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thatfanficstuff · 3 years

Text

Impossible - 19

Pairing: Eric Northman x Reader

Warnings: canon typical

A/N: I'm lazy so a gif instead of a header and no editing. Course I'm lazy cuz I'm writing a bunch of stuff behind the scenes, so...

***

“How long has it been since you fed?” Eric asked Godric.

“I require very little blood anymore,” he responded, looking rather annoyed. “You sent a human to rescue me?”

Eric wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his side. “I had little choice. These savages mean to destroy you.”

“I know what they had planned.” Again, that little voice spoke up in the back of your brain that they couldn’t have taken Godric and held him without him allowing it.

“You should eat,” you told him and nudged Gabe’s leg with your foot.

He simply looked at you with a bored expression. “He would have raped your mate and the human,” he said without even turning to Eric.

A second later, Eric broke Gabe’s neck then proceeded to glare at the body in fury. Suddenly, an annoying alarm and a flashing blue light caused you to jump as it startled you. “Shit.”

“Get them out of here,” Godric demanded of his progeny.

“I’m not going anywhere until—”

“Now. I can take care of myself. Spill no blood on your way out.”

“Why do you always have to ruin all my fun?” you pouted. You managed to catch his smirk before Eric herded you and Sookie toward the stairs. When you reached the top, you and Eric peered around the doorframe while Sookie hung back. Several men were rushing around mostly armed with stakes. “Where the fuck did they all come from? They’re like cockroaches.”

Eric huffed a laugh. “I could have us out in seconds.”

“Not without killing someone you can’t. You heard Godric.”

He growled low in his throat. “Stay here.”

“What’s he doing?” Sookie asked as she came out to stand with you.

You shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

He slumped forward trying to make himself look more human, less intimidating. You snorted. Like that was even possible. “Um…excuse me, sirs, but uh, Steve sent me over to uh man the exit here so I’ve got it from here.”

What even was that accent? You laughed again knowing Eric would hear though the humans would not.

“By yourself? I mean, you’re big and all but there’s a vampire running around,” one of them said, looking uncertain. “Where’s your stake?”

“Oh, golly. I knew I forgot something. Could I, uh, borrow yours?” Eric asked. You prepared to sprint to his aid at the first sign of trouble.

“I don’t think so, man. Get your own.”

As Eric prepared to glamour the man into handing over his weapon, one of the others moved around him. It was obvious he didn’t trust a word coming from Eric’s mouth. “Stake!” you yelled as you moved from the doorway.

Eric turned too quick for your eye to follow and knocked away the man trying to kill him. He did the same to one of the others, while you shoved the third into the wall with a hand on his chest. His friends ran off when you did so. So brave. Eric snatched the stake from his hand and tossed it aside. He cracked open the front door to see a mass of men headed in your direction.

“Those arrows are wood, you’ll never make it through,” the man you had pinned said.

“The sanctuary,” Sookie said.

Eric glanced to you and you shrugged. You had no idea if you could get out that way or not. You were guessing not but you sure as hell weren’t getting out the front. The three of you moved into the sanctuary, your hand firmly ensnared in Eric’s. “Where’s the exit?” he asked.

“Back there,” Sookie said, hurrying a bit so she could show you the way.

Then Steve Newlin appeared with a smug smile. “There are several exits, but the easiest one takes you straight to hell.” As if he’d coordinated it, the door behind you opened at that exact moment to admit some of his ‘holy’ army.

“Fuck,” you spat.

“You’re in God’s house,” one of the men in the group behind you said.

“Whatever you got to tell yourself, buddy,” came your easy reply. God had nothing to do with what they had planned.

“Let us go,” Sookie cried. “Save yourselves.”

You glanced at her. You had a lot of faith in Eric and yourself, but you were surrounded by about thirty men at the moment. There were limits. And you had no idea if Godric would help at this point. “She’s right, you know. You really should let us go.”

“The war has begun you evil whore of Satan,” Newlin said, stretching his arms out. “And the vampires started it by killing my father.”

This guy was such an asshole. “I’m going to have to stop you right there, reverend. I’m the evil whore of Eric, not Satan. Just thought I should clarify.”

“Really?” Eric muttered beside you.

You shrugged. You might as well go out laughing.

“Well then, you won’t mind dying beside him,” Steve snapped, that creepy smile still in place. You didn’t bother to tell him you didn’t intend to go out any other way.

“The vampire you were holding got away,” Sookie said in an effort to save you. “He’ll send help.”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t care about Godric. Any vampire will do and we have one right here.”

Eric tried to release your hand, but you were stronger than you looked and kept hold of him as he stepped forward. He looked up at your captor.

“We will have a holy bonfire at dawn,” he announced.

Eric turned his attention to you as you gripped his hand harder. He reached down and pried your hand from his. “I will be fine.”

You clenched your teeth as he stepped forward, every instinct you possessed telling you not to let him go. You hated this, but the only way you could escape was to wait for the right moment and this wasn’t it. So, you let him go.

You stood your ground while he laid on the altar and allowed them to lay silver chains across him pinning him down as you kept from crying out at the echoing pain in your own body. You ignored Sookie while she yelled at you and asked why you weren’t doing anything. You swallowed your protests when Eric offered himself in exchange for you, Sookie, and Godric. And you ignored Newlin announcing you would be tied to the stake to burn with Eric because you were a traitor to the human race.

