#jon snow fic
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ONLY YOU - JON SNOW
Summary: After being accused of wanting another woman instead of you, he makes it his mission to let you know that he wants you…and only you.
Warnings: This is all over the place but it makes sense in my head :D. Completely made up the last name for the sake of the fic. Now for real warnings - One (1) quickie, unprotected sex (be smart y’all), vaginal penetration, fingering, oral (female receiving), face-sitting., love-making ig, overstimulation, basically porn, very light touch of breeding, one (1) use of the word ‘whore’, marriage (yes that is a fucking warning but it’s not that complicated in this fic), feelings (ew), mild language, cheating accusations, mentions of not being able to conceive, one (1) very brief mention of Jon crying (yes this is also a warning)
A/N: Hello my darlings! My laptop is still being repaired so please bear with my shitty typing as well as possible typos. I just recently started watching GOT and I HAD to jump on the opportunity the second I laid my eyes on Jon…… considering that I’m only a few episodes in, I did not follow anything too canon considering that I don’t want the details to be too off.
Word count: 4.2k+ (this is the most I’ve written in forever LMAO)
not my gif!
Daenerys Targaryen. The most wanted woman of all in any of the kingdoms. She was undoubtedly envied by many, you included. You were a very close runner-up, but it didn’t help much considering your family’s constant comparisons between you and the younger girl.
You were nearing twenty-one and you had yet to be set for marriage, your parents frowning upon the idea that you wanted different things in life. Sure it might be nice to carry on your family’s legacy and become the heir, being their oldest of seven girls, but it wouldn’t be all that nice when you’d get threatened by others to give up your title as queen.
You’d met Jon when your parents had gone over to the Stark residence for a ceremonial dinner. He’d been out front, swording away at a dummy. You removed the flask from the garter that sat under your dress, sipping the bitter whiskey. You’d leaned yourself up against the wall, eyeing the dark-haired alpha as he blabbered away to his uncle Benjen.
He stole several glances, his tongue prodding at the inside of his cheek when he realized your gown parted more and more to allow some air under the fabric.
“I shall go with you when you leave, Uncle Benjen. My father will say yes - ask him!”
Trying your best to not eavesdrop much more, you began to wander off. His uncle couldn’t stop the perverse words that fell from his tongue. You glanced over your shoulder, shooting the older male a wink, careful as to not show too much of your face as he’d only seen your silhouette. He took off, heading into the castle to rejoice with his brother and several lords, leaving you in the presence of the young man.
“Tisn’t quite the scene for a lady. You should be inside with everyone else.”
“Nor is it the scene for the son of a lor-“
“Lady Stark requested that I didn’t join them for the dinner.”
“Oh, right. Jon Snow, is it? The bastard?”
You finally turned to face him, his eyes widening in their sockets.
“Honorable Y/N Burke. You shan’t be in the presence of an unwed man, young lady.”
“There are many things that I ‘shan’t’ do,” you mimicked air quotes. “But, you’ll find very soon, bastard, that I don’t care much about the things that I shan’t do.”
He eyed you for a moment longer, his sword firm at his side. You had yet to conceal your flask, offering him a sip before taking one of your own.
You watched as his eyes glanced over the way your lips encircled the opening, a drop of the liquid dribbling down the side of your mouth before your finger swiped at it, sucking the digit into your mouth.
Then he lost it.
He pounced on you in just a matter of seconds, groaning as your tongue mingled with his. The exchange of tastes - the whiskey warm with a mix of whatever sweetness you’d treated yourself to beforehand, and his bare whiskey. You could almost taste his musk but it must’ve only been the way his scent overstimulated each of your senses.
His hands, which had made themselves up to your face, dropped to your waist, pulling your lower halves together as he felt up on your body.
“Goodness- we can’t get caught, Snow.”
Your breath picked up into heavy pants, his fingers dipping into your undergarments as he swallowed all of your moans.
“Just be quiet, darling, and they won’t know a thing.”
He teased your clit with a grin plastered to his face. He yanked your underpants down, mimicking the move with his own clothing.
“Jon-“
“Sh, sweetheart-“
He hoisted you into his arms, not hesitating to plow himself into you. You bit down on your lower lip, trying to fight each moan from leaving your mouth. A high-pitched squeal sounded from your throat as his hand accompanied his rather vulgar pace.
“Fuck-“
“Remember what I told you, sweetheart,” he grunted into your ear.
His arm circled itself around your waist, stabilizing your squirming figure. His head tipped back, a groan sounding from his throat before his forehead met yours.
“Jon, fu-“
Before you could finish your statement, you felt the pulsating of his cock, his seed dribbling down your legs. He fucked you through his high, dropping his thumb to your cunt so you’d finally come around his cock. Your body shuddered as your climax hit you, your hands clutching onto him for dear life.
He pulled his garments back up once he’d placed you on the makeshift railing. You remained silent for just a bit longer until you broke said silence.
“Look, Jon- Lord…Snow, I’ve heard of your desire to leave this land and become a Night Watcher. I just….”
For once you had not much to say despite wanting to spew so much out.
“I know of your oath and the things you must accede to.”
“What are you getting at, Hon Burke?”
“If…if I am to carry your child, and I know the chances are slim because it’s only been once-“
“As you said, it’s only been one time. Don’t speak nonsense. This never happened. Are we clear?”
“But-“
He turned to you, helping you redress yourself with a sigh. He couldn’t miss the way your demeanor faltered just a tad, his own softening drastically.
“It’d be in both of our best interests to pretend that this never happened, sweetheart.”
And so you did as he said.
Despite wanting oh so badly to miss your menstrual cycle that month, it’d worked out for the best - you’d told yourself. You’d only known the lad for a few minutes tops but he remained on your mind for years following.
Upon his leave, you were devastated. Watching with teary eyes as the man you knew you wanted so much more with was leaving. Your mother watched as you quickly wiped a tear from under your eye, sniffling quietly.
Two years down the line, it was nearly impossible to avoid the fact that you’d have to step up and become queen rather soon.
“Mother, I am not stepping into that role until I get a proper proposal!”
“You’re too picky, Y/N! We’ve been waiting - for years, we’ve been waiting. You’ve gotten thirty proposals, all of which you’d turned down for the darndest reasons!”
“I’m not picky! I am awaiting someone that will settle for more than what the stupidity of this society offers. My king-“
“Has arrived.”
That voice. His voice.
Immediate tears were brought to your eyes as you found Jon standing in your doorway.
“J- Sir Jon Snow. Am I dreaming?”
“No, m’lady. ‘Tis truly I.”
You resisted every fiber in your body that urged you to jump into his arms and snog him right in front of your mother.
“Lady Burke,” he bowed.
Your mother offered a tight-lipped smile before leaving the pair of you to catch up.
“I didn’t think I’d see you for another ten years.”
Your smaller arms pulled his body into yours, embracing his warmth despite his cool armor.
“Jon,” you hummed, nuzzling yourself further into him.
“Y/N,” he copied your actions, smoothing his hand over your hair. “I couldn’t do without you for much longer.”
“Really? That’s hard to believe considering how quick you left after fucking me,” you quipped.
“I’m sorry, darling. I truly am.”
You met his lips in a soft kiss, your fists clenching around his coat.
“How’ve you been holding up?”
“I’ve just been dandy.”
Lies.
“Sort of glad I didn't have your child.”
Lies.
“Tried to get back out there after you left.”
Lies.
His arm tightened around you at the last of your statements.
“Tell me, Hon. Am I marrying a whore?”
“‘Marrying a whore’?” you were flabbergasted. “One - never call me a whore again. Two - who said we are to be wed?”
“Me.”
The simplicity of his statement baffled your mind.
“You? My father would never let me-“
“Marry a bastard. But, darling, as I remember, you’d told me something two years ago. You don’t care about the things you shan’t do and that shall include claiming me to be your king.”
“Well, why do you wait, my lord?”
He held you tight to his chest with his pupils blown.
“Tell me you’ll be mine, sweetheart. This is my proposal to you. We shall leave this land and rule our own kingdom together.”
“I do accept your proposal, my dearest, but I believe it isn’t that easy.”
“Nothing is easy, especially this. If your father is to deny our marriage and your leave, we shall go nonetheless.”
You grinned up at him, shaking your head as you laid your head on his chest.
“Then I shall marry you, my king.”
As expected, your parents didn’t have the merriest of a reaction when it came to notifying them of your leave with the man who’d notoriously been known to be a bastard. They were disappointed you wouldn’t be running their kingdom but they were relieved to see that you were finally off to be married. They hesitantly approved of the young man’s proposal, sending you off with him.
On your ride to your new castle, miles from your parents’ kingdom, you couldn’t help but question your husband-to-be.
“Why did you leave?”
He eyed you.
“The Night Watch. Why did you leave, Jon?”
“I know my status as a bastard would’ve done me well over there but I couldn’t take it. Being away from you, my family. It was eating at me day and night.”
“Then…why’d it take you two years to come back?”
“I didn’t know how to tell them I’d be leaving. It took me a long time to muster up the courage for that.”
You allowed yourself to remain silent until he placed a hand on top of yours.
“I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I regret ever setting myself up to be away for the rest of my life, but now I’ve got you and that’s all that I need.”
“You sure have a way with words, don’t you?”
His lip quirked into a gentle smile, his hand squeezing yours with tenderness.
In just a couple of weeks, you were settled into your new home with your husband. It was now time to host several dinners and welcome all to your land. You were beyond ecstatic but it wasn’t until the guests actually arrived that you became wary of those around you.
Daenerys had made quite the entrance into your home, every one entirely forgetting that you existed for a moment. The Khal trailed behind her, offering head nods to those that personally greeted him.
Your heart stammered in your chest beyond your control. You isolated yourself from the crowd, tears cascading down your cheeks as your breathing grew jagged.
Your husband seemed to be infatuated with the platinum blonde-haired girl. You couldn’t blame him but it was killing you. He hadn’t torn his eyes from her, nor did she. She seemed to eye Jon for a bit too long, keeping great eye contact with him as she bowed.
“No need for that,” he chuckled, greeting Drogo with a firm handshake.
He waited for you to greet the couple, not sparing a glance at your seat until he hadn’t heard your voice whatsoever.
“Y/N?”
Chatting and eating resumed, Jon’s leg bouncing anxiously. He watched like a hawk, eyes wandering about the crowd.
“Lord Snow, I don't think Lady Snow is feeling all that well.”
Upon hearing your name, you wiped the last of your tears, seating yourself at your husband's side yet again.
“Darling, what’s the matter?”
He held your face in his palm, eyebrows furrowing at your puffy and reddened eyes.
“Nothing, my lord.”
You spoke the words with such harshness that it pierced his heart.
“What-“
“Ah, Lord and Lady Snow! Why don’t you make a toast?”
“I don’t think-“
“Of course, Benjen. We shall give a toast!”
You stood with your goblet, Jon staring at you with confusion clear in his features before standing on his own two feet.
“Thank you all for coming tonight. Lord Snow and I are delighted to be sharing such a special moment with you all. We wouldn’t have wanted it to be spent any other way. Jon?”
He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on you as he spoke.
“I’m sure I’m supposed to be thanking you lot but if it weren’t for my beautiful wife here, I wouldn’t be standing in front of you and for that, I thank her. I thank her for trying to understand me, for being the greatest human on earth, and for standing by my side regardless of what. I’ve known the shame of being a bastard for my whole life but she’s willing to bear the embarrassment of being wedded to me.”
His speech went on and on and on. It didn’t seem to end but your heart fluttered at his words. He grasped onto your hand when you turned away from him, your eyes catching Daenerys’. You shook those pestering thoughts from your mind, repeating ‘stop it, stop it, stop it’ over and over in your head.
That had only been the first of many instances, though.
You were distraught. It’d been months since you and Jon were lawfully wedded yet it seemed as if you couldn’t conceive. Your parents were applying pressure, sending ravens to your kingdom every day after, asking when you’d bear children.
After a dinner you’d put together at your castle, you lost it. Jon had spent nearly three hours lingering near the Khal and his Khaleesi. For only two minutes, he held you at his side while conversing with the couple. You’d shimmied yourself from his arms, entertaining the younger Stark children.
Robb had witnessed the way in which you embraced your inner child, chasing the kids around as they screamed their heads off. You shooed them away with a motion of your hand. With a hand on your hip, you watched them run off, your heart aching at the thought of never having children.
“Any luck yet, m’lady?”
Robb chuckled as you flinched in the slightest.
“My goodness, Robb. No, no luck yet. However, we already have names picked out, as well as runner-ups for godparents.”
“Oh really?”
You playfully rolled your eyes, spinning to face the brunette.
“If you’re so desperate to hear it, then yes, you are a candidate for our children’s godfather.”
He took your hand into his, landing a kiss on your knuckles as you giggled endlessly.
“I knew you always loved me,” he dramatically expressed.
You raised a brow, badgering him, “Say that with caution, Stark.”
“Or what? Lord Snow will behead me?”
“I might.”
The older boy wrapped his arm around his brother’s neck in a cub-like embrace.
“Goodness, Jon. Leave your brother be,” you scolded him, watching as his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer.
The dinner was called to an end rather soon, but a few of your guests straggled about - Khaleesi Daenerys amongst the few. Your eyes were like daggers as you watched Jon converse with the younger girl. You were drawn from your thoughts the moment Robb placed his hand on your shoulder.
“Now, Y/N, I am well aware that you think my brother is mad over this woman - or at the least, having an affair with her. But I can assure you, nothing of that sort is happening at all. He’s only trying to make am-“
“I’d like to hear that from him, Robb. If he’s just trying to make amends with the Khal and everyone then that’s on me. But it doesn’t help that the Khaleesi is that fucking gorgeous. She has these big doe eyes that scream ‘help me’ or ‘fuck me’! I don’t know which one it is but I’m afraid that Jon will play the hero and be the one that fulfills any of her needs.”
You were seething in the corner with Robb at your hip. He tried assuring you repeatedly but you were quite a stubborn queen.
After everyone had left for good, you wasted no time in heading straight to bed. You wanted to avoid Jon to the best of your ability but you simply couldn’t outdo the king. Before you could step foot out of your bedroom with your things in hand, Jon stepped in front of you. He backed you into the room, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he shut the door.
“What’s your problem?”
You tried to not break under his intense gaze, your eyes bouncing from his own to everywhere in the room.
“What is your issue, Y/N?”
His voice was too quiet for your comfort.
“Are you…having an affair with Daenerys, Jon?”
The words that left your mouth sent a genuine fit of laughter racking through his body.
“Are you being serious?”
“Answer the question.”
His laughter died down, his body gravitating towards yours.
“Of course, I’m not having an affair with Daenerys. What makes you ask this?”
“The way you look at her kills me, Jon. When she’s here, it feels like I don’t exist! Why do you think I disappear for hours on end- you know what - you don’t even realize that I’m gone because you’re too immersed in your interactions with her! It’s-“
His hands found themselves on either side of your face, forcing you to look at him, though gently.
“If I was having an affair with Daenerys or anyone else, do you think that I’d be in the same bed as you every single night? All of those things I said about you months ago were nothing but true. You were probably too busy being upset with me to hear most of it but I don’t want anyone else. I want you and only you.”
“Then why do you look at her the way that you do? There’s so much compassion and-“
“I look at her that way because I feel bad for her! She talks to me because she feels as if she can’t trust anyone else, not even her own brother. I’m sorry that I ever made you feel less important. You’re the most important person, the most important thing in this world. I care for Daenerys’ well-being but I don’t care about her the way I care about you. I love you and I know I don’t say it enough but I do!”
He panted as he read your face.
“So you’re not cheating on me?”
“No, and I never will! I only want you, Y/N Snow. Only you.”
His lips met yours, your shoulders falling as relief washed over you. You allowed your hands to get lost in his hair, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist as your lips moved in tandem.
“Tell me you love me.”
You hadn’t noticed the few tears that stained his cheeks until he spoke against your lips, your heart aching in your chest.
“Jon, my darling, I love you more than you will ever know.”
His arms tightened around you, lifting you from the ground as he pecked your skin.
“It seems as though I have to make up to you for the rest of my life,” he chuckled against your skin.
“Sweetheart, you loving me alone is enough of an apology.”
He laid you gently on the bed, undoing your bodice in an impressive amount of time. He held back no longer, suckling on the skin that was graciously presented to him.
“Jon,” you hummed.
He imitated your actions, putting a ministration to his movement once he’d reached your underpants. After kissing, biting, sucking on your skin, his lips were red and plump. They met yours again, the taste of whatever wine you’d been drinking just hours prior still lingering on your tongue.
He worked his hands into the sides of your underpants before pushing them down your legs. You whimpered against his tongue as his fingers stimulated your clit.
“Darling,” you gasped out, his fingers dipping in and out of your cunt.
He used a leg to pry yours apart, reveling in your angelic sounds. He propped himself up on his other arm, hand holding his head. With your hands tugging at his clothing, you pulled him in even closer.
His face disappeared into the nape of your neck. The way in which he breathed against your neck caused your skin to crawl.
His nose nudged at your jawline, a dumbstruck grin taking over his features once he felt your walls pulsating around his digits. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the next words that flew from his mouth.
“Lannister had told me he imagined you sitting on his face long before my proposal. I nearly slayed the son of a bitch until I realized you weren’t mine then. Why don’t you come on my face, sweetheart?”
“W-what?” You stammered out - half shocked at the proposition and half processing the fact that he was still fucking you with his fingers.
“My pretty girl doesn’t want to sit on my face?”
He jutted out his bottom lip, on which you pressed a kiss, uttering an ‘I do’. Your legs squirmed a bit more until you came. Your back arched off the mattress as you gasped and cried out. He slid his fingers into his mouth, his eyes locked on your blissful features.
“You taste heavenly,” he murmured, wiping his saliva-slicked fingers off on his bottoms.
His words made your cheeks heat up, using whatever strength you had to push yourself onto your knees.
“Are you sure about this, Jon?”
“A million times over - yes, I’m sure about this.”
He laid himself down, your legs trembling as your cunt hovered over his face. He brought you down in seconds, not being able to resist the temptation.
His tongue expertly worked your cunt as it’d done several times before. Sitting on his face, however, brought a new sense of pleasure to you - his nose bumping your clit every so often as the entirety of your cunt grew soaked. The mix of his saliva and your release sent you spiraling once more, the core in your lower half tightening before you could say anything.
His tongue softly fucked your desperate hole, a glass-shattering moan sounding from within. You couldn’t hold back any of it. You needed to let the whole damn castle know that your king was treating you right.
“Jon!”
One hand dropped to his hair, the other fondling your breast. Your eyes dropped to his, your body giving out at the sight of his disheveled hair and his eyes just begging for your come.
Your body shook gently as you came in his mouth, eyes screwing shut once your head had lolled back. You’d lifted yourself off to the side, your husband chuckling at your already fucked-out state.
“How was that?”
His fingers traced patterns on your skin as you came down from one of your many highs for the night.
“Fuckin’ amazing,” you breathed out, your arms reaching for him once he’d brought himself to his knees.
You watched as he undid his bottoms. The intense eye contact he held with you was a telltale sign that you needed to help him out of his clothes before he exploded.
“I won’t be rough tonight,” he whispered.
You bit your lip, feeling the burn of his gaze on your face as you undid the buttons of his shirt. Your insides grew fuzzy, becoming giddy at the fact that this was truly your husband. No one, nothing could ever take him away from you.
He stood nude before you, pressing his back to the headboard before patting his lap. You climbed onto him in a matter of seconds, your hands already stabilizing themselves on his shoulders. Your knees bent at either hip, legs akimbo to appease his girth. You pumped him a few times, running his tip up and down your fold before sinking onto him with a cry.
“Has it been long, my darling?”
You nodded, offering an airy chuckle as you struggled to take all of him.
“Gods, I’m beyond s-“
You hushed him with a kiss on the lips, your hips beginning to rock back and forth once you’d hit his base. His hands fell to your behind, your back arching as he hit that spongy spot inside of you. His name left your mouth like a mantra, chants of ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ following right after. Your mouths found one another in a slobbery mess, a clash of teeth and tongue as the rutting of your hips became more desperate.
