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cruciology · 4 years

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A Good Punishment

summary: a handmaid is given to the King’s dog

“Up or down, milady?” Sansa asked, using her very best impression of what you could only assume was supposed to be yourself as she ran the brush through your hair. She was in a good mood today, which had been rare from her. She really was a sweet girl, much nicer once she trusted you. Now she felt more like a little sister to you, even if you were just her handmaid. She braided your hair back with an expert hand. “When Arya was still little enough to put up with me, she would always let me do her hair,” Sansa explained. “Sometimes, she would still ask me if she was going out to play, if only to get it out of her face.”

Looking at her face in the mirror, you could see the sadness in her eyes. You reached up to pat her hand. “You can do my hair whenever you’d like, my love,” You said with a small smile.

The nice moment was shattered when the door to Sansa’s chambers slammed open. You jumped up from the seat. Whether or not Sansa had given you permission, it probably wasn’t proper to have your Lady tending to you rather than you to her.

“Your Grace,” You curtsied to King Joffrey as he stood in the doorway with a wicked grin. You tried to avoid the gaze of his gargantuan bodyguard, the aptly named Hound. He towered so far over you, you doubted the top of your head would even reach his armpit.

“Still in your chambers this late in the day?” King Joffrey tisked. It wasn’t a crime for Sansa to stay in her room, but that didn’t matter to the King. He just wanted a reason to torture the poor girl.

“My apologies, your Grace,” Sansa said, looking down at the floor. King Joffrey approached her and you tensed, the way you always did when he got too close to Sansa. Nothing good ever came from it. You had comforted her many times after the emotional abuse, tended to her wounds after the physical.

“Don’t let it happen again,” He said. He put his finger under her chin, lifting her face to meet his eyes. She still looked away.

Your eyes darted towards the Hound. You were never quite sure how to feel about him. He had done nothing but follow his King’s commands, but you were more open to him after you had seen him cover a beaten Sansa with his cloak, after she had told you of how he had rescued her. But he was still loyal to the King. You couldn’t blame him for being so, you knew what would likely happen to him if he wasn’t, but that didn’t stop you from being frightened. You didn’t think he would help Sansa if it meant going against the King. And yet, you could swear you saw something behind his normally stoic eyes as he watched the scene before him.

“I’m sorry, your Grace, please forgive me.”

King Joffrey stared at her for a long moment, his hand still on her face. Finally, he patted her cheek, his grin becoming wider. “It’s quite alright. You know, I have just the thing to cheer you up.”

“Your Grace?” Sansa wasn’t stupid. She knew nothing that pleased the King would ever be good for her.

“How about we go for a walk?” King Joffrey said as he bounced on the balls of his feet, a child gearing up to play an awful trick. “Let’s go visit your father.”

Sansa choked back a sob. You clenched your fists tightly. “Please, your Grace,” Sansa begged.

“Oh come now, you don’t want to see your dear old dead traitor father? You don’t think that’d be fun?” King Joffrey asked with sheer glee as he watched the tears stream down Sansa’s face.

“That’s cruel,” You said before you could stop yourself. Suddenly, all eyes were on you. Too late now to take it back you said, “Please don’t make her go out there again, your Grace.”

“You dare order me? And insult me?” King Joffrey said, looking you up and down. “This bastard handmaid thinks she can tell me what to do, can you believe that, Hound?”

The Hound said nothing, just keeping his stance at the door and his eyes on you. You know he had felt bad for Sansa the last time she had had to look upon her father’s decapitated head; Sansa still had his handkerchief.

“I will take my future wife wherever I please,” King Joffrey said. He reached his hand out, grabbing Sansa’s hair tightly in his fist, making her cry out.

Without thinking, you lashed out, striking the King. He struck you back so hard, everything went black.

Stupid. You were stupid. You made everything so much worse, for you and for Sansa. How could you do that to her? In the moment, hitting that evil, nasty little boy felt good, but as you sat in the cell, the other prisoners leering at you, you know it had been foolish. You had no idea how long you had been in here, having awoken just an hour before, but it couldn’t have been long.

You looked up as the cell door opened, the Hound holding the keys and letting King Joffrey enter before him. You could still see a bit of a redness to his cheek where you stung him with your palm. That did make you feel a little better.

“I’ve thought a lot about your punishment,” The King said, his hands behind his back as he stood rigid, staring down at you sitting on the floor. “Assaulting your King. I should have you put to death.” You said nothing. You had nothing to say. “Stand up, bitch.” You did as you were told, your head spinning from the sudden movement. “Take off your dress.”

The Hound’s eyes flashed quickly from the King, to you, and back to where he had been staring off at the wall. You noticed his hand gripped tighter on the cell door.

“You heard me, bitch,” King Joffrey spat.

You untied the cloth around your neck, letting your dress fall to the ground around you, hearing the howls and whistles from the other cells. The King smirked at your naked body. He slowly walked around you, taking you all in. “She’s pretty, isn’t she, Dog?” Joffrey asked.

“Yes,” The Hound said, but he hadn’t actually looked at you, his eyes locked on the wall. The King didn’t seem to notice, still examining you.

“Very good,” The King said, punctuating his statement with a sharp smack to your ass. It shocked you into letting out a little yip. The King stood in front of you again. “Body is very nice, you must have gotten a good feel, bringing her down here.” You were feeling very like a cow waiting for a price. You would rather him just hit you again. “We could give you to Littlefinger. Let you earn your penance.”

You swallowed hard. There weren’t many options for bastard children, especially not bastard children of whores. You didn’t even know who your father was. He could be a nobleman or he could have just been a farmer who happened to have extra coin, your mother hadn’t been able to tell you before she died. You had just narrowly escaped becoming a whore yourself by being sold to the castle as a young girl. It would be almost cosmic to end up at the brothel anyways. Cosmic, but still not an option you wanted.

“What do you think, Hound? She would earn a good sum. You could even have a go at her, if you pay the right price,” King Joffrey said, turning back to his bodyguard. As if he had just been blessed, the King’s grin nearly split his face. “Oh no, I have the perfect idea, the perfect punishment for this bitch. A bitch for the Hound.”

“Your Grace?” The Hound asked, finally tearing his eyes away from the wall to look at King Joffrey.

“You’ll be my dog’s wife,” the King said with venom, his face inches from yours. “I’m going to let the beast tear you up.”

You hadn’t much pictured your wedding, not as a little girl and certainly not in your time as a handmaid. Marriage wasn’t much on your mind. But you certainly never thought it would be like this. The most you had said to your husband had been your wedding vows. The whole thing seemed less like a wedding and more like an elaborate play by a court jester. The King sat watching in delight the whole night as you sat next to your new husband in near silence.

Lady Sansa had finally broken away long enough to sneak to you and give you a hug. “I’m so sorry,” She said, tears choking her voice. You shushed her, patting her cheek.

“No, no, my love,” You said. “I’m alright. Believe me, it could be so much worse.”

The Hound chuckled darkly. You hadn’t heard a word from him since the ceremony, where he had given you a surprisingly soft and chaste kiss in front of the audience after reciting his vows, after promising to protect you. “Could it, though?” He asked behind his wine goblet. “Am I a better option than death?”

Sansa looked only more frightened, but you nodded at her again, showing her you were okay. She scurried back before the King could notice she was gone. “You’re very cryptic.”

“Sorry, love,” The Hound said, draining his goblet. He had quite a bit to drink, but he was a large man. You doubted he was actually drunk. He was just a bit abrasive, from what you had heard. Well, actually, you heard that he was more than abrasive, but you tried to be optimistic.

The crowd around you suddenly broke into chaos. The Hound cursed under his breath and it took you a moment to realize what was happening as you were pulled from your chair and hefted up onto the shoulders of the chanting men. The Bedding Ceremony. You felt your stomach churn. You had nearly forgotten this part.

They carried you through the castle, all the way to the Hound’s chambers, a place just as foreign to you as the man you married. They dropped you onto the bed, still cheering as the left, taking turns clapping the groom on the back as they passed him. He shut the door behind the last drunken party goer, but you could still hear the feast going on behind it. He glanced at you as he locked the door and without thinking, you scooted back on the bed, your back hitting the wall. He barked out a laugh.

“You think you could fight me off?” The Hound asked as he turned around, his eyes not moving from your face. “Love to hear your plan, seeing as I outweigh you by threefold.” You would have backed up further if you weren’t already pressed flush against the wall as he stepped forward. You released a breath when he sat down at the small table. He reached behind him, grabbing a bottle of wine from the shelf on the wall and pulled a gulp straight from the bottle.

You watched him for a long while. He did nothing but drink his wine quietly. You shivered in the brisk chill of the room. You almost asked why the fire place was unlit but you quickly pieced together why he probably didn’t want a fire in his room. He was halfway done with his bottle when you finally spoke, the uncertainty eating at your insides.

“Are you going to-,”

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He cut you off, clearly already knowing what you were going to ask. You were thrown off by his question and you didn’t answer. He shook his head. “Thought not. I’m not in the business of fucking girls who don’t want to be fucked.”

“I’m not a little girl,” You defended, annoyed. Sure, he had to be at least fifteen years your senior, but you weren’t a child.

“I don’t fuck women who don’t want to be fucked either, wife or not,” He said. “Just go to bed, why don’t you?”

Knowing you were safe from him, you stood up from the bed. He glanced up at you, barely taller than him even seated, but didn’t say anything. You sat down in the other chair across from him and you had a feeling no one else had sat there before. The chambers had a very solitary feeling. They smelled very strongly of him, of wood and leather. You realized you had never been in any danger. You should have known that from the moment he refused to look at your naked body in the cell.

“May I?” You asked, pointing towards the bottle. He handed it to you, careful to not even graze your skin. You took a long sip, the strong wine burning your throat as it went down.

“Careful, love,” He said. “It’s strong.”

“You can touch me, you know,” You said. You felt your cheeks burn pink when you realized how that may have sounded. “I just mean, you don’t have to be afraid to touch me,” You pointed to his hand. “We have to share a bed now, after all. It’s okay.”

“Not afraid,” He said, grabbing the bottle back to take another swig.

“Okay,” You said. He offered the bottle back to you and you took another drink. You hadn’t eaten much at the ceremony and you could already feel a warmth spread to your fingers. It was welcome in the cold of the room. You handed it back, but this time, you made sure your hand brushed his. He pulled back as if you had burnt him, not even taking the bottle. You smirked. “Afraid,” You said.

“I’m not afraid of you,” He said.

“Then why pull away?” You asked. He didn’t answer. You scooted your chair closer to his and placed your hand over his. You had noticed earlier, when the septon wrapped the ribbon around your clasped hands, how much bigger his was. You could put both hands over his one and still not cover all of it. He didn’t pull away this time. “See, not so bad,” You said with a smile. You felt like you were approaching a feral dog, using a calming voice and kind face to get it to trust you. He really was appropriately named.

“Not so bad,” He repeated, looking at your hand on his. He finished the whole bottle, setting it empty on the table. After a long moment he said, “Never had a woman touch me that wasn’t being paid.”

“Really?” You asked. He laughed with no humor behind it.

“The King made you marry me because I’m such a horrible beast that he knows being my wife would be a worse punishment than being beheaded or sold to a brothel and you ask ‘really’? You think a woman would come anywhere near my cock if she wasn’t a whore getting ample compensation?”

You looked him over. He was frightening, sure, but that was mostly due to sheer size of him, and the reputation. The half of his face that wasn’t burnt was good looking. “I don’t think it’s that unbelievable. You’re a handsome man.”

He laughed, this time with a bit of mirth. “Oh, at least my wife’s funny.”

“I’m not joking,” You said.

“You could get a much more handsome man than me, love, looking like you do.” Your cheeks burned pink. You liked that he thought you were pretty. You liked that you were still touching his hand. You liked that he let you.

“So you paid for it?” You asked.

“Like I said, a woman needs ample compensation,” He said. He nodded to you. “Or the threat of death.”

“Your first time was with a whore?”

“All my times were with whores.”

“What was that like?”

The Hound laughed. “I was eighteen, she had to have been nearly fifty. She was the only one brave enough to come near me.”

You stood up, finally taking your hand away from his. The wine may have given you a little push but you knew exactly what you were doing as you sat yourself on his lap. He tensed up, but he held his arm around your back, his hand touching your outer thigh. You liked it there. “Am I brave?” You asked.

“You’re stupid,” He said. “Anyone brave is just as stupid. You shouldn’t have hit the King.”

“You’re his bodyguard, you didn’t stop me,” You said.

“I wanted to hit him too,” He admitted.

“My first time was with some boy from Flea Bottom. It was...very quick,” You said. He had told you his story, you thought you should give yours. “Sorry, your wife’s virtue has already been taken.”