Then your salvation came in the unlikely form of Jason Stackhouse and a paintball gun. Just the distraction you needed. He shot Steve in the head, a green splatter coloring his pale skin. His ‘solidiers’ fell back, confused. They apparently couldn’t function without Newlin telling them precisely what to do. “I’m not human, asshole,” you said as you hurried past him to take the chains off Eric.

Eric grabbed Steve by the throat and slammed him into the floor. Sookie was yelling, telling him not to kill the reverend while Jason was telling him to do it. Your gaze found the male Stackhouse to find him being held by several men. What the hell was he even doing here? You really missed your gun.

Then Steve himself starting in, encouraging Eric to kill him and make him a martyr. You rolled your eyes and kicked him in the temple to knock his ass out. Eric released him and stood. Before either of you could say anything to the crowd around you, you heard the distinct sound of vampires moving. You exchanged a glance with your mate as you reached out and pulled Sookie into your side.

The sanctuary doors flung open to reveal Stan fucking Baker flanked by several vampires who quickly moved into position around the room. “Steve Newlin, you have pushed us too far,” he announced.

He was such a fucking drama king. “He can’t hear you, jackass. I knocked his ass out.”

“Be that as it may, we’re not going to sit around while he plans to kill us. We’ll kill them first. Just like we killed his father,” Stan said, shifting his weight like he was in an old Western prepping for a gunfight. He dressed like it, too. “Kill them all,” he ordered.

The vampires swarmed forward to select their victims. Just before you could take control on behalf of the Authority, a voice rang through the room. “Enough.” Everyone stopped and looked up to see Godric standing on the wall of the balcony above you. You could almost see the irritation and disappointment rolling off Stan.

Steve stirred beside you and pushed himself up on his elbows. Godric looked down at him. “Reverend Newlin, we do not have to be at odds. I will make the first move by promising there will be no violence against you and yours. Will you join me and make the same promise?”

“I will not make deals with sub-humans,” he announced as he got to his knees. He looked up at Eric. “Kill me. Do it. Jesus will protect me.”

“Shut up or I’ll kill you,” you told him. “Then you won’t be a martyr. You’ll just be an asshole that pissed off the wrong person.”

Eric chuckled then you both turned as Godric flashed between you and picked the reverend up by the back of his neck. “Good people, who of you is willing to die for this madman’s ideals?” No one stepped forward. “That’s what I thought.” He released Steve and let him fall to the floor. “There will be no bloodshed here. Go home.”

Once the humans dispersed, Godric stepped forward and glanced at the vampires. “Come.” Stan stepped forward trying to push his agenda and Godric just stared at him. “I said come.”

Jason ran over to hug Sookie while Eric turned you to look you over. “Are you okay?”

You nodded and held up your wrist. “Better than you. Drink.”

He didn’t even bother to protest and accepted your offering to heal him from the silver. The Reverend Newlin was still crumpled on the floor beside you crying for everyone to come back and not leave him. Idiot. You glanced from him to Jason. “Jason, thank you for the rescue, but the Fellowship of the Sun are not good company to keep.”

“Yeah, I know. I see that now. I promise.”

You studied him for a minute before giving him a nod. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” you said as you grabbed your mate’s hand to drag him out the door.

#eric northman x reader #eric northman fanfiction #true blood fanfiction #eric northman x you #series #impossible

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vivilove-jonsa · 4 years

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Yours Before I Knew

Again, since we’ve got some lovely new Jonsa-themed headers for WIP Wednesday, I’m dusting off some old drafts to share some things. I can still call it a work in progress even if I’ve only completed two chapters in a year, right? *sighs* (You can find the lovely Canon-themed headers here if you want to use one)

This is a Rhaegar Won/Arranged Marriage AU that I’ve been wanting to write for ages but am easily distracted from and it may never see the light of day on ao3 so here’s the first two chapters in case anyone wants to see what I’ve got. Fair warning, it’s all set up for Jon and Sansa marrying with a side of scheming so probably pretty dull :(

****

Chapter 1-ELIA

The queen sucked on an orange wedge relishing the sunshine as the clacking of wooden swords silenced the morning songbirds. She did not mind that. All her life, she’d known the sounds of boys and men training every morning.

The stone walls of her little courtyard had been baking in the sun since it rose three hours earlier. Touching those walls might lead to a burnt hand now. But Elia would not touch them. She was content to enjoy the radiated warmth of them as she broke her fast and watched the boys, her son…and Lyanna’s.

Not everyone loves the sun as the Dornish do and the Sun does not love everyone.

The Dornish had been infuriated with her husband of course, none more than her brothers, but they had stayed true to the Iron Throne. When Robert’s Rebellion had ended with the usurper’s death outside the city walls, they had remained Rhaegar’s subjects though silently sullen over the insult he had done their princess.

Heeding the advice of others, Rhaegar had chosen to avoid single combat with Robert Baratheon and instead made overtures to Tywin Lannister, appealing to the man whose ego his father had wounded more than once with promises of a better reign in the future.

And despite his melancholic outlook in general, her husband chose not to dwell overly long on his part in his father’s removal from the throne nor the circumstances surrounding his death. Lord Tywin’s men had done all the dirty work for their new king and the unpleasantness had been swept away like filthy rushes to be replaced with fresh, sweet ones.