“Stop apologizing, my lord. I- holy shit, I love you,” you choked out.
“I love you, sweet girl.”
His forearms held onto your waist, using this as leverage to thrust himself further into you.
The pace of his hips, the words exchanged, the looks on both of your faces. Just outside your door, guards exchanged knowing glances, clearing their throats at the sounds that came from the both of you. They seemingly grew louder, Jon taking the opportunity to let the words flow from his mouth - “I shall put a baby in you tonight.”
And so the night proceeded. Jon didn’t let up until you physically couldn’t go for another round, making sure none of his seed left your womb.
It was a relief to know that your king, your lord, your love wanted you and only you.
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Legacy of Fire (series masterlist)
Summery: Vaeloria Targaryen's life journey. How a girl who grew up as the only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell hidden away in Dorne, life change when she discovers she was in fact Vaeloria Targaryen all along after all.
Warnings: Cursing, death by sword, death by fire, death by hanging, war, humiliation, betrayal, violence, use of the word bastard, incest, angst, fluff, burning, threatening, future smut, P in V, fingering, cunnilingus, scissoring, blowjob, handjob, anal sex, girl x girl, boy x girl, boy x boy, dragons
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
#house of the dragon#house targaryen#hotd#house of the dragon imagine#hotd imagine#game of thrones#game of thrones oc#game of thrones daenerys#game of thrones au#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones fic#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones smut#jon snow smut#jon snow x reader#jon snow fanfiction#jon snow series#jon snow fic#jon snow#jon snow imagine#jon snow x oc#jon x daenerys#daenerys fanfic
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Chapter 1 Heir to the iron throne
Chapter 1 of Sandstorm
A/N- First chapter I hope you guys like it!
Warning- Y/N has a son, swearing, death and blood, talks of sexual assault, fluff.
Pairing- Jon Snow x Targaryen!fem-reader
Episode- 7x02 & only the beginning of 7x03
(Let me know if you want to be tagged)
————
*21 YEARS AGO*
“Mother, when is father going to return?”
He has been gone for months now, you can’t seem to recall what he told you last, but you know you miss him.
“Soon,” your mother assures you and tucks you in bed. “I swear.”
It was always the same answer. Vague, “he’s fighting a war.”.
“Now, Little Sunspot,” your mother continues softly and sits at the other end of your bed. “It’s your turn to pick a story for tonight, so what will it be?”
Without a moment of hesitation you beam at her and give her your answer. “Tell me the story of Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters.”
“Oh no!” Rhaenys whines from her side of the room. “Not that one again, Visenya, pick a different one!”
You pull your blanket over your mouth and snuggle under your blankets. “That’s mine and fathers favorite,” you mumble and then look at your mother to bat your lashes. “Please mother, tell it!”
Your mother offers you a sweet smile and nods in agreement. “I will, but I must warn you, I am not as good as Rhaegar is at telling it, but I will try my best.”
——
Home.
What a fickle thing. Home is as some say where your own family is. But for the 21 years you lived at Sunspear with your family; with your late uncle Oberyn and his daughters you thought of as sisters, and with your late uncle Doran and his son, both of them brothers to your mother, both beloved uncles, it seems you could never find such belonging amongst them.
It would be a lie to say you didn’t feel peace and happiness at Sunspear. Because you did. Yet it’s that sense of belonging that you’ve always craved and missed.
It’s a belonging you hope you’ll find here in Dragonstone, your family’s ancestral home, amongst the only living relative you still have from the House of the Dragon, from your fathers side of the family. Amongst your aunt Daenerys Targaryen.
Your great reunion has been a long time coming, years perhaps, but time only seemed fitting now. Especially since it’s not until recently that she herself has arrived back home, at Dragonstone.
A place you were born at and left a long time ago, a place you did not recall in any of your memories.
Coming upon it in the clouds seems so surreal, like a dream maybe, a faded one. It was a lot grayer than you imagined, colder; but that’s maybe due to the fact that you’re several hundred feet in the sky—The ocean's waters are darker as well; a lot more than the ones at Sunspear. It was strange, truly.
Dragonstone seems a lot smaller too—or seemed a lot smaller, but as you began to descend from the sky the castle became larger. Not only that but now that the clouds didn’t hide you anymore something else came to view, three dragons. They all looked dark and small, but the more you began to descend the larger they got, the more you can see their colored scales.
There was a green one like the green fields of grass, but it seems it’s also mixed with bronze. There was a cream and gold one, smaller than the other two. And the third one was larger, a beautiful black dragon with red mixed within it as well. And without fault all three of them screech, sing their song as they catch sight of Eraxis, your beautiful white She-dragon descend to the sand in front of the castle gates.
All three of them circle Eraxis as she lands. And Eraxis just watches them before she sings, a loud echoing and sharp song.
Once you climb down her and hit the sand, you can’t help but smile at her and caress her neck. “It is alright girl. It’s okay, they're family.”
Eraxis turns her head and tilts it before she looks back up to the sky as the dragons keep circling her.
You look up and smile at the three dragons before you drop your eyes to the sand beneath your shoes, and slowly crouch down to scoop up some of the cold sand in your hand and watch each grain drop out between the gaps between your fingers. You proceed to dust off the sand and rise up again until you hear a soft thump on the sand behind you.
“Welcome home,” you break your silence and begin to grin a soft smile. “Rhaenar.” You look back and meet the pair of dark brown eyes of your son.
Said boy lets out a small breath and looks up the castle gates to slowly examine it and watch the guards that stood in front of them. “It’s cold,” he mutters and buttons the top button of his shirt as if that would make any difference
You sigh softly and nod. “Quite is. Come on, let's get inside then.”
Rhaenar drags his hand along Eraxis as he follows you to the gate, but hesitates to depart from her as you reach the guards.
“I’ve come to see the Queen,” you tell them.
The guards eyes shift over your shoulder and land on the white dragon who watches them intently.
“Don’t worry,” you assure him. “She won’t do any harm.”
The guard's eyes shift back to you before he shifts to push the doors open, finally letting you see the long and grand stairway that leads up to the castle.
“Come Rhaenar,” you tell the boy who you know has probably only moved an inch from the dragon.
“And if she does not like us?” He asks in a timid voice that let his Dornish accent come out even after he tries to hide it.
You sigh and turn to reach him. “You do not have to worry about that my Sunspot,” you assure him. “Okay? She is family, your grandfather's sister, it will take some time to get used to one another but I am sure she will love you.”
Rhaenar lowers his gaze and nods, letting you smile as you cup his cheek. “And do not hide your accent, what would your uncle say?”
“Targaryens do not talk like me, mother,” he mutters and fists his hands.
You scoff. “Who said that?”
Rhaenar goes quiet, so you grab his face with both hands and press him. “Rhaenar, tell me.”
“Myself, books I have read about our family,” he whispers.
You sigh. “Oh my sweet boy, we talk how we damn want to, no one can tell us otherwise. Not books of old dead ancestors. Be proud you are part Dornish. That only makes you more fierce than any other Targaryen.” You smirk and brush the strands of hair out of his face. “Come. Let’s go.”
You turn back to face the gate and offer him your hand, but he just scoffs and shakes his head.
Now without any more delay and falters, both Rhaenar and you walk up the long stairway, catching Eraxis now flying overhead, keeping her distance from the other dragons flying in the sky. You can see the grand castle getting closer and closer.
Yet, before you can reach the castle gates, an army of unsullied, and tall, dark and muscular men in fur garments walk out and meet you halfway.
“Halt there,” a slender and tall man orders, causing you to do as he said.
“I have come to see the Queen,” you inform him. “I am…family.”
“Doubtful,” you hear a familiar voice interject between the crowd of men. “Who are you…” the moment the men part to the side to let him meet you halfway, the tiny man trails off and looks at you in shock and yet a puzzled look.
You scoff in amusement and smile mischievously as you instantly come to recognize the short man. “I am sorry, Lord Tyrion, it seems the last time we met, my hair was a different color.”
The small man hums and loses the confusion and now looks more serious. “Y/N Sand. Prince Oberyn’s daughter. I thought Dorne was not meant to get here yet.”
You shake your head. “No, but they are on the way, I,” you glance up at Eraxis and smile, “flew here.” You glance down at him. “And my name is not Sand. I am Princess Y/N Targaryen Martell,” you reveal yourself. “If you want to get technical, my true name my father gave me is Visenya, but well…I’ve grown accustomed to my new name.” You sigh. “I am the niece of your Queen. I have come to meet her, to join her.”
Lord Tyrion studies you for a brief moment with doubt lingering in his stare, making you smirk.
“Do you wish for me to prove myself to you, my Lord? Wash my hair? Bleed my veins, or tell my dragon a command?” You retort.
Lord Tyrion sighs and shakes his head. “No. Please none of that. I was just trying to progress the fact that a supposed dead princess is standing right in front of me.” He counters.
You swallow thickly. “I was never presumed dead, was I?” You ask rhetorically. “Nevertheless, I have no reason to lie, nor am I, Eraxis can prove that.”
Tyrion looks up at the white dragon and watches her as she keeps circling the area.
“Well,” Lord Tyrion says and meets your gaze. “Greetings Princess. It is very nice to finally meet you.” He offers you a faint smile. “Now please if you don’t mind please hand your weapons over.”
Usually parting from your weapon is a condition you don’t like to follow, but in this case it’s only fair, besides these large handsome men didn’t seem like they were going to let you pass if you didn’t follow orders.
“Rhaenar,” you say and hold a tall man’s dark gaze as he watches you unsheath your weapons. “Hand over your weapons.”
Without arguing, your son does as he’s told and hands his sword and daggers to the men, leaving you to bend down to unsheath the daggers you have hidden under your dress.
“Dothraki, I assume,” you comment as you keep holding the man’s gaze with a sly smirk.
“Yes,” Lord Tyrion confirms. “The Queens warriors.”
You stand up to your given height and catch the tall, dark man smirking at you as he takes your weapons. You then smirk back at him.
“Follow me,” Lord Tyrion breaks the tension and pulls your gaze back to him. “The Queen is already waiting.”
When you walk inside, the soldiers that had come out to greet you continue to follow you inside. They surround Rhaenar and you, and don't let you take in your surroundings very well.
“I do pardon for such a cold greeting,” Lord Tyrion interjects. “We just don’t know the true intentions of you or your…dragon.”
You scoff. “Do not worry, Lord Tyrion, I understand.”
“Tyrion,” he corrects you. “I am not the Lord of anything now.”
“My apologies.”
“It’s alright,” he assures you and brings his army of men and you to a halt in front of big black doors that lead to only one obvious room, the Throne Room.
Now it’s closer than ever. The moment you have dreamed of since you found out about her being alive. Beside your son Rhaenar, she was the last piece of family you have remaining from your Targaryen bloodline.
Her….
Let’s just say that happiness isn’t the most powerful feeling you feel now. Rhaenar senses that it seems, your nerves, and reaches for your hand to give it a gentle squeeze.
You look down at him and offer him a soft smile before you secure your hold around his hand.
Before the doors can be opened, Tyrion asks for your name and titles. It’s only after you give it to him that the guards begin to push the doors open, letting the gray dimly lit throne come to view.
As you proceed to walk inside, you see her. She’s sitting so poise on that stone throne at the end of the room. You see the color of her silver-white hair that matches yours. You see her fancy black garments and her red cloak elegantly hanging off her chair. You see her pale face, her blue eyes. You see her, your aunt, the Queen. She’s there, she’s real.
“Princess Y/N Targaryen, Princess of Dorne, and Daughter of late Prince Rhaegar Targaryen,” Tyrion announces as you keep slowly walking inside.
Now you notice a bald man, a man you know as Lord Varys. You catch his gaze narrow, and see him take a slow step forward as if fascinated by your presence. You then don’t fail to notice the Queen's face twist to something you can read as disbelief and…anger.
“Prince Rhaenar Targaryen, son of the princess.”
You come to a stop before you can reach the unsullied guards standing in front of the steps that lead to the throne, and let go of Rhaenar’s hand to curtsey; while he bows to the Queen.
“My Queen,” you say and return your gaze back on her as you stand up straight. “It is an honor finally getting to meet you.”
“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of house Targaryen. Rightful heir to the Iron Throne, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains.” A woman with brown skin, and dark curly hair announces the mouthful of titles that must be a pain in the ass to see each time.
Nevertheless, Queen Daenerys holds your gaze and retorts. “I am sorry I am not rejoiced by your presence. Until now I had no idea you were alive.” She slightly raises her eyebrows as she seems to pierce her glare in you.
You scoff in amusement. “That’s good, it means my uncles did a good job in hiding me from the world that wanted me dead,” you rebuttal confidently and pass a discreet glance at Tyrion. “But I do swear to you on my fathers memory that I am who I say I am. I mean…if I wasn’t would I have come flying on a dragon?” You smirk. Yet no one else finds it so amusing.
“You have no reason to believe me,” you continue. “But I do know people who know of me.” You glance over at Lord Varys standing a bit a ways from the Queen, and make her gaze drift to the man.
“Lord Varys, can you attest to her word? Can you prove that who stands before me really is a niece I have thought long dead?” She asks and looks at you.
The Lord slowly steps forward and stops at the top step to study you from closer.
“Yes, I can,” Tyrion speaks up and walks to the top step. “I can attest to her word. I have met her before. However, back then she went by another name.”
You scoff and nod. “Yes. Back then I went by Sand. I was just another bastard daughter to my uncle Oberyn Martell, but it was for my own safety. After all, it is his family who wanted me dead.”
Tyrion nods and accepts your accusation. “Yes. It was my family.”
You clench your jaw and let out a deep sigh.
“Her uncle died for me,” Tyrion continues. “He was a good man. That is why I trust her word.”
The Queen slowly stands up from the chair and begins to head your way, yet she stops at Tyrion’s side. “If it is you. If you do have a dragon, where have you been this entire time?” She asks you.
You clasp your hands in front of you and part your lips to speak, but then Lord Varys speaks up before you could. “She was hiding, by her uncle's demand. Sworn to keep her identity a secret until the right time came. As was I.”
The Queen shifts her head to the side to look at her Lord.
“She is who she says she is. She is Princess Visenya Targaryen, daughter of your brother Rhaegar Targaryen. She is blood of your blood, My Queen.”
You shake your head and correct them. “No. It’s Y/N. Not Visenya. Not anymore.”
The Queen begins to glare at the man for a second before she finally returns her gaze to you and begins to step down the steps to meet you halfway.
She then continues to study you, to check out the gold dragon scale corset over your red dress, the golden rings on your fingers, the golden snake around your bicep. She looks at your silver-white hair probably trying to see if your hair color was actually real and not fake, or if you were actually real or not. Her eyes then shift to Rhaenar for a brief second before returning to look at you again.
You don’t do anything, you let her take her time, and take this time to study her too; to realize how beautiful she is, how tiny she is as well now that she’s not sat on the throne.
“Who might you be?” The Queen breaks her silence and looks back at Rhaenar.
Said boy bows and then tries his best to once again hide his Dornish accent. “I am Prince—”
You clear your throat to correct him, making the Queen glance at you in confusion before returning to look at your boy.
“I am Prince Rhaenar Sand, your Grace,” he shares in his normal voice, and this time you glance at him slightly concerned since he refers to himself as Sand.
The Queen scoffs softly and her lips are just faintly showing a smile. “Sand?” She questions.
Rhaenar nods. “I am a bastard,” he tells her, making you sigh.
“And like I have told him before,” you interject. “That does not matter. That does not change who you are descended from.”
Daenerys nods. “Your mother is correct,” she agrees in your defense. “You are still the blood of the dragon aren't you? You are a Targaryen first and foremost.”
Rhaenar shrugs. “I suppose.”
The Queen offers a soft laugh before she looks at you. “Let’s take a walk.”
You nod, and without a fault when you walk out, the curly headed woman, the Unsullied, and the Dothraki warriors follow you out and walk behind you like lurking shadows. It’s something you have never grown unaccustomed to after your years of being somewhat free in Dorne.
“What’s your dragon's name?” The Queen asks once you’re out of the castle and walking up a stairwell that leads to some place you can’t see yet.
“Her name is Eraxis,” you share with a faint smile.
Queen Daenerys eyes snap to you, and you catch her surprise at your comment.
“Your dragon is a female?” She questions.
You nod. “Yes. She is. Or at least that’s what I like to say, I don’t think we can really place a gender on a dragon.” You smile.
The Queen nods. “Yes, I suppose we can’t.”
A screech sounds from the sky before Eraxis flies down past you. Both the Queen and you look up to watch her, to admire how her white scales glimmer like diamonds against the sun's rays; to watch as she let her large wings soared, and how her horned tail swung to the side as she flew up.
“She’s…quite big,” the Queen points out with an admiring smile. “How old is she?”
Once Eraxis passes, the Queen's black dragon flies past you to follow Eraxis up in the sky.
“She is fifteen,” You answer softly, and catch her swallow thickly before she brings you to a stop so you can watch the both of your dragons as they begin to twirl up to the sky together, like if they’re dancing. Like if they were familiar with one another already.
“It seems Drogon is quite taken by Eraxis already,” the Queen says. “That should be good.”
You rest your hands on the stone before you and nod. “It is. It means Eraxis won’t be alone anymore.” You look down to look at the Queen. “What are the names of your other dragons?”
The Queen drops her gaze and answers, “the green one is Rhaegal, I named him after your father.”
Your smile falters, and your eyes go soft.
“And the gold and cream one is Viserion, named after my brother, Viserys.”
Ah. Him. The youngest brother. The uncle you only have one memory of, and it’s not a pleasant one.
“If I may ask,” the Queen continues. “How was Eraxis born to you?”
The story is something you hardly know how to explain to make it sound sane. Yet it is one people ask for a lot.
“To be honest,” you laugh softly. “It’s going to sound funny, but…” you avert your gaze and begin messing with your rings. “…a dream…”
You hear the Queen's feet shift against the stone ground at the sound of your comment.
“…it was a dream I scarcely remember anymore. But it was of my dragon being born from fire and blood.” You let out a deep breath and slowly look up to once again meet her gaze. Now you notice her look slightly disbelieved.
“It was fate then,” the Queen interjects softly.
You shrug and smile faintly at your rings. “Perhaps.”
You could tell her what you did to have the egg hatch, every detail. You can tell her that even if you don’t recall every detail of the dream, you still have a fragment of it painted so it could keep your mind from clouding at that time.
Yet you don’t.
At least it doesn’t seem so fit yet. Instead you let the conversation drift, you let her continue to lead you up the steps. And it’s now that you can see you’re being walked to some green cliffs where you spot her two other dragons resting.
“I have heard a lot of great things about you, not only because I have made it my job to keep myself informed, but word travels. I am more than in awe, I am fascinated,” you share sweetly, and make her smile a lot more timidly.
Yet when you reach the cliff her smile begins to falter, a serious and almost threatening look paints on her face as she comes to a stop and faces the ocean.
“If you have been alive this whole time why have you not tried to take what’s yours,” she says seriously. “You have the right claim, you, my brother's last living heir.”
You look away from her and face the ocean as well to watch the horizon as you think of what to say. Something that would sound like you’re not lying. “There’s many reasons, one, I am a woman. My claim is not as strong.”
“But you have a son,” she cuts in.
You nod and peer back at Rhaenar, catching him watching the dragons with awe. “A bastard. In Dorne they might not be shamed, but here they are. They would never accept my son, even if he is my fathers grandson.” You sigh and face her. “There is also time,” you reveal carefully. “My uncle had a plan, we couldn’t just risk ourselves by flying down to Kings Landing and burning everything. We needed a lot of time, ally’s, and resources. I actually was meant to marry your brother, but,” you scoff with a playful smile on your face, and catch her stare. “Before the proposal was officially announced, well, we heard the news he passed.”
The Queen scoffs and smirks. “Maybe it was a good thing,” she interjects, making you slightly furrow your brows in confusion. “I loved my brother, but I don’t think he would’ve made a good husband. Especially not to someone who already had a dragon before him.”
You laugh softly. “Is that so?” You query. “Well I for one was quite excited. More so for the promise of seeing the family I thought I had lost.”