“Sorry your husband is a monster.”

You reached your hand up, reaching for the scarred half of his face. He grabbed your wrist, but gently. You touched your fingertips to the burned flesh. It felt rough, like his hands, but some spots were smooth, stretched tight. You slid your hand down to his beard, turning his face towards yours. Your lips were just a breath away from his. “Ask me again.”

“What?”

“Ask me again.”

After a long moment he said, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“I do.” You pressed your lips to his. This kiss felt very different from the one at the ceremony. You felt his grip on you tighten. He held one arm around your waist while the other pressed along your spine, his hand holding the back of your head. You twisted your fingers in his hair. You pulled back slightly, taking a sharp breath. “Come on, Hound.”

He growled, standing up and lifting you like you weighed nothing at all. He laid you on the bed, careful not to put any of his weight onto you as he held himself above you, but you still felt like he surrounded you. You liked it. You felt safe. You wanted more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your wedding gown falling around your thighs. You tried to pull him closer.

“Not trying to crush you, love,” He said as he kissed your neck.

“Please, I want to feel you,” You begged. He groaned, finally pressing into you, but still holding himself up on his elbows. You could feel his hardness pressed against you through the cloth between you. You rolled your hips into him, trying to feel more of his length. He hissed out a breath, one of his hands going to your hips to hold them down.

“Take this fucking thing off,” He said, taking a fist full of your dress.

You slid out from under him, standing before him as he sat up on the edge of the bed, taking off his boots as he watched you. You undid some of the buttons but others were out of your reach. You turned your back to him and let him help you with the rest. He stood behind you, looming over you as he pushed the dress off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet. This was much more pleasant than being exposed in the dungeon. You could feel the heat between your thighs burn almost painfully and your nipples tightened from both cold and arousal.

You turned back around, grabbing the edge of his shirt. He took the hint and pulled it off. His chest was so broad and covered in thick, dark hair. You pressed your hand against him, pushing him back to the bed. Unlike before, his eyes were trained on your body, as if he were a blind man who could see nothing but you.

“Fuck,” He said quietly, his hands on your hips. He kissed your stomach first, then your breasts, taking a nipple between his teeth, making you arch your back towards him.

“Hound,” You moaned, your hands finding his hair again. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, forcing you to sit on his lap again. You could feel the rigid edge of his cock under his pants and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding against it, making him hiss out your name.

He gathered you in one arm, flipping you around to lay you on the bed again. He kissed your neck roughly, his teeth scraping your skin. He wedged himself between your legs, spreading you wide beneath him. His large hand found its way to your center, placing his palm against you. He groaned into your neck as he felt how wet you were for him. “You’re fucking dripping, love.” He dipped a finger inside of you slowly. “I want to hear you say my name. My real name.”

He pulled his finger out, only to push it back in with a second, making you gasp. “Sandor,” You said as he thrust his hand against you. “Sandor, please, don’t stop.”

“Are you going to come for me, love?” He whispered into your ear as his thumb found your clit. You nodded, unable to say anything else. His rough fingers felt so good rubbing you from the inside out.

Without warning, he pulled his hand away, you felt suddenly empty. You watched as he brought the hand to his mouth, sucking you off of his fingers. You felt another surge of arousal course through you when he groaned as he tasted you.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet.” He grabbed you by the waist, flipping you over again so that he was underneath you, laying on the bed, and you hovered over his chest on your knees. “I need to taste more of your sweet cunt, love.”

You gasped as he planted his hands on your ass, his fingers digging in as he guided you over his mouth. His beard scratched at your thighs deliciously as he devoured you. His tongue lapped at your pussy, letting you ride his face. Your thighs clenched as you got closer to your end. He squeezed your ass tighter until finally, “Fuck, Sandor,” You cried out as you came, thighs quaking.

You sat back on his chest, catching your breath. He laid his hands against your thighs, watching you from below.

“No one’s ever done that to me before,” You said.

“They missed out,” He said. “Never tasted anything so good.”

You moved to lay on top of him, letting him wrap his arms around you. You kissed him again, tasting yourself on his lips. “You going to get your pants off or do I have to do that myself?” You asked.

“You still want me to fuck you?” He asked, seeming surprised. You laughed slightly.

“Is your cock still hard?”

He groaned, shifting under you. “Don’t talk like that, it makes me want to throw you down and take you rough.” He slapped your bare ass, making you yelp in surprise. You wanted him to do it again.

“Maybe I want to be taken rough,” You said. You dragged your teeth against his ear lobe, making him squeeze tighter to you. “I want to feel your hard cock fill me up.”

You let out a surprised giggle as he flipped you suddenly onto your back. He kissed you roughly as he fumbled with his pants. He didn’t even take them all the way off, instead pushing them halfway down his thighs. You caught a glimpse of his whole length and you tried not to gasp but failed. You’d heard girls talk about men with above average equipment but you had trouble believing any could be as big as his.

“We don’t have to,” He said, mistaking your gasp as something else. You kissed him again, spreading your legs beneath him and letting him press against you. You could feel his tip at your entrance. You rolled your hips, pushing it in a little farther and making him groan. He held your hip down, his forehead pressed to yours. “Fuck, love, it’s not going to be gentle,” He warned.

“Don’t be gentle.”

With one long thrust he was fully inside you and you let out an involuntary scream of pleasure. He clapped his hand over your mouth, snapping his hips again. Your eyes screwed shut as you felt every inch of him. It bordered on pain, how much he stretched you, but it felt so good your eyes watered. He grunted as he pounded into you, finally replacing his hand with his mouth over yours, kissing you sloppily. Your hands clawed at his back, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“You feel so fucking good,” He groaned out as he thrust into you. “I’m not going to last.”

He moved his hand between your bodies. You cried out again as his thumb found your clit again. “Sandor, please.”

“Are you going to come, love?” The Hound said, his thrusts slowing slightly as he kept his rhythm on your clit. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Please,” You begged. “I’m going to come.”

He picked up his pace, your thighs shaking as you felt yourself go over the edge, his name coming out like a chant. He moved his hand away, steadying himself on the bed as his thrusts got wilder, until finally a quick shudder went through him as he emptied himself deep inside you. You only felt his weight for a moment before he pulled himself out as he rolled off of you onto his back, breathing hard. You turned on your side, curling close to his warm, hairy body. He wrapped his arm around you, bringing you closer. He pulled the blanket over you both, his eyes already closed.

“Pretty good,” You said, resting your head on his chest as he rubbed your arm absently. “As far as punishments go, I suppose.”

He gave you another sharp spank, making you laugh. “Go to sleep, or I’ll punish you again.”

#fanfiction #game of thrones #sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader #the hound #the hound x reader #smut #game of thrones fanfiction #GOT fanfiction #reader insert fanfiction #game of thrones reader insert #reader insert smut

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ficsilike-reblogged · 4 years

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Blood in the Rivers: IX

A/N: Apparently I cannot write short chapters. Thank you for your patience and for all the likes and reblogs and kind comments on the last chapter. I love you all so much. Special shout-out to @starlight-starwrites for listening to me whine about this chapter.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand x F!Reader (Tully)

Rating: NC-17, for acts of warfare (blood, guts, and gore--our Tully is a little mean), Face-sitting, fingering, using sex to go to sleep, a few kisses

Word Count: 14.2k ( ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

Read Chapters I-VIII here! Or on Ao3!

Chapter Nine: The Monster, The Maiden

King’s Landing still smelled of piss and soured bread.

Robb’s missive had come just after they had set the Lannister fleet alight at Lannisport. Yara and her fleet would be left to sack Casterly Rock with a majority of Y/N’s small band of men while Obara and Arya and a handful of Riverlanders set off toward the capital with Y/N.

Cersei had grown desperate and crazed. Growing only more bold and paranoid after she was crowned Queen.

King Tommen was dead. Margaery had been thrown into the Black Cells under suspicion of his murder and the new queen had pulled nearly all of her loyal bannermen to protect the city. Obara surmised that it was a Faceless Man, sent after the king after the Iron Throne refused to pay their debts to the Iron Bank of Braavos.

So much had changed since she had left the safety of Sunspear’s shadows. And yet not enough. The Lannisters still called themselves the rulers of the Seven Kingdoms and the Realm still suffered.

Obella’s tactics had kept all but a handful of the men under Y/N’s command alive. The Westerlands had been put to the torch and their gold and silver mines plundered in the dark of the night. The small band of Riverlanders hid in the dense forests and picked off the Lions’ bannermen when the roads forced them to march two-by-two. She, Arya, and Obara had been welcomed as guests at Pinkmaiden and settled there as their first command stronghold. When asked why she did not think to travel to Riverrun, Y/N’s answer was simple. “I have asked men to leave their homes to fight. I do not go home until they do.” They had never stayed in a location for longer than two days, moving from target to target with brutal efficiency.

But now she was back in the gods-forsaken capital that she had narrowly escaped.

“Has it always smelled like this?” Obara asked, nose crinkling as the wind carried the putrid stench up to the high hill above the city.

“Yes,” both Arya and Y/N answered.

The men at their backs looked grim and anxious in their cloaks, trying to hide their armor. While the Northmen and Dornish were still marching toward the capital, the Reach knights and cavalry had been the first to arrive at the gates of the city, demanding the release of Margaery—the rightful queen. It provided a well-enough distraction.

Y/N slipped off Qēlos’ back and patted the mare’s side in thanks. The beautiful horse had earned her weight in apples a thousand times over in this terrible war. She handed the reins to Lord Blackwood who promised to keep her safe until she returned.

“But are you certain-”

“Lord Blackwood, my answer has not changed since the last time you asked. I thank you for your concern but it is unwarranted.”

The older lord’s face colored with an embarrassed blush and he dipped his head. “Of course, my lady.”

Arya barely concealed a laugh as she, too, dismounted but Obara was stone-faced as her feet hit the damp grass. Patrek Mallister was quick to offer his hand to take her horse’s reins. (In truth, he’d been quick to do anything Obara needed. When they were still setting the Westerlands ablaze and picking off their infantrymen from the cover of forest, Y/N noticed that the majority of men under Obara’s command were either half in love or half terrified of the eldest Sand Snake. Patrek was decidedly the former. His time as a captive of the Freys after the Red Wedding had stripped him of the wandering eye he was known for.)

Obara and Arya stepped to Y/N’s side and they each took a deep breath.

“May the Warrior protect you,” one of the men whispered at their backs.

But Y/N could scarcely hear it over the thudding of her heart. No matter how many times she had readied for battle and shadowed warfare, her heart always leapt into her throat. And maybe that kept her alive, the slight-panic keeping her senses heightened.

“This way,” Arya said, leading them down, down, down. While Tyrion’s crude drawing of the placement of the wildfire around the Red Keep and King’s Landing was safely tucked into Y/N’s small pack, Arya was the one leading them into the mouth of the passages beneath the city. She had warned them about the smell.

It did not help.

Once pleasant and cool water gave way to stink and muck that had Y/N retching. Arya shushed her above the lapping brown water as one of Euron Greyjoy’s longboats neared where they had been treading against the waves. And then, much to her horror, it became clear that they would have to submerge themselves in the muck to avoid detection as the boat sailed by. Through the brown water and with burning lungs, Y/N watched the boat sail across the surface and she nearly vomited when they quietly crested, feeling the disgusting water line her mouth as she clutched her pack to her chest.

“Nearly there,” Arya whispered, starting a slow swim toward a dark corner of the wall.

They were quiet as they hoisted themselves up into the stone hole, gurgling with more sludge. But Y/N could not hold back her retch any longer as they finally curled around a jagged corner. It echoed in the dark and she winced when she heard it.

“Come, Little Fish, do not let your stomach fail us now.” Obara’s words of encouragement were stilted as she tried to keep her own rolling stomach contained.

“The worst is behind us,” Arya whispered with a small smile, murky water on her lips.

Both Obara and Y/N sighed at the girl’s unflinching (if not dark) optimism they quickly set off after the young Stark, following her steps in the dark, twisting tunnels and up the tight steps of uneven stone stairs which led to more tunnels and more stairs. They walked in silence for a long stretch of time, the squish of their soaked boots the only sound they heard. But dim light soon trickled down from some unseen room above to light the path Arya led them on. With the light came the realization that they were surrounded by dragon skulls, damp and dusty with the passing of time.

“I once thought they were monsters,” Arya whispered, a far-off look on her face.

“Is this what you found when you disappeared for half a day?” Y/N asked, skirting around a skull with teeth as long as her arm. It all seemed like a lifetime ago that she had been worried about where Arya had hidden away and Ned had sent Y/N and half his guard out into the city to look for her. When Arya arrived back at the Tower of the Hand, reeking and dirty, near dark, Ned had been both relieved and furious with his youngest daughter.