But not everything had been forgotten and not everything had been swept out the door either.

“Do you yield?” she heard Aegon cry, an edge of triumph in his childish voice.

“Nay!”

Elia scowled and continuing sucking on her orange wedge. The boy was stubborn. Aegon was a year older. He was taller and a bit broader. But Aemon would not yield until he was on the ground and pinned, usually with Aegon shoving his face into the stones if the master-at-arms did not stop them quick enough. Always determined to prove himself, Aemon fought like a wolf. No doubt the stigma surrounding his birth and his questionable place at Court plagued him.

Like a wolf. Elia smiled despite herself. That was what he was. He is no true dragon.

“That’s good, Jon!” the master-at-arms said as the tempo of the clacking wooden swords increased.

Jon. He preferred to be called Jon. It was the name his uncle had given him when he’d taken the child and his sister’s bones out of Dorne before he’d learned of his friend’s death.

Lord Stark had been spared by Rhaegar. Some whispered that he should’ve met a traitor’s end but their shared grief over Lyanna had stayed her husband’s hand. Elia did not object to it though she would’ve thought Rhaegar might’ve stripped him of his title and lands at least. However, the Northman had been allowed to return to his frozen forests, grateful to be reunited with his wife and young son. He’d only been south of the Neck once since the end of the war.

Rhaegar had permitted the boy to be fostered in Winterfell as a babe before sending for him when he was six. “The North is in his blood. It is where he will fight his greatest battles…and where he will die someday perhaps,” her husband had once said. Rhaegar’s obsession with prophecy had only grown with the passing of years.

The North was a place that held little interest for Elia but she was aware of their own discontented murmurs. Nevertheless, Lord Stark had kept the vast kingdom under control and helped stop Balon Greyjoy’s ill-fated rebellion recently even though many of the Northmen held no love of the Crown. And why should they? Aerys had killed Lord Eddard’s father and brother after Rhaegar had made off with the Stark girl inciting the rebellion to begin with.

The fact that Rhaegar had married Lyanna in a secret ceremony, pressuring the High Septon to allow the practice of polygamy as the Targaryens of old had, had not tempered their displeasure. Most did not believe Rhaegar’s talk of prophesies or Aemon’s potential role in some war to come but no one said as much to the king.

“My lady? May I join you?”

She tilted her head in acquiescence. “Have you come to watch them?” she asked once Rhaegar had taken a seat and kissed her hand, his courtly manners undimmed despite the strained state of their marriage.

He looked towards the courtyard for a handful of seconds, watching the battle below with an indifference she couldn’t understand. “I’ve spent my morning closeted with the Hand arranging betrothals.”

“Whose?”

“The children’s, both mine and my father’s.”

Elia swallowed her disquiet and brushed her hands along her silk skirts. “Did Viserys have objections?”

“Objections to Arianne? Why would he? And it was agreed to long ago.”

“And Daenerys will marry Quentyn?”

“She will.”

“Doran will be pleased.”

He hummed softly in response. She knew the young princess’s opinion would not be sought. Elia felt sorry for the girl and her own daughter but it wasn’t as if she’d been given any choice in the matter of her own match. It was the lot of all highborn girls whether they carried the title of lady or princess. And besides, Quentyn is a sweet boy.

“And who are our children to marry?”

“Rhaenys will marry Willas Tyrell.”

“You’d marry my daughter to a Tyrell?” she asked sharply, her earlier acceptance of the fate of highborn girls quite forgotten.

“The enmity between your family’s house and the Tyrells should end. Willas bears no ill will towards your brother nor Oberyn towards him. It’s time the rest of you follow suit.”

Elia bowed her head, knowing that any argument would be fruitless. Rhaegar was not his father but he would not be talked out of a decision easily either.

“And Aegon? Who is to be his queen?”

“I had thought to heal another breach. The North is vast and anger lingers there.”

She could not be silent on this. “You will not marry my son into her family!”

Rhaegar’s eyes moved from the boys below to his wife, that strange distance in him so visible. If he was blood and fire, why were his looks always so cold? She contained a shiver but dropped her eyes. She rarely spoke so heatedly towards him. Her rages would do her no more good than her sweetness in this case regardless, she feared.

“I had thought to. I’ve decided differently. Tywin has been a faithful servant and Cersei serves you well.”

Tywin had decidedly differently is what that meant. And Cersei... “She hates me.”

“Nonsense.”

“You see her beauty and her smiles. You do not see her contempt. You do not hear her barbed words.” You only see what you wish to when you bed her, the wife of your best friend. She would not dare speak those words.

“She won’t be marrying Aegon, her daughter will.”

“Myrcella?”

“Yes.”

“She’s only three.”

“He’s only eleven. They’ll marry after she flowers.” He softened marginally. “It is only a betrothal, my lady. If things change, things change,” he shrugged.

She stewed over that before asking about Rhaegar’s third child. “And Aemon?”

“It is my hope that match will end the rumbling in the North. He will marry his uncle’s daughter, the eldest girl.”

“Lady Sansa?”

“Um…yes, that’s her name.”

Did he know it to begin with? she wondered. No matter. This arrangement did not matter to her. It suited her. She’d have Lannisters and Tyrells as her children’s good-parents. Wasn’t that enough to worry over?