The Queen lowers her gaze before she goes serious again, letting you continue.
“Anyway, before much else could be done my uncle…died, and the dream died with him.” You swallow thickly and let out a deep sigh. “Albeit, I can’t say I ever shared his dream, that's another reason I haven’t tried to claim what’s “mine”. I never had a desire to rule. Not after what happened. That’s why I have not taken the throne, that’s why I am here. Why, I sent Dorne to ally with you.” You meet her gaze and raise your head proudly.
“I don’t want the throne for myself. I want to help you take it,” you share confidently. “I want to take back what is ours with fire and blood, I want Cersei to pay for what her family did to mine. I know,” you sigh. “You have no reason to trust me, but know that I am done hiding and tired of doing nothing. I want my son to be proud of me, I don’t want him to hide anymore either. I just want to help you, at your side, united like family. Just like how Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters did, together.”
Daenerys continues to look at you with a threatening and piercing glare, she lets out a deep breath and looks past her shoulder. And without saying anything both her dragons walk over, causing Rhaenar to step back. When her dragons stand behind her you see the same burning, piercing glare that their mother carries.
“If it’s true, bend the knee,” she orders in a menacing tone. “Swear to me that you nor your son will go against me, that you will fight alongside me and help me win this war to take back what belongs to our family. Swear to me, Y/N Targaryen, and you and your son will have a place in my court. You will keep your title as Princess, your son as Prince. If not….” She pauses and her dragons begin growl. Yet you don’t react out of fear, you hold her gaze and stay calm.
“…I would hate to consider my last living relatives as traitors.” She finishes.
You look back at Rhaenar, and he meets your gaze, and together without hesitation you get down on one knee and look up to meet her gaze. “I swear to you,” you assure her. “I swear I will have no ill intentions. I will not fight against you. I will fight at your side.”
Daenerys begins to smirk and continues to walk over to you to offer you her hand. You’re confused at first, but when you take it she helps you up to your feet and keeps you in front of her for a moment, before she pulls you in for an embrace.
You’re caught off guard for a brief second, but once you feel her grip tighten you return the embrace and clutch onto her with relief, and joy.
Finally after years, here she is. You’re finally together.
——
*THE NEXT DAY*
Nights were already hard to sleep. Returning to Dragonstone sounded like it could be a solution to your restless nights, to the nightmares that plague your mind, but the bitter night air made it harder. There was some reassurance in the morning when you woke up and saw that meeting Daenerys wasn’t some fever dream. She was real.
As slow as things are between her and you currently considering you only just met, she was a comfort, that instant familiarity. Plus, you shared the restless night and got to speaking about everything you were missing about her current progress of the war, you spoke of other mindless things until the sun broke the sky. After the sun started to rise from the earth, you shared a mutual craving and spent no time finding your dragons.
“What’s on Eraxis back?” Daenerys points to the saddle on your dragon's back as she lowers her neck down to the ground.
“A saddle,” you say slowly and find it surprising she had to ask. “I can’t ride her bareback, not anymore at least, I have the scars on my thighs to prove that,” you laugh softly and approach Eraxis to grab one of her many horns that align her neck. “It helps me steer her too. And since Rhaenar rides her with me, I had it made so he wouldn’t fall off.”
Daenerys approaches Eraxis and then glances at you. “May I?” She asks and points to your dragon's body.
You nod, and watch Daenerys turn and begin to smile at your dragon as she carefully begins to stroke a part of her neck.
“I find it quite easy to ride Drogon with no saddle,” she shows off, making you scoff in amusement. “Then again it’s not like I have had much of an education besides what feels natural, and the few books I did have.”
You hum and smile at her. “Well don’t worry, I am here now. I can teach you all I’ve learned about our family.”
Daenerys eyes drift to you and her gaze softens as a softer smile appears on her lips.
“Now,” you say playfully and begin to climb onto Eraxis. “Let’s fly, yes?” You smirk down at her, and Daenerys begins to grin before she rushes over to Drogon to climb on him.
Since this won’t be a long flight, you don’t bother restraining yourself on her, you just climb on your saddle and grab your handles before you speak to Eraxis in High Valyrian. “<Fly, girl.>”
Without hesitation Eraxis begins to run off the hill, and Drogon follows, creating thunderous stomps on the green hill until both dragons flap their wings and take flight.
At first Daenerys and you are riding side to side, glancing once at one another with playful looks as both dragons gain more momentum and fly higher. However, it’s once Eraxis reaches the clouds that you turn her to her side, exposing her belly to Drogon, before you then drift to the left to hide within the clouds.
Drogon calls out for Eraxis, most likely to know her whereabouts, but Eraxis stays quiet and flaps her wings, blowing air and clouds behind her before she twirls upward rapidly and shoots out above Drogon. Once again the black dragon calls out, and this time Eraxis responds. You then lift your body off the saddle to peek down, catching Daenerys urge Drogon forward so she could lead, instead of being right under you.
You grin at the action and push the handle forward, causing Eraxis to flap her wings harder and get ahead of Drogon with ease. Daenerys looks up and sees, and then as if they have been mentally communicating, Drogon flies up.
Before they both could lose them, you motion Eraxis to fly up as well. Now both dragons have their bellies exposed to one another as you all fly up.
The dragons screech, and you snicker before you lean forward and exclaim happily, “<Dracarys!>”
Eraxis blows out a cloud of fire, and as Drogon was going to approach it, you make Eraxis drift to the side so you both could then begin diving down.
Daenerys doesn’t notice you flying in front of her anymore until she’s past the fire cloud. And when she sees you and Eraxis diving down, she beams and makes Drogon do the same.
Since gravity is what is pulling you down, Daenerys and Drogon don’t take long to catch up, but Eraxis and you do end up beating her to the surface of the ocean water. Albeit before Eraxis could splash in, she instead flies up and only lets her body barely skim above the water, creating ripples on the surface as she flies past.
Drogon and Daenerys on the other hand drift to the side and he skims the tip of his wing in the water as he flies at his side. When he fixes himself he then flies at your side, letting Daenerys and you turn your heads to smile at one another.
Now as little as you have known one another, there was a sense of a connection no one else can understand. For the first time you both could share the joys of flying with another soul, for the first time it wasn’t just the two of you alone in the skies with your dragons. It was now you and her. Her and you. Together.
However, as you flew, as you got closer to the castle, you could now spot Dorne, Greyjoy, and Tyrell ships sailing to Dragonstone. Daenerys sees them too, but instead of flying above them like you, she flies ahead without you. Yet you don’t stay just above them for long, you instead fly to the first Dorne ship leading the way and stay flying by it.
And since only the people you were truly closest to, and a few trusted guards knew of Eraxis, those who didn’t gawked as they saw you on a dragon, and as they literally saw a dragon. Those who did know about Eraxis however, like Tyene, looked excited and happy to see her again. Your other sisters climbed out to deck to watch Eraxis too, but unlike Tyene, they watched with more calm and collected demeanors.
Once you landed on the sand to wait for them to get to shore, Tyene shares that same excitement for your dragon when she arrives. She didn’t even bother to greet you.
“Eraxis!” She exclaims and rushes past you to reach Eraxis. And since Tyene, Nymaria, Tyrstane, and Obara helped you raise her, Eraxis was comfortable around their presence and didn't fail to let herself get caressed.
“This is where you wanted to come to so badly?” Nymeria asks in a teasing manner as she and Obara approach you after they climb off the boat.
You look back at the castle gates and nod. “This is where I was born…albeit I do prefer Dornes heat, and the Water Gardens.”
“It’s very bland,” Obara doesn't hold back from saying.
You hum as you can’t help but agree since you are used to more color because of where you were raised.
“How is it going?” You hear your late uncle's paramour, Ellaria, ask as she approaches all of you.
You glance at her and swallow thickly before you speak. “Good. I’ve made peace with my aunt, we were just bonding.” You meet her gaze briefly, but can’t stand looking at her for too long because all you see when you look at her is her with a knife in your uncle's stomach; all you can see is his death, you remember him dying in your arms after you were too late to save him.
You remember pain and grief, and feel it all over again. Ellaria is only alive now because of the love your uncle Oberyn had for her, you only tolerate her because she's Tyene’s mother. Otherwise she would no longer be here.
“Rhaenar is inside,” you say and look back at your sisters. “He’s excited to see you all again. It’s as if he hasn’t seen you in months.”
Obara smirks at the mention, and before you could spend more time out in the chilly air they follow you inside.
——
*LATER*
“If you want the Iron Throne, take it,” Yara Greyjoy tells Daenerys, making her turn to face the table you're all gathered around. “We have an army, a fleet, and four dragons now. We should hit Kings Landing now. Hard. With everything we have. The city will fall within a day.”
You scoff to yourself and drop your gaze to the table.
“If we turn the dragons loose, tens of thousands will die in the firestorm,” Tyrion protests.
“It’s called war,” Ellaria interjects. “You don’t have the stomach for it, scurry back into hiding.”
You roll your eyes and proceed to lift your leg over the other.
“I know how you wage war,” Tyrion snaps. “We don’t poison little girls here. Myrcella was innocent.”
“She was a Lannister. There are no innocent Lannister’s,” Ellaria says, and to some degree you can agree with her. But not about what she did, not about Myrcella; like Tyrion said she was innocent, she was also never cruel, not to you, not to Rhaenar. You can understand Tyrion’s anger. Yet you can’t accept their bickering, not if you’re meant to be ally’s now.
“My great regret is that Oberyn died fighting for you,” Ellaria continues to spat, finally causing you to cut in.
“Ellaria, that's enough. Please. Tyrion is the hand of the Queen, you will treat him with respect.” Without bothering to look back you glance over at Tyrion and sigh. “More so because we both know my uncle died fairly. Tyrion is no one to blame for my uncle's carelessness. Besides…” you peer back to side eye her. “You would find it wise to try and forgive him just as I have forgiven you for what you have done.”
There is a bit of silence for a lingering second before Ellaria talks back. “Yes, Princess.”
You hum and let the meeting continue.
“I am not here to be Queen of the ashes,” Daenerys finally inputs.
“That’s very nice to hear,” Lady Olenna of House Tyrell interjects. “Of course, I can’t remember a Queen who was better loved than my granddaughter. The common people loved her. The nobles loved her. And what is left of her now? Ashes. Commoners, nobles, they’re all just children, really. They won’t obey you unless they fear you.”
You glance down, clasp your hands over your knee and let out a small sigh. “May I add something?” You interject and gain everyone’s attention.
“Go on,” Daenerys encourages you.
You sit back and share what comes to mind. “A century back, when our ancestors were fighting amongst each other in the Dance of Dragons…it’s those same commoners that raided the Dragonpit and killed our dragons.” You glance at Daenerys, and then at Lady Olenna. “And I know for damn sure that dragons were feared back then as they are now. Burning Kingslanding down will turn everyone against us. We have to be smarter. We have to make them fear us without killing the people.”
Daenerys nods in comprehension and pulls her gaze away from you to look at Lady Olenna. “I’m grateful to you, Lady Olenna, for your counsel,” Daenerys says. “I’m grateful to all of you. But you have chosen to follow me, I will not attack King's Landing. We,” she makes her word clear. “Will not attack King's Landing.”
You nod in agreement, but Lady Olenna on the other hand doesn’t seem so convinced.
“Then how do you mean to take the Iron Throne?” She questions. “By asking nicely?”
“We will lay siege to the capital surrounding the city on all sides,” Daenerys shares. “Cersei will have the Iron Throne, but no food for her army or the people.”
“But we won’t use Dothraki and Unsullied,” Tyrion adds after your aunt. “Cersei will try to rally the Lord of Westeros by appealing to their loyalty.” He begins to walk around the table as he continues to speak. “Their love for their country. If we besiege the city with foreigners, we prove her point. Our army should be Westerosi.”
“And I suppose we’re providing the Westerosi?” Ellaria questions,
Tyrion nods. “You are,” he agrees. “Lady Greyjoy will escort you home to Sunspear.”
You slowly begin to put your leg back and lean in as your interest is piqued.
“And her Iron Fleet will ferry the Dornish army,” Tyrion continues, “back up to King's Landing. The Dornish will lay siege to the capital alongside the Tyrell army. Two great kingdoms United against Cersei.”
“So,” Lady Olenna quips. “Your master plan is to use our armies. Forgive me for asking, but why did you bother to bring your own?”
Tyrion places down a dragon figurine that represents Daenerys and her people as he begins to explain and walk again. “The Unsullied will have another objective. For decades House Lannister has been the true power in Westeros. And the seat of that power is Casterly Rock. Greyworm—” you have learned that he is one the Queen's most trusted war advisors, and the commander of the Unsullied army, an old friend now to describe it better.
“…will dial for the Rock and take it,” Tyrion continues and knocks down a lion figure to place down the dragon, leaving a silence to linger thereafter as everyone takes in what was explained.
Yet, it’s you who breaks that silence rather quickly to comment on something else. “In regards to the upcoming siege on Kings Landing, I will meet up with them on Eraxis.”
Both Lady Greyjoy, and Ellaria turn their heads to look at you, and agree with their look alone.
Yet...“no, that would not be wise,” Tyrion interjects. “People still believe you’re dead, Princess. We can use that to our advantage.”
You scoff and argue, “what better way to reveal myself than to stand with my people? Cersei’s fleet will be there as well, I will fight with my people.”
Tyrion looks back at Daenerys to share a quick look before they look to Lord Varys, and all come to a speechless agreement.
“Go then,” Daenerys says. “When the day comes you can meet with the army and stand to fight alongside them.”
You offer her a kind smile and nod. “Thank you, my Queen.”
Daenerys offers you a nod herself, and then rather than letting the meeting proceed you share one more question.
“What about the North? Have we heard anything from the King?”
Lord Varys steps forward and responds this time. “No. Not yet.”
You hum and sit back to continue on the matter. “Well, as we well know, the North is made up of proud people. The Starks as well have just taken back their house, what will we do if they want to keep being an independent Kingdom?”
“You have dragons,” Lady Greyjoy interjects.
You scoff. “So did Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters when they wanted Dorne to pledge their allegiance to them. What did we do? We resisted for years.” You remind them.
Daenerys slightly narrows her gaze and questions your comment. “What is it you’re trying to say then?”
You begin to smirk and meet her gaze. “Well if they come on their own accord. Listen to them. I doubt they’ll come just to bend the knee, no, they probably want something. If they resist.” You pause briefly. “Then offer them a marriage proposal. What better way to unite the grand Kingdoms than through marriage of the Queen and King?”
Daenerys quirks her brow in disbelief to your suggestion, and Tyrion speaks for her. “That could work. Winter is among us. They will need food for their people, what better way to sway them than to bargain. It will be hard to decline.
Daenerys swallows thickly and interjects. “I hear you, Princess. I agree, but we will decide what to do when the time comes.”
You hesitate before you nod agreement, causing the silence to return for a moment before Daenerys continues to interject. “Do I have your support?”
Lady Greyjoy steps up first. “You have mine,” she adds.
Without hesitation you follow, “Dorne is with you, Your Grace.”
Lastly Olenna nods agreement, and with that this meeting is settled.
“Thank you all,” Daenerys ends the meeting. “Lady Olenna, may I speak with you alone?”
You get out of your seat and walk out of the room alongside Ellaria since you’re both going to the same place.
And it’s a quiet walk at first, you both wait for everyone else to pass by and get out of earshot first. Even then when you were approaching the hall your family was in, neither of you could right away say what you both had to say.
First actually, when you were reaching your chambers, you spoke to the guard bringing in your things. “How are my paintings? Did they make it alright?”
The Dornish guard nods. “Yes, my Lady.”
“Princess,” Ellaria corrects him. “Y/N is a Princess, you shall address her as such.
The guard looks nervously between her and you and immediately bows his head. “My apologies, my Princess.”
You shake your head. “It is quite alright. Go on please.”
The guard nods. “Neither your, nor the…Prince’s items got damaged.”
You offer him a faint smile. “Thank you,” you say and then continue to the hall.
This time Ellaria finds the courage to speak. “How can you not be angry? How can you even look at him after what he’s done to your family?”
You sigh and begin to mess with the rings on one hand. “You know why, Ellaria. He is not mine to make leave, nor is he at fault for my uncle's death. You have accepted the facts of his death. We were there that day, we saw.” You glance over at her, and she meets your gaze. “In regards to…my mother and siblings, it is other Lannisters I set my anger on. I suggest you do the same if you want to keep having a chair at that council, I can't let your anger get in the way.”
Ellaria lets her gaze linger on you as she scowls for a brief moment before she nods. “I will try,” she says.
You nod and offer her a faint smile. “That's all I ask,” you tell her before you open the hall doors and make yourselves known to your sisters and your son.
“Mother!” Rhaenar greets and breaks away from his fighting stance to run over and greet you.
You grin down at him. “Hello, my Sunspot, what have you been doing?”
He points back to Obara. “Aunt Obara and I were just training.”
You smirk and ruffle his dark curly hair. “Did she kick your ass?” You tease him as you make your way to the wine tray.
Obara begins to snicker. “He held his own for a few minutes. It is a much better improvement.”
You grab a cup and serve yourself some Dornish wine before walking over to sit with your back facing the fire so it’s easier to face your family. Whilst Rhaenar returns to Obara to pick up the stuff they had around them.
“Dorne will be part of the siege on King’s Landing,” you share with your sisters.
Tyene stands from her chair and begins to smirk. “Are we?” She questions. “Does that mean we can finally kill Cersei?”
You snicker. “I wish it were that easy. Albeit if all goes well, we will be one step closer.”
“Will you accompany us?” Nymeria asks.
You nod and take a sip of wine before speaking. “I will. Once you reach King’s Landing I will go on Eraxis and help fight the enemy fleet.”
“We will be done in no time then,” Tyene says cockily.
You smirk and nod in agreement. You then proceed to take a longer sip of wine, and when you set your cup down you share a thought you've had since you knew you were coming here.
“I have a proposal for you, sisters.” You sit up and look between the three of them. “After this siege, I want the three of you to join me in the fights to come. I want you to be by my side.”
“Like what? Your ladies in waiting?” Obara asks teasingly.
You scoff and shake your head. “Not quite. More so my protectors. I may have Eraxis, but one can never be so sure now that I am going to reveal myself to Westeros again. Of course only if you want, I won’t force you.”
All three girls look at one another, and Tyene looks at her mother before the three of them look back at you.
“I will join you,” Tyene says first. “Father would have wanted us to stick together. Besides,” she begins to smirk mischievously. “It seems there’s a lot of Dothraki men here I would like to get to know.”
You smile, and then look at Nymeria as she interjects. “I will also join your side.”
Lastly, Obara walks over to be in your pherial view and says her response. “I will also join you too, sister.”
“Yes!” Rhaenar exclaims as he runs over to be a part of the conversation. “Does it mean we won’t have to be apart?”
You glance at him and assure him. “Yes. Exactly.”
Rhaenar grins with excitement, causing Tyene to ruffle his hair whilst he turns to face Ellaria. “What about you aunt Ellaria?” He asks. “Will you stay with us?”
Ellaria draws in a deep breath and shakes her head. “No, little warrior,” she sighs. “I will have to stay with our armies. But I will come see you frequently.”
Rhaenar gets comforted by her response and then takes a seat amongst you all.
In the meanwhile you lift your cup of wine and offer a toast. “Thank you, sisters. And to our bond, may it only get stronger.”
All three of them lift their cups and Tyene is the one that interjects with excitement. “To us! And to our battles to come!”
——
*A YEAR BACK*
The doors locked. The windows are sealed.
Why—
Footsteps are approaching the door.
“Rhaenar?” You call out in hopes it’s your son. “Rhaenar, is that you?”
The footsteps stop and a thud sounds at your door. You run back to your door and try to open them again, but to no avail.
“Rhaenar?” You call again and try to peek through the doors creak. But there’s nothing there. You get on your hands and knees to peek at the creek below and see only boots.
“Hey! Let me out! Guards! Let me out!” You yell and jump back up to your feet. “What’s the meaning of this?!” You pound your fists on the door before you begin to kick it. “Let me out! Let me out! Let me out or I will feed you to my dragon!”