“It was,” was all Arya said, voice sad. It had been a lifetime for her, too.

And now they were here, in the bowels of the castle that had tried to rip their lives asunder and had very nearly succeeded. But now it was their turn.

The dim light only grew a fraction brighter as Arya finally slowed to a stop—but the noise grew, too.

The first voice was unmistakably Cersei; “the Red Keep has never fallen.”

“Our own father helped it fall. Have you forgotten everything?” Jaime near-snarled in return.

Y/N crept closer to light on quiet feet and followed it so she could more properly hear the conversation. Any bit of information was valuable, even if she was soaked in muck down to her skin. She pivoted so she could look up into the room above, a tiny sliver of stone crooked in its place. She recognized the carved pillars and marble lions of one of the interior courtyards even through the small field of vision the stone allowed.

“Father is here—he will never allow-”

“Our father is not a god despite your best efforts to make him one in your heart of hearts. And neither are you.”

“He will keep us safe. I am Queen of the Seven Kingdoms! Let them try to take my crown.”

“They will try!” Jaime pressed. “The Tyrells are at the gates and the wolves and Martells are coming. What will you do when they arrive and Father’s plans fail you? Yara Greyjoy’s fleet have taken Casterly Rock. There are whispers of Riverlanders picking our bannermen off from the trees after torching most of our bannermen’s lands. What will you do?”

There was a pregnant pause and Y/N felt Obara tug on the back of her jerkin, trying to get her to move.

“Let them have ashes.”

Obara tugged again and Y/N let herself be pulled away this time as she fumbled to grab the wax-coated map of Tyrion’s wildfire storehouses from its hiding place in her pack, unhearing of Jaime’s reply. “We must be quick.”

Arya huffed. “You were dawdling.”

But the three of them set off in search of the glowing jars of fire and found them almost exactly where Tyrion had said they would be and quickly—and carefully—started to move them, hoping that Tyrion’s map proved accurate again. It took hours of cautiously shuffling in the dark to move the cracked glass jars and half-filled barrels they found to where they needed them for this plan to work. They did not have the time to completely empty the city of its wildfire caches and knew there were still piles of them in secret coves and shadowed corners of the city’s underbelly.

Through more thin walls and cutaway stones, they heard whispers. Whispers of the forces outside the walls. Whispers of movement of the gold cloaks and Kingsguard around the city. Whispers of doom with the arrival of the Northmen at the gates.

Whispers whispers whispers.

When her arms ached and her clothes had dried, they moved the last little jar into their pile. But the tiny jar refused to settle and tried to topple from its perch. Y/N thrust her hands out and caught it before it shattered on the floor. A single drop leapt from the jar’s depths and missed her hand before it spattered on the ground, hissing and smoking against the stone.

“We have to go,” Obara said. Even through the thick walls, they could hear the din of movement along the balustrades, readying for battle. Obara had a small barrel in her arms, too. The second-to-last piece in their plan.

Y/N froze for only a moment before she tore off the sleeve of her tunic and shoved it into the top of the jar in as a makeshift stopper. She could use it later, she reasoned to herself, as she stuffed it into the small bag at her back.

Arya was pressing her ear up to the slab of stone at the end of a squat, dead end tunnel. She only needed to stand on her tiptoes to reach it, face tight with concentration. “We’re good,” she whispered before reaching up to move the stone. A whoosh of cooled night air came with it.

Obara started to slowly pour out the contents of her barrel, leaving a sickly green trail from the pile of jars up to Arya’s side. “You first, Pup,” she said, crouching to avoid hitting her head on the ceiling.

Arya then leapt and scrambled up into the dark. Her little hands reached down for the barrel Obara was holding and Obara followed her path up once the barrel was out of her grasp.

“Little Fish,” Obara whispered, “come. We’re nearly finished.”

Y/N glanced back at the pile of wildfire. It looked so much smaller from a distance. She hoped it was enough. Obara held out a hand for her and Y/N took it, needing the help to get out of the tunnel. They were just outside the city now, right at the edge of one of the Old Gate. The grass was damp beneath their feet with early-morning dew as Obara took the barrel from Arya and quickly emptied its contents down into the hole and then trailed it away to leave a smoking green puddle. She discarded the barrel as they crept toward the sparse forest, hoping the growing sun would provide enough cover so the guards on the walls would not see them. The murmur of a city ill-at-ease crept over the high walls and gave a beat to their retreating steps.

Tytos and Patrek were hidden behind the first handful of trees, looking more worried than Y/N expected.

“The Tyrells have retreated for the moment. The archers on the walls have kept them from battering down the Lion Gate,” Tytos said as he handed over the reins to her horse. “And the Northmen have arrived.”

“Have they seen you or our men?” Y/N asked as she rifled through one of the saddlebags for a canteen and a scrap of cloth and quickly wet it, wiping it across her face.

“I do not believe so, my lady.”

Y/N nodded and then tossed a fresh and damp cloth to Arya and Obara, letting them clean their faces, too. She then grabbed a small canteen of ale and swished it around her mouth before spitting it out. “Raise your banners. It is time we made our presence known.”

Tytos nodded once again and signaled toward the men lining the dark of the trees.

Y/N hurried to pull on her armor and huffed out a thanks when she felt Obara’s rough fingers tightening laces or adjusting the pauldron over her shoulder that she had skewed in her haste. Arya’s armor was impeccably placed even without help and Obara slapped at Patrek’s hand when he tried to assist her.

The banners of the Riverlands started to rise as they stepped out of the tree line. Shouts came from the wall when they were spotted.

Y/N patted Qēlos’ flank as she pulled her bow and quiver from the horse’s tack, sending the mare further into the woods to wait.

“Archers!” Some gold cloak yelled from his perch. “Archers!”

Y/N nocked her arrow and Arya lit the end. Dirty fingers pulled the string tight for just a moment as she angled it up into the sky and then let it loose. It sailed through the air and hit the small puddle of green at the base of the wall.

A terrible crack and boom filled the sticky dawn air and Y/N nearly lost her footing as some invisible force shoved her back. Green flames filled the air and the city wall erupted into a storm of broken brick and black dust.

“The wall!” someone cried, muffled against the ringing in her ears. “They’ve breached the wall!”

Y/N righted herself and watched as her small band of Riverlanders and Obara and Arya surged forward in a wave, quickly followed by men in copper armor, pressing into the city’s wound as the green flames of the wildfire continued to eat at the wall and screaming soldiers.

The Dornish had come.

She nocked another arrow and let it fly, tearing into the neck of a distracted solider at the top of the crumbling wall. Another pushed an archer taking aim from his perch. Again and again she picked off the remaining soldiers on the balustrade above the hole in the wall until her quiver was empty. But then, even over the din of the battle, she heard a distinctive crack. Metal breaking and smacking against stone and brick.

“The gate! Defend the gate!”

And now there were two.

Y/N slung her bow across her shoulders and drew the pair of small blades from her belt and pushed forward, trailing behind the press of Dornish and Riverlands.

The city was in chaos. Gold Cloaks and Kingsguard and Westerland bannermen were scrambling over the rubble and wreckage, swords clashing against the invaders. But the Reach and North had pushed their way through the Lion Gate.

There would be no escape.

A man in red and gold armor screamed as he ran at her, spear thrust out in front. Y/N was able to dodge it but his feet could not be stopped and she sank the end of one of her blades through the eye slot of his helmet. She knew she needed to keep moving. Her armor was not meant for full-scale combat like this. But she would not leave her men, Riverlander or Dornish, to fight alone.

But the battle raged. Her small blades were coated in crimson and her arms ached as they pushed forward toward the Red Keep. Toward Cersei.

She caught sight of Arya in the skirmish ahead. The little wolf was holding her own for the most part against some City Watch brute but a well-timed kick to her stomach had Arya falling to the ground, her little sword slipping from her grasp.

“Arya!” Y/N screamed as her heart leapt into her throat to strangle the air from her lungs. “ARYA!” She pushed through the pulsing group, watching the Gold Cloak sneer and stalk toward Arya who struggled to get to her feet. Y/N fought against the crowd, dodging an ax at her throat and a sword at her stomach with a desperation and savage grace a person could only conjure for someone they loved. But she knew… She wouldn’t get to her in time. She wouldn’t make it. The man raised his sword, sweaty face pulled tight with glee and ready to strike the life from Arya Stark and then-

A golden hand caught the sword just as its reached its crest and Jaime Lannister shoved the man back before driving his sword through his belly.

Y/N slid to a stop on her knees as she reached Arya’s side, pressing Needle into Arya’s grasp again and urging her to her feet and back into the near-safety of the advancing crowd. Jaime gave them both a look as they stumbled back, unreadable and…sad. But then he was gone between the swarm of swords and shields.

The Bells did not ring. There would be no surrender. She expected nothing less from the queen.

But perhaps she should have remembered Cersei’s cruelty, her need for control, and Cersei’s own words. All Y/N could think about was finishing this—finishing this war, this stupid war that had taken too much from everyone she cared about.

As the sun started to settle high in the sky, she heard a rumble. Even over the roar of the growing battle, she heard it. Felt it shake the stones beneath her feet. And then the city burst. Green flames and thick smoke filled the air as brick and wood rained down like a terrible storm, ripping through Westerland armies and invaders alike. Dirt clouded her mouth and she tasted fire as her ears started to ring with an intensity she had never experienced, pushing her back and on unsteady feet. With dazed eyes, she watched a man in a gold cloak stumble forward, mouth open in a silent scream as the emerald flames blazed across his armor.

Someone’s hands grasped at her arm and tugged her to the side, finding a bit of refuge behind the fallen remains of an inn. Arya was looking up at her, covered in soot and blood and Y/N watched her mouth move for a few moments, unable to hear anything but then it came back in a wave.

“-taking the Red Keep.”

“What?” Y/N asked, tongue heavy in her mouth.

Arya frowned. “Did you hit your head? Robb is about to take the Red Keep. Cersei must have sent someone to light the rest of the wildfire.” Arya turned to look at something over her shoulder and stiffened. “Come on. We haven’t finished this yet.” The younger girl pressed Y/N’s blades back into her hands. She hadn’t even realized she had lost them. And then Arya was striding away through the rubble, disappearing into a haze of smoke as green flames continued to lick at the wreckage.

Y/N shook herself, trying to free her mind of the buzzing and sluggishness and opened her pack, making sure that her own stash of wildfire had not started to crack or bubble. It was intact, thankfully, and it gave her enough momentum to push forward. Another gold cloak ran into her path a few steps later. His armor was blackened and charred, and buckled when she kicked at his chest to knock him toward the ground before driving one of her blades into the small gap between his cuirass and helmet.

It was easy when they staggered and stumbled or looked too long at the green flames. It was easy. When had it become so easy?

But it didn’t matter when she kept Obara from falling to some red cloak’s sword through her back or when Tytos was knocked from his horse by a City Watch soldier. It didn’t matter that it had become easy when she was keeping her people alive. The ground continued to rumble as more small pockets of wildfire roared to life and burned everything it could. But she kept moving forward, her steps trailing behind Obara’s as they pushed up the steps toward the Barbican of the Keep. It had been reduced to chunks of splintered wood and twisted metal, trampled over by the advancing armies. Y/N turned as she reached the top—just for a moment—to see the destruction the war and wildfire had brought upon the city. Almost a quarter of King’s Landing was gone, swallowed into the maw of black smoke and broken stone. The Red Keep was still burning. More green flames had reduced most of its outer walls to piles of smoking rock and ash. Only the Holdfast still stood tall. If Cersei’s plan had been to burn the advancing armies in the streets—she failed. But a sizeable group of Kingsguard and Gold Cloaks still stood between them and the crown that sat on Cersei’s head.

And they pushed and swung their swords and battered their shields, driving the loyalists back or into the ground.

But then something caught Y/N’s eye. Drew her attention like the Stranger had placed their hand upon her head and turned it.

Tywin Lannister was standing outside the smoking Tower of the Hand. His sword was bent and his helmet fell from his fingers with a clatter. His guards had abandoned him; his grand army reduced to only a handful of men. But his face still hardened when his cold eyes raked over her. Even as the battle had clearly been lost, he held his head high and pointed his sword toward Y/N with a sneer. “Come along, girl. Let us finish this.”

Equal parts dread and joy stoked her soul then. And her heart thundered in her chest even as she knew that the time was short. As Tywin took a step toward her, she threw one of her blades, aiming for his throat—and he deflected it easily, as she knew he would. But her hand dove into her pack and her fingers found the warm glass. Y/N threw the jar at him, uncaring of how her shoulder popped and ached with the sudden movement. All she could do was smile when she watched it smash across his chest plate, dripping green. His eyes grew wide as recognition flickered across his face. She bent to pick up a piece of burning wood and threw it at him, watching the green flames erupt.