Who cared if Aemon, or Jon as he preferred, went North someday? It wasn’t that she disliked him. It was just that he was a constant reminder of things that Elia would rather forget. He’d go North and marry the Stark girl. Maybe she’d never see Lyanna’s son again if he did.

But Rhaegar had other plans as always, it would seem.

“Aemon will marry Sansa Stark once they’re of age, get an heir by her and then…we’ll see where I need him most.”

“Where you need him most? I don’t understand.”

Rhaegar did not answer.

“Well done! Well fought, boys!” the master-at-arms cried a moment later.

Elia’s expectant smile curdled when she saw Aegon clutching his hand, his wooden sword on the stones at his feet and Aemon doing a poor job of hiding his delight. The North could have Lyanna’s son. She could not say she’d miss him here.

Chapter 2-JAIME

Ser Jaime Lannister of the Nights Watch strolled along the corridors of the Red Keep towards the chambers occupied by his twin sister Cersei. He caught his reflection in a mirrored panel. He didn’t look half bad in black. He felt no more soiled in it than he had in his white cloak.

Due to his father’s role in winning Rhaegar his crown, Jaime had not been beheaded for his own rather hands-on part in seeing an end to Aerys’ regime but he had been discharged from the Kingsguard and sent to the Nights Watch for killing his king.

He hadn’t stayed there very long.

It was cold and inhospitable and his fellow brothers in black had all loathed him. He hadn’t gone out of his way to make any friends there to be honest. They were all beneath him, none could hold a candle to him with sword or lance and the North was clearly not for him.

So, when Lord Commander Mormont had been lamenting the lack of able-bodied recruits to fill their numbers and man the Wall, Ser Jaime had graciously offered to go South to the king and his father the Hand and see to it a regular supply of warm bodies were sent the Lord Commander’s way. It didn’t matter that most of them were the excrement of the lowest pothouses or the ague-ridden sweepings of dungeons, Jaime knew Mormont would take them, desperate as he was. And so long as the recruits kept arriving, Mormont did not recall Ser Jaime to his post. That suited Lord Tywin and, since Jaime avoided making a nuisance of himself around Rhaegar, it seemed the king was content for him to remain and ignored him for the most part.

He gave me a life sentence meant to humble me for killing his father but knew it was necessary if he was ever going to ascend to the throne himself. Besides, he’d have no city to rule from if not for me.

He had fallen into a little place here at Court. He competed in tourneys here and there, not enough to draw too much attention to himself though. Mostly, he assisted the master-at-arms in drilling young guards as well as the young princes. Occasionally, the Small Council would ask him questions about the Watch. He was as ignorant as most of them but he spoke the words he thought they wanted to hear given the current mood.

It was infinitely preferable to stalking along the top of the Wall or overseeing the digging of new latrines in the frozen shit hole that was Castle Black. He wasn’t even sure what the Nights Watch’s purpose was anymore. The ragamuffin Wildlings who made it over the Wall once in a while weren’t any true threat to the Seven Kingdoms and it’s not like that could all breach the 700 foot edifice in their way.

As for his pupils, Viserys was quite hopeless and Jaime had been glad to see the back of him when he’d left for Dragonstone a couple of years earlier. Aegon and Aemon, or Jon as the boy preferred, had some promise though, the younger boy more than the older.

His twin sister Cersei was at Court as well, one of the Queen’s ladies, while his father had chosen to leave Tyrion behind at Casterly Rock, out of sight and out of mind.

He rapped upon his sister’s door and entered when a maid answered. Cersei stood before a mirror adjusting the emerald green gown encrusted with gold she wore which highlighted the eyes which matched his own, whilst her golden hair shone in the sunlight.

“What do you want?” she asked irritably as her maid clasped a great diamond and onyx necklace around her throat.

You, he mouthed, earning him a scowl. Theirs was not a typical brother-sister relationship to say the least.

“Connington’s here,” she said in a conversational tone next. “His ship arrived in the harbor last night.”

Her husband, Lord Jon Connington, was one of Cersei’s least favorite people to see. Gratefully, he spent most of his time in his castle while his wife spent most of her time at court.

Only five years older than the bride he’d been gifted as a reward for his faithful services during the rebellion, Connington appeared a withered old man when stood next to Cersei these days. Jaime highly suspected she was slowly poisoning him…or having someone do it for her. He honestly didn’t care if it was so. The oaf did not deserve Cersei. A good thing the children weren’t his.

“And did you entertain your husband when he arrived last night?” Jaime asked mockingly, his gloved hand tracing her pale throat when the maid was dismissed at last.

“There was no need. He was eager to spend as much time as possible with the king.” Connington would rather lick the king’s boots than his wife’s teats. That suited Jaime just fine.

“And who was the king eager to see last night?” he whispered in her ear, the hand at her throat squeezing ever so slightly.

She jerked her chin and stepped away from his touch. Jaime clenched his fist and told himself it didn’t matter. The children weren’t Rhaegar’s either.

Saying no to Rhaegar after carefully flirting and teasing her way into an affair with him would be foolish though. Cersei had her reasons, no doubt. Regardless, she was still his. She was part of him. She would always be his in a way the others never could be, not her husband who she spent less than fifteen minutes at a time in the company of if she could help it and not her current and practically acknowledged lover, the king.