There's a shift at the sound of that threat. Yet the damned door remains closed.
“Do you hear me out there? I will feed you to my dragon,” you curse and step back to look around your room for anything that could knock this door down. “Let me talk to my uncle!” You yell as you search your room until you think of your daggers, and sneak over to snatch them from the chest.
“I will give you one more chance,” you sneer and tiptoe back to the door to pick the lock. “Open…” you pause as you hear the lock click. “The door,” you mutter before you throw the doors open, startling the guards that were for some reason placed outside.
“What's going on?” You demand to know from the guards as you point your daggers at them. “Where is my uncle?”
The guard to the right clenches his jaw and gives you an answer. “Go back to your room, Princess.”
You scoff and then lunge at him to throw him back to the wall and point your blade at his throat. “Tell me now,” you sneer and side-eye the other guard who keeps his hands out to show that he won’t hurt you. “What is going on? It’s only a matter of minutes I assume before my dragon comes to me. Should I throw you to her first? Or you,” you point at the watching guard.
“The prince's chambers, he’s there,” the watching guard spits out.
“See,” you scoff and drop your dagger before letting the guard go and stepping back. “Easy. Next time you disobey, I will make Eraxis eat you.” You offer them a sweet smile before you turn and storm over to your uncle's chambers.
And as you pass halls and step outside, guards begin to look at you weirdly, they pass odd looks between one another and give you second looks as they watch you storm past them. The closer you get to your uncle's chambers, the more suspicious they get. They even try to stop you, but you just ignore them and quicken your pace.
Once you begin to see the pool outside his quarters, the guards try to grab you, but you just swiftly slip past them without hassle.
“Princess wait!” One of them yells before you can turn the corner of the patio to reach your uncle's quarters. “Princess!”
He runs after you, and as guards around his pool see you approaching, they unstiffen from their stance and try to rush over to you. Yet you just run past them until you get to the steps of the deck. That’s when you notice the dead Maester and a pool of blood dripping down the steps. As you slowly look up you see Areo Hotah dead next to where Tyene is standing. Next to her is Ellaria pulling a dagger out of your uncle.
“No!” You immediately cry out and gain the attention of your cousin Tyene. “No!” You try to run over to him as he falls to the ground, but Tyene runs over to hold you back. “No!” You sob.
Your uncle Doran flips over and reaches his hand out to you. You try to pull away from Tyene, but guards then help her keep you away.
“When was the last time you left this palace?” Ellaria snaps at your uncle. “You don’t know your own people. Their disgust for you.”
Your uncle begins to cough out blood, but he keeps trying to drag himself away, making you try to squirm with more force to try and reach him.
“Elia Martell, raped and murdered, and you did nothing,” Ellaria spats out, causing you to hit the guards harder. “Oberyn Martell butchered, and you did nothing. You cloud your niece's head with that same ignorance.”
Your uncle flips over again and begins to pant.
“…You’re not a Dornishman. You’re not our prince.” Ellaria finishes spitting out.
“My son Trystane,” your uncle mutters.
Ellaria turns around and scoffs. “Your son is weak just like you. And weak men will never rule Dorne again,” she says spitefully. And finally the guards let you free so you quickly rush over to your uncle and fall down on your knees next to him.
“Uncle,” you cry and cradle him in your arms. “I’m here. I’m here. I will help.”
Your uncle groans, and slowly pulls his bloody hand away from his wound to cup your cheek. “My sweet y/n, you have the power to change the world, do not let vengeance cloud your judgment.”
You sob and shake your head. “I won’t, I swear to you,” you whisper, knowing deep in your heart that there was no saving him anymore.
He lets out labored breath and offers you a wobbly smile. “You have your mothers smile, you know that?” He whispers. “Smile for me, one last time, will you?”
A sob escapes your lips, but you muster a wobbly smile before he takes his last breath and drops his hand from your cheek.
“No,” you mutter as tears stream down your face, and your heart feels as if someone had just stabbed it. “No, no, no!”
“It was for your own good,” you hear Ellaria say from behind you. “Now you can come out of your uncle's shadow. You can finally fulfill your destiny and take back what is yours!”
You swipe your hands over your uncle's eyes to close them, and then slowly put him down.
“Now you can stop living in fear,” she continues.
You let out a shaky breath and drop your head, choosing to ignore her, choosing not to act out on your desire to stab her through the heart.
“Y/N,” she mutters and grabs your shoulder. “Now…” she trails off as the sound of flapping wings sounds from the sky only seconds before Eraxis reveals herself and lands down on the ground, only barely managing to fit her body in the courtyard.
You keep staring at the ground regardless and only hear her growl at Ellaria as she stands stiffly behind you.
“Sister!” Tyene cries out, but doesn’t move.
Eraxis breath slowly unfurls out of her nose, blowing back Ellaria’s dress.
“I watched my own mother die,” you whisper in a quivering voice. “Every night in my dreams. Of course I didn’t know what it meant then, I was only four,” you feign a laugh. “And well it was only fragments of her death, pieces I couldn’t place together. Not until years later. And now it lives over and over in my mind.” You stand up from the ground and let out a shaky breath.
“Do you want to know how that feels, losing a mother?” You ask Tyene, and turn, seeing Eraxis keep her eyes pierced on Ellaria.
“Please,” Tyene pleads to you.
“Do not hate your sisters,” Ellaria interjects, making your eyes snap to her. “They had no fault in it. It was all my doing.”
You swallow thickly and slowly begin to walk around her. “Yes,” you say. “I figured as much. Only you are capable enough to fill their heads with poison.” As you reach Eraxis side you pierce your glare on Ellaria as well, mirroring your dragon's same burning glare.
Ellaria scoffs and lifts her head with confidence. “Tell me what you would have done if I hadn’t killed your uncle?” She spats. “He was a plague. You would have kept hiding, kept dying your hair pretending you’re someone you're not, you would have kept hiding your dragon. You would have kept living in ignorance here. It’s time to wake up y/n!”
Perhaps she’s right. Perhaps you have lived your entire life in fear. But she still killed him. And you still couldn’t avoid it.
“I am only sparing your life because of Tyene,” you change the subject, and Eraxis begins to lose her scowl and begins to whimper and lean her head against you. “Betray me again and I will burn you alive.”
Eraxis pulls her snout out the deck and then lifts her head as you walk over to begin mounting her.
Once you’re on your saddle you grab your handles, and Eraxis flies off.
——
*NOW*
“Lower,” you tell Rhaenar and walk over to push his arms down a bit lower. “Pull your arms down.”
The boy sighs. “Uncle Oberyn said this way,” he tries to argue.
You nod and move back. “Yes, I understand, but there are many fighting styles, you have come close to mastering his way, now you must use different tactics,” you advise him and slide your foot back to once again stand in your fighting stance. “If you want to become a great warrior you must know much more.”
Rhaenar sighs and mirrors your stance. He then looks at your blade and lunges, but you quickly change your stance and swipe off his feet.
“That’s no—” Rhaenar cuts himself off and instead pushes himself to his feet.
You drop your head and laugh softly to yourself.
“You did better,” Daenerys tries to assure him as she watches him train—out of simple curiosity she said. “Less complaining this time.”
You chuckle before you turn around and watch the boy scratch the back of his head whilst he walks to grab a spear off the rack.
“Perhaps the young prince could spar with me soon,” Greyworm offers from the Queens side, as he too was curious to watch your morning training session.
You glance at the soldier and then at your son. “How does that sound, Rhaenar, hm? Maybe Greyworm will be a much kinder teacher than I am.”
Rhaenar turns with his spear in hand and offers the soldier a grin that goes from ear to ear. “Yes I would love it!” He exclaims happily.
Greyworm smiles faintly and nods. Daenerys smiles at the boy, and you part your lips to tell him something, but the door then opens and Tyrion and Qhono, the Dothraki Lieutenant, walks in behind him.
“My Queen, Princess,” Tyrion says, and gains the attention of everyone in the room. “Your guest ship has been spotted docking at shore.”
Daenerys nods in comprehension, letting The Hand turn to leave. Qhono albeit lingers and meets your gaze, making you smirk at him before you turn to face Rhaenar. Daenerys catches your interaction but doesn’t say anything about it.
“Go change out of your training clothes,” you tell the boy. “When you’re done go to the Throne room.”
Without argument Rhaenar puts away his sparring weapons and does as he’s told.
Before long you also go and change out of your training outfit, deciding to put on a long red dress that perhaps is too revealing for the chilly weather of Dragonstone. The long matching red cloak that attaches under the golden dragon scales on your shoulders provides some warmth, but then again you never much mind being too cold or too hot in something if it means looking good.
And sure, The King of the North wasn’t yours to impress, if it came to it it’s not you he’d marry, but you still do choose to show off your golden chained gloves that connects to your golden rings, and matches with the golden breast plates that was elegantly carved to go over the dress. You still didn’t choose to cover your exposed chest, or a part of your sides, or your arms. Because the truth is, if it were a choice to choose between armor and dresses, you’d choose the expensive and most beautiful dresses, even for dragon riding.
And well there is maybe Qhono that you are trying to impress.
“Come,” you call Rhaenar over once you walk in the Throne room.
Rhaenar sighs and lets you walk to where he was standing already.
“Your pin is all crooked,” you let him know and unpin the dragon pin to correct it. “There. Better. Handsome.” You pat his shoulder.
Rhaenar rolls his eyes out of embarrassment, making you laugh softly before you fix his hair.
“Mother,” he whispers sharply and pulls back to then glance back at the Queen.
Daenerys catches his embarrassed glance and shoots him a teasing smile.
“Fine,” you scoff lightheartedly. “I’ll go.” You then go and stand in your spot to wait patiently.
Once those doors open, the first one to walk in is Qhono, Tyrion, and Daenerys most trusted advisor Missendei of Naath follow, but you watch Qhono, as he watches you while he walks past you. You don’t notice the King of The North right away, not even when Missendei says all of Daenerys titles, you instead then look at your rings when Qhono is out of sight until you hear your name.
“…and the Princess Y/N Targaryen Martell, Princess of Dorne, daughter of late Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.”
You finally blink and look up, finally taking in the sight of the King of the North, and noticing that his eyes are already on you. They were on you for most the time he’s been in here but you didn’t notice, not until now.
Until now you see that he isn’t as tall as you imagined Northern men to be, he isn’t as musclary built, or as hairy. He’s quite small, more lean. His hair is dark, as dark as perhaps a moonless night. His eyes aren’t rough, they’re soft and a very pretty dark brown you can get lost in. He has soft features, scars on his face that he wears more than well.
The King of the North is handsome and breath-catching. Much to your surprise.
“And Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, son of the princess.” Missendei finishes introducing everyone that she needed to, leaving a very long silence as the King of the North looks at his advisor.
“This is Jon Snow,” the advisor reveals, letting said man glance at the Queen. “He’s King in the North.”
You smile at the introduction and once again catch the softened gaze of Jon Snow, the King of the North. His gaze lingers on yours, as your eyes linger on him. Neither of you dare to look away, it seems in a way you’re both too mesmerized. For that brief moment until Daenerys spoke up all that existed was just the two of you.
It was such a…weird and new feeling. One you never want to lose.
.
.
.
.
#Sandstorm#chapter 1#fanfiction#damn-stark#game of thrones#game of thrones fanfiction#got#got fanfiction#Jon snow#jon snow fanfiction#Jon snow x fem!reader#Jon snow x Targaryen!reader#jon snow x reader#jon snow x you#Jon snow x Targaryen!femreader#jow snow fanfiction#Jon snow fanfic#jon snow fic#dorne#Daenerys#oberyn martell#doran martell#elia martell#rhaegar targaryen#fanfic#tyrion lannister#missandei#Greyworm#fluff#angst
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Lookalike (II)
Summary: When Jon Snow’s name day arrives, Theon Greyjoy hires you as a gift for him. But will you awake feelings they’ve been trying to hide from themselves?
(The boys pretend you are Sansa)
WC: 3.3k words
Warnings: Canon divergence. Smut. Role play. Virginity Kink. Virginity Loss. Dirty talk. Prostitution. Gentle sex. Possessive sex. Oral sex. Cuddling.
You barely slept, too afraid of being found out by the servants, and woke up before any of them, collecting your things and hiding around for a while before walking up to Theon's chambers again, doing your best not to be seen in the corridors.
"You're late," he called the moment you opened the door, already dressed and with a full tub in the middle of his room.
"You said before the sun was down," you reminded him. "The sun is still up."
He rolled his eyes.
"Well, Jon and Robb are almost back, so you'll have to hurry," he pointed at the water. "Bathe and get ready, you'll surprise him after dinner."
You didn’t move waiting for what he was going to tell you to do, knwoing too well not to be defiant if you wanted your money.
“Get in the tub,” he pointed. “There’s soap. Make yourself smell nice, you know how to do that on your own, don’t you?”
You fought back a bitter remark. You were probably cleaner that his sweet lady Sansa. Whores were always taught to be as clean as possible, so clients wouldn’t have anything to complain about.
Still, you undressed, setting your things aside and bracing yourself for the cold water, surprised when you dipped your toe and found it warm.
“Don’t be surprised,” he spoke, and you looked up at his face, finding him scofing. “I’m not a cruel man, I wouldn’t make you get into a cold tub.”
You looked away.
“Thank you,” you stepped inside.
He sat down on his bed, tilting his head and watching you.
“I’m such a good friend, aren’t I?” he asked, smirking.
“Very generous, my lord,” you eyes him up and down, remembering his correction as you waited for him to leave.
He hummed along.
“Don’t be detained by me,” he smirked. “I’ll watch the show.”
You tried not to roll your eyes.
Men believed that just because of your work, you would want to be seen naked all the time.
Still, you tried to be be as methodical and through as possible, cleaning up everywhere to make your skin squeaky clean, and was just leaving to dry yourself when there was a knock on your door.
“Theon,” a man’s voice called. “Dinner.”
“On my way,” he stood up from his bed.
Still, he didn’t move, and waited until you were wrapped on the towel he’d left by your side to walk to the door.
“Finish there, put on the perfume,” he told you. “And go to Jon’s room.”
You nodded, and he explained the way to the room you were supposed to get into before dinner finished, leaving you all on your own.
Without his eyes over you, you dried yourself, and dabled the oil on your skin, trying not to exaggerate. A touch behind your knees and in your elbows, between your tits, and on the sweet spots of your neck, before you put your clothes on.
There weren’t any mirrors in his room, so you let your own fingers guide you through your braid, just doing something your mother always used to do in your hair before her death, and pinched your cheeks a little bit to have a little bit of colour on them.
The corridors were quiet as you walked down to Jon’s chambers - a little nicer than Theon’s, more spacious and clean.
It wasn’t in the family wing - which was common for bastards and wards - but his chambers were probably the nicest private chambers outside of it. Still, the place was fairly modest, tidied up, with his books and clothes all in their places.
You fed the fire and sat down on his bed, waiting, and resisted the urge to lay down as time passed. Once you got home, you’d probably have a long day of sleep.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door opened.
“I don’t understand why you want to-” Lord Snow argued with Greyjoy, who was following right after him, and stopped when his eyes fell on you.
“There,” Theon smirked, looking at you. “Now you understand.”
You sat up straight, and gave him a pretty smile, and he just stood there with a dumb look on his face.
Theon pushed him inside, and closed the door behind them.
“Happy Nameday, Snow,” he slapped his shoulder.
“Who is this?” he looked back at him.
“My gift,” he affirmed simply. “The sweetest and prettiest whore in Wintertown. And barely touched, I made sure of that.”
You kept your face straight.
Barely was an interesting way of saying it.
“Theon,” he tried to argue.
“Oh, lose up,” he slapped his shoulder. “She wants to be here!”
Before Jon could argue more with him, Theon opened the door and left, and it was just the tow of you inside.
“Milord…” you spoke softly, starting to stand up.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he interrupted you coldly, but you didn’t let yourself be defeated.
“Please,” you whispered. “We can just talk if you want to. I’m here to keep you company.”
Jon shifted his jaw, and you walked to him, touching his shoulders and taking off his cloak.
“I’ve fed the fire, the room is warm,” you whispered to him. “It’s your nameday, you shouldn’t be so stressed.”
He watched your face, looking wary, and you took off your cloak, turning your eyes to him when Jon inhaled deeply.
Was he afraid of you?
Maybe he was one of those men who didn’t like girls.
“Hey,” you spoke softly, cradling his cheek. “You know that no one has to know what happens tonight, right?”
Jon’s eyes watched you, a pool of grey staring into your soul.
“We can read a book and talk about it, or play catch, and when I leave I’ll tell your friend that you had the best time of your life,” you smiled, reassuring. “We don’t have to take our clothes off… I can even give you a relaxing massage without… you know.”
He blushed under your eyes.
“I’m not a child,” he argued. “I’m eight and ten.”
“A grown man,” you agreed. “I know. I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”
He looked at your face qwith a bit of surprise.
“I’m a woman of priciples,” your remarked simply.
Jon watched your face, seemeing to analyse you.
“You are a whore,” he noticed.
“I am,” you agreed. “Doesn’t mean I can’t have principles.”
He scoffed, and you waited as he watched you, licking his lips slowly.
“We can do anything?”
You nodded.
“Yes, “ you confirmed. “I can even pretend to be someone else, too.”
And that was when you knew you had gotten him.
“Alright,” he agreed, at last.
You gave him a sweet smile, and moved your fingers to undress him, and Jon watched you with flushed cheeks, and he only stopped you when he was already out of his shirt and wearing just his briefs.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked.
You nodded.
“Of course,” you assured him. “Whenever you want.”
You lowered your face to his - you were taller than him, at least a full head - and kissed his lips gently, cradling his cheek as you did, and was about to pull away when he grabbed you, pulling you closer again and kissing you once more, hesitant but hungry as he did so.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered into your lips.
“I am?” you asked, playing a little bashful act.
Theon had asked you to play a virgin act, but you knew this wouldn’t go through Jon.
“Very beautiful,” he looked at your face.
“Thank you,” you smiled, and looked down at yourself. “Do you want to help me undress? And see more.”
He swallowed down, looking at your body.
“I don’t…” he looked for words. “I want to see you, but… I shouldn’t…”
You smiled, realising what he meant.
He wanted you to strip in front of him.
Well, you were his gift, after all.
You stepped away from Jon, and took your hand to the front of your dress, untying it at your side, and pulled it open under his eyes.
His apple bobbed in his throat, and you just smiled as you let the fabric of the pretty dress slide off your arms, and folded it before setting it aside, standing proudly in your linen shift before slowly pulling it up, and up, and his eyes followed the rising hem until you just passed it through your head and tossed it away, standing fully naked in front of him.
His grey wouldn’t stop moving over your skin, as if he didn’t know where to look at.
“You’re beautiful,” he exhaled again. “Very beautiful.”
You stepped closer to him, and Jon reached for you slowly, touching the freckles covering your skin, all over you, and you watched him, licking your lips as his featherlight touches made your skin shiver.
“Can I touch you, my lord?” you asked.
His eyes darted up to your face.
“Call me Jon,” he corrected you. “Please.”
You nodded.
“Can I touch you, Jon?”
He licked his lips and nodded, and you reached for him, touching his chest, and he inhaled, eyeing your body hungrily.
Jon’s fingers reached hesitantly to your breast, and you made sure to sigh when his thumb grazed your nipple, almost afraid of touching it, and pushed your chest a little closer to his hand.
“You can touch me,” you assured him.
Jon raised his eyes to your face.
"I want to get to bed," he decided.
You just nodded, and let him guide you, expecting to take the lead as you sat on his lap, but Jon quickly flipped your positions and lied you down.
"I want to kiss you," he affirmed. "Can I?"
You frowned. He had already kissed you.
"Of course," you agreed, anyway.
He grabbed your face, kissing you hungrily, more confidently than before, body flushed against yours as you let him guide you, and you were breathless when he pulled away, quickly moving to your neck and inhaling your smell deeply.
He hummed something you couldn't quite catch, and you gasped when he nuzzled his way down your chest, kissing your breast and licking across your skin.
Jon didn't stop. Instead, he kissed your stomach and nuzzled into your belly button, and you were a panting mess when he spread your legs, settling between theem.
