately fight back a laugh. It wouldn’t do well to laugh.
With a twitch of his brows and slight tilt downwards, your father raises a brow. To which the both of them let out a loud laugh, embracing one another. When the King pulls back, he turns to your mother with a bright grin, move to hug her as well. “Cat!” He exclaims, to which your mother greets him respectively in return.
He ruffles Rickon’s hair before turning back to Ned. “Nine years,” he sighs, “why haven’t I seen you? Where the hell have you been?”
“Guarding the North for you, your Grace. Winterfell is yours.”
You frown as your attention is caught by the Queen, stepping out of her carriage and her narrowed, wandering eyes judge your home. Instantly, you feel distaste flood you at the sight of her.
“Who have we here?” Blinking, you turn to find the King stood in front of your brother. “You must be Robb.”
With eagerness to impress both the King and his father, Robb takes the King’s hand in his own, shaking it firmly. An instant flood of nerves floods you when the King’s eyes land on you. You’re not sure what you’d expected him to say or do, but silence certainly hadn’t been it. The moment the King’s eyes land on your own, he all but freezes, eyes stuck on the figure of you.
You shuffle slightly, uncomfortable under the mans heavy gaze as you glance over at Robb nervously. He seems just as confused.
“She takes after her aunt,” your father speaks up, pulling your eyes on him as he keeps his gaze on that of the King, nodding. “In both looks and spirit.”
“Aye,” the King mumbles, voice soft as his eyes trail across your own. “You certainly do.”
He’s moving on to your sister before you can say anything in return. You find yourself stunned with silence, blinking. Your fathers comment and the King’s reaction takes you by surprise and an uncomfortable feeling swallows you completely.
-
Jaime sees you before you do.
Unlike you, he’d been told of your appearance. He’d been told what to look out for after he’d practically demanded it. He had no idea why he was marrying a girl your age, nearly half his age, nor did he know why he’d been stripped of his title as part of the Kings-guard.
In the end, he hadn’t had much choice or say. The King was still the King, and no matter how much Jaime may despise it, it was out of his control.
You weren’t hard to spot. At least, not at as hard as he assumed he’d must of been. As soon as he’d rode in through the gates of Winterfell, he’d spotted you from afar, your neck stretched out desperately as your eyes wandered across the crowd. With his large golden helmet, it’s no wonder you couldn’t find him. And for a moment, he simply sat there, atop his horse, letting his eyes wander across your figure.
You were young. Even if Jaime had already known you were the young age of seventeen, to see it stare him back in the face was completely different. Your eyes were innocent, untouched by the evils of the world. Jaime felt no love in his bone as he stared at you, but he couldn’t deny this odd sense of protection that flooded him. It confused him greatly at first, baffled by the feeling, until he saw Robert approach you.
With a look you no doubt did not understand, but Jaime did, Robert had all but let his eyes wander across you openly and appreciatively. It was true, you did look startlingly like your aunt, even more so then you did your own mother. And it was that realization and thought that filled Jaime with dread, Robert’s reaction only adding fuel to the fire.
The Capital was cruel. The people there even more so. If this arrangement truly was meant to follow through, Jaime knew you would be corrupted by Kings Landing. But staring at you now, with bright doe eyes and a soft smile on your lips as you engaged in a conversation with your brother, hushed so as not to be disrespectful, Jaime knew he would put all his focus and strength into making sure that never happened.
He would never let anything corrupt or hurt you.
That thought is only enforced when your eyes finally do manage to meet Jaime’s. You hadn’t been looking for him that time, desperate to avoid the harsh glare of his sister and upon the way, you’d found him. You instantly knew it was him by the brief description of him you’d been given. That, and the fact that Jaime had already been staring back at you.
You almost looked fearful, Jaime realized. So young that you didn’t, or rather couldn’t, truly understand the implications of what was being forced upon your shoulders. You were brave and feisty he could tell, by the way you didn’t back down. But there was still that part of you that shuffled closer to your brother, hiding behind him in just the slightest.
Jaime’s emotions were mixed, confused. He’d never felt anything of the like towards anyone else but his sister. This protective side of him could also be passed onto his family, because he would always place them first and above all others. But this... this was different.
Before he could dwell on it much longer, his sister appeared by his side.
-
“I missed you at the feast.”
“Yes, well, you know your mother.”
Biting your lip, you sigh at Jon’s words. Pushing yourself up off the wall, you collect the ends of your skirts, carefully making your way over to him. “Mother’s wrong,” you mumble, meeting your brother’s gaze steadily. “She’s always been when it comes to you.”