Deciding he didn’t wish to quarrel today, he asked after her children. My children.

“Myrcella will be queen someday. Father has arranged it,” she told him, clearly pleased.

He nodded. It was neither here nor there to him. Cersei had warned him not to get too close, not to appear too doting so as not the raise any awkward questions and he’d followed her lead. He hoped Myrcella would be treated well by Aegon but that was the extent of his interest. They were only little children for now.

“That will be something…for you to be the mother of the queen.”

A dangerous glint appeared in her eyes as a cold smile formed upon her crimson lips. “Yes, the mother of the queen might be enough for some.”

The door burst open a moment later. “My lady! The Queen!” the maid from earlier gasped.

“Oh, dear. Whatever is the matter?” Cersei asked, the sweet concern in her tone not fooling Jaime for an instant. “Forgive me, brother. I must go to her,” she said once all had been relayed, a sudden pain in the stomach and the queen had vomited blood after breaking her fast.

“Of course, sister,” he bowed. “You are one of her ladies. You must attend her.”

And I will follow you.

Outside Queen Elia’s chambers though, he was halted by the youngest member of the kingsguard. Cersei hastened within and he took up a post of sorts opposite the knight, Ser Garlan Tyrell.

“Has the king been notified?”

“He has, Ser Jaime. He’s expected to arrive soon.”

The pounding of feet soon met their ears but it was not the king rushing to his wife’s side. It was her children and the king’s other son.

“Let me by, Ser Garlan!” Princess Rhaenys shouted, her dark curls bouncing as she stood. The knight bowed and stood aside as the princess and her younger brother headed in. But before Jon could pass the threshold, Rhaenys rounded on him. “Not you!” she hissed. “She won’t want to see you!”

The boy’s crestfallen expression was quickly hidden by a jerky nod. He would not be wanted by any of them. It shouldn’t surprise him. He really shouldn’t allow it to wound him by this point and yet it was plain it always did. Jaime might almost feel sorry for him…if he was much given to sympathy for others outside of himself and Cersei.

“Come along, my prince,” Jaime said affably, putting an arm around the boy’s shoulders to guide him away. Out of sight, out of mind. They looked nothing alike but Jon always reminded Jaime a bit of Tyrion, a motherless boy, unwanted and unloved by most everyone. Jaime had an undeniable soft spot for his little brother so maybe he had a touch of one for this boy as well. “It’s been a fortnight since I’ve seen you practice with your lance. You can’t be a knight if you never master it, you know.”

“Yes, Ser Jaime,” Jon said, looking back over his shoulder once before he allowed himself to be led outdoors.

All morning, he drilled Jon in the lance and then swords. He was getting quite good…for a boy of ten.

When the bells began to toll, they had just stopped to sup on roasted hen, shallots and crusty bread.

“What are the bells ringing for?” the boy asked.

“You know, don’t you, Jon?”

The queen was dead.

Those dark grey eyes widened and the long pale face grew paler. He looked remarkably like a Stark to Jaime. There was little of Rhaegar in him.

A member of the kingsguard came to share the news as night fell. The king was said to be in seclusion and Elia’s children were with their attendants. No one came for Jon so Jaime sat with him. The boy cried bitter tears for the step-mother who had never loved him but never treated him unkindly either.

Jaime allowed him a second cup of wine and soon the child was dozing in a corner while Jaime wondered how his fair sister was managing her performance, the aggrieved courtier and friend, so concerned for the welfare of Elia’s children whilst maneuvering and plotting for the day she might be Rhaegar’s queen.

Mother of the queen might be enough for some…but not Cersei.

#jonsa fanfiction #vivilove-jonsa fic #jonsa #wip wednesday #arranged marriage au #something else I'll probably never get finished :(

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bldskr · 4 years

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tagged by @henricavyll

my icon: i've had exactly two (2) icons on this website. the first if people remember was a crop of a license plate that said BLDSKR, but then i wanted something more sleek and the pink became my #brand

my content: i started as just a true blood blog, but i just couldn't limit it. so for the past NINE YEARS (!!!!) it's just been everything i love and all current obsessions.

header: #minimalism (also like, remember the time when we didn’t have headers - i’m changing this to sidebar: my sidebar is adam in paterson because he looks like a fucking ANGEL)

url: eric northman in true blood and the southern vampire mysteries series, drives a red corvette with the license plate BLDSKR (a shorthand of the word ‘bloodsucker’)

my blog title: kristyna and i were messaging and at some point and i don't even remember who said it, that my blog has "become a 1d blog at some point". and even tho that's not super applicable anymore, i just like it. (i've had the same url since the beginning, same theme for ages now - clearly i don't like change)

tagging: @kristynathedashing @farovermistymountains @michaelshannon (but char you have to list every url you’ve had bc they’re all a+)

#henricavyll #i had to check again when i started my tumblr and it was may of 2011!!!!#WHAT THE FUCKKKK #about me

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buyonegetonefreeme-blog · 5 years

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Main Content

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Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

F/M

Fandom:

Game of Thrones (TV)

Relationship:

Jon Snow/Sansa Stark

Characters:

Jon SnowSansa StarkArya StarkRobb StarkCatelyn Tully StarkNed StarkTheon GreyjoyBran StarkRickon StarkRobert BaratheonMaester Luwin

Language:

English

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Published:2019-06-25Updated:2019-06-25Words:5961Chapters:1/?Comments:15Kudos:119Bookmarks:8Hits:922

sweet creature

Krewlak

Summary:

yet another salty teens story that no one asked for - that's it, that's the fic.