Fire makes people dance. And Tywin was no exception. He screamed through the green.

The scrape of a sword against a sheath gained her attention.

It was Oberyn. Dark eyes alight with want and fury and, with a single stroke, took Tywin’s head from his shoulders. It still burned as it rolled across the stone, spitting green embers in its wake. The body slumped to the ash-covered ground, plate armor smacking against broken stone. And then Oberyn was marching toward her, sliding his bloodied sword back into its sheath. With his usual brutal grace, he wrapped his arm around her waist and slanted his mouth against hers, uncaring of the grime or dirt. Y/N quickly reciprocated, pressing her lips firmly against his. Months of separation, months of wondering if she would see him again despite her promise, months of yearning poured out of her as she grasped at the back of his neck to pull him closer, uncaring for the moment of the surrounding destruction. All there was, was Oberyn Oberyn Oberyn and his beautiful mouth that she had missed too much.

He only pulled back to breathe before he took another kiss, smiling against her mouth. “Blood suits you, my moonlight.”

And it suited him, too.

Tywin’s head looked large as it sat next to Cersei’s. Most of it had escaped the wildfire because of Oberyn’s quick removal but half of it was still charred.

The man and woman who had destroyed her family had been reduced to silent heads on a soot-covered floor.

Robb was sitting on the Iron Throne, Widow’s Wail across his lap and a hammered bronze and iron crown settled over his dark auburn curls. The grime and blood of battle still streaked his armor but he looked every bit the portrait of a king with Grey Wind sitting near his feet, gnawing on something that looked suspiciously like someone’s arm. The remains of the Throne Room were filled with dirt-smudged commanders and lords who had sacked the City. Oberyn found all of it tedious and had slipped away with a kiss to her temple to help his men settle into camp for the night.

The sun was setting, casting the entire room in the warm glows of pink and orange over its broken walls and melted windows, like the gods were presenting them all with a bit of beautiful quietness for their victory. Their dead would be tended to later, before the city would be looked over to see what could be salvaged. The story that Cersei had set the stashes of wildfire alight as a final effort to kill the advancing armies was already being whispered throughout the smoking city. No one needed to know that the only reason why more destruction had not been reaped was because of Y/N, Obara, and Arya’s actions in the winding tunnels. It was their secret to keep and hold.

As Robb started to hold court, presiding over the captured Lannister forces and learning Euron’s fleet had turned and run when the wildfire had started, fleeing East toward Essos, Y/N excused herself, trying to fill her lungs with something more than soot. She walked through the winding halls, some half broken and others still filled with groups of injured needing a healing touch. And perhaps it was muscle memory, but Y/N found herself standing outside the door of her old room before she could remember turning that corner or walking down this hall. Her fingers brushed against the wood. The wound from Gregor’s sword had not been patched and it splintered under her touch when she pressed against it. For a moment, she thought of opening the door and walking in and seeing what else had changed or stayed the same. But her hand retreated. Her life was not here anymore. There was no need to step into a place of terrible memory just for memory’s sake.

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and Y/N’s heart leapt into her mouth at the sight. “Jon?”

His face morphed from anger to surprise to joy and then he was running toward her with outstretched arms.

She met him halfway and threw her arms around him, uncaring of the blood or dirt and grime. He still smelt of fresh snow and pine even over the stench of battle. His gloved hand found the back of her head and he held her close—like he was afraid she would disappear from his grasp if he let go too soon. “Your hair is so long now,” she murmured into his shoulder.

And his answering laugh sounded choked in his throat. “I have so much to tell you.”

“We have all the time in the world.”

But then Mace Tyrell cam huffing and puffing into the hall, still clad in his gaudy golden armor and red in the face. “My lady, Lord Snow, His Grace is requesting your presence.” He then turned and half-ran back toward the throne room without an ounce of grace and his tarnished golden armor untightened and slapping against his extremities with each step. Y/N hid her laugh behind her hand until Jon nudged at her shoulder.

“You have not changed at all, Y/N,” Jon quietly mused.

“Oh, I have changed quite drastically, dear cousin. But not the parts that matter.”

Jon shook his head with a small smile. “I will hear your stories one day.”

“As I shall hear yours,” she promised just as they walked through the broken threshold. But the respite was torn away the moment she noticed who had been lead in chains in front of Robb’s new throne. A handful of Freys were on their knees and snarled at her as she walked past when Robb waved her forward to stand at his side. They were surrounded by the small band of men she had brought to King’s Landing—every one of them looked hungry for blood. And if there had not been an audience, Y/N would have let them slake that need.

“House Frey has refused to bend the knee,” Robb said, his light eyes cold and hard as his gaze moved to the men at his feet.

“Usurper-!”

Whatever insult the Frey had wanted to spout was silenced when Tytos cracked him across the face with a closed fist, his dented gauntlet still covering his hand. “Silence!”

He turned and spat blood. A tooth clinked against the floor. “Bitch.”

Tytos raised his hand again to claim the rest of his brown teeth but Robb stood from the throne and strode down to the man and grabbed the Frey’s greasy hair and yanked his head back to expose his throat. The edge of Widow’s Wail pulled a thin line of crimson from his throat as he gulped. “Tell her what you confessed. Tell her, braggart,” Robb seethed, making sure to angle his face to look at Y/N. But every other person was staring at her, too.

And Y/N wished she had Oberyn to stand with—to feel his steadying warmth at her side when the man’s hard stare ripped across her face. But Arya was a comfort too, moving to stand at her side with a snarl of her own. “We found your father outside Pinkmaiden. He tried to bargain, said the Red Wedding did not have to stain all of our hands.”

Y/N could feel her heart stutter in her chest but fought to keep her face neutral. “But you did not care to treat with my father.”

“We dragged him to Harrenhal,” another man said with a laugh. “Took his head and gave the rest to the bear.”

Y/N felt her stomach roll. Bile was rising in the back of her throat in a terrible wave as she curled her into fists behind her back. Grey Wind rose from and licked his bloody chops, baring his sharp teeth and the man cowered and shriveled. “You boast of your own damnation. Have they never taught you of what becomes of men who do not heed the gods’ warnings? Or have the gods never touched The Twins?”

The Freys bellowed, screaming and hollering this and that but all she could hear was a dull roar in her ears, watching their dirty faces contort with their own simple rage.

She dragged her gaze to Robb. “I have heard what they had to say, Your Grace. What else would you have of me?”

Robb stood straight, ignoring how the prisoners still fumed. “I would have nothing of you, my lady. You and your house have paid a high price for your loyalty.”

Robb’s words pushed something both cold and soft against her fragile heart. She nodded once, knowing his words meant more than their simple meaning. “House Frey has wronged more than just me and mine, Your Grace. You know that better than anyone. Do with them what you will. I do not care for their mortal coils and the gods will not care for their souls.” And she watched, a little entranced as they were dragged away, one by one, and slowly the Freys’ screaming was snuffed out. Y/N noticed a bit of tension leech from Robb’s posture as the quiet settled over the crowded room and he retook his seat.

But it was quickly washed away as the next prisoner was brought in, chains singing with each step. A quick kick to the back of his legs brought Jaime Lannister to his knees in front of Robb. And the last living lion in the city actually smiled. “Stark, we must stop meeting like this.”

Maege Mormont started to draw her sword when Robb held up a hand. “You once made my mother a promise. An oath. To return her daughters to her care.”

“I did.” His green eyes flickered to Arya at Y/N’s side.

“You failed.”

Jaime clenched his jaw. “I did.”

“And then we find you fighting alongside your sister.”

“To be fair, it seemed your sisters were already in the care of your cousin so my oath-”

“My sister is the only reason your head is not on a spike,” Robb seethed. “She told me of how you saved her life.”

“Is this true, Lady Arya?” Some lord from the Reach asked. He was quickly met with looks of derision from the surrounding Northmen for questioning her or Robb. (“Of course it is true! She’s no reason to lie!”)

“It is true,” Y/N said, stepping in front of Arya who looked ready for the ground to swallow her whole. Her pride was a fearsome thing. “I saw it with my own eyes. Against his own bannerman, he raised his sword to keep Arya safe.” Murmurs started to slide through the assembled crowd and Robb’s jaw ticked to the side but all Y/N could see was Jaime’s soft, sad smile when he looked at her, like he was remembering how she cried and asked him not to tell anyone. A quiet kindness repaid.

“Your brother has been granted exile.”

And Y/N watched Jaime’s eyes widen, almost hopeful, as Robb continued to speak.

“You will have until sunrise to find a way out of my kingdom. If I see you again, your head will be thrown into Blackwater Bay.” Robb waved his hand and the chains encircling Jaime’s wrists and ankles were released. “A life for a life, Lannister. I suggest you make the most of it.”

“Perhaps they’ll have a song about my father when this war is truly over and the city is rebuilt. They can call it the Fish and the Bear.”

“I would hope the bards would grant him a more fitting song. He had more tales to tell than the way he left this plane, my moonlight.” Oberyn wrapped his arms around her as they stood on the balcony of her room, watching the city settle in for the night and she pressed her ear over his heart, listening to its beautiful beat and letting it steady her own.

It had been nearly a week since they had taken the Red Keep and Robb had been proclaimed king. Everything was slowly being rebuilt. Northmen and cavalry from the Reach were staying to help the city’s smallfolk resettle and survive, creating a sense that all would be well. The gold taken from the Westerland mines settled the Iron Throne’s debt with Braavos. Margaery had been surrounded by the maesters and healers the Tyrells had ferried with them in the war, making sure her time in the Black Cells had not permanently injured her, but had been presented to Robb just this morning and he had gladly accepted her as his queen. It was all a show, of course. The alliance between Robb and the Reach had been forged in the shadows long before he ever set foot in the city. The plan that Oberyn and Ellaria carefully crafted had unfolded beautifully. There were a handful of pieces left to move but Oberyn and Dorne were thankful for a bit of respite and Y/N was grateful for his arms to fall into when she felt that insidious ache once again grow in her chest. Oberyn made it easier to bear. He had kept her close when the other lords and ladies started to learn of her campaign in the Westerlands and what she had done—looks of horror and morbidly curious whispers disappeared when Y/N was in his arms. She only wished that Ellaria was there, too. It had been far too long since she had them in her arms. She needed them both.

“You are being called back to Sunspear, are you not, my prince?” A raven had arrived from Dorne just after they had broken their fast.

“We are being called back to Sunspear,” he mused before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But you are not coming with me.”

Y/N had not said anything to give him that inclination. But Oberyn always knew. She felt him breathe in the scent of her skin as she sighed, burrowing a little closer to his warm chest. “I have to finish it.”

“I know, my moonlight, I know. And I will never keep you from your wrath.” He leaned back to gently cradle her face in his warm hands. “But I will have you promise me, again. Promise me that you will not forget us. Come home. When you are finished, come home.”

“Tell me something, Arya. Something good.”

“I met a boy. Named Gendry.”

A dense fog had settled over the damp grass, curling its ghostly fingers around the trunks of the trees that sheltered Y/N and the armed men from any eyes that might be scanning the land from the safety of their chambers.

Arya spoke, unhurried but succinctly, about her time disguised as ‘Arry’ with Yoren and then the Brotherhood without Banners, as Y/N waited for her men to finish a perimeter check. Most she knew, having gleaned it from conversations with Arya back in Dorne when they took breaks at the training grounds with Obara. But it seemed she placed the secret of Gendry a little closer to her heart. “I thought I saw him in King’s Landing before we left. Working as a blacksmith again.” Arya almost sounded wistful. “I didn’t ask or get too close. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t know what to do if it was him.”

“I think we have both learned that fear gets us nowhere, Arya,” Y/N said softly. “If he makes you happy, makes you laugh, try. Seven know you deserve some joy.”

Arya’s mouth tilted up in a small smile and she looked out toward the formidable fortress of The Twins, seat of House Frey. A strange location for such sentimental talk but it seemed the pair both needed a bit of respite. The handful of Riverlands men who had gone with her to King’s Landing were accompanying her for one last mission. And a small band of Northmen who were heading home were given leave by their king to help Y/N if they chose—and they did.

Ghost, Jon’s white direwolf, trotted to her side on silent feet and Qelōs whinnied in greeting. Y/N had met Ghost after taking King’s Landing when she found Jon wandering the ruins of the holdfast, trying to find a kitchen so he could feed Ghost. The direwolf was decidedly quieter than Grey Wind but no less protective of his chosen Stark or anyone Jon seemed fond of.