Jon simply frowns down at you, his shoulders falling at your words. And you stare back, hugging yourself for comfort. You’ve never understood your mother and her hatred for Jon. Part of you understood it, but at the same time, the more rational side of you, couldn’t fathom how she could hate a motherless son. Treat him like truly was no more than a Bastard.
“I heard that you are to be wed to Jaime Lannister.”
Your frown deepens at Jon’s words, gaze lowering. “That is the plan, yes.”
“I’m sure it will be okay, Y/N,” Jon whispers, in attempt to comfort you, you’re sure. But all it does is fill you with more dread. You’d hoped, during the feast the night before, you’d be able to speak with Jaime. Get to know him a little, but he’d seemed preoccupied the entire night. And when a chance had opened, he’d approached your father. A conversation, which, seemed none too pleasant.
You knew it was your duty, but the idea of marrying a man you did not know and had never spoken to... well, you just couldn’t imagine it. You wanted to marry for love and... “I don’t want to leave here,” you sigh, finally meeting Jon’s eyes. “I don’t want to leave Bran or Rickon. Robb... I don’t want to leave you. If I could stay, I would...”
A look washes over Jon’s eyes, one that causes you to forget your own troubles for a moment as you frown up at him.
“Y/N,” Jon calls, his voice hesitant. “I haven’t told anyone, but I plan to leave for the wall with Uncle Benjen.”
You blink, surprise flooding you. “Oh...”
Jon nods, scratching the back of his head. “I--”
“You don’t have to explain yourself, Jon,” you interrupt softly, smiling encouragingly up at him. “I understand. You know I do.”
With a small, weak smile, Jon nods.
“I guess we are both planning to leave then,” you add afterwards, a soft chuckle leaving your lips. “Giving up our names to a vow.”
“I’m not all that upset to forget the name, Snow.”
“You’re a Stark,” you correct softly, meeting your brothers eyes knowingly. “You know you are. You’ll always be a Stark to me.”
Once again silence falls over the two of you as Jon smiles sadly down at you. Stepping forward, his hand falls on your shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze before pressing a kiss against your forehead. Your eyes fall shut at the action, before he pulls back and you watch him walk off.
Left to yourself, you turn, staring out at the courtyard. Nothing will ever be the same again.
-
Another part?
Let me know what you thought!
Also, this is inspiration from @reader-imagines‘s story, Vow. It’s pretty amazing and hundred percent how I came up with the idea of doing this story! So check it out.
#game of thrones#game of thrones imagine#got#got imagine#series#game of thrones series#jaime#jaime lannister#jaime lannister x reader#jaime lannister imagine#jaime imagine#jaime x reader#my fics#imagine#imagines#nikolaj coster-waldau#corruption of innocence#coi
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Madeleine x Leo (ARM Stand Alone)
Summary: This wraps up the storyline for Madeleine x Leo storyline in A Royal Mess
**This is the last stand alone for the A Royal Mess universe**
Word Count: 2108
Pairing: Madeleine x Leo (past tense), Madeleine x Nash, Katie x Leo (past tense)
Rating: Angst, longing, closure
Tag List: @chiarace @grimalkjn @jyreusser85@hopefulmoonobject @enmchoices @indiacater @captain-kingliamsqueen @katurrade @darley1101 @zilch3@sleeplessescapades @bobasheebaby @mrsdrakewalkerblog @lynn1214 @umccall71 @drakelover78 @thequeenchoices @stopforamoment @lauradowning29 @lodberg
Madeleine walks over to the hedge maze, seeing Leo and the twins over there. She hasn’t seen Leo in months. She smiles, seeing what the press has been talking about, that Leo acts lighter, that he’s happier since his divorce.
She’s been meaning to come see him since she’s returned from Turkey, but between the various tabloid stories and her recent test results, time slipped passed her.
It’s Caroline that sees her first and takes off running towards her. Her light brown curls bounce as the space between them close. Much to Katie’s dismay, it didn’t matter how many dresses you put Caroline in, she was determined to be outside with her dad and brother.
She throws herself around Madeleine’s waist, “Aunt Madi! I missed you!”
She looks down at the young girl, smiling brightly, “I missed you too Care. You can just call me Madi now.”
“Oh yeah,” she kicks a rock, “But I like you better than Aunt Riley.”
Madeleine shakes her head, “Hey now, you have to give her a chance. I’m not going anyway babes.”
“Promise?”
“Promise!”
Caroline practically drags Madi over to her father and brother, “Daddy! Noah! Look who I have!”
Leo snaps his head up and towards her before he looks back down. His heart begins to pound against his ribcage. He wasn’t sure where they stood; they had a moment before Asher was born and then she ran off to some exotic place and met some exotic guy. She’d been back for nearly two months and had rarely left Fydelia.