"You smell so good," he buried his face on your thigh, kissing his way up the inside of your knee.
You waited for him to say something or start fingering you, but gasped when he outrightly put his mouth over your cunt, licking you from your entrace to your bud, licking you up as he grabbed your hips, scooping you close to him.
No man had ever kissed your cunt before. It was something that you did with the other girls to get each other ready, or just have a little bit of pleasure - one of the girls joked that it was to take away the power men thought they had over her - in a quiet day. But no man had ever put his mouth on you like that.
“Jon!” you gasped, moving his hand to his hair, pushing your fingers into his fluffy locks.
He grabbed your thighs, holding you down, and all you could do was stare at the ceiling as you received pleasure, moaning and panting.
Gods, his mouth was amazing.
"All mine," he hissed into your skin. "Sansa."
Your eyes widened, but it was a little too hard to think of even asking him questions.
Did every man in this place want to fuck that girl?
Jon pulled away, seeming shocked at his own words.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I... I don't know what came to me."
"It's alright," you assured him. "I told you, I can be anyone you want."
He stared at your face, breathing hard.
“Do you promise?” he whispered.
You softened.
Poor Jon Snow, isolated from his family, pushed aside so much he desired love from his own half-sister like this.
“I promise,” you assured him.
You didn’t understand why he would be so scared. Who would take a whore’s word if you even spoke of this?
“Jon, please,” you spoke softly. “I want you.”
He stared into your eyes, looking for something behind them.
“Please,” you insisted.
Jon kissed your lips hungrily again before moving down to your body.
“I want to make you peak,” he declared. “I want to hear you cumming for me, Sansa.”
He moved right back into devouring you like a man starved, breathing in your scent, holding you posessively, and didn’t stop until you were crying out in pleasure, shaking as you peaked for him, arching your hips to his lips, riding out the pleasure he was so willing to give you.
"Jon," you shuddered, sensitive as you came down. "Wanna see you."
He looked up from between your legs, lower face covered in your juices, and you were almost driven mad with the sight, quickly pulling him.
"Please," you begged softly. "You've seen all of me."
He finally pulled away and stood up, and you sat up to watch him, already seeing a tent in his briefs as he untied them, and looked sweetly into his eyes before he did so, feigning innocence.
When you looked down again, you were certain he was absolutely the true son of a wolf.
His cock was not the thickest you'd ever seen - just a bit above average, honestly - but it was very long, and you could feel your cunt clenching at the prospect of being poked in your sweetest spot by him.
Finally, Jon lied by your side, and you reached for his face, caressing his cheek and rubbing your nose on his, trying to show him some affection.
“Please,” you exhaled. “Inside me, please.”
He watched your face, kissing your lips gently, and pulled your leg over his, resting his cock against your cunt.
Jon pushed his head into the crook of your neck, breathing close to your skin, you spread your legs a little more as he took his hand to between them angling his cock to push inside you, and the two of you stiffled moans when he pushed the head inside.
“Sansa,” he exhaled.
You put your arms around his back, embracing him close, as sweetly as you betted his innocent lady would.
“Please, Jon,” you begged softly.
He pushed into you with a hunger that not even Theon had, in a single push and a deep stroke, setting his cock all inside you and brushing against the deep inside of your body.
“Gods,” you cried. “You are so big.”
Jon moaned into your skin, and pulled back then pushed inside you again.
“Too big for you?” he asked, and while he sounded worried, you knew there was a sparkle of a bit of a cocky tone to his words.
“Yes, Jon,” you played into it. “But I trust you.”
He slowly pulled back and pushed in you, breathing in your neck, and you raised your hand to his hair, petting it as he slowly started moving inside you.
“All mine,” Jon hissed into your neck. “My Sansa.”
“Yours,” you panted. “Yes, Jon.”
He moved slowly inside, fucking you at an almost unmoving pace, and you pressed your heel to his back, not wanting to wait.
“Faster,” you panted, deciding to push his buttons. “Fuck me with your bastard cock, big brother.”
He stopped, and you thought you had crossed a boundary you shouldn’t have touched, but that soon showed to be the trigger to something in him.
“You want me to destroy you, don’t you?” he growled into her neck, teeth scraping her skin. “Want me to fucking corrupt you.”
He pulled his hips back, and moved faster, almost angry.
“Yes,” you cried.
“I’ll fill you up,” he growled. “Give you a fucking baby and rub it all over your mother’s face.”
You clawed his back.
“Yes, Jon,” you moaned.
“I’ll show her how much I corrupted her sweet daughter,” he squeezed her, his grip so tight it was almost as bruising as his cock bruised the place where your cunt gave in to your womb. “Is that what you want me to do, Sansa?”
“Yes,” you cried.
Jon shifted his hips, and soon the sound of skin hitting skin met your ears.
“Like this?” he growled. “Bruising that sweet cunt, filling it with cock?”
You moaned. Gods, he was good.
“It’s what I always wanted,” you promised him. “I want to be yours, just yours.”
He moved his hand down to your body, and you moaned when he adjusted your hips, making his hipbone rub against your bud as he did.
“Peak for me,” he grunted into your neck. “Let me feel it, please.”
You closed your eyes. The position was hitting both your sweet spots, and you knew well how to bring yourself to a peak, letting your moans and his fill up your own ears.
You shuddered and cried when you finally peaked, holding him close, and he grunted into your skin as your cunt squeezed and milked his cock in you. He was about to peak, you knew the signs too well.
“Please,” you begged, still trembling a little. “Fill me up, Jon. Show everyone how I belong to you!”
Jon growled in pleasure, but pulled away suddenly, arching his hips and painting your belly as he continued to sniff your neck.
“I love you, Sansa,” he whimpered.
His seed covered your skin, warm and thick, and patted his hair as he panted, shaking a little over you.
“I love you too,” you kissed his shoulder.
Jon stayed over you, and soon rested his body close with his chest flush with yours, without even caring about his seed.
He didn't move away from you, holding you with an iron grip, maybe ashamed or not wanting to break whatever illusion he had constructed with you. Still, you stayed with him, petting his hair and cuddling him close, thankful for the bit of affection as he slowly drifted to sleep.
"Sleep well, milord," you whispered as he released you.
A part of you felt pity for him. You had heard of men with those twisted feelings, but it would disgrace the Stark family if even a whisper of that came out. Still, it was better it was whispered to you than any other redhead whore with loose lips.
You dressed up again and strode to Theon's room, finding him asleep as you opened the door, holding your bag as if to hold it hostage. Maybe to have something if you stole any goods on your way out.
"Milord," you called in a hushed call, touching his arm. "Milord."
He grunted, but shot up as he woke up, turning to you.
“What?” he growled.
You stood straighter.
“I’ve done my job,” you reminded him. “It’s best that I leave now, before they realise I’m no kitchen maid.”
“Fine, fine,” he sighed.
Theon scoffed, scratching his eye as he stood up, giving you the bag and walking to his desk.
You opened the bag, looking inside to make sure everything you had brought was inside it and nothing was put in it, and raised your eyes when he tossed a bag of gold in your direction.
“I got you some extra,” he pointed out. “For your troubles.”
“Good,” you put it in your bag, burying it along the fabrics so to hide it from any night dangers.
“I also didn’t steal anything from you,” he remarked, grumpy.
You scoffed.
“Milord, I’m more worried about anything of yours getting inside this than anything of mine leaving it,” you raise your bag, and put your cloak around your shoulders. “You know where to find me.”
He yawned.
“I’ll tell Jon where to go when he asks of you.”
A part of you knew he was joking, but another part knew that the bastard lord would probably take him on that offer soon enough. You’d be happy if he did, you had quite liked him.
. . .
"Lookalike" was posted on my Patreon back in October 2022! To read it before anyone else and have early access to my stories, consider subscribing to my page! It's just $2 a month, and it helps a lot!
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The Only Son of The Falling Snow!! what a beautiful title, please tell us more, what ship, what fandom and whats the general plot??
<3
omg raniyah i was HOPING you’d have pick this one 🥹
So the title is the name of a song by Bear’s Den, and it reminds me so much of Jon. Its so gentle and somber, but with so much under the surface.
It’s a Jon/Satin fic (🙊) bc i couldn’t help myself, and it’s a canon complacent fic set right after Jon comes back from the dead. It’s gonna be multi-chapter, with HEAVY Jon introspection. I just love writing deep dives of characters through fics it’s my kryptonite.
Vibe is lots of nights watch brothers shenanigans (Edd and Pyp shine, and so does Sam and ofc Tormund) and Jon grappling with 8,000 moral issues at once bc he likes to pick moral quandaries up and carry them around like sticks for no reason.
Snippet:
“It isn’t like that.”
“It could be.”
“Aye, it could be. but as Lord Commander—“
“As Lord Commander,” Pyp laughed, “You can do whatever you want!”
“That doesn’t mean I should.” Jon barked, growing impatient with his company. Why in Seven Hells did they have to gang up on him like this?
“But you do want to,” Edd stated, carefully. It was half a question, half a statement.
Jon looked between the three men, sizing them up. The bloody lot of them, they cared for him. They cared for him, and this wasn’t a trap. To hell with it.
“Of course I want to.” He sighed. The two fools beside him slapped him on the back, but Jon continued. “I’m attracted to him, but it wouldn’t be right. I don’t want to sleep with him, no, Gods, I want to sleep with him, but, think of the boy—!”
“He’s older than you.”
“He’s my steward! It’d have been backwards had I been sleeping with Lord Commander Mormont, yea?”
“Only because he’s as old as dirt.”
“Edd, you aren’t listening. My position affords me less freedom, despite what power might imply. I cant prowl around like a damned dog in heat! Acting on whatever urges—“
“If I may,” Sam interjected.
Snow paused. He never barreled through his side comments like he did Ed and Pyp’s.
“You may.”
“Were he a woman. Would you feel the same?”
There was no need to think over this scenario. The Old Gods of his father had less… rules, then The Seven. It wasn’t shame that stopped Jon in his tracks when it came to Satin— It was duty.
“Even more so.”
“Then don’t act,” Said Sam. Jon watched his gaze steadily. “You’re behaving honorably, Jon. It’d be different if you had feelings for him, real feelings…”
“I don’t. I care for him, of course I do, I care for all of you, but—“
“But you don’t want to sleep with any of us.” Edd smirked. Jon put a hand in his shoulder and let himself relax with a smile.
“Kill the rumors.” Jon nodded appreciatively at Sam. “His standing with the brothers has shoddy footing as it is.”
(don’t listen to Jon. He does have feelings 🫡)
#asoiaf#game of thrones#got#bi jon snow#jon snow#jonsatin#jon snow satin#satin flowers#jon x satin#writing#jon snow fic
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and we will finish off with our angst of, "i don't want you to go." w/ jon snow
words: 203
warnings: none
promptober masterlist!
-
the sound of horns breaks the moment you’ve built. this moment of tender care and love before the storm. you wince as jon looks sullenly off into the distance with a sigh. you reach for his shoulders, placing yourself directly in front of him, forcing him to look at you before he leaves.
“i don’t want you to go.” you speak, cradling his face in one of your hands.
he leans into your touch, lips moving to kiss the palm of your hand. “aye, i know, but i have to.”
“i thought we’d have more time,” your voice is dangerously close to a whine and you know there’s only seconds before he insists on leaving. before he goes off to fight the white walkers and you don’t know if you’ll ever see him again. there’s too much riding on this fight to be sure of any outcome; no matter to whom or how much you might pray.
“i’ll be back, promise. i always come back.” jon smiles sadly and you force yourself to school your features. you won’t let him make this harder on himself, and this is such a small way that you can be strong for him.
“better not break your vows now snow, i’ll be waiting.”
#jon snow#jon snow x reader#jon snow x you#jon snow fic#jon snow angst#jon snow fluff#game of thrones#game of thrones fic#game of thrones angst#ezra writes#promptober!!!!!!!!!
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i am currently taking requests which can be submitted through here. please be as specific as you can regarding what you would like, and i will try and write it to your satisfaction. happy reading ♥
you can find the list of who/what i will/will not write for throughout this entire link.
if you're interested in being on the taglist for any of my stories, please feel free to send me a quick ask and ill add you to the list. you can specify who/which characters you would specifically like to be on their list for and i'll add you.
note: this masterlist was updated on february 12, 2023
** = smut
♥ = personal fave
☆ - blurb
aemond targaryen
the fear of him
aegon ii targaryen
of love and duty
#hotd#hotd fic#got fic#daemon targaryen fic#aemond targaryen fic#hotd imagine#got imagine#targaryen imagine#targaryen fic#daemon targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen imagine#jon snow fic#jon snow imagine#robb start imagine#robb stark fic#fics#imagines#imagine#my writing#masterlist
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I’m guessing u still write got cuz or ur pfp (which I love) and I jus cant get NorthernKing!JonSnow marring a Dragon Dreamer (she can be a targ bastard or whatever you want!) and she gets weary of deanerys because of her dragons if u’d like too :)
Hi yes I love this idea sm! I’m currently very busy and I’m visiting my friend in hospital a couple times so this will take a while to come out but just want to let you know that I will be doing this!
___________________________________
@thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom
#jon snow#jon snow x reader#Jon snow got#Jon snow game of thrones#Jon snow fic#Jon snow x Targaryen reader#got#game of thrones#got fic#game of thrones fic
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On the Wall
(Part one)
Fandom: Game of Thrones
Pairings: none yet
Description: A woman on the wall, it was hard to imagine. Yet here she was, pretending to be her dead brother.
Warning: it’s a little violent and it’ll only get worse from here
The stench of death followed the group as they marched into the black castle. Well, the castle it's self wasn't black obviously, (how would you even make a castle black?) Not the outside of the building, but the people inside and their black souls.
Alessa's feet ached, they'd been walking for days, her empty stomach cried out for attention. She was fine though, she'd gone a lot longer with a lot less many a time before.
All she carried was stuffed into a small leather satchel, a small bag of dark bitter tea that seemingly only she and her siblings liked, a drawing Sarisa had made of their family on a piece of parchment and the little doll she'd given her elder sister before leaving. ‘For luck, to keep you safe’, she'd said in her small, gentle voice.
Alessa griped her necklace tightly. A wooden carving on a string the real Arell had made before he died, before he was killed. That's why she was here, risking her life at the wall.
The rowdy group walked up to menacing hold, their escort giving them a final salute before heading back to town. The gates opened, welcoming them inside.
"C'mon men, welcome to castle black. We'll take you down to the bunks first, you can leave any belongings there. You'll head down for a morning meal." A cranky old man called out to the lot.
Alessa, Arell now, gulped down the lump in her throat. She followed the crowd of men towards the barracks gently placing the last of her belonging on a straw mattress then heading off to the mess hall.
Sneaking into the hall quietly, she slipped through the crowds, grabbing a bowl of whatever they'd thrown together.
To everyone else it must have tasted absolutely rancid, but to Alessa it was liquid gold. The grey mush filled her stomach, satiated her hunger like it'd hadn't been in years, not since her mother was still around.
She could feel the eyes of the other men around her searing into her back. Alessa knew what she must look like, an absolute pig to be able to enjoy such slop. But she payed them no mind, finishing off her meal completely, her bowl was practically cleaned by the time she was done. Whomever got assigned wash duty would surely be pleased with her dish.
A hand on her shoulder startled her so badly she nearly jumped out of her seat. She'd been so engrossed in her meal that she hadn't noticed the others slowly streaming out of the hall and an elderly man walking up behind her.
"When was the last time you ate boy?" The man, she recognized as the Lord Commander, asked.
"Oh! I'm so sorry, m'Lord. I-I'll be off to the training grounds now." She tried to stand but was pushed back into her seat by the arm on her shoulder.
"I asked you, when the last time you ate was." He repeated in a steady voice.
Alessa swallowed thickly, slightly embarrassed to be asked such a question. Surely he was making fun of her appreciation of the food.
"Oh, I-I'm sorry. Beside today... maybe, three-four days ago." The elder man nodded solemnly.
"And your parents, they weren't very fortunate, you didn't get food often?"
"No ser."
"You eat too fast you'll lose your guts, 'specially if you haven't been eating much usual. But if after everyone is done there's still food left, you can always help yourself to another plate."
Alessa sat there in shock, no stranger had ever given her such a kindness before. Not in all her life had someone offered her more food than she got at home.
"Now, go an' get another bowl before Lloyd cleans us out, then hurry off to training. Y'need s'more meat on your bones. And if you're much longer Allister will have your arse." The man gave her one last hard pat on the back before walking off.
She smiled to softly to herself before running up for another bowl.
She was about to follow the others when a voice called out to her.
"You, twig boy," she almost kept walking before he yelled out again. "Father killer." That stopped her dead in her tracks.
"Follow me."
He thrust a sword into her arms and practically dragged her after him.
They walked into the courtyard, a small group of men stopped sparring and turned to faced the domineering man.
"Well someone took their sweet time didn't they? Grab your damn sword and get over here." The first man gave the second a knowing look before leaving her.
"New recruit boys, tell 'em your name lad." The older man commanded.
Alessa swallowed the thick lump in her throat, hoping to calm the raging sea in her stomach. She glanced nervously at the other boys, willing herself to speak.
"Arell. Name's Arell Fisher." The five men stared at her, stone expressions save for one, who looked ready to kill her.
"And?" Allister asked, clearly searching for a specific answer.
"I'm from the north, between winter town and the dreadfort." The older man's eyes narrower at her.
That hadn't been the answer he was looking for, stepping forward he gave her a seething glare. Then turned to the other boys with a sick smirk.
"And." He let out a snarky grunt before shouting out again. "Well boy, tell them why your here!"
"I killed my father." Allister slapped her hard on the back, nearly sending her falling forward.
"That's right, slaughtered him in broad daylight. Right in front of your little sister wasn't it? How old again? Five? Ten?"
"She's seven."
"Well isn't that right. Go on then lad, can't be worse than you look. Your balls even drop yet?" The older man mocked.
Thorn grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, pushing her into the group of strangers. She stumbled over her own feet, grabbing onto her sword as tightly as she could.
"Rast." He called forward the man with the murderous look.
He smirked at her flipping the sword around in his hand then charging forward. She quickly sidestepped, throwing her arm forward on instinct, slamming her hand and the butt of her sword into the man's back.
"Not as useless as you look then 'eh? Rest 'oh you lot, go on."
A tall spindly boy walked forward. He had a similar body type to her and to the real Arell, she supposed. She swung her sword forward to block his blow, though his was hard enough to send her partially to her knees. One knee now still and covered with mud, she threw herself back up.
The man brought his sword down onto her shoulder, thank the gods it was blunt or it might have just ripped through her arm. Alessa swung her sword with the last of her strength, straight into the side of his leg, knocking him to the ground with a loud thump.
She was panting now, couldn't expect the next blow. Straight to her back, throwing her into the ground. He hits her a few more times, she holds back her screams. She won't give them the satisfaction of hearing her cry.
"Pathetic." Allister sneered, walking off, leaving them all alone.
Part 2: TBD
Thanks again to @buggylad for editing! :)
#fanfiction#fanfic#Jon snow#GoT#game of thrones#game of thrones imagines#game of thrones fanfic#game of thrones fanfiction#jon snow x oc#jon snow fanfiction#Jon snow fic#samwell tarly#angsty#trigger warning#the nightswatch#the nights watch#the wall#the wall game of thrones#nights watch#nights watch fanfiction
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Dancing on Ice
Pairing: Jon Snow x StarkBastard!OC
Warnings: GoT low-level incest (cousins), kissing
Word Count: 1062
Summary: Alayne keeps sneaking out of Winterfell to ice skate. Today, Jon has gone to find her and she premieres a new trick for him.
A/N: This is set in a fic that I’ve been meaning to write for...longer than I care to admit. Hopefully you’ll like it! Enjoy!
Fluffcember Masterlist
The scraping of metal against the ice was music to Alayne’s ears. This was her favorite cold weather activity, ice skating. It almost felt like she could fly. Strapping the forged bits of iron to the bottoms of her boots and making sure they were tightly secured, she rose to her feet and pushed away from the bank of the small, shallow lake to the west of Winterfell.