And where Ghost was, Jon always appeared. She watched Jon slide through the trees to stand at her side.

“Twelve guards on the perimeter. Five archers in the Water Tower.”

“Inside?”

“No more than forty.”

Y/N nodded and tightened her grip on the reins. She knew most of the Freys and their allies had been in King’s Landing and had been disposed of in battle or by the ax.

But she wanted all of them.

“They seem to be gathering who they can. Must’ve heard whispers of us marching North.”

But the Freys had few allies left. They were the only house in the Riverlands who had not sent forth supplications and oaths of fealty to the new king and queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And the simple bit of parchment in Y/N’s saddlebag was all the protection and fodder she needed to fan the flames already consuming the dark part of her heart that had led her here. It read simply; House Tully was once again Lord Protector of the Trident and the liege lord of the Riverlands. Any and all actions House Tully made on behalf of the Crown to secure allegiance and peace were sanctioned and accepted.

Perhaps Robb did not know what Y/N meant to do. But maybe he did, letting her loose on the House that had caused both her and her sweet cousins so much pain. She had kept her wrath contained while at war. It burned and raged under her skin but she had pulled it back like a tiger on a chain, knowing that if she had let herself be blinded by her need for vengeance, she would have only caused herself and others more heartache as her men would fall to the sword and ax because her plans would have left them vulnerable instead of safe. But now they were safe. This was the final piece. And she could let it finally burn.

A window pushed open and caught Y/N’s eye. A glint of metal, a cage, was revealed in low candlelight. The rookery, it would seem. Y/N watched a raven fly and pulled an arrow from her quiver. She nocked it and pulled her bow taut, listening to the string sing under her fingers. The arrow flew and took the bird from its flight. They would have no support.

Y/N drew another arrow and turned to Jon. “Give the signal.”

“Your father would be proud, my lady. You are a force, just as he.” Tytos was still filled with compliments even as he let a maester stitch up a gash on his arm.

Y/N managed to smile and dipped her rag into a bowl of fresh water and dragged it across her blood and dirt caked face and neck as she glanced out the window. For a moment, she doubted Brynden Tully would be proud of her. Letting loose a band of men still raging from victory and anger from the betrayal of the Red Wedding onto enemy territory and giving them permission to do whatever they wanted and needed to take the fortress was not honorable or something he would have ordered. But he was gone and she still breathed. She was a survivor—and she knew he would be proud of that.

Portcullises crumpled and arrows flew. Swords ran red and the fortress burned. The siege had lasted all of a handful of hours—just long enough for her to spend her quiver of arrows as she picked off fleeing Freys as they ran across the bridges. But it was finished. Almost.

Y/N grasped Tytos’ uninjured shoulder and squeezed, telling him to rest as Patrek ran into the room and told her they had finished gathering the Freys as she requested. He led her out of the damp, dark castle and onto the grass just on the edge of the Green Fork. A band of about twenty men were on their knees as the Northmen and Riverlanders created a circle around them with dirtied swords kept them from wavering.

The last of the Freys. All of them were guilty. Every single one of them knew of the plot and drew their blades when the time came. Each one had benefitted in some way from the slaughter of the Red Wedding and murder of her father.

Patrek continued on as Jon separated himself from the group and touched her arm just before they reached the group. “This will not bring them back,” he whispered, dark eyes pleading. He had seen enough bloodshed.

Y/N pushed his hand from her arm and stepped forward. “No, it will not. But blood begets blood. And I shall bathe in it. There shall be no root or stem left.”

Patrek had dragged a large stump from the tree line and set it at her feet. She watched a few of the men nervously glance between the stump and Y/N, knowing what was coming.

“Your men have refused to swear fealty to King Robb, the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. Your House has refused to bend the knee. Guest Right was violated for greed.” Y/N held her hand out for the ax Lord Cerwyn had across his back and he gave it readily. “I have learned that if you pass the sentence, you should swing the sword. I gave the order.” The weapon was heavy in her grip as she remembered Ned’s words. She’d just been a girl when he had said them and his eyes were sad. But she knew the words to be true and just. “Bring me Lord Walder Frey.”

Two Northmen darted into the group of Freys and pulled a snarling man, still in his sleeping clothes, up and then dropped him to his knees at Y/N’s feet.

“Little Lady Tully,” Walder sneered with rotted teeth. “If your cousin had been half the bitch you are, she might still be breathin’.”

“The gods gave you a chance to be true when they sent Lady Catelyn to your door. They gave you another when your men found my father. You and your wretched family betrayed mine. Now you must reckon with me.”

Walder’s face contorted and splotches of red dotted his grey cheeks. “You-”

Y/N swung the ax and buried it into his neck but it caught on this spine. His eyes grew wide as blood spurted and oozed from the wound. Walder’s mouth opened and closed with silent curses and stained his brown teeth red. She yanked the ax back and watched the Frey crumple down onto the stump before finally cleaving the man’s head from his shoulders. “Bring me the next,” she called out over her shoulder. “I should like to finish this before nightfall.”

She needed a new ax after the third Frey. And a damp cloth to wipe the blood from her face and hands.

“Bring me the next!”

A tall man was then shoved to his knees in front of her, brown hair thin and greasy as it stuck to his sweaty face. He snarled up at her, as a handful of others did before.

“Name?”

“Raymund Frey.”

And that gave Y/N pause. “Arya!” Arya came running, a stranger’s blood streaked across her cheek but still bright-eyed. Y/N handed over the ax. She took it with a frown and glanced at the Frey. “This is Raymund Frey.”

Realization dawned on the young Stark’s face and her grip tightened. If the Freys had not been so fond of bragging, perhaps they would not have known he had been the one to slit Catelyn’s throat at the Red Wedding. But they knew. And so, Y/N watched Arya bury the ax into the man’s neck.

And when all of them were gone, bodies left out to be pecked by hungry carrions, Y/N walked out into the river and washed the blood from her hands. It was finished. The blood in the rivers had washed her clean.

Riverrun had managed to survive a handful of sieges and a brief Frey occupation without losing its integrity. Jon and Arya accompanied her to her family’s seat and she invited the Northmen to rest in its halls for a fortnight before continuing North.

Houses from the Riverlands descended upon Riverrun when they heard of her return and Edmure’s release from the bowels of Casterly Rock. And Y/N was not sure if they had heard of her campaign at the Twins or in the Westerlands but a handful of them stuttered and avoided eye contact when they once again swore fealty to House Tully and bumbled through lathing compliments for King Robb as if he were standing beside her. It amused Arya endlessly who poorly concealed her giggles behind her hand until Jon nudged at her shoulder.

But Edmure had been much changed since his time in Casterly Rock’s dungeons. He walked with a limp and was in need of a cane. The fingers on his left hand were crooked, healed broken and at strange angles. And his vigor had left, his pride, too. Whenever anyone asked for an edict or command, his blue eyes flickered to Y/N and she found herself answering.

Settling feuds, giving instruction on how to rebuild, granting clemency, and doling out justice when needed. Through all of it he seemed to look to Y/N for guidance, to answer for him. She had only planned to stay long enough to make sure the Riverlands were at peace but Edmure gave her pause.

It was exhausting and confusing and Y/N, more often than not, found herself in the familiar kitchens late at night in search of wine. While she had anticipated that being within Riverrun’s familiar halls would finally grant her some peace, all she found was longing for the warmth of the Dornish sun and the gentle touch of Ellaria and Oberyn. The sound of the little ones laughing in the Water Gardens while Obara hollered out formations at the training field. Riverrun was so…quiet. Had it always been so quiet and cold? A small comfort was taking her father’s childhood rooms as her home. It was a way to feel close to him but the ache that had settled in her heart grew a little easier to bear with each passing day. And receiving a raven from Winterfell made her smile, too. It was from Sansa, stating that she had sailed North from Sunspear and had settled back into Winterfell without issue, a small band of loyal Northmen at her call. She had been named Warden of the North by her brother Robb and Y/N remembered how the broken throne room had been filled with cheers at the news, even if Sansa had not been present to hear it. But her own troubles persisted.

Jon found her the night before he, Arya, and the Northmen were to depart for their homes. She poured him a large glass of wine and ushered him into a seat in the dark room and finally pried his story from him. He spoke of betrayal and death and love and loyalty until the sun rose with the next morning.

“Out of all the Starks, you were the most prone to finding trouble.” She reached out to grasp his hand and squeezed, matching tired smiles on their faces. “But you survived. That is all that matters to me.”

He laughed and rubbed at his eyes as she smiled. “If you ever tire of the snow, come to Dorne. I will always have a place for you.”

And then she led him out into the sun to join the rest of the Northmen and bid him goodbye with a tight hug and a kiss against his head and she turned to Arya who begrudgingly gave back the Sand Steed she had stolen before hugging Y/N with a ferocity only she was capable of.

“Find your joy, little wolf,” Y/N whispered into her hair as she held Arya tight. “You deserve it. Now, stay safe.”

Arya nodded and sniffled once before clearing her throat as she pulled back. They both whispered soft goodbyes to each other as the morning light continued to grow. And then Y/N watched them disappear on the horizon with a heavy heart, knowing she was strangely alone now in the place she had called home. As she stepped inside, she nearly bowled over Roslin. Apologies tumbled from Roslin’s mouth as she cradled her son to her chest, almost shaking.

Y/N bit back a sigh and plastered a smile on her face. In truth, Roslin was a genial and gentle woman. Pretty. Loyal. So unlike the rest of her family. Y/N saw how she constantly looked to Edmure with love in her eyes and was met with a broken smile in return. And when the news had come of what had been become of her family, Roslin almost seemed relieved. It made Y/N wonder what she had endured while under her father’s thumb. “It is nothing, my lady. My fault. You are Lady Tully now. Apologize for only what is necessary.”

Roslin froze for a moment, as she always seemed to do whenever Y/N spoke with her, but then nodded with a small smile of her own. “Of course, my lady. Thank you.”

The pair spoke for a little longer, Y/N asking after the health of her babe, a boy nearing his first nameday and named after Edmure’s childhood idol and pride of their house, Kermit Tully, who had led House Tully to the height of their power during the Dance of Dragons. Yes, Y/N supposed, Roslin would grow to be a fine Lady Tully.

If only she could ensure Edmure would become the man she needed him to be.

Y/N eventually found herself slipping away after bidding Roslin a good day and walking up toward the rookery, she wanted to send a raven to Sansa to ask how she was faring. The ravens cawed in greeting as she stepped inside. They always recognized her, the intelligent little beasts. But it was the open window that drew her attention. A white raven cawed as it turned to watch her approach. The noise came again as she brushed a finger against the bird’s back and it fluttered its wings, showing the slip of parchment tied to its leg.

Y/N already knew what the missive would say – white ravens only appeared with the changing of the seasons.

The raven cawed against and nuzzled against her finger as she untied the parchment before flying away. And she was right – “winter has come” was all the Citadel had written, probably in haste to finish the hundreds more needing to be sent.

When she asked Edmure what should be done, finding him sequestered away in Hoster’s old rooms, he gave her another tired smile and asked her to make sure the other Riverlands houses were informed and cared for. Yet another obstacle. Dorne had never seemed so far away.

Y/N ordered the overfilled storehouses of the Twins be emptied to make sure the houses beleaguered by the long war would not starve and wrote to Willas and Olenna in Highgarden to secure a few hundred bushels of grain and barley as well. Even with the war, the Reach had enough to spare. And so, more weeks slipped through her hands. Lords and ladies from across the Riverlands came to Riverrun to receive what House Tully could give them and continue to ask for guidance from their liege lords.

An envoy from House Vance was the latest to arrive and it was then that Edmure seemed to finally show some of his former self. He smiled and greeted them, welcomed them, and helped them settle for the handful of nights they would be housed at Riverrun. And a breath Y/N did not realize she was holding finally pushed its way out of her tired lungs. He would be fine, she told herself. He just needed time.

Even Roslin seemed to settle more into her role at Edmure’s side. It was comforting to know that House Tully was secure once again. She sent a raven to Dorne, telling Oberyn and Ellaria she hoped to leave within a fortnight and arrive before the first snow of the new season. It put a certain spring in her step to think that soon she would be back in Dorne. She would be married and-

“Y/N!” Edmure called her name and snapped her from her pleasant reverie before the evening meal. She walked to his side in the hall and offered a small smile. “I have a gift for you, cousin.”

Before she could ask what the gift was, they were ushered into the hall for the meal. Edmure then pointed out Lord Vance’s third son and prattled on for a majority of the meal. Kirth Vance was handsome, she supposed, and he spoke kindly to servants and squires alike and tended to his horses and hunting dogs with care and doted on his nieces and nephews—if Edmure could be trusted. But every word nearly turned her stomach and she resorted to pushing her food around her place in a poor attempt to look like she was eating.