“Aunt Madi!” Noah runs over to her, hugging her tightly.
“It’s just Madi now, duh.”
“Oh. But you’re still come over right? Especially to our new house?”
“New house?”
Leo finally looks up, making eye contact with Madi. “Liam was saying that some of the old duchies could use revamping. So, you’re looking at the newest Duke of Mirandola,” he shrugs.
“And I’m the newest Lord!” Noah cheers.
“And I’m Lady Caroline,” she flips her hair off her shoulder, causing Madi to giggle.
“Can I speak to your dad alone, please?”
The twins hug her once again before running off into the maze to play. Leo gestures towards a nearby bench, both taking one side of the bench, leaving space between. There’s something different about her, but he can’t put his finger on it.
“How was your trip?” He looks away, “Seemed like you had a good time.”
“It was…” she pauses, chewing her bottom lip, “needed. I just needed to get away from everything.”
“To get away from me as well?”
“Leo,” she wants to place her hand on his knee, but hesitates.
“I came back and you were gone, Madi.” He stands up, running his hands through his hair, “I thought…I thought we had a moment.”
“We did, but,” she discreetly rubs her belly, “It’s just wasn’t enough.”
He knows that in a minute she’ll come up behind him and hug him. She always did, no matter how they were going to end up leaving things. Just like it would always be his job to protect her, even if it was from himself, it would always be her job to heal him. When her arms finally wrap around him, he lets the tears fall down his face, finally realizing what exactly it is that he’s losing. His soulmate. His true love. His better half.
“I love you, Madeleine,” he turns around, placing his arms around her waist.
“I love you, Leo.”
“I’ll never stop loving you,” he places a soft kiss on her forehead.
“I know.”
She wipes the tears from his cheeks, her heart breaking knowing this isn’t completely what she wants, but it’s exactly what she needs.
* *
It’s a busy day at Mirandola, not only has Lord Noah just gotten married, but Duke Leo is stepping down. Giving his son the title of Duke to take the country through a new leadership. Leo has been running the small nation for the last twenty years, starting just months after he and Katie’s divorce finalized. Through his leadership, this small nation started to thrive again, gaining not only redemption in Cordonia’s eyes, but also his brother’s; the one who he wanted to prove himself to the most.
“Feeling old yet?” Liam pats his brother’s shoulder, “Your oldest just got married, is taking over the duchy, going to start a family.”
“Do you, brother? Isn’t Eleanor’s social season coming up? Remember how you and Riley were?” Leo teases back.
“I can’t believe she’s already twenty-two, seems like yesterday she was squeezing my finger for the first time.” He pauses, “And Lilly will be twenty shortly.”
“When did they grow up so fast?” Leo looks over at his daughter, Caroline. She looks more and more like her mother every day, but she has his drive, his passion for life. Noah decided to engage in the royal lifestyle, he spent his college years with his Uncle Liam learning the ins and outs of international relations. Caroline however wanted to use her status to help instead of lead; Leo watched her get involved in Animal rights, women’s rights and fighting for equality for all.
Due to his duties, Noah ended up meeting the daughter of a French diplomat. Noah and Yvette were the ideal power couple, Leo knew he was leaving Mirandola in great hands. Yvette instantly grew close to Caroline, helping her make ways in her causes as well as becoming adored by Mirandola.
“Can you believe just yesterday he wanted to play pirates and eat chocolate pudding for every meal?” a soft and familiar voice says.
“And the only girl he’d hug was Caroline because all the others had cooties.”
Katie leans her head on Leo’s shoulder as they look over at the newly wedded couple. They have had their differences throughout the years, but this moment could only be shared between the two of them. Watching one of the reminders of their once love, being with the woman he loved.
“We did a decent job with the twins, ya know? It wasn’t how we expected, but still.”
Leo smiles, watching Caroline and Noah walk over to them, “Yes, yes we did.”
* *
The festivities are coming to an end, everyone being retiring to their rooms in the duchy.
Katie and Damien walk down the halls with their children; Asher, Eli and Wyatt, the twins and Rosie. Liam and Riley along with their daughters, Eleanor and Lilly make their way to their room, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to spend a few nights away from the palace. Liam knew Leo would need his family around. Noah escorts Yvette to their town car, their honeymoon awaiting them.
Leo sighs, for the last twenty years he’s dedicated all his time to the small nation of people he ruled over as well as his two children. But on nights like tonight, having that one person to talk to wouldn’t hurt.
“Daddy! There you are!” Caroline slides next to Leo on the balcony.