Since the lake was small — more like a pond — it froze faster than the river to the north and it was safer to skate on. Her mother insisted she bring one of her cousins with her, but no one had been able to go with her — Robb and Theon were busy in the tiltyard, Sansa, Arya, and Bran were occupied with their lessons with their septa, and Rickon was much too young to bring out of the castle when it was this cold out. She couldn’t find Jon, but she assumed he was somewhere near the tiltyard. He usually was.
In lieu of a cousin, she brought her wolf, Visenya, with her. The dark gray she-wolf romped in the snow as Alayne skated in wide arcs, enjoying the chill against her leggings that she wouldn’t have felt had she worn her heavy skirts.
Footsteps crunching against the snow alerted her to someone’s approach. Ghost appeared from the treeline, quickly followed by Jon.
“Jon! Come join me!” she said, extending her hands out to her favorite cousin. Her fellow Bastard of Winterfell; he being sired by her Uncle Ned, her father having joined the Night’s Watch before he knew of her mother’s pregnancy.
“Your mother is looking for you, Alayne,” he said, leaning his weight against his back foot. His cheeks were adorably pinkened by the cold, his dark curls wind-tossed much like she was sure hers were. “She’s angry you came out here alone.”
Alayne let her hands drop and rolled her eyes, turning in a backward circle on her skates to emphasize how little she cared. “I’m not alone; I brought Visenya.”
Their wolves wrestled with each other, but Visenya poked her head up when Alayne said her name. Ghost took advantage of his sibling’s distraction and tackled her sidelong into the snow.
“Have you ever noticed that Ghost only ever plays with Visenya?” She asked Jon, who looked to where the wolves pranced around each other, Visneya dipping low in a play bow every few steps and Ghost snapping at her ears.
“The others are wary of him, I think,” Jon speculated before turning back to Alayne. “Now come on, we’ve got to get you back before dinner.”
Alayne pouted, “Please Jon? At least join me for a little bit? One turn about the lake, then we’ll head straight back, I swear!”
Jon struggled to hide his smirk at her insistence. “I’ve no skates with me, Layne.”
“Then just come out here and stand while I skate around you.”
Jon shook his head, his dark curls brushing his flushed cheeks as he stepped carefully out onto the frozen lake. Alayne skated over to him and grabbed his gloved hand in hers. She led him to the middle of the lake and she let his hand drop from hers.
“I’ve been wanting to show you something,” she said, skating backward away from him. “But you have to promise not to tell my mother. She’d have a fit if she knew.”
“Color me intrigued,” Jon said, following her movements as she started circling him wider and wider. “I swear I won’t tell.”
When she picked up enough speed, Alayne raised her right skate behind her and used the momentum from swinging it forward to leap into the air, tucking in her arms as she spun in the air once, twice, and then landed on her left foot. Her chest swelled with pride as she circled back to Jon, standing almost nose-to-nose with him in the skates.
“That was incredible! When did you learn to do that?”
“When I was supposed to be at lessons with my septa,” she preened at his praise. For how practiced a skater she was, he was the only one who seemed to notice or care. Her other cousins would sometimes join her on the ice, only to get cold or bored after only an hour. Alayne sometimes spent entire afternoons out here if the ice was thick enough.
“The sun is going down,” Jon said quietly and for the first time she noticed how close she’d gotten to him. In her haste to push away from him, she tripped over her skates and fell forward. Jon caught her, gripping her elbows in his strong hands while she got her feet back underneath her.
“Watch yourself, Layne,” he smiled, hands still on her elbows once she was steadied. “Your mother will have those skates melted down if you come back with a broken arse.”
Alayne chuckled, but the air around them had grown thick. Their condensing breaths mixed in front of them, mouths only inches away from each other.
“You…you flew out there just now,” Jon whispered, “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Alayne swallowed and he pushed her long brown locks back over her shoulder. She shifted onto the balls of her feet ever so slightly, just enough to bring her closer to his plush, slightly chapped lips. He started to move toward her and the breath caught in her throat—
“Oi, you lot!” Theon’s voice echoed over the snow toward them and Jon whipped around to face the tree line. Alayne pushed herself back a bit on one skate, hoping she wasn’t too flushed. Robb and his wolf, Grey Wind, appeared just behind Theon. “Enough with the silly twirling, we gotta get back to the castle or Lord Stark will lock us out again.”
“What’s it to you, Greyjoy?” Alayne sassed back, moving toward the edge of the lake, “Your change purse can’t handle another night in the brothel?”
Robb burst out laughing and Theon sent Alayne a rude gesture as she sat on the shore to unstrap the skates. Jon waited next to her and helped her to her feet after she was done, dismissing the other boys with the promise that they were right behind them. Really, he didn’t want them to see how Jon held Alayne’s hand all the way back to the keep.
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Chapter 14 Ice & fire
Chapter 14 of Sandstorm
A/N- Stop this my favorite chapter, and the next one will be so good and full of fluff too.
Warning- Violence, blood, swearing, talks of death, fluff!, talks of birth, long chapter, and there’s changes that depart from the show!
Pairing- Jon Snow x Targaryen!fem-reader
(If you want to be tagged let me know)
————
*A FEW MONTHS LATER*
Hints of smoke filter the room as the candles are brought to life, basking the room and the altar with its yellow dancing hue.
It’s hard, but you manage to get on your knees on the pillow and slowly look up at the portrait of Rhaenar. “Hello my boy,” you whisper as if he were here. “Sorry I didn't come last night, I,” you scoff softly. “Couldn’t stay awake,” you laugh softly and drop your gaze as you clasp your hands together. “I’ve come to update you, all the forests at Storm's End are finally burnt, no tree means no ships. This morning the soldiers managed to completely cut off all food from coming in and out of Storm's End as well. Let’s see how King Gendry handles this problem.”
You sigh deeply and look up at his portrait; the only way you can see his face ever again. “Thanks to the Riverlands alliance and the Reach we’ve managed to reach King’s Landing borders, we have them surrounded. It’s been a short war, but well she hardly has any allies here…she’s just stubborn….” you trail off and groan as a a dull but irritating pain radiates throughout your lower back. “Anyway, I just want you to know that I’m in good hands here with Jon…I’m grateful he’s with me. He doesn’t leave my side now that the babies are due any week. He…” you swallow thickly and smile softly. “He’s kept my anger in check. Oh! And Helios left now, last night, he’s on his own now. Hopefully, I’ll see him again.”
Your smile then falters and tears fill your eyes, but you hold them back and instead offer him a happy smile. “That’s all for tonight, I’ll return tomorrow. I love you.” You linger in front of the altar for a moment longer before you try and push yourself up. However, the huge belly you now have forbids you proving Jon right; you do need him by your side all the time now.
“Ser Podrick,” you call out to the Knight standing outside the door. “May you come help me up? I believe Jon is right.” You look back and expect the door to open right away, but there’s no sound of metal armor brushing against each other, there’s no hurried footsteps as the kind knight tries to hurry to do as commanded, there’s silence.
“Ser Podrick?” You call out again. You wait, but nothing. “Okay,” you breathe out and now drop your head to try and get up yourself.
It’s a struggle, definitely, but you start to move up to your feet. The door then creaks open and you scoff breathlessly. “I’ve done it, Ser Podrick, no need to help now.” You smirk proudly and peer back, and that’s when you notice that the man hidden under a cloak is not Ser Podrick, or anyone you know; and you know that because you’ve made sure to take in all the faces of the soldiers that fight for you, everyone that lives in this castle and or is temporarily staying. This man is a stranger.
You try to reach for your concealed blade, but the man snatches your wrist and shakes his head. “No,” he says in an accent you’ve only heard across the sea and…with the Unsullied. She sent him.
You try to fight back and use your knee to hit him, but you can’t move your leg that far at the moment, so you instead stumble back and hit the altar. You try to reach for a candle, but then another man barges in and he quickly makes sure to cover your mouth and nose with a cloth that makes you lightheaded for a second, before darkness follows as you fall unconscious.
——
*JON*
The view of the stuffed wolves shifts as it tilts to the side. “Damn,” he hisses under his breath and reaches over to sit it up again and tilt it again so it can stay seated like the other one on the other cradle.
Just now a small package had arrived from Old Town, Sam had sent presents for the unborn twins; two black stuffed wolves. And Jon wanted to surprise you, but there was one defiant stuffed wolf that wouldn't stay up.
“Fuck it,” he gives up and leaves the one wolf on its side. He however does stay in front of the cradles and watches them even if they lay empty for now. A knock albeit then raps on the door, interrupting his quiet moment.
“Come in,” he addresses the visitor.
The door opens and footsteps walk in past the door, he turns and sees Ser Brienne, and the other six Queensguard Knights and Ser Jaime outside the door with worried expressions that make him falter.
“Your Grace,” Ser Brienne interjects and averts her gaze. “It’s the Queen…”
His eyes widen and a smile begins to tug on his lips as he thinks that you went into labor.
“….she’s gone,” Ser Brienne finishes, causing Jon’s smile to fall and panic and disbelief to paint over his face—“she was taken. Ser Podrick was put down by some kind of sleeping effect. I’m sorry, I will go on horseback and try to follow the trail of the abductors.”
Jon drops his eyes and stumbles back. “How…how could you let this happen?” He spats. “Why wasn’t there more than one guard with her?!”
“She went to the altar within the castle grounds, we never thought they’d take her from here. I’m sorry.”
Jon exhales and turns around as he shakes his head before he knocks the pitcher of water and cups off the table out of anger for them, your Queensguard, and himself for not disobeying you and staying by your side.
“We think that the abductors were probably undercover, or hiding and preying on the Queen from the shadows.”
Jon scoffs and then abruptly picks up his sword to storm out of the room. “Ser Brienne, you and two others of the Queensgaurd hurry and try to catch up to the abductors trail, two of you can stay with me,” he immediately commands. “Ser Rayne, have the castle locked down, no one leaves or comes in. Wake up the members of the small council have them convene at the hall, rally up the soldiers to get ready to march out.”
“One more thing,” Ser May adds. “There were two soldiers; an Unsullied and what we assume to be one of the Second Sons soldiers caught trying to escape the castle.”
Jon’s eyes snap to the woman knight and the corner of his lips curl. “Where?” He asks.
“We tied them up outside in the courtyard. Your sister, Lady Arya, is watching them.”
Jon nods and quickens his footsteps to head out to the courtyard first.
“If I may,” Ser Jaime cuts in and hurries up to catch up to Jon’s side. “I would like to accompany Ser Brienne and the Queensguard. I owe the Queen my life, let me help.”
Jon looks at Ser Jaime and then glances at his golden hand. The Knight notices and counters.
“I’m not whole, but again, I owe her my life. And…I made her and her father a promise. I might’ve failed before, but I won’t now. I’ll find her, protect her and your children.”
Jon’s hesitant, he only wanted the best after you, but if he wants to go then he can’t stop him. “Fine,” Jon says. “Go.”
Jaime offers Jon a nod before he and the others depart and hurry off to do as said. Once Jon makes it outside, Tyrion joins his side. “If I may—”
“You cannot,” Jon cuts him off. “For all I know you were the one that let in those people that took Y/N. Actually I should have you arrested. Ser Lana, take him to the cells, I’ll think of what will happen after I’ve brought back my wife.”
The Knight right away grabs Tyrion and pins his arms back, but he still manages to cut in with more words that begin to irritate Jon. “It’s smart to lock me up. I don’t have anything to do with it and only just found out as I saw your sister torturing the soldiers, but you won’t get an answer from the unsullied. Nothing will make him talk.”
Jon stops and turns on his heels to talk back. “I don’t need him to talk.” Jon clenches his jaw and gives him his back to continue towards the courtyard.
When he gets there he sees the two men tied back to back, both of them are bleeding but only one of them looks affected by the torture afflicted.
“Have either of them spoke?” Jon asks Arya.
Arya stands up straight and shakes her head. “No. Not yet, but they will.”
Jon shoots a glare at the unsullied. “Only one will,” he deadpans before he snatches the collar of the Unsullied’s chest armor and begins to drag him out towards the gate. “Bring the other one,” he commands Arya.
And without question or hesitation his sister obeys and trusts his actions, letting him feel thankful for that at this very moment.
“<You’ll die screaming in flames,> the Unsullied spats in Valyrian probably thinking that neither Jon or Arya can understand, but thanks to you he was learning and understood every word.
It’s why Jon stops in his tracks and drags the Unsullied around to be able to face him as he counters back venomously. “<After you.> He rolls his eyes ahead and continues to drag the man out, the gates open without him needing to say anything, and there in the darkness that blanketed the hill ahead lands a green beast. Due to the cloudy night he’s not seen, but his thunderous footsteps are heard before his blazing bronze eyes appear ahead, they begin to narrow as he begins to growl.
Jon walks towards Rheagal and leaves the Unsullied soldier there on the ground, before he steps back and clasps his hands in front of him. And without hesitation, remorse or a moment to ask questions, Jon says those menacing words. “<Dracarys>”
Rhaegal breathes out fire over the soldier, swallowing him in flames within seconds. The intense heat hits Jon, but he doesn’t move, he stands in front of the flames and watches the soldier begin to squirm, clench his jaw but eventually scream out when he couldn’t handle the flames eating at his flesh and bones. Jon watches the flesh melt off his bones before nothing is left but black burnt bones.
When all that moves is the flames Jon slowly turns around and faces the other soldier with a burning glower on his face. Rhaegal approaches Jon to be beside him, and growls at the soldier without needing to say anything. And this one soldier, unlike the other one, is visibly shaking, sweat beads roll off his face, and a foul smell begins to come off him as he just keeps his eyes on the dragon beside Jon.
“Please,” the soldier begs under Aryas grip. “Please. Mercy.”
Jon stomps towards the soldier and assures him in an angry filled tone. “My dragon won’t eat you, but only if you tell me where they took my wife.”
The soldier swallows thickly and slowly slides his eyes to Jon. He hesitates for a moment but his fear takes control and he can’t help but betray the Queen he was meant to be fighting for. “Harrenhal, Queen Daenerys asked to bring her to Harrenhal. That’s all I know, I swear, please…mercy. I’ll fight for you.”
Jon lets out a deep breath and without needing to say anything Arya pulls out her dagger and slices the man’s throat, killing him instantly. “Let Rhaegal eat him,” Jon grumbles before he sets towards the great hall.
When he’s inside all the members are already there, most of them are not as collected as usual because of how late it is, but they’re there and all go quiet as Jon strides in with his jaw clenched and his gaze narrowed. Arya follows behind with her chin raised high, and they notice you’re not leading the way or behind them, providing even more confusion.
“I know the hour is late, my lords and ladies,” Jon addresses everyone when he’s on the platform facing them. “But a dire situation arose, the Queen, my wife,” he sighs and clenches his fists. “Was abducted.”
Murmurs spread around the room and Sansa gets up from her chair, losing her smile as she thought you were having the babies.
“Queen Daenerys sent some of her men undercover to take her when she was visiting her son's altar,” Jon shares with them. “No one was killed during the act, and the Queensguard did manage to find two who had fallen behind. I killed them already after I got information from one of them. They’re taking her to Harrenhal. ”
“How did they sneak in and not get detected?” Sarella demands to know. “Why did her guards not stop them? That’s why they’re there!”
“Yes,” Jon agrees, “but they couldn’t, or at least that’s to my understanding, Ser Brienne said Ser Podrick was put to sleep that’s how they took her.”
“Where is Ser Brienne?” Elia asks. “And that dwarf? It was probably him, he was probably her spy, that's why they got in without getting noticed.”
The others quietly agree, and Sansa can’t defend him now because she might be right.
“Ser Brienne, and Ser Jaime and three others from the Queensguard went after the abductors. Lord Tyrion was placed under custody by me just now,” Jon shares. “He’ll remain there until after I return with Queen Y/N, after that we will decide what to do. As to how they got in?” He pauses and shakes his head. “I don’t know. All I do know is that I will get her back. Daenerys seems to be getting desperate, she knows she can’t hold Kings Landing without allies, winter is cruel and she can’t feed the people she wants to protect. She’s losing but doesn’t want to fail, it’s probably why she took the Queen, she probably wants us to surrender for her return, and if…y/n gives birth then she’ll use the children as leverage as well. But I won’t give up,” Jon adds and exhales deeply.
“I won’t lose y/ns fight, nor will I lose her, I will bring her back home and we’ll take that throne. Daenerys wants this war to come to an end, so we’ll give her what she wants.” Jon spats menacingly.
“Arya,” he names and the girl straightens up. “Sarella,” he adds, causing her to lift her chin. “Ser Davos, Lord Royce, you will lead the attack on the ground. They may have the numbers, but they’re on our lands, we know our lands, Daenerys doesn’t, we have the advantage. I will ride on Rhaegal and fight Daenerys and Drogon, keep her away from the armies while Ser Brienne, Ser Jaime and the Queensguard find y/n,” he continues, “we will find y/n and bring an end to this war.”
“What about me?” Elia interjects and jumps to her feet. “What will I do? It’s my cousin that they took, my sister, I can help.”
Jon’s gaze drifts to the girl, he knows she’s good on horseback, probably better than he is, but no matter how skilled she is he can’t bring himself to risk her life….and well Sansa does need people here to help her in case Daenerys wants to attack while the armies are marching elsewhere.
“Stay here,” Jon shares with the girl, already noticing her disbelief and annoyance. “Help Sansa keep the castle safe. That’s your job.”
Elia parts her mouth to argue back but Sarella pulls her back and whispers something to her, bringing silence and no other objections.
“Bran, if you can…see where Eraxis is, we might need her in battle,” Jon adds as he steps down the steps. “As for everyone else, fight, win, and don’t die, your Queen depends on it. Now let’s bring Queen Y/N back.”
——
*LATER. YOU*
The sound of booming thunder startles you awake. Is it storming outside?
You slowly sit up, and immediately that daze that took you captive and made you believe you were home disappears as you notice the small stone room you’re in.
That’s right…you were taken by Unsullied, by Daenerys.
Where did they bring you?
The room smells humid, thanks to the light provided by the single dancing flame eating away at the torch, you notice moss growing between the creaks of the wall. There’s only one window, but it’s far too high for you to see through. There’s one tiny bed, and a vase of water on the wooden nightstand, nothing else resides in this room besides that.
What’s her plan with you?
“Hey,” you call out and slide off the bed to stride towards the door. “Hey.”
There’s no answer.
“Hey!” You yell out louder and begin banging at the door. “Where am I? Where’s Daenerys! Tell her to come and stop being a fucking coward!” You pound both fists on the door, but receive no answer, so you turn and glance at the window; it’s far too small for you to escape out of with the belly, even if you didn’t have it, it would still be far too small. But it can give you insight about where you are.
Yet…there’s nothing for you to use to climb on and see through it, damn it!
You turn back around and begin to pound on the door again. “Tell me why I'm here! Bring her!”
Nothing again. You don’t have weapons to use. Damn. So there’s nothing left to go but keep hitting your hand against the door to annoy them and hopefully get an answer. Several minutes pass before finally through the sound of heavy rain multiple footsteps begin to approach the door. You back up expecting them to open the door, but instead the panel from the door's small window opens, and Daenerys' face appears.
“You should be resting,” she says, that’s the first thing she tells you after what she did—“it’s not safe for the babies—”
“You should let me out,” you cut her spitefully. “Or come in here. Let's see how good it goes for you.”
Daenerys scoffs. “I’m no fool, I know that the moment I walk in there you’ll try and kill me, as you know I have someone I have to protect now too.”
You clench your jaw and glare at her.
“You won’t be hurt,” she adds. “But you won’t be let out either.”
“Jon will come,” you sneer. “He’ll get me out.”
A sly smirk tugs on her face before she retorts. “I’m counting on it, but you can save him from the fate that he'll meet today. Bend the knee, you’ll be pardoned and get to live your life with your children wherever you want. Don’t, and lose him and all those that come after you.”
You swallow thickly and rather than seeming upset, defeated and give into submission, you lean forward and hold her gaze with a burning glare; even if inside your heart was beginning to tear at the thought of losing the one person that mattered to you now, the only person keeping you together, Jon.