Ser Kirth was almost bashful as he met her gaze and quickly ducked his head with pink cheeks. “He thinks you are the most beautiful woman he has ever seen,” Edmure continued to whisper. “Kirth is not one to overstep—he would listen to your commands and see them through as a faithful consort to you here at Riverrun.”

And then she saw what this was.

“I would have the room,” Y/N said, rising from her seat. While most everyone quickly scurried away, including Roslin and her babe, Edmure signaled for Kirth to come closer. “No, no, Ser Kirth. My dear cousin has misread my intentions. I would speak to him alone.” Another ruddy blush took over his cheeks and he tipped his head before all but running from the hall. When the door firmly shut, she rounded on Edmure. “How dare you.”

Edmure stood, cane clacking against the floor. “Y/N-”

“If you think for a moment that you have the ability to coerce me into staying by offering me a man like that, you do not know me at all.”

“You led the Riverlands to victory. Not me. Not little Robb. You, dear cousin. You raised the banners and called on their loyalty and oaths. You bled alongside them.” Edmure pulled in a shaking breath and pressed harder onto his cane. “Riverrun should be yours.”

“I do not want it.” Y/N turned away from him, trying to hide her disgust. “Is this why you have shunned your duties? You believe you cannot serve your people.”

“I know I cannot.” And he sounded so defeated that she almost turned to comfort him. But rage kept her still.

“Then the Lannisters have won. They sought to strip you of your will and pride and make you a soulless creature of their making.” And Edmure was quiet and that was what had her turning. Her once near-boastful and handsome cousin had all but curled in on himself, face warped and scrunched like he was near tears. “Don’t let them win, Edmure. They are gone. You are still here. You are the man who led men into battle without flinching. You are the man who sheltered smallfolk here, in your home, because you knew they were scared.” Her voice cracked, broken in her throat. “You are the man who read me stories when I was a child. You are a good man. True, brave, and honest.”

Edmure shook his head and a single tear escaped his eye. “I cannot be that man again. I am tied to the family that imprisoned me, killed my sister-”

Y/N reached out to place her hand over Edmure’s on the head of his cane. “The Freys are dead and at my hand. I would gladly do it again. But that woman loves you—loves your son—despite your best attempts to spurn them. The gods have given you a fine wife, Edmure. Do not squander it.”

“She-”

“Is your wife. The mother to your heir. You were once a man of honor. Be so again. No one shall claim the Twins. Let it rot if you wish. Roslin loves you, chose you over her family. There is no ill will in that woman’s soul toward anyone. Just love.” Y/N sighed. “We know love in any form is rare, Edmure. You have found it in Roslin. I have found it-”

“In Dorne,” Edmure grumbled. “Yes, I have heard of your betrothal to Prince Oberyn and your dalliances with his paramour.”

Y/N pulled back her hand and crossed her arms over her chest, a sad shield against the wound he had cut. “I am happy. They love me. I love them. Why can you not see-”

“He has daughters older than you, Y/N. All of them bastards. Do you not believe you could find someone more suitable to call husband?”

“And you think Kirth Vance would be suitable?” She bit out, anger replacing the hurt. “I would give Oberyn eight more bastards if the gods allowed!” She bellowed as something protective struck at her stomach, even if the targets of her cousin’s ire were thousands of leagues away. “He loves me and I love him and Ellaria. He fought beside me, for me—for the gods-forsaken pile of brick and mortar because he knew I once called it home.”

“It is your home!” Edmure yelled in return. “You are a Tully-”

“I am Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell’s wife in all but name and I am going home!” Her chest heaved and she wiped a hand across her face, trying to calm herself before said anything else. “You are the Lord of Riverrun. Lord Paramount of the Trident. You are not a child. Your life has led to this moment. Do not forsake Hoster’s teachings for your learned meekness. He named you as his heir—be the man he knew you to be. Because I cannot and will not be.” And then she left, leaving Edmure alone.

Y/N pulled her fur-lined cloak a little tighter about her shoulders as she strode out to the stables. Qelōs was being tended to by the stable hand and her tack was waiting to be placed on her gleaming back. Full saddlebags were ready for one last journey South. Y/N had spent the last night in Riverrun’s Sept, praying for guidance and for her father’s soul one more time—another quiet goodbye. She thought it would be fitting to do it here, in his former home. And as the sun rose the following morning, it was the most at ease she had felt in almost a year.

“I am never coming this far North again,” Obara said, moving closer to her to try to get a bit of body heat. The large fur cloak and gloves were not enough, it seemed. Obara and Oberyn had led an envoy to the Riverlands to collect Y/N and ensure she was safely delivered back to Sunspear. Frost had started to stick to the grass around Riverrun, thin sheets of ice collected over patches of the rivers and Obara had been distraught about the temperature since she arrived with her father two days ago. Ellaria and the rest of the Sand Snakes had stayed in Dorne. Loreza and Dorea had apparently caught a bit of a fever with their first Winter and Oberyn and Ellaria both wanted to keep the rest of their daughters healthy. The little ones would be fine, but Ellaria and Oberyn always wanted to be sure.

Y/N chuckled at Obara’s plight and pulled a thick wool stole from one of her bags and wrapped it around Obara’s shoulders, making sure to tuck it high around her neck. “What of your plans to see Seagard? Hm? Lord Patrek will be devastated.”

Obara sniffed and looked away. “He must wait for Winter to end if he wishes to have me at his home. I am of Dorne. He-”

“Is in love with you, Obara. And Lord Mallister is amiable to the match if you wish it.” Y/N assumed tales of Obara saving his heir’s life and fighting beside the Riverlanders may have something to with Lord Mallister easing his views on who could be a possible match for his son. That, and Oberyn Martell being her father, a Prince of Dorne and the man who took Tywin Lannister’s head from his shoulders was a definite bargaining point. Y/N finished tucking the stole around her frigid companion. “But I am happy to simply see your face again.”

“Sap,” Obara said with a small smirk. “If I have to hear Father wax poetic about your eyes the entire ride to Dorne, I will be forced to murder you both.”

“Oh, I expect nothing less.”

They spoke a little longer, watching their horses be readied for the ride before one of the stable hands said, “Oh, Lord Tully! Good morrow!”

Y/N turned to see Edmure at the mouth of the stables. Roslin was at his side, a small smile on her delicate lips. Something was bundled in his left arm, his right still holding his cane. It had been a tumultuous two weeks within Riverrun’s halls. Edmure had stumbled when regaining his duties but fulfilled them with more confidence with each day. He had kept his conversations with Y/N at a minimum and had steadfastly refused to speak to Oberyn more than necessary when he first arrived. But Edmure softened. At almost an alarming rate. But perhaps that was simply Oberyn’s charm. His pervasive magnetism that could draw nearly everyone to his side if he wanted them. Edmure was no exception. And that gave Y/N a little comfort, to know that Edmure did not hate her betrothed as he had tried. Knowing her two families, no matter how different, were coming together was a solace. Riverrun would survive under Edmure’s lordship.

The pair stepped closer and Roslin helped Edmure press the bundle into Y/N’s arms. “It is a gift for you. A reminder of… of Riverrun.” Not of home. Not anymore.

Y/N looked down at the bundle and watched it move, the tip of the fabric peeling away to reveal a fluffy snout. Y/N quickly unwrapped the dog with a huff of a laugh as it wiggled in her hold. The pup fit comfortably in her arms and had the most beautiful black fur with a tuft of white on his chest.

“He is of the Riverlands, hearty and loyal. Even if Riverrun is no longer your home, I’d like… I’d like if you still had a piece of us with you.”

The pup squirmed in her grasp and raised up on unsteady legs to lick at her chin with a happy yip. A fortuitous distraction for both Edmure and Y/N as they tried to clear the tears from their eyes. Y/N nodded and pressed a kiss to the dog’s head before leaning up to kiss Edmure’s cheek. “He’s wonderful. Thank you, Edmure. A treasure to be sure.”

It was not an apology, not an outright one anyway. But Y/N accepted it just the same. It was a soft ending to a hard chapter.

But she was ready to start a new one.

And as Oberyn walked into the stables, a soft smile on his face, she knew it would be a good one.

The distance between Riverrun and Sunspear seemed so long and so short at the same time. Each night was spent in Oberyn’s arms, trying to reclaim the time she had lost. They would whisper about their plans for the future, of how they both wished Ellaria in their arms when the nights grew colder and colder.

But it was good. It was soft and gentle and eased the ache she had held against her heart like a shield since she had left his arms. It was good.

The pup had grown astonishingly fast. He often squirmed out of her grasp in the saddle to trot alongside their horses. If there were ever a body of water near the road, he quickly jumped into it to wet his fur and then happily scampered back into line, proud of himself.

“He is a little bear,” Oberyn once griped as the pup’s sharp teeth nipped at his leg when Oberyn had moved to help Y/N down from her horse. The pup seemed a little insistent on having Y/N’s attention at all hours and he only grew bolder as the distance from Sunspear grew shorter. Obara found her father’s frustration with the pup endlessly entertaining and would also lathe attention on the pup at any moment. She followed her father’s lead in calling him a little bear, much more affectionate in tone. And Y/N supposed the name just stuck. She called him her little river bear in High Valyrian, but settled on just calling him Gryves for short.

As they crossed under the stone arches of Sunspear and the crowds cheered, little Gryves happily pranced next to Qelōs and snapped his jaws, catching the flower petals the people of Sunspear had thrown into the air in celebration of their return. Ellaria and the Sand Snakes were waiting on the steps of the fortress and Y/N dismounted before Qelōs even stopped and raced up the stairs. Tears were in Ellaria’s eyes as Y/N wrapped her in her arms and she could taste them as she pressed her lips to hers again in again in a fevered frenzy as an incandescent warmth bloomed in her chest at just the simple touch of Ellaria’s skin. And it took Ellaria holding her still, gentle hands on the side of her face, to realize she was crying, too. “No more tears, my Tully,” Ellaria whispered. “You are home.”

A happy shriek had them pulling apart to see Dorea and Loreza bowled over on the steps being licked by Gryves whose entire fluffy body was shaking with how quickly he was wagging his tail.

Oberyn stepped to their side and kissed Ellaria soft and slow before pressing a kiss to Y/N’s smiling mouth.

Yes. She was home.

Gryves huffed for the third time, disturbing her attempt at sleep. Or maybe the dog knew she couldn’t sleep and was sharing in her plight. Y/N gave up after she heard him huff again and slipped out from under her blankets and padded over to her balcony, letting the cool breeze wash over her as she pulled the doors open. Gryves’ nails tapped against the stone beside her and they both walked to the railing, looking out over the still-bustling fortress.

Her wedding was tomorrow. Her dress was carefully hung and her maiden’s cloak alongside it. Daisy had been bouncing in each step in the last week, happy to have her friend back safely and to “finally see you married to your prince, my lady!” Daisy and Daemon’s own ceremony would be held the following day. People were buzzing about down below, readying for the festivities. While the ceremony would be small, Doran insisted on letting them have every finery they wanted. Y/N did not care if she had to marry in a threadbare sack and in bare feet and they only had blood oranges for their wedding dinner—she simply wanted to be married.

Gryves placed his front paws on the railing and looked out over the small crowd, too. He let out a soft ‘boof’ as he watched. He was still growing, his head now coming to her waist but he was still as playful as ever—and patient. Loreza had fashioned him a hat that looked peculiarly like an otter and he let the girl set it on his head and sat still long enough for the girls to coo over him before getting distracted by a gull he promptly chased into the sea. He was doted on by almost everyone who resided in or worked around Sunspear. (Oberyn was still trying to find a way to get the dog to like him and stop nipping at his leg whenever he tried to kiss Y/N.) Sarella was home (“For only a moment!” she insisted.) from the Citadel and the Sand Snakes were all together again and Y/N found them all to be wondrous company. Daisy and Daemon were still steadfastly in love, perhaps even more so that Daemon had returned unharmed. All of it was so idyllic. So perfect. And for a moment, Y/N once again wondered if the world was about to crash around her—but she quickly dismissed the thought and she thought of Ellaria telling her that happiness does not have limits and that she had the ability to choose every joy and happiness that was placed at her feet. And Y/N wanted to seize every last opportunity.

A knock at her door had her turning and Gryves kept to her side as she walked back into her rooms to open the door. Ellaria was on the other side with a soft smile and Gryves darted around her and into the darkened halls, probably in search of Loreza or Dorea. Y/N stepped back to let Ellaria in and softly shut the door behind her. Before Y/N could ask what she was doing, Ellaria had grasped at her face and pushed her lips to hers, easily delving into Y/N’s surprised mouth to lick and explore. Y/N faltered for a moment before letting her hands slide around Ellaria’s waist, bunching the silky fabric of her dressing robe between her fingers. Ellaria pulled away for a moment to press soft, wet kisses against Y/N’s cheek and down her neck, humming as she felt the thrumming pulse beneath the skin.