Notes:

i've been working on this on and off for a year now. i'm just posting part one of it just to see what people think so PLEASE leave all the comments. i will say the concept is 100% inspired by 'it's not a fairytale' by purple_angel. unbeta'd.

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Father’s eyes are sad when he tells them the full story of his sister, of Jon’s birth, of the war that spiralled beyond anyone’s control afterwards. Sansa keeps waiting for them to fill with tears but it never happens. She’s sure that over the last seventeen years, he’s had time enough to shed tears for his dead sister and the child she left behind. There are most likely no more tears to shed.

“How?” Maester Luwin asks, gaining everyone’s attention. “How did this come out? You say only three people knew of Jon’s birth - yourself, Lord Howland Reed, and the birthing woman. If it did not come from you, my Lord, then who?”

“That I do not know,” Father says, shaking his head. “I have told no one save for those in this room and I trust Howland Reed to hold to the oath he gave me that day.”

“The missive came from the South,” Maester Luwin says, tapping his chin. “Perhaps the birthing woman was found. Forced to speak on what happened that day.”

“But why? It has been seventeen years,” Mother says, voice choking on the words. “Why say something now ? There has been peace, a thriving south - what is there to gain from spreading this knowledge?”

“That is something we cannot know,” Father says slowly. “The only thing we can do is prepare.”

“Prepare for what?” Robb asks. Sansa looks at him with wide eyes. There is sweat on his brow and his lips are trembling but he’s trying to be brave. For Father and Mother, for all of them and Sansa loves him for it.

“King Robert will not tolerate Jon to live. It is only a matter of time before word reaches King’s Landing. If it has not reached Robert’s ears already,” Father says slowly. Sansa cannot help the gasp that slips from her mouth as she turns back to her father. He waits for the shouts of protest from his children subsides before continuing. “The North is already uneasy with this news. There are too many who still curse Rhaegar for what happened with Lyanna - who curse the Targaryens for what happened to my father and brother.”

The silence is deafening and she finds that she cannot bear to look at her father any longer. The grief that was so close to the surface as he spoke of his sister spills over at the mention of the father and brother lost as well. She cannot look at Jon both for fear of what she will see on his face and out of loyalty to her mother that she’s clung to for so many years. She’s willing to give him what privacy she can, so she looks to Arya, Bran, and Robb.

They share the same look of fierce determination. Jon is their brother and they will not suffer anyone who tells them otherwise, that much is very clear. Sansa wishes, for the first time, that she had the same deep feelings for Jon that her siblings share. Sansa looks down at her hands and tries to find something inside of her for Jon Snow, some feeling other than quiet acceptance and second-hand hatred. There is no love. No anger at having lost a brother, a bastard half-brother but a brother all the same. There is nothing but the slightest bit of relief.

“It is not safe for him to stay here,” Mother announces in the tone of voice they all know well, breaking the oppressive silence that fills the room. It's the tone she uses when they’ve been arguing all day and she is calling an end to it. It’s the tone she uses when Rickon refuses to bathe or Arya insists on wearing breeches instead of dresses. It’s the tone that allows no arguing only obedience. “We must look to our family first.”

“He is our family!” Bran shouts, pointing at Jon. Sansa finally looks at Jon over her shoulder. She doesn’t think he’s ever looked so miserable. “He is our brother and you would have us cast him out?”

“Cousin, Stark,” Jon mutters. The first words he’s spoken since Father summoned them to his solar. “I am no brother of yours.”

“Bollocks!” Arya yells, jumping from her chair. She ignores the warning yell from Mother and launches herself at Jon. She wraps her thin arms around his neck and presses her face to his shoulder. He catches her easily enough and it’s only a moment before he presses his face to her hair. “You will always be my brother.”

Sansa is sure that she hears him mutter a simple aye in return. Not one to be left out, Bran is out of his seat a second later, latching onto Jon from the other side. His cheeks are pink from trying not to cry but Sansa can see the tears threatening to pour over. Jon releases one arm from Arya to clutch his little brother to him and Sansa feels her heart break for the three of them. She’s sure that if Robb were younger, he too would be clinging to Jon and shouting proclamations about their brotherhood. Not for the first time, Sansa is sharply reminded just how different she is from her siblings.

“What is it that you’re always saying, Father?” Sansa asks. The words are out of her mouth before she has even had time to think them. “When the snow falls and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. Is Jon not one of our pack? And is winter not coming?”

The room is filled with a tense silence as each member of her family turns to stare at her with wide eyes. It is not like her to defend Jon. She knows that. They all do but she won’t take it back. She may not have any love for her bastard half-brother turned a bastard cousin but that does not mean she wishes him harmed.

“It is a complicated issue, Sansa,” Maester Luwin says slowly. Father looks to his wife who does not meet his eye. Sansa wonders what harm this truth has done to their marriage. Seventeen years of a lie. A cruel lie that caused nothing but pain for her mother. Sansa cannot imagine that learning of Jon’s true parentage has come as a relief for Lady Catelyn. “We cannot defy the king.”