“Hey sweetie, what are you up to?” He drapes his arm around her, pulling her close to him.
She cuddles close to him, she’s missed her father. With her busy schedule, she’s not at home much anymore which is hard for her, she’s a huge daddy’s girl.
“I was just checking up on you.”
He chuckles, “Isn’t that my job?”
She shrugs, “It’s just…well, you never dated after mom. I figured tonight might be hard.”
He looks at his daughter, trying to figure out when she got as wise as she was. She wasn’t wrong, it was hard seeing so many couples and not being one. When he first started ruling Mirandola, he attempted to date. He even let Liam try to set him up a few times, but they just wanted to say they’d be with the abdicated crown prince. He knew he brought this upon himself, the playboy reputation, he just wished people could let that reputation mature like he has.
“I wouldn’t change anything about my life, Care. I had a wild youth before you and your brother. More adventure in those years than most get in a lifetime.”
“Was mom your soulmate?”
He smirks, “I loved your mother very much, I still do have love for her. But no, she wasn’t my soulmate. I found mine, a long, long time ago, but the thing about soulmates is sometimes you realize they’re your soulmate too late.”
“I just don’t want you to be lonely.”
“I have you and your brother. He and Yvette will bring me grandbabies. Maybe you too one day. I’m far from lonely, my dear.” He presses a kiss to her temple.
“Well…then you won’t be mad that I invited someone to come see you.” She motions for someone to join them and Leo’s heart stops when he sees her, “I’ll give you some time alone.”
The years have barely touched her, just a few wrinkles from motherhood rest on her skin. She looks absolutely stunning to Leo.
“I hope you don’t mind Caroline invited me.”
“No, not at all. You…you look amazing.”
“Thank you,” blush colors her fair skin, “You look good as well.”
“Let’s go in and sit,” he motions her inside.
“Do you mind if we sit outside?”
“After you.”
The pair walk through the ballroom before exiting into the small garden area of the duchy. There’s a small pond with a bench nearby that they sit on.
“How have you been? How’s Lark?” Leo found out about Madeleine’s pregnancy the same way the rest of Cordonia did: the news. Through the years part of him wanted her to come to him, to let him help raise the little girl. She had tried to make it work with Nash, they had been married for almost ten years, but neither could give up their lifestyles and soon their fantasy fell apart. Lark spent her summers in Turkey with her father and the rest of her time in Fydelia with her mother.
After her marriage ended, she stayed out of the court’s spotlight. She helped Liam and Riley with Valtoria and stayed on as their PR correspondent. She made a very nice life for herself and Lark, without the help of her father.
“Growing up far too quickly,” she smiles, “I can’t believe she’s nineteen. She wants to move to England, I don’t think I’m ready.”
“You did an amazing job raising her, Madi.”
Her heart flutters, it’s been years since she’s heard that nickname. “You did as well, with the twins.”
They sit in silence; the sound of crickets fills the air around them. It’s not an awkward silence, but the kind you have when you are comfortable with someone. Madeleine looks down at her watch, realizing its later than she thought.
“I should be going now,” she begins to stand up.
“Stay.” The word wraps around her like a weight, pulling her back down.
Suddenly she’s panicked, how many times should this word have been said? How many times would it have prevented heartbreak if either of them had simply just said it. He had wanted to say this to her all those years ago, when he first told her about Mirandola, but something about her told him not to. She wanted to tell him that a lifetime ago when she found out she was pregnant right before he abdicated, but she couldn’t.
They spent several lifetimes apart from each other. Maybe it was time to try, time to stop pushing life before each other. They have both lived their lives without each other, raised their children, now it was time to be selfish.
“Leo,” she says, breaking the silence. He cups her cheek in his hand and pulls her chin up to him.
“Madi.”
She struggles to catch her breath, feeling intoxicated by his touch. He presses his lips to her, a familiar feeling that entraps her. Her lips move against him without thought, falling in sync with him effortlessly. The kiss deepens as she pushes herself into his chest, her arms wrapping around his neck. He picks her up, straddling her over his lap as he kisses down her neck. Her face burns with heat, the two falling into each other as if no time has passed.
“I never stopped loving you, Madi.” Leo says, pressing his forehead to her chest.
“I know.”
“Will you stay, please?” His voice cracks, “I’ve tried for years to be without Madi, I don’t know if I can keep it up.”
She places her hands on his cheeks, wiping the tears that fall.
“Then don’t, I’m not going anywhere this time around.”
#choices#pixelberry#rules of engagement#choices au fanfiction#the royal romance#leo x madeleine#katie x leo#Madeleine x OC
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