“I knew you would not be sleeping, my Tully.” Another kiss to Y/N’s panting mouth. “And I will have to call you something else after tomorrow, won’t I?” Ellaria’s laugh was light and her fingers started to trail up and down Y/N’s arms, raising goosebumps in their wake.

“You can call me whatever you desire,” Y/N said, tone breathy.

“And if I simply wanted to call you mine?”

“I am already yours.” Y/N leaned forward to press her forehead against Ellaria’s as her hands gently grasped Ellaria’s hands in hers, wrapping her fingers around her wrist. “I am yours and you are mine,” she whispered the vow against Ellaria’s lips. It was no Sept. There was not a Septon in sight nor any other trappings of the ceremony. But Y/N meant the vow as seriously as she would tomorrow with Oberyn.

And then Ellaria was kissing her again, tightening her grip on her wrists like she wanted to brand her touch to Y/N’s skin. “I am yours and you are mine.” Ellaria then dragged Y/N forward and spun her around before pressing a hand to her chest and pushing. Y/N didn’t even realize they had come so close to the bed until she fell onto it with a laugh, greedily grabbing at Ellaria’s legs as she climbed over her and stole another kiss against her smiling mouth. “You need to sleep, yes? I have two options for you.”

“Oh?”

Ellaria nodded and trailed her lips across Y/N’s chin, nipping at her jaw, before sliding down her neck again and letting her tongue dip into the notch between Y/N’s collarbones. “I can have you brought tea. Or…”

“Or…” Y/N played along, letting her hands slide up from Ellaria’s legs to her hips but her grip stuttered when Ellaria’s mouth suddenly pressed over her chest, tongue finding her nipple even through the cloth and teasing it to a hardened peak. When she was satisfied with one, she quickly did the same to the other.

“Or I can tire you out myself,” Ellaria said, situating herself with ease so she could lay her cheek against Y/N’s chest, undoubtedly listening to her fluttering heart. “Which would you prefer, my Tully?”

“You. Always you.”

Ellaria’s smile was bright even in the dark of the room as she sat straight and shuffled down the bed while signaling for Y/N to center herself in the blankets. She gracefully stretched out beside her slowly pushed the edge of Y/N’s chemise up, up, up until it exposed her lace-edged small clothes. “You’re always so pretty for me,” Ellaria mused before her fingers trailed over the front of them, already coaxing a moan from Y/N’s lips. “It has been too long since I’ve been able to touch you like this. You are never to leave us like that again.” She leaned down to kiss Y/N’s lips again, licking into her mouth. “Swear to me.”

“I swear it,” Y/N said, last word a breathless gasp as Ellaria’s talented fingers slipped beneath her small clothes and found her heat, ready and wet for her. Y/N had not even realized she had become so wet, only able to focus on Ellaria.

“Good.” Ellaria dragged the damp small clothes and dropped them to the floor. “So pretty,” Ellaria whispered as her fingers started to push through Y/N’s folds, gathering her slick before trailing up to her clit and circling it with just the right amount of pressure to have Y/N’s hips lifting from the featherbed. Again and again, Ellaria would push through Y/N’s folds, barely dipping into where she needed her most, as she pressed lazy, open-mouthed kisses against Y/N’s panting lips.

“Please,” Y/N near-pleaded. “Please.”

“And always so polite.” And then finally—finally—Ellaria curled her fingers into Y/N’s pussy in one single motion and delighted in Y/N’s high pitched whine and how the younger woman fisted her hands in the silk sheets at her sides. Ellaria leaned up just enough to seal her mouth over Y/N’s, all teeth and tongue and heavy, warm breaths as her fingers started to move, dragging in and out even as Y/N’s fluttering walls tried to pull them tight.

The familiar coil was starting to grow and unravel at an embarrassing rate and Y/N heard herself nearly wailing as it snapped and that delicious wave of pleasure washed over her. But Ellaria did not stop. Her fingers continued to curl inside her, Ellaria’s other hand pressed down against Y/N’s belly and pinned her to the bed. Y/N cried out at the burst of pressure she felt bloom and the coil started to wind itself again, now with an unfamiliar bite and sting that sang with each movement of Ellaria’s fingers.

“Oh please,” she said, words choked in her throat. She reached out to grasp at Ellaria’s wrist, pushing her further, letting her fingers brush against the spot only she and Oberyn could reach.

“That’s my good girl. Take what you need.”

Even through her hazed mind, Y/N keened at the praise. She wanted to be a good girl.

Ellaria licked across her panting mouth and bit at Y/N’s spit-slicked lips, smirking the entire time. Y/N’s walls fluttered around her fingers and she pressed her thumb against her clit with enough pressure to have Y/N cry against her mouth. Slick soaked her hand but she did not cease her movements, pushing her fingers into her until her hips pressed up against her grip and Y/N’s fingers clawed at her shoulders.

“El-Ellaria I-”

But she pressed her down to the dampened blankets and smiled. “So beautiful,” she said. “Give me another. My good girl.”

Her thighs shook, nearly clamping down over Ellaria’s arm as wave after wave of terrible pleasure wracked her body. The room blurred as her arms slid down Ellaria’s back to pull her close as if she were not the one inflicting this delicious torture. The sounds that came from Y/N as her fingers continued to move could only be described as lewd. Wet and frenzied.

“Give it to me,” Ellaria said, steady and low against her heated skin.

Y/N cried out as another jolt of blinding pleasure shot through her, hips finally lifting from the featherbed as her vision went white. Her heart continued to roar in her ears. Ellaria’s fingers slowed their assault before pulling out, leaving Y/N feeling empty and spent even as her body shivered with residual tremors. Ellaria’s glistening fingers dipped between her kiss-bitten lips and her tongue twisted and slid to gather everything she could. When she was finished, she shuffled down Y/N’s body to press a kiss against her wet cunt and Y/N let out a broken moan. Her dark eyes sparkled when she looked up at her. “One more.” She licked a broad stripe up from her hole to her clit and Y/N keened, nerves alight and near painful. But the long strokes of Ellaria’s tongue continued, broken up by little kitten licks against her clit or dipping inside. Every flick of Ellaria’s glorious tongue brought Y/N closer to the precipice but it came sooner than either of them anticipated, dribbling out of her with a broken sort of cry and a new puddle between her thighs. With a final kiss, Ellaria rose and walked to the vanity near the open balcony and pulled a golden cloth from its pile before dipping it into the small basin of water Daisy had left for Y/N to wash her face earlier. She slid onto the bed again and wiped between Y/N’s still shaking thighs with a gentle touch, delighting when she shivered. “Are you all right?” Ellaria asked as her tongue peeked from between her lips out to clean the shining mess from around mouth.

Y/N sighed with a tired smile. “I am perfect.” She reached out toward Ellaria’s soft skirts and felt the silk slide between her fingers. “But I would like to please you, too.”

Ellaria smiled and dropped the damp fabric to the floor. “Are you sure?”

“I am. But I hope you do not mind guiding me.”

Ellaria slipped back onto the bed and her knees bracketed Y/N’s thighs as the younger woman gently pulled the skirt up to reveal Ellaria’s uncovered mound, shining in the candlelight. Y/N’s hands slid from her waist to the backs of her thighs, urging Ellaria up toward her face. Ellaria had taught her many things, one of them being how to give her pleasure with just her fingers and Y/N had delighted in the taste of her love. But, in truth, Y/N had been fascinated by watching Oberyn make Ellaria cum with his wicked tongue. She wanted a taste from the source, too.

“By the gods, you are perfect,” Ellaria murmured holding her skirts higher so she could look to see Y/N’s face between her legs. She reached down to curl her hand around the back of Y/N’s head, pulling her up to meet the crux of her thighs.

Y/N quickly licked a short but firm stripe from Ellaria’s hole to her clit, earning a soft sigh in return. The bitterly sweet taste of Ellaria was heavenly and Y/N quickly, selfishly, licked again and then wiggled her tongue against Ellaria’s hole, trying to collect as much as she could.

“That’s it.” Ellaria’s grip tightened on her head and Y/N licked again and again before taking a chance and pulling her clit into her mouth and sucking. They both sunk into the pillows.

Y/N reached up and around to grasp at Ellaria’s hips as her licks grew bolder, encouraged by Ellaria’s moans. They grew louder as her tongue started to delve and lick and press. Ellaria would sometimes murmur instructions, “to the left” “right there” “a little harder, my darling” and Y/N followed each with wild abandon and squealed when Ellaria pressed down onto her mouth and moved her hips, grinding against her tongue.

“So good,” She panted. “So good.”

Y/N ate her out in earnest, sloppy and spit sliding out of the corner of her lips between covetous licks. Ellaria could suffocate her like this easily—and Y/N would die happy.

Exploring fingers slid down and Y/N simply pressed against the bundle of nerves and smiled when Ellaria wailed in response, head tilted back to press the sound into the sticky night air. Her hips moved faster. Y/N did all she could to keep up, to give Ellaria as much as she had given her. The hold on her head tightened and Ellaria suddenly stilled above her with a groan. The thighs on either side of Y/N’s head shook and the taste of Ellaria flooded her mouth. Y/N pulled her fingers away from her clit but gave a few final licks before Ellaria pushed off and then sat beside her on the pillows.

Ellaria caught her breath with a laugh and then leaned down to press a kiss to Y/N’s lips. “I cannot wait to teach you everything I know.”

Ellaria kissed her again before Y/N rose and wet her own bit of cloth to wipe between Ellaria’s thighs. She lathed a kiss against each of Ellaria’s legs before pulling her skirts down again as she lounged on the featherbed. “I will be a dutiful student.”

The laugh Ellaria let out was tired but joyful. And they spoke for a few more stolen moments, Ellaria constantly checking to make sure Y/N was not overworked or feeling strange as they shared slow kisses in the moonlight. “Will you be able to rest now?” Ellaria asked as Y/N yawned.

“You have thoroughly exhausted me.”

Ellaria’s smile grew and she kissed Y/N one more time before she slipped off the bed again. “Then I shall see you in the morning, Princess.”

Y/N smiled at the sound of the title. “In the morning, my love.”

A/N: Please let me know what you guys think! I really appreciate it. :)

Beautiful people who asked to be tagged: @roxypeanut @lostinwonderland314 @fandomreblogsnoshame @arianawills @nyrnerosmartell @5hundreddaysofsummer @honestlystop @huliabitch @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @karmezii @thesadvampire @sarcasmisakindofmagic @alexa4040 @paintballkid711 @huliabitch @stitchers-in-stitches @iellaren-uodo-rian

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell x ellaria sand x reader #game of thrones imagine #oberyn martell #game of thrones #asoiaf

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sauveteen · 4 years

Text

Kindergarten Graduation | Stuck Together extras

hi! this is a repost from an old extra from stuck together written by grace :))

Nadine and Shawn shuffle into the bleachers in the school gymnasium, the benches creaking with each step they take. Nadine holds Rory, who’s babbling, literally, and Nadine is just saying “oh, of course,” and “uh huh,” every few seconds. Arya, the quieter of the two, is steadfastly tugging on Shawn’s tie, and he’s trying to pry her fingers off with gentle words so as not to cause a meltdown.

“Did you pin Olly’s cap?” Shawn asks, sitting next to his wife. Nadine nods as Rory finishes her story. “Wow, sweetie, that must have been hard,” he says, and Rory’s eyes widen as she nods. Arya tugs on Shawn’s tie again, taking his attention away from Rory, and Nadine has to stifle a laugh.

The girls love begging for Shawn’s attention. He’d been away for a week, writing at a studio in New York for another artist’s album, and it was clear that Rory and Arya had missed him immensely. Olly had been pretending that he was fine, though he’d practically attached himself to Shawn’s hip the moment Shawn arrived home. Nadine goes through the events of the evening so far in her head, but one crucial detail seems to be missing.

“Did you clip on his tie so that he couldn’t unclip it?” she asks, and Shawn turns away from his conversation with his girls.

“What?”

“Did you make sure Olly couldn’t unclip his tie?”

“Oh, yes.” Shawn runs a hand through his hair and checks his watch. “It’s gonna start soon. Wanna bet he unclips the tie halfway through anyway?”

“I say he makes it a quarter of the way through,” Nadine says. She loves Olly so much, but he hates being restricted by clothing. She says this to Shawn, who laughs.