“You’ve defied him for seventeen years,” Sansa says with a flippant shrug. “What is one more defiance compared to that?”

“Sansa!” Mother says, shocked at her disrespectful tone. Sansa feels her cheeks flush and she looks down at her lap in shame. She knows better. “There is more at stake than just our family. There is the North to consider. Do you think we could withstand the full wrath of Robert Baratheon once he knows that Rhaegar Targaryen’s son was harbored here? The son that killed his mother as she pushed him into this world? No. He would decimate every inch of the North that Jon Targaryen’s feet has ever touched. Starting with Winterfell.”

“Mother,” Robb begs, voice thick with emotion. “Please.”

“Your father decided seventeen years ago to lie to me,” Mother continues, her Tully eyes swimming with tears. Sansa can’t help but notice how much they look like the clear blue springs by the Weirwood tree. She wonders if they’ve always resembled the springs or if they changed after years of the hardness of the north. When she was Sansa’s age, barely a woman flowered and full of songs, did her eyes resemble the blue currents of Riverrun? “For seventeen years, I lived a falsehood. I have lived with a dragon playing amongst my children. I will not have it anymore. Not now. Not after the truth has come out.”

“I am no dragon!” Jon snaps. Mother finally looks to him, eyes wide with rage. She starts forward but Father lays a hand on her shoulder trying to calm her. “And I am no wolf.”

“Jon,” Father says and now the tears are falling down his cheeks. “You do not have my name but you have my blood. You are as much a Stark as any of my children.”

“But I’m not your child, am I?” Jon snaps. Father jerks back, mouth set into a thin line. Jon looks down, shame filling his face. “I am sorry, my lord. But I have the solution to this. I will be neither wolf nor dragon. I will be a man of the Watch. Like Uncle Benjen. I can cause no harm from the Wall.”

“No.”

“Ned!” Mother shouts, turning to her husband. “Let the boy go .”

“You are not my father, you cannot stop me joining the Watch!” Jon all but shouts. He pushes away from her siblings and curls his hands into fists.

Both Arya and Bran call his name in shock but Sansa knows the look on his face. It’s the one he gets when he’s blocked from feasts. The look he gets when Mother walks past him without a single acknowledgement. It’s the look of a boy who has never gotten what he wanted, a boy who has grown used to the taste of disappointment in his mouth. There is no reasoning with that boy.

“Are you of the North?” Father asks. He no longer sounds like their father. No, this is the Lord of Winterfell speaking now. They all straighten their backs and cast their eyes down. There is no other way to act in front of such a man. Jon nods but it’s not enough for Father. “You want to act as a man, then speak as a man.”

“Aye, my lord, I am a Northman.”

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mondlevan · 2 years

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the northman headers please? thank u!

heere bae :) enjoy!

#ask #the northman

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fleurlayouts · 7 years

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Eric Northman headers — •

#eric northman #True Blood #alexander skarsgard #headers #layouts

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thatfanficstuff · 3 years

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Impossible - 17

Pairing: eric northman x reader

Warnings: nope

A/N: you get a gif today because I’m too lazy to make a header.

***

The next evening, Eric took you and Sookie with him to meet with two of Godric’s underlings: Isabel Beaumont and Stan fucking Baker. Isabel was a sweetheart but Stan was an asshole of the first order and a huge pain in your father’s ass. You’d met him twice before but seriously doubted he even remembered. You were just another human after all. There was no reason for him to pay any mind to you whatsoever.

Sookie had styled her hair and wore a red dress with a bandana pattern on it. It was cute but it also screamed country. Eric had worn a black button up with black pants and his black leather jacket. In contrast, you wore white, the dress clasping around your neck which left the back open. Eric moved around the room, restless, his hand caressing your bare skin whenever he passed by.

He introduced the two of you to the other two vampires by name only. As you expected, Stan showed not even the vaguest recollection of having met you before. “You might have mentioned that Eric hired a couple of fucking humans, Isabel.” He rocked on his feet a bit as he scowled at you.

“Now, wait just a damn minute,” Sookie started and you placed a hand on her arm to stop her.

“You are human, Sookie. Pick something else to get pissed off about. I’m sure Stan here will give you plenty of options,” you told her. She was used to dealing with Eric and Bill. Stan would just as soon rip her head off as listen to her attitude. As for you, you were kind of hoping he’d try it with you. All you needed was an excuse.

Stan stepped forward and curled his lip as he snarled at you. In a blink, Eric had him pinned against the wall with a hand on his chest. “That one’s my mate. Treat her with anything but the utmost respect again and we will have an issue.”

He released Stan and flashed back to your side. The Texan straightened his suitcoat. “You might have introduced her that way, Northman.”

“I might’ve, but I didn’t. Deal with it.”

“Can we get back on topic?” Isabel asked.

“Are you certain it is the Fellowship of the Sun that took Godric?” Eric looked more than a little annoyed at the prospect.

Stan said, “Yes” at the same time Isabel said, “No.”

The male rolled his eyes. “They are the only ones with the organization and manpower to have pulled this off.”

“But they’re amateurs,” Isabel argued. “This is Godric we’re talking about.”

You frowned. “Do you know for sure that he was taken by anyone? It seems like you’re just guessing.”