“Kill him,” you snarl. “And I will kill you after I carve out that damn baby out of your stomach.”
Daenerys blinks in disbelief.
“Ask me,” you retort with a mischievous smirk even if you begin to feel a sharp cramp on your lower stomach. “Ask me how it is that you were able to get pregnant.”
Daenerys stiffens and her jaw clenches. She doesn’t reply so you continue.
“It was me. I was the one that reversed that witches spell. You should be on your knees thanking me you fucking bitch. Now, ask me why I did it.” You snicker.
Daenerys lifts her chin and looks at you with a gaze full of tears. She backs away and the panel then closes, blocking out the view of her tear covered eyes.
So she has you here as a trap to lure Jon and everyone else here? She wants to kill Jon now too?
No…not him. Anyone but him. If he dies…what else is there? What—
Again there’s a sharp cramp on your lower stomach and back. This was a lot more painful, it rattles your entire being.
The babies?
You twist around and look around panicked, no ounce of anger lingering behind, no hate for Daenerys, nothing but worry. Thunder claps in the sky, causing your shoulders to jump and more pain to attack your body.
But you’re here, stuck in a cell without Jon, they can’t come yet. Not yet. You’re all alone here, without even your dragon to keep you company. They can’t come yet—
More pain hits you and this time water pours out of you and runs down your legs and hits the stone floor. “No,” you murmur with tears in your eyes. “No. Not yet, please.”
Yet you have no word on the matter, they’re coming fast.
You try to lay on the bed, but the pain becomes insufferable, it makes you restless and doesn’t let you keep quiet anymore, you begin to grunt, groan and cry out as the first baby begins to come out fast. It’s not like before either; and maybe it’s due to the fact that you had your sisters, midwives and maesters with you, but this time the pain of labor is worse.
So much so that without you knowing Eraxis even feels the suffering you’re under, unbeknownst to you Jon had come across her on his way to you and he heard Eraxis cry erupt in the sky. He however doesn’t know why she screeches, he thinks it’s because she knows you’re missing. She might miss you, that’s what he thinks.
But no, you were under withering pain, covered in sweat and squatting on the ground.
“Come on!” You bellow out and then cry. “Get out!”
Thunder keeps erupting in the skies, sometimes it drowns out your cries, but sometimes it seems you’re louder.
A few minutes, or hours later who knows, just as Thunder roars in the sky, out slides the first baby after your last push.
“Oh,” you gasp softly and shakily lift the baby up in your arms, noticing that the first one out is Rhaenyra. She’s so tiny, so red and beautiful.
Rhaenar was the same when he came out….
However, he cried right away, Rhaenyra doesn’t. She stays quiet and you can’t help but grow concerned.
“Rhaenyra,” you whimper.
And as if understanding her name at that second she then breaks out crying, she begins to squirm in your hands, and squints her swollen eyes.
“Hi,” you muse and press your forehead against hers very gently. “Hi my love. Hi Rhaenyra, it’s okay, you’re okay. You’re with me. I’ll keep you safe.” You smile, but it’s only for a second because more pain then overwhelms you as the other baby follows to come out.
You try to be quiet so as to not startle Rhaenyra, but you can’t keep quiet, you cry out as you push. You place Rhaenyra down on the skirt of your dress and claw your nails on the floor as you keep pushing.
Thankfully the second baby comes out faster, and this one uses his new fresh pair lungs to cry out the moment they’re out.
“It’s okay,” you whisper and lift up the second baby, noticing that it’s a boy. The second one is a beautiful baby boy. “Hello my sweetling.” You cry out happily as you pull him towards you to press a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Hello my love.”
You then proceed to put him down next to his sister, and rapidly yank off your necklace to wrap the chain around the umbilical cords to cut them off. Once that’s done you pull the thin blanket off the bed to wrap them up and keep them warm, before you pick up the both of them and cradle them in your arms with a wobbly grin, and tears streaming down your cheeks. “I know, I know, your father isn’t here, but you’ll meet him soon, he’s going to be so happy. He’s so excited to meet the both of you.” You smile and watch them both calm down as they hear you talking to them. “Does it sound scary outside? Yeah that’s thunder, but it’s okay, you know my uncle Oberyn, your uncle, said that being born during a storm is a sign of good luck, a good omen, you my babies will have a good and exciting life.” You grin and watch the baby boy watch you with eyes as dark as Jon are. “But as for now it’ll go away.”
You then reach for the boy's hand, and he doesn't fail to wrap his little hand around your finger. “I’m sorry,” you direct at him. “I’m sorry you don’t have a name yet, your father…hasn’t decided. He’s too nervous about it.” You laugh softly. “You look like him,” you whisper. “Same dark eyes, same dark hair.”
The afterbirth comes out but you pay no mind to it, you’re too busy admiring the babies. “You, my lovely girl, have his eyes too, they’re so beautiful and dark.” Her hair albeit wasn’t the same color as Jon’s and her twin brothers, she doesn’t have a lot yet, but from what you can see, you can tell her hairs are silver-white just like yours, and your fathers.
She has Jon’s eyes though, they both do. Thank the gods they do. It’s like having him with you.
“There’s so many people happy to meet you.” You continue talking to them, unable to help your smile as they both watch you as if they’re hanging on to every word you’re saying.
“When we get home you’ll also meet your cradle mates, the dragon eggs your big brother Rhaenar picked out for you.” You let out a shaky breath as tears threaten to come out, but you hold them in. “You’ll meet Eraxis and Rhaegal too. You’ll fly soon as well, I promise.” You muster a smile and can’t help but caress their little cheeks.
They keep watching you, they bore their deep and dark eyes in you, and they’re all you can watch too. That is until the door opens and Greyworm walks in with a stoic face.
“Get out,” you grumble.
He however ignores you and approaches you. He crouches down and takes them, he takes the babies from your arms.
“No,” you sneer and try and push yourself up. “No! Give them back to me!”
The babies notice the stranger holding them, they don’t feel your warmth anymore and cry out. And that only makes you panic more, and triggers an adrenaline rush that lets you stand on your feet.
“Give me back my babies!” You bellow out as Greyworm only gets further away. “Greyworm!” You reach out for him, but the door then slams shut behind him and your babies. All you’re left to do is once again pound on the door and cry out, but this time with more desperation, this time with fuming anger, and thick tears.
You hit and hit the door over and over again until your hands are bloody and bruised. Eventually though the adrenaline runs its course and exhaustion overruns your body, leaving you stranded against the door and battling sleep.
The thunder had seemed to stop too, which is good, the twins are probably scared. Without the thunder however the cell was quiet, and it’s dangerous because it tempts you to sleep.
But you can’t fall asleep, you need to stay awake and keep trying to get that door open. You need to rescue your babies, they need you….
But this exhaustion is like a weight, it keeps pressing and pressing down. It dulls your senses, making your vision blur as your eyelids begin to droop, your hearing begins to tune out, causing you to ignore the rattling that shook the fragile castle and the hundreds of footsteps outside of the castle that sounded like more thunder. Your mind begins to go quiet as well as it dangles between consciousness and unconsciousness.
Grunting and groaning, metal clashing against each other begins to sound outside the door, but it seems distant so you ignore it and can’t help but rest your eyes.
Just for a second…
Alas, only a few minutes before the door gets pushed open, hitting your back and causing you to snap your eyes open.
The door gets pushed again, so you quickly drag yourself to the side and have no choice but to wait for the visitor that slowly creeps inside.
There’s no kind of weapon around you, so you hide in the corner of the cell and hold your breath so as to not be heard. A foot steps inside first before the door gets pushed open more, you then turn your head away and clench your jaw.
Yet just as the person peeks their head inside you quickly recognize the head of dirty blond hair. “Ser Jaime?” You breathe out, causing his head to snap to the side where you sit.
He gasps as his eyes widen with shock at the sight of your withered body.
“Your Grace,” he mutters before he rushes inside. And as he does come to you, you notice blood dripping down his leg.
“You’re bleeding,” you point out and stay pressed against the wall.
He shakes his head and crouches down, letting you see him twist his face as pain strikes from his leg. “Don’t worry about me, let’s get you up and out of here. You need to see a maester.”
You let him help you up but shake your head. “No…no, the baby’s,” you whisper and grab his arms to meet his gaze with tears clouding your eyes. “Greyworm took them.”
Jaime shakes his head again. “You’re in no condition to chase after anyone, let Jon do it, or Ser Brienne.”
“Jon?” You question. “Where is he?”
“Don’t you hear it?” He says and glances back. “He’s fighting the Queen to get you back.”
You shake your head. “She’ll kill him, she wanted to drag him out—”
“Don’t worry,” he cuts you off. “He’s not alone, he’s brought a whole army with him. I’ve never seen someone determined to get someone back...I envy it.”
The corner of your lips pull to a small smile at the thought of Jon coming after you, at the thought of him fighting for you, but the longer you stay here, the longer you’re apart from them.
“Then he can fight Daenerys,” you retort and pull away from him. “I’ll go after Greyworm and rescue my children. You shouldn’t doubt my determination, Ser Jaime.” You scoff as you begin to walk out of the room, feeling the exhaustion get pushed back as determination and fury replaces it for now.
“You are very stubborn,” Jaime throws out at you as he walks out after you.
However, before you can make it far you stop as you see the bloody bodies of Unsullied soldiers laid on the ground. You don’t feel bad, you’re just impressed that a man with one hand did all this.
“I’m impressed,” you tell the man and bend down to pick up a spear off the ground. “You did well.”
Jaime scoffs. “Not well enough…” he trails off and you glance at his bleeding leg.
“Let me have a—”
“No,” he cuts you off again. “Later. Right now tell me where we’re going. Do you know where Greyworm is taking your kids?”
You drop your gaze and search the ground as you think. “I,” you mutter and blink repeatedly.
Luckily you don’t linger too much in thought because it hits you quickly—There was a battle here now, Daenerys was here to lure you and Jon out so you can bend the knee. If you refused then her plan was taking the babies and forcing you to your knees. So they won’t be here, not so close…
“Kings Landing,” you throw out. “We may have them surrounded, but they can still go in and out, that’s where he’s going.”
Jaime doesn’t question you and nods, letting you add one more thing before you leave. “Thank you, ser Jaime. I owe you my life.”
Jaime shakes his head. “No you don’t. Now come on, my horse isn’t far from here.” He proceeds to grab your arm and begins to lead you out of the castle, and the closer you get outside the more you hear the sound of battle cries, shouts of pain, and clashing metal.
Yet the noise doesn’t compare to what plays in the sky. When you get out of the cover of the ruined castle, there up above rages a beautiful battle between dragons. Their fires light the sky like if thunder and lightning played within the clouds, as if the sun was out hiding within the thick stormy and smoke clouds. It was captivating.
“Here,” Ser Jaime snaps you from your stupor and pulls you to a brown horse. “Can you ride?”
You meet his gaze and nod. “Yes.” Your body fucking hurts, but fuck it.
Ser Jaime helps you mount the horse before he struggles to get on his. Eventually when you make it out on the dirt road, the sound of the battle on the ground grows quieter the further you get, but the sound of the dragons fighting does grow quieter, it doesn’t fade in the distance, their screeches and roars are still heard clearly miles away.
You look up and you can still see them battling, and you also catch someone else beside Rhaegal and Drogon in the sky. You hadn’t heard her at first, it didn’t seem like she was with them either when you first got out of the castle, but you see her now hidden between the clouds. And then she isn’t there.
The fire Drogon blasted out extinguishes, hiding the view of your white scaled dragon. It makes you slow down your horse to watch what comes next as your fascination grows.
However the darkness lingers, letting you not see a thing. You can only hear the sound of Eraxis screech before seconds later it seems that Rheagal blasts out fire next, letting you see Eraxis jaw clamped on Drogon’s neck, and her claws digging in his wing, causing them both to begin twirling down to the ground.
It was awestrucking, but…why was Eraxis there and not searching for you? It’s not like she would pay much mind to the battle without you there to tell her. There was also this anger within her, it was strange and new, it was almost like she was possessed.
Was she perhaps mad that you were gone?
Yeah…maybe that’s it.
Nevertheless, you nudge the horse to pick up its speed once again, letting you catch up to Ser Jaime before there’s a loud thud that shakes the ground.
“What was that?” Jaime asks.
You peer back and smirk softly. “The dragons.”
——
*A FEW MOMENTS LATER*
“Rhaenyra…and undecided. Jon hasn’t chosen a name.”
“Rhaenyra.” He nods softly. “It's a good name for a Queen.”
You smile faintly. “Yes, it is.”
“We’ll save your kids. If that’s the last thing I do,” he assures you, making you pull your gaze away from the dirt road below the green hill you wait on.
“Thank you,” is all you can say again.
Ever since he gave you his word he’s nothing but loyal. It’s more than what you deserve.
“There,” Jaime breaks the short silence and points. You follow his finger and catch a single carriage approaching rapidly. Since it’s dark you don’t see the rider right away, you have to nudge the horse to take a step forward, that’s when you gasp as you catch Greyworm at the front, leading the horse.
“All right, I’ll block him off at the front and you sneak behind him when we begin to fight,” Jaime explains. “As soon as you get those babies, you run out of here and meet Ser Brienne, she’ll be at the south side of the castle. Don’t linger behind, just take them. Understand?”
And leave him to die? He’s not the warrior he once was, it will be like easy practice to Greyworm. Jaime will die.
“I can’t leave you to die!” You snap out with concern.
Jaime meets your gaze and shakes his head. “I’ve told you already, I owe you, don’t worry about me.”
You draw in a deep breath, and just as you’re going to argue, he nudges his horse to run down the hill as Greyworm gets closer. You wait a little longer and just watch Jaime get further down the green hill until he eventually runs out onto the road and blocks the carriage's way, causing Greyworm to come to an immediate halt.
They share a few words from what you can tell, but you’re too far to hear. They actually take a while talking, it begins to make you desperate to reach your babies, but you have to wait until the weapons are drawn.
They better be in there though.
You draw out a deep breath and clench your jaw as you watch them through the darkness the stormy clouds cast. It’s not until a few minutes later that finally Ser Jaime draws out his long Valyrian steel sword that you finally can run down.
The sound of his weapon clashing against Greyworms makes you want to help, but you force yourself to just stop behind the carriage. You don’t look at the battle going on ahead, you try and block out the sound and quickly slide off your horse, causing more pain on your lower body. You then proceed to run to the back of the carriage and throw the doors open, but gasp in surprise as you see two Unsullied soldiers sitting there at both sides of a wooden cradle.
“<Princess,>” one of them says.
You meet his black eyes and counter. “<It's Queen now. Let me take them and I’ll spare your lives.>”
The one on the right laughs and then shakes his head. “<We can’t kill you, but you won’t get these babies if you don’t bend the knee to the true Queen.>”
You reach back for your spear and get ready to talk back, but suddenly one Unsullied soldier jumps out of his seat and throws himself on you, making you fall back on the dirt ground harshly.
You let out a groan, but have no time to dwindle in your new pain because he then presses the stick part of his spear against your throat, cutting off your air circulation, and dulling your other senses.
You try to press back, but he’s stronger right now, he’s angry too, adding to his strength. It seems like he's going to best you, but you manage to slip your hand off his spear and instead throw your hand up and stab your fingers in his eye.
The Unsullied soldier doesn't make any noise, but he throws his head back and stays on top of you, adding more weight on your body as he sits down to grab at his wounded eye.
The other Unsullied peeks his head out and notices his injured companion and throws out a curse before he reaches back for his spear. Fuck.
He can’t join this damn fight or you’ll never win. Fuck. Okay.
You look at your side to search for your weapon, but find it too far out of reach. The weapon of the man you just fought is at your feet and he’s sitting on your legs, so you can’t get it. Fuck!
Okay….
Out of desperation to reach your newborn children, you pump yourself with as much fury and adrenaline as you can muster and throw your upper body up to sink your teeth on the soldier's throat. The soldier stiffens, and just as he tries to claw at you, you pull back and yank off a part of his throat with your teeth, causing the other soldier to suddenly stiffen in surprise.
You use that though and push the now dead man off your body to swipe his spear off the floor. You then quickly hurl it at the second soldier’s chest still on the carriage.
Now that they’re both dealt with you push yourself off the ground and stumble towards the carriage. You still hear Greyworm and Jaime fighting ahead, which is impressive that the one handed soldier is holding out so long, but you can’t stop, he told you not to, so you keep ignoring it and climb onto the back that now holds the wooden cradle.
“Rhaenyra. My love,” you mutter out and don’t care about your appearance, or that you’re hurt, you reach them and look in, seeing both of them there, sleeping peacefully as if nothing is happening around them. “I’m here,” you assure them even if they’re sleeping. “I’m here,” you smile. You reach down to pick them up, but just as you do you catch a glimpse of the fight happening ahead, and see Greyworm stab his spear through Jaime’s stomach with a violent blow that knocks the one handed knight right off his feet.
You’re told not to, you’re supposed to just take the twins and leave, but he’s sacrificed so much, he’s been kind and loyal, he’s been a friend surprisingly enough, you can’t help your heart from sinking and your feet from taking you to him bleeding out on the ground.
“Ser Jaime,” you whisper and cradle his face to turn it towards you. “I can still help you. Just…don’t take the blade off.”
The man swallows thickly and shakes his head. “No,” he grunts. “No...Princess,” he mutters. “My time here is done. I…tried to keep my promise now. Just go.”
Tears wells your eyes and you regardlessly press on his wound to stop the blood from trickling down. “No…you have to see your brother. He’ll be waiting. You have to live and…and still watch over me. That’s an order.”
He scoffs and then coughs out blood. “Tell my brother…” he trails off and continues to cough out more blood, darker this time. “Tell him that I love him…that no matter what I will always look out for him.”
You nod even if you don’t want to accept his death.
“And you…” he continues and cups your hand with his gloved one. “It was an honor serving you…Queen. Your mother would be proud…of the women you are…don’t let her down okay? I’m sorry…I couldn’t protect her, or you. I’m sorry.”
You whimper and shake your head. “I forgive you. It’s thanks to you that I found my children. You did good…it was an honor having you as my protector.”
The corner of his lips tug up slightly, causing blood to begin trickling out from the corner of his mouth. His breaths begin to go ragged, and his hand falls off your hand and lands on his sword's handle. He then drifts his eyes to it and then points his eyes behind you.
You’re confused at first, but you blink and peer back, understanding now that he’s pointing at Greyworm. He’s telling you to kill him.
Greyworm was kind to Rhaenar without question, he was kind to you. But he ripped your newborn babies out of your arms and took them, he’s not on your side anymore, he’s just another enemy. A causality, and Daenerys only friend now. It’s a message to her from you.
That makes killing him much easier.
Albeit, just as you’re going to reach over for the sword, Greyworm comes over and pulls his spear out of Jaime’s stomach, causing blood to pour out of the wound and only pushing Jaime closer to death. And fueling your anger.
So just as Greyworm is walking back to the carriage you reach over for Ser Jaime’s Valyrian steel sword and clutch it in your hands.
Now usually you prefer spears, they’re lighter, easier to use, but your spear is too far away and well, this blade is better than Greyworm’s spear. It’s actually a lot lighter than you expected Valyrian steel to be too.
“Why do you mourn for a man who stabbed your grandfather in the back, and chose his own reputation over being loyal to you?” Greyworm spats out.
You exhale through your nose and slowly push up the sword from the ground. “That man was no grandfather of mine,” you counter spitefully. “I’m glad that he got stabbed in the back, he deserved far worse. But perhaps I’ll save that for Daenerys.” You snicker.
Greyworm spins around and growls out of anger, only making you smirk as you meet his gaze with a taunting glare.
“I won’t fight you,” Greyworm quickly tells you without letting his anger get the best of him. “It won’t be a fair fight, and the Queen wants you alive.”
You lose your taunting look, and slowly begin to scowl at the man as you remain on your knees with the swords tip nailed against the ground, and the handle in your hand. The blood that was drying on your lips and chin only made your look more intimidating, but he still doesn’t flinch.
“Then you’re a coward,” you spat back. “It’s fine, it'll make this fight easier.” You breathe out and slowly begin to use the sword's weight to push yourself up to your feet.