“He wouldn’t just leave. He has responsibilities here. Besides, we can find no trace of him,” Isabel reasoned.

“Sookie and I can investigate at the church. It should be fairly easy to determine if he’s there or not,” you said. Eric shifted beside you.

“And just how do you propose to do that?” Isabel asked, her accent more pronounced in her irritation.

You laid a hand on Sookie’s arm to keep her quiet. “It’s what we’re here for.” Which really didn’t answer her question at all, but you didn’t care. There was a leak here and you weren’t giving them any more information than necessary.

“It’s not necessary. We just go in and take them out in one mass attack. Show them who’s in charge.”

“Hmm, vampire hating church gets wiped out. I wonder who did it? The Authority would skin your ass,” you told him. “On second thought, that could be entertaining. Go ahead.”

“Alskling,” Eric said, a warning in his tone.

Stan’s gaze narrowed and darted between you and your mate. He really wanted to say something but wisely feared the Viking beside you. As he should. Instead, he settled for, “Have we met before?”

You hummed in amusement but didn’t answer. Let him figure it out.

Stan widened his stance and crossed his arms. “We all know the Great Revelation was the biggest mistake we ever made. It would be a shame to let this opportunity pass.”

Wow. Your dad was going to have a field day with this one.

“Don’t use Godric to make your own little power play,” Isabel snapped at her counterpart.

Eric stiffened beside you. “You are both completely incompetent. What has happened to Godric that he surrounds himself with fools?”

“We invited you here as a courtesy. You have no authority here,” Isabel told him.

“Yeah, why don’t you just run on home to Louisiana and take your puppets with you?” Stan drawled.

Your hand gripped Eric’s to keep him from launching himself at the other vampire for calling you a puppet. “We need a plan,” you said, trying to get everyone back on topic.

“I have a plan.” Of course, fucking Stan.

“It’s not a plan, it’s a movie,” Isabel argued and you wondered how many times they’d had a version of this argument since Godric disappeared. He wouldn’t have stood for it if he were here.

Your gaze shifted back to Stan as he said, “It’s not a movie, it’s a war.” So fucking dramatic. Did he think there were cameras filming him or something? Imbecile.

“Idiots,” Eric growled out echoing your thoughts. He pulled you from the room, Sookie trailing behind.

As soon as the three of you were outside, he released you hand so he could pace. Sookie leaned toward you. “Is he okay?”

You hummed and gave her a nod. “He’s just pissed. Give him a minute.” You pulled out your phone while you waited for him to cool off and sent your dad a text. Stan Baker is going to be a problem.

The response was almost immediate. Dallas, right?

Considering the amount of vampires he’s encountered over the years, you’d always been impressed at his ability to remember names, faces and locations. Yes.

Do I need to send someone?

You smirked, knowing what he was really asking. Not necessary. I’m already here. Just tell me I’m cleared and I’ll take care of it when we’ve finished our business here. Eric might beat me to it. Stan called me a puppet.

You have full authority. Either of you. Your usual fee applies. And y/n?

Yes?

I’m sorry.

I know. Your fight wouldn’t truly be resolved until you talked in person but it was a start. You put your phone away just as Eric returned to the two of you. “Feel better?” you asked before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He didn’t respond so you took that as a no. He grasped your hand in his and you grabbed Sookie’s. The three of you walked back inside only to hear Isabel and Stan still arguing over whether or not they should just wipe out the church. Eric growled before picking up a vase and launching it at the wall. It shattered catching their attention.

“Godric has protected you and made you rich and you stand here arguing like a couple of children. No wonder he has not been found.”

“Are you aware you have a leak?” you asked, giving them something else to focus on.

“Impossible,” they said in unison.

“We were intercepted at the airport. They were told to take the humans traveling with me,” Eric explained.

“And from what I’ve gathered, Isabel’s the only one that knew we were coming.” You tilted your head as you studied the shock on the female vampire’s face. It seemed genuine.

Before you could question her further, Eric had her hanging in the air by her throat. “You would endanger my mate?”

“I didn’t. I swear,” she choked out as she clawed at his wrist. Stan just stood by with a smirk on his face.

“Put her down, Eric. We need to ask her some questions,” you said softly.

He huffed and released her so she dropped to the floor. “Ask.”

“Who did you tell we were coming?” Your voice was just as quiet as it had been for Eric.

When she shook her head, you held up a hand to stop her.

“Not an enemy. Someone you trusted, Isabel. Who did you tell?”

You saw the moment the name came to her. She was devastated. “He wouldn’t.”

“Who?” Stan snapped.

When she took too long to answer, Eric asked again. “Hugo,” she said softly.

“Your human.” Stan’s lip curled in that sneer he seemed to have perfected.

Eric stopped him before he could go after the man in question. “You will lock him up and await Godric’s judgment. No harm will come to him.”

“You have no authority here, Sherriff.”

The only thing that kept you from killing him now was the fact he may know more than he was letting on about Godric’s disappearance and you’d have to interrogate him later. “Actually, he does. The threat to his mate supersedes Hugo’s act of betrayal against you.”

Stan turned his scowl on you. “Who are you?”

“Who me? I’m just a puppet.”

#eric northman x reader #eric northman fanfiction #true blood fanfiction #impossible #series

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