Greyworm remains collected and actually throws his spear at your feet. You glance at it and sigh deeply in annoyance before you meet his gaze and kick the spear at him. You then raise your chin and point at him as you shift your feet to get in a battle ready stance.
Before he can once again turn you down you charge at him and swing the sword. Greyworm quickly blocks your attack with his blade and then manages to push you back. He then doesn’t falter or turn away, he swings at your stomach, but you slide back. He then counters with another swing, but you throw your head back and avoid the blade.
You proceed to swing at his legs, but he shuffles back and thrashes his arm to the side, letting you quickly throw your arms up and clash the blade against his. You proceed to meet his gaze and shoot him a smirk before you lift your leg and shove him back. You don’t lose your momentum and use all your strength to swing the blade across his chest.
Greyworm however catches your attempts and tries to block them, but in doing so he fails to clash the blade against yours, causing the Valyrian steel sword to cut his wooden spear in half and the tip to cut his cheek.
You’re shocked by your actions, but can’t help but smirk proudly. Whilst Greyworm touches his cut and looks at the coat of blood that stains his fingers, he then blinks and knits his eyebrows together as he looks up at you in surprise.
“<Lucky you,” you throw at him in high Valyrian as you begin to walk back. “You’ll meet your gods today.>” Once you reach the spot where you had fought the other soldiers, you pick up your spear and throw at his feet. “<Lets end this.>” You sneer and twist your blade around your hand.
A faint smirk appears on Greyworms lips before he picks up the spear and lunges forward and swings down. You quickly jump back to avoid being hit, and then counterattack. Greyworm albeit blocks your action and pushes you back.
“<Your ancestor should be proud,” Greyworm throws out in Valyrian as he spins the spear in his hand. “You’ve learned well. You make a mighty warrior.>
You huff out, and then charge at him. Just as you get close you jump off your feet and throw the sword down. Greyworm nevertheless avoids the blade and quickly counters by lunging the spear at your side.
Luckily you twist your body and miss being hit, and before he can pull back you turn your hand around and capture his handle.
Greyworm’s eyes snap at you in surprise, you shoot him a smirk and try to stab him, but he’s stronger than you now so he manages to yank the spear out of your hold.
And just as he steps back suddenly his body jerks up, and he lets out a groan. You falter and watch him in confusion, however you then see the cause of this sudden halt when you notice Ser Jaime on his knees behind Greyworm, and with Greyworm’s own broken spear stabbed through his own back.
How did Jaime muster the strength to get up?
Who knows, but you’re thankful.
So before Greyworm can react, you use both hands to hold the sword and charge at him. You lift the sword in your hand as you approach him, and the moment you get close enough you open your mouth to let out a mighty battle cry as you swing the sword across Greyworm’s neck. And since the blade is sharp and made out of the toughest steel, the blade cuts clean across, cutting his head right off his shoulders. Ending this battle, and causing Jaime to fall back.
You first make sure no one is approaching before you run to Jaime and cup his cheek. “Thank you, Ser Jaime,” you mumble. “You did well.”
Jaime’s eyes begin to flutter close, and his breath begins to slow down. He musters enough strength to grab your hand and add one more thing. “Thank you...” he trails off and his eyes close, his chest rises once more as he takes his final breath, and then it sinks for the last time.
——
*LATER*
The air wasn’t filled with battle cries anymore, there’s no cries of pain, or metal slinging. There’s no fire brightening up the sky red, there’s no dragons flying either. It’s not quiet or calm, but it seems that the battle had come to an end. Actually the castle people say is cursed doesn’t stand as tall as it once did moments ago, there are towers that are missing, walls are gone and turned to rubble and debris.
Where once stood a haunted mighty castle now remains crushed walls, and smoke.
It’s sort of fascinating, in a weird and creepy way.
“Halt right there!”
You rip your eyes away from the ruined castle and see Ser Brienne, Ser May and Ser Marizelizabeth come out of hiding from behind rubble to point their weapons at you.
“It’s okay—”
“My Queen,” Ser Brienne cuts you off right away and doesn’t hesitate to drop on her knee.
“Queen,” The others mutter and mirror their commander's action.
You bring the carriage to halt and offer them a nod. “At ease.”
However, neither of them rise.
“Forgive me your Grace,” Ser Brienne shares with her eyes on the ground. “I failed to keep you safe, they took you because of my incompetence. I understand if you want to remove me from my rank.”
You slide off the carriage and approach Ser Brienne. “It was not your fault. It was no one’s fault,” you assure her and touch her shoulder. “No one could have known. So please don’t blame yourselves, that’s an order.”
The three of them look at you, and Ser Brienne hesitates, but it was an order so she listens and doesn’t press on the matter, instead she and the others stand up and examine you.
“Ser May,” Ser Brienne orders over her shoulder after she caught the blood on your face and on your gown. “Fetch the maester.”
“Wait,” you call out before she can run off. “While you do fetch Jon too. I have something I need to show him.” You smile, but it falters. “He is fine right?”
Brienne nods. “Worried,” she assures you. “That’s all.”
You let out a relieved sigh and nod with a happy grin painted on your face. “Good. Go then.”
Ser May runs off to go as she’s told, letting you now address the problems. “Catch me up,” you direct at the pair of knights as you turn to head to the back of the carriage.
“King Jon,” Ser Brienne doesn’t falter. “He came with an army of men when he heard of your disappearance. While Arya, Sarella, Ser Davos and Lord Royce led the battle on the ground, Jon fought Daenerys in the sky.”
You hum and stop as you reach the doors.
“The battle didn’t last long,” she continues. “We lost some warriors, but they lost more.”
“Good,” you comment.
“It seems Daenerys was injured in battle after her dragon fell from the sky. That’s when the battle on the ground ended because her men retreated. Albeit not before Drogon lay waste on the castle.”
She was injured?
You swallow thickly and find yourself lost between feeling guilt and pride.
“Her dragon was hurt too, badly may I add,” Brienne adds, but you knew that, you saw that as you were chasing after Greyworm—“when they were retreating, King Jon, and your dragon….burned probably a third of her army.”
You blink in surprise and look over at her to share your disbelief. You don’t say anything, you’re just shocked he’d do something like that, especially that Eraxis would dare do something like that without your command.
“Is that all?” You probe and grab the door handles.
Ser Brienne nods, letting you sigh and look at the doors with a faint smile. “Ser Marielizabeth, if you may. May you please ride to the gates of Kings landing and…” you trail off to open the doors and pick up the sack that held Greyworm’s head. “Leave this at the gates for Daenerys,” you continue. “Make sure she gets it and then ride back to Sunspear.”
“Sunspear?” She queries.
You meet her gaze and nod. “Aye. A third of her army is gone, her Master of War is dead, she and her dragon are injured, we can’t return to Winterfell now that we have the advantage. We have to remain close to attack soon and end this war.” You grab the sack and give it to your knight. “Take care, alright?”
She nods and turns away to go get ready, letting you face Ser Brienne with a frown as you see her studying the body covered with a tarp.
“Ser Brienne,” you mutter and grab her hand. “I'm sorry. Ser Jaime….he…He’s passed.”
The tall woman knight drops her head and blinks repeatedly as you know grief and disbelief strikes her heart. She keeps her hand in your grasp and just swallows thickly before meeting your gaze with red eyes as she fought the need to cry.
“It would please me if you took his body and sword to his brother, you can grieve him as you please, and then go to Sunspear with the Hand.”
Brienne shakes her head. “No,” she argues. “I need to stay by your side, protect you. I can’t go, I’ll have someone else go. I can grieve him alone. By your side.”
You draw in a deep breath and hold her gaze for a second as you debate arguing with her. But it is her choice so you sigh and nod. “As you please. Have three Knights of the Queens guard take the body and sword so they can return with Lady Sansa.”
“Y/N?!” Your name is called out as you finish giving Ser Brienne an order, and when you snap your eyes past her body you spot Jon; his face is caked in blood, and his hair is down, he looks exhausted, but he’s a relief to see, he’s the very sun missing from the sky today.
“Jon,” you call out and break away from your spot to run to him.
Said man instantly meets you halfway without a fault and captures you an embrace. “Oh my love,” he whispers. “I was so worried,” he whispers as he holds the back of your head and hugs you tighter.
You laugh softly out of exciment, and pull back to kiss him over the dry blood. He deepens the kiss, and you linger in his taste for a moment before you pull back and grab his chin to study his face for any injuries.
“It’s not my blood,” he assures you and grabs your chin too as he sees the dry blood stained over your lips and chin.
“Not mine,” you mirror.
“Good,” he says and reaches for your belly that hasn’t gone down, but you grab his hand and grin at him. “Come with me. I need to introduce you to a pair of twins.”
Jon’s face quickly twists in confusion, but before he can ask, you pull him to the back of the carriage, and then inside where the cradle is. He’s hesitant to approach, he still looks puzzled, so you beam brighter and reach down to pick them up.
“Jon,” you whisper since Rhaenyra remains asleep, “meet Rhaenyra and your son.” You turn around to show them off, noticing that his eyes are locked on Rhaenyra fast asleep and the boy watching you. He looks surprised, but that slowly falls as the boy begins to complain and squirm.
Jon then approaches you and pulls the sheet down to see their faces.
“They’re okay,” you assure him. “Healthy. They’ve just lived an adventure now. Isn’t that right?” You ask the baby boy. “But you’re here now. With your mother and father.” You peek over at Jon and see that he carries a soft smile that matches his softened eyes that are welled with tears.
“May I hold them?” He asks and meets your gaze.
You giggle and nod. “Of course, my love. Here,” you whisper and carefully hand the twins to him.
Just as you’re going to pull your arms away, Jon stops you. “Wait, I don’t want to drop ‘em. Just—”
“Jon,” you cut him off softly. “It’s okay. You won’t. You won’t.” You very slowly pull your hands away, but keep them close for a second to let him know that he was okay. That they won’t just fall from his hands. “See. It’s okay.”
Jon scoffs, and then looks down at the twins with a lovestruck gaze. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you and your mother when you were born. I’m sorry. I’m here now though, I’m never letting you leave my sight.” He laughs softly and meets your gaze with tears rolling down his cheeks. “They’re so beautiful. Rhaenrya, she has your hair.”
You nod and then rest your chin on his shoulder as you watch him with awe. “They both have your eyes. They’re beautiful.”
Jon nods and then presses a kiss on your forehead. “You did good, my brave girl. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there, I’m sorry you had to do it alone. Forgive me.”
You shake your head, “there’s nothing to forgive, it’s not your fault. They’re here now, alive and healthy, that's all that matters.”
Jon licks his lips to get ready to argue, but then his name and yours is called out. “Jon? Y/N?!”
It’s Arya. Her footsteps race around the carriage, but once she reaches the back and sees Jon holding two bundles she stiffens and gasps.
Jon and you share a happy look before he motions her to come in. She hesitates but then jumps in and meets her niece and nephew.
“Look at them,” she whispers with awe as she reaches her finger for the boy's hand. “Hi. I’m Arya, your—” she cuts herself off and gasps as the baby boy holds her finger. “I’m your aunt,” she continues with a beaming smile. “Your best aunt.”
Jon laughs softly, and then shares a passing look with you before he looks at the twins and parts his lips to whisper. “Arya, meet Rhaenyra and Robb.” He smiles softly.
.
.
.
.
Tagged: @watercolorskyy @jessimay89 @cecespizza01 @theroyalbrownbarbie @crybabyatthediscooffandoms @neenieweenie @midnightpantherxo @ashleyforeverareject @dark-night-sky-99 @starwarssluts @stargaryenx @defiantblade12 @cloudroomblog
#fanfiction#damn-stark#sandstorm#game of thrones fanfiction#jon snow fanfiction#jon snow x fem!reader#jon snow x reader#jon snow x targaryen!reader#jon snow x targaryen!femreader#jon snow x y/n#jon snow fic#jon snow x you#Jon snow fanfic#game of thrones fanfic#got#got fanfiction#daenerys targaryen#Greyworm#tyrion lannister#jaime lannister#ser brienne#sansa stark#arya strak
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screamer (1)
Summary: Sansa finds a little thing about Jon.
(Just some mindless Dom!Sansa x Sub!Jon porn.)
WC: 1.6k words
Warnings: Tension. Fluff. Communication.
masterlist
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Sansa raised her eyes as Jon got another notification from his phone, frowning a little.
What had happened that it was just going off today? He always complained they barely used their group chat!
They had gotten together long after Jon had returned from his time up the far north. He had made a lot of friends there, and even had a girlfriend, but they had broken up by the time he was to go back home, but were still good friends.
Sansa had met all of them a couple of times, and they were nice, but they were all kind of rowdy... nothing like her sweet Jon.
They jokingly called themselves savages, like the old folk that lived beyond the wall when there were Queens and King's around.
"Jon," she stood up, walking to the bathroom and knocking on the door with the back of her hand. "I think someone died, your phone won't stop."
He chuckled from inside.
"It's alright," he assured her from under the shower. "If someone had died they would be calling both of us."
She scoffed.
"But you can check," Jon suggested.
"No, no," she said quickly. "It's alright."
Sansa would never be one of those jealous girlfriends, going over their boyfriends' texts out of jealousy or some sense of entitlement.
She trusted him very much.
But his phone kept buzzing and buzzing, so much so that it had moved from its spot and almost fell from the little table by their couch.
So she picked it up and opened it, just to give it a little glance. Just a little check.
And it was from the group chat, yes. And from Ygritte.
"Well, I can teach her a bit about putting you in your place, Tormund. I'm sure she'll love a way of shutting you up."
She frowned a little, going back through the messages.
Oh. Tormund was trying to find a way to get with Brienne - her friend that was around the last time they were.
They were all giving him advice, most of it useless. Most of it also telling him not to be himself.
He was a little... uh...
Not bad. Tormund was perfectly alright.
But he was going in far too strongly.
She shook her head at Tormund's answer, an emoji of an eye roll, but Pyp spoke next.
"Gonna teach her how to tie him down and shut him up?"
That made her eyes widen?
What now?
"It's my speciality," she texted back. "Jon knows can tell you all about it, hm?"
Her face got hot with a bit of anger. How could she speak of him like that! He wasn't her boyfriend anymore!
But Jon wasn't the type to ever care. He would just shrug and be all 'Ygritte is like that'.
It had happened in front of her once. But they stopped when they realised it made her uncomfortable.
But not in the chat, no.
When Jon - Sansa - didn't answer, the texts kept coming.
"Oh, someone's bragging"
from Edd.
"Did she shut you up a lot, Snow?"
from Pyp.
"I bet she did!!!"
from Grenn.
Sansa's face burned even more.
"She always knew how,"
Satin added.
"Gods, I'm glad I didn't share a place with those two,"
from Tormund.
"You should. I reckon he is a screamer,"
Sam added.
Her eyes widened.
Sam?!
Sweet Sam was joining in that?!
And... a screamer?
Well, Jon was vocal when they fucked, but he wasn't a screamer with her!
What did-
But she jumped in shock when she felt Jon's hand brushing her back.
"So, did anyone die?" he asked.
Sansa would have dropped his phone if she wasn't quick enough to grab it with her other hand.
"No," she gasped, turning around.
But Jon didn't look any upset when she looked at his face, just confused.
"Just..." she cleared her throat. "Your friends. Being themselves."
His eyes travelled over her face, and she looked away, feeling so hot she knew her neck and ears were as red as her face.
"Please tell me Tormund didn't send his dick pics for a second opinion in the chat again," he sighed.
Sansa gave him his phone back, not wanting to answer, and walked away before he could even read it.
"I'll go shower now," she decided.
Yes, shower. Good idea.
She walked into the bathroom quickly and undressed, ready to hop into the shower so he wouldn't follow her for at least a bit of time, but Jon knocked on the door before her bra was even off.
"Sansa?" he called.
She froze, wide-eyed.
"Can we talk about what you saw?" Jon asked, sounding gentle. "Please?"
Sansa wanted to groan and hide like she did as a little girl, but she didn't. Instead, she walked to the door and opened it, looking at his face.
"Did it make you uncomfortable?" he asked. "What they said?"
She squirmed a little, kicking her feet.
"No," she mumbled.
"Because I'd understand if you were," Jon added. "They are... annoying, to say the least."
Yeah, she knew that. But his friends respected her when she was around.
It was just...
"Were you?" she asked him. "A screamer?"
What did Ygritte even do to make her scream?
His grey eyes widened when they met hers.
"I... hm..." he stopped, looking for words. "Kinda?"
Sansa looked away from him, shifting her jaw as she did. Oh.
Good for him.
"Are you-"
"How?" she asked before he could. "What did she do?"
Jon's face went all red.
"Sansa..." he exhaled.
What, didn't he want to tell her? Didn't he want to share?
"I want to know," she insisted. "Because everyone else does, except for me."
He raised a hand to his face, rubbing it slowly, exhaling.
"Can we talk about that with our clothes on?" he requested instead. "Because I'm naked, and you are in your underwear, and we are supposed to talk, but my brain won't understand that."
That made her freeze.
Oh?
"Okay," Sansa agreed. "I can do that. We can do that."
They were dressed when she sat on the couch, right by Jon's side, and he looked a bit too nervous.
It wasn't that Sansa didn't know about his relationship with Ygritte, Jon was always honest with her about it. Tormund had introduced the two of them to one another, and they were quite the strange match in the beginning, but liked each other very much. The only reason why they had broken up was because of incompatibility on their plans for the future. Jon wanted to come back to Winterfell, get married, and have children... Ygritte wanted none of that.
That was why they such good friends. There was no big fight, no strong conflict of betrayal... just two adults with different plans.
And maybe that was why she was so insecure when it came to her, Ygritte.
And now it turned out she was so good at sex she made Jon scream?!
Sansa was still learning sex stuff, Jon was the only boyfriend she had ever had who didn't expect her to just get him off.
"Well?" she asked. "What did she mean?"
Jon's face looked all red again.
"It's... not..." he stumbled with his words. "I don't think it's even your thing. She was... Ygritte was just experienced. And she liked different stuff."
Sansa stared at him with her jaw slack for a moment.
"Well, thank you," she practically spat out.
He shook his head.
"I don't mean it in a bad way," he insisted. "I love seeing you growing into your interests, Sansa, we both know that."
She scoffed, looking away from him, and he took her hand, squeezing it.
"Ygritte liked different things," he told her. "She was... well, she still is, a professional dominatrix. It's her thing, and she loves that."
She was...
What?
"A professional dominatrix?" she repeated. "For a living?"
He shrugged.
"It was a hobby when we were together, she kinda of quit her job recently to do that full time," he told her. "It helps her travel around, keep the nomad lifestyle she likes."
She blinked, shocked.
Oh.
So that was how she was always in a different town.
"And was she your dominatrix?" she asked.
Jon looked away, licking his lips, and she just knew his mind was full of thoughts.
"Yeah," he told her. "I mean, we would... switch places. Not that she liked being dominated much, but we did that."
Sansa processed it slowly.
Oh.
Well, she was very subby, very soft.
"Do you miss that?" she asked, worried now. "Being domminated?"
Was she denying him that?
Jon didn't answer right away, and it made her anxiety grow by the minute.
"I thought I would miss it," he told her. "But I did realise I'm much of a dom than a sub."
Sansa watched him.
"That's not a clear answer," she told him.
He took her hand, tangling their fingers together.
"Sansa, I've been in love with you since the day we met," he reminded her, a soft smile on his face. "I've never been as happy as I am with you."
Once again, not a clear answer.
"We tell everything to each other," she reminded him.
And they did. Their communication was very open.
"Exactly," he affirmed, kissing her knuckles.
Sansa moved, a bit uncomfortable.
"Okay?" he asked gently.
She nodded, still.
"Okay," Sansa exhaled. "But... what if I want to try it?"
He looked at her face, not showing much emotion for a moment, and smiled a bit.
"Well..." he spoke slowly. "You know I always admire your curiosity. But I don't expect anything of you, I promise."
…
“screamer” was posted on Patreon on April. To read it now before anyone else, subscribe to my page! It’s just $2 a month and it helps a lot.
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