“Think he gets that from you, honey.” He winks at her, and she rolls her eyes as the principal makes his way to the podium. He shushes Rory and bounces Arya in his lap, and they all watch as the principal welcomes them before the processional. The teachers lead everyone out, and Nadine immediately spots Olly, his curls peaking out from underneath his little cap, his tassel swinging wildly as he skips. Shawn snorts, hiding it behind his hand. Arya reaches up and grabs at his face. He smooths her hair back, sliding Nadine her camera.

“Thank you all for coming to Newbury Elementary’s kindergarten graduation,” the principal begins, and Rory coos a little. Nadine shushes her, listening to the woman drone on about new opportunities that await their children in elementary school, and how ready to succeed they all are. Rory attempts to crawl into Shawn’s lap, and Shawn takes her easily, freeing up Nadine’s hands to take photos.

“Dada?” Rory babbles, and Shawn kisses her head, shushing her.

“Sweetie, Olly’s graduating kindergarten, we have to be quiet, okay?” he whispers, and she nods, though Nadine is sure she has no clue what he’s saying. Arya reaches for Rory, and they hold hands for a moment, and Nadine and Shawn are enraptured by their sweet girls and how well they get along.

“And now, our kindergarteners will sing a song!” The principal claps her hands, and Rory and Arya clap too, and the two women sitting next to the Mendes family laugh. Shawn smiles at them, and points to Olly on the stage.

“Rory, Riri, look, that’s your brother right there,” he says, and Nadine smiles, snapping a photo. “Will you send them to my parents? They’re devastated they can’t be here.”

“Are they actually?” Nadine asks back, and takes another photo just as the music starts. They can see Olly singing his little heart out, and Nadine laughs. “Oh my god, you can hear him. He’s so loud.”

“He takes after me.” Shawn puffs his chest out in pride, and Nadine rolls her eyes, taking another picture. Rory and Arya watch with rapt attention, eyes focused on the music on the stage. Of course her children are obsessed with music. They all take after their father. She tells Shawn this, and he smiles wider as Olly belts the words even louder. They both giggle, and when the song ends, Olly beams, and their hearts melt. “He’s so talented, oh my god.”

“He’s so precious,” Nadine coos, taking yet another picture. She flips through them as the teachers present the kids with little certificates, one by one, and Nadine catches Olly pulling at his tie. “Oh, halfway through. You got me.”

“There he...aaand it’s off,” Shawn says, and the girls giggle, and he shushes them as Olly accepts his certificate, waving it in the direction of his parents. Shawn waves at him and Nadine keeps taking photos of the whole thing, Olly waving his certificate and tie, him singing another song with the whole class, the recession at the end.

They find him afterwards, and he runs to Nadine, clutching her legs. “Mommy, mommy!” he exclaims, and she crouches down to his level, meeting his excitement. Arya tries to reach for him from Nadine’s arms, and he grabs her tiny hand. “Did you hear me?”

“Of course we did,” she says, and she kisses the top of his head. Shawn tells him how proud he is, and they find someone to take a family photo, and then Nadine gets photos of just him in his little cap, and he’s cheesing so wide and he looks just like Shawn and she feels tears prickling at the back of her eyes. “Fuck,” she hisses, and Shawn looks back at her, alarm crossing his features.

“What, Nads?” he sets Rory down and Olly keeps them occupied for a moment, Shawn putting his full attention on Nadine. “What’s wrong, love?”

“He’s so old now?” Her voice cracks, and Shawn smiles, kissing her forehead. “He’s turning 6 in July. Oh my god, Shawn, where did the time go? Oh my god.” A tear falls from her eyes and he thumbs it away, kissing her gently.

“It’s okay, baby. Look at them.” He gestures to their kids who are looking up at their parents, eyes wide.

“Mommy, are you okay?” Olly asks, and Nadine looks at her kids, at her husband, at everything, and she nods.

“Yeah, I am.” And she believes it.

stuck together taglist:

@martinimendes @shawnm251 @muffins-cookiesm @petit-funsize @standingunderthisrain @mendesftoakley @ourlittleshawnie @ur-prfctlywrng @siennarossi @oyesmendes @shawnsmoose @unapologetic-always @manar-sabahi @justanotherfangurl272 @searchingunderthestars @mutuallynotmutual @accioalena @oyesmendes @etherealchar @stuckonspidey @shawnitsmutual @lostinroses @mutuallynotmutual @standingandstaring @damnigotadime (just asked to be removed or added!)

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes x oc #shawn mendes x reader #stuck together

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fuckallthegood0nesweretaken · 4 years

Text

The Dove and Her Hound - CH. Thirty

Title: Epilogue

Words: 1,476

Warnings: None

A/N: This is it, the last of the series. I can’t believe that it’s over! If you’d like to request something, please don’t hesitate to send me an ask! I’d really love to write for you! Hope you enjoy!!

Taglist: @tonbluemchen @affection-rabbit @art-flirt @10morgan10 @thatting @iwontdance-dontaskme @simsvetements

Previous Chapter

Sandor Masterlist

Game of Thrones Masterlist

Masterlist

~~~~~~~

You made your way down to the docks where you would say goodbye to Jon. Sansa led the group of six. Arya pushed Bran behind her and you were followed by Sandor. His arm was around your waist and you could see Jon looking at him, his face expressionless.

“I wish there had been another way,” Sansa said to Jon. “Can you forgive me?”

“The North is free thanks to you.”

“But they lost their King.”

“Ned Stark’s daughter shall speak for them. She’s the best they could ask for.”

You could see the pride in Jon’s eyes when he spoke to Sansa. She had grown up so much over the past years and she most definitely deserved to rule over the North. Sansa was fighting back tears and hugged Jon tightly. Next up was Arya.

“You can come to Castle Black to visit me. Anytime you’d like.”

“I can’t.” Arya said.

“You think that anyone would tell you that women aren’t allowed?”

Arya let out a chuckle then looked down at the ground. “I’m not going back to the North.”

“Where are you going then?” You asked her.

“What’s west of Westeros?”

“I don’t know,” Jon said with a laugh.

“No one knows. All of the maps stop there. That’s where I’m going.”

“You have your Needle?” Jon asked her, throat tight.

“Right here.” Tears were welling up in Arya’s eyes. One tear fell and Jon wiped it away, pulling Arya in close as she wept. After a moment Jon managed to pull himself away to kneel in front of Bran.

“Your Grace,” he said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

“You were exactly where you were supposed to be.”

Jon stood up and walked to you next.

“Would you like to see your nephew?” You asked him gently.

“Yes.” You handed him your son and leaned back against Sandor as Jon rocked the babe in his arms.

“What’s his name?”

“Eddard Stark. I decided to name him after Father.”

“That’s a good name,” Jon whispered.

“I’m glad you agree.” You were smiling softly at the scene in front of you. You heard Jon sniff lightly and you surged towards him.

“No, no, no. Don’t you dare start crying. I’m already on the verge from our sisters, you don’t get to make it happen.”

Sandor took his son out of Jon’s arms and you crashed into him, squeezing your brother as hard as you could. Sobs escaped your mouth and Jon shushed you, tears in his eyes.

“The three of you are always welcome at the Wall as well,” Jon said into your hair after he kissed the top of your head.

“I know. We’ll visit when we can.”

“And you,” Jon said to Sandor. “If I find out you hurt my sister again, I will not hesitate to desert my post and kill you.”

Sandor wasn’t exactly intimidated by Jon, but he knew that it was not an empty threat.

“I understand. That was the biggest mistake of my life and I do not intend to repeat it.” Sandor looked at you with love in his eyes and you smiled warmly back.

“Glad we’re at an agreement.” Jon looked at the last of his family and left without another word. Your eyes started to water again as you watched your brother leave. You grabbed Sandor’s hand and he pulled you close to him. With a last backwards glance from Jon, he was gone.

---

You had been back at Winterfell for two months and today was the day of Sansa’s coronation. She was to be crowned Queen in the North and you were very happy for your little sister. She definitely deserved it after all the shit she went through. The time had come and you were standing by the front of the Hall, your babe in your arms and your husband by your side, when Sansa walked to you. Everyone was kneeling as she walked by them and when she got to you, you curtsied slightly. Sandor bowed and Sansa nodded her head, a bright smile on her face.

After Sansa swore vows to protect the North, the Maester performing the ceremony had her kneel and placed her crown on her head. She then sat down on her throne and her people began to chant.

“The Queen in the North!” They said, your voice among them. The ones with swords held them high in the air. They were pleased that Sansa was their Queen and you were too. She was the best fit and you couldn’t wait to see her grow.

---

Sansa had been Queen for five years now. She was doing excellent at it and you were extremely proud. Your son was now five and some months old and he made the castle very lively. Sandor had taken your name as his own and was now Lord Stark thanks to Sansa. It had taken him a while to get used to it, but it made you laugh when someone caught him off guard with the title.

You and Sandor had made up completely soon after Sansa’s coronation, and now you were expecting your second child. Sandor was beyond happy as were you and the both of you waited impatiently for them to arrive into the world.

You had gone and visited Jon three times since he had been put back into the Night’s Watch. He was always happy to see you and Eddard. Jon had become the Lord Commander once more and it always put a smile on your face to see him in his element. You hadn’t seen Tormund since you gave birth, but Jon kept you updated by raven when he could.

You hadn’t really heard from Arya much, but she did sometimes send a raven to let you know that she was okay. She had found some islands on her journey, but no big mass of land. In her letters she sent detailed reports of what the islands had on them and if there were any people on them. Along with the reports, she sent drawings. When you got them you immediately had your cartographer add them to your maps. Arya wanted it to stay secret until she got back from her journey and you kept that promise. All of the letters, maps, and drawings were kept in a secure room with you holding the only key. The cartographer was sworn to secrecy as well.

Gilly and Sam were in King’s Landing with your little brother and they kept you well updated. Sam was now the Grand Maester of King’s Landing and Gilly had given birth to a beautiful baby boy they named Jon. They never really had the chance to go to Winterfell, so Sansa named you Ambassador of the North. That meant you got to see your brother and your friends. Eddard loved going with you and his papa to the Capital and he loved seeing his best friend, Jon. Sandor never really enjoyed going back there, but he did it for his family.

One day after traveling for about a month, you were in the Capital once more. This time it wasn’t for political reasons. Sansa had said that you needed to stop working for a little while and to spend time with your family. So you had decided to take a trip to King’s Landing to visit your other family. Originally you had put down the idea of leaving Winterfell so late in your pregnancy, but Sansa and Eddard helped change your mind.

She had one of the many Maester’s go along with you to make sure everything was going well. That had eased your thoughts, but you still didn’t want to go. You only realized the decision was made without you when you walked into your little house and everything was all packed up and ready to leave. Exasperated, you just looked at your husband and your grinning child and sighed in defeat.

“Let’s go mother! I can’t wait to see Uncle Sam, Aunt Gilly, and Jon again!” Little Eddard had exclaimed.

“What about Uncle Bran?”

“And Uncle Bran.” Eddard was grinning from ear to ear and you had laughed lightly.

“You be on your best behavior, understand?” Sandor told his son. “You do whatever your mother or I says. Without complaint.”

“Yes father!” Eddard raced off to the carriage and you looked at your husband.

“I really don’t want to go.”

“I know, Dove. But you really need the break and Eddard loves it up there.”

You sighed and grabbed Sandor’s hand. He brought it up to his lips and kissed the inside of your wrist softly. A giggle escaped your lips and Sandor’s thumb caressed your cheek.

“Go to the carriage. I’ll bring the bags.”

“Alright. I love you,” you whispered, kissing your husband.

“I love you too.”

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jo-the-schmo · 6 years

Text

Traveling...Ch.4

Chapter 3

A/N: Yeeeet! First chapter of December!

Wordcount: 1868

Warnings: Just language and being sad this time.

Tags: @renae-writes @deltablue202 @literally-melonkitty @meunicorn @favouritefighting-frenchman @demigod-runner-who-potter @gum-and-chips @sweaterkitty-fluff @lexannani @pinkyiger7 @unprofessional-inhumanbeing @fandom-panda-221 @hummusandchips @spoopy-piineapple @ashwolfcub @myself-and-the-madman @sweet-fate @superwholockbooknerd526 @frozengal2013 @itsmikayblr @sarmar29 @arya-durin-51 @phantastic-fandoms @hoshihime98@shinigamired @martapetrovic@robotic-space @tayahqr @asprinkleofmermaids @satellitesuga @rose-coloured-nihilism @okie-dokie-artichokeme @pandartist @apandawithcookies @kitcatgirl2016

Traveling in Secret

Dear scraped paper I stole from Alex,

I guess this is my first entry since everything I had worked on before technically doesn’t exist anymore? This is all getting more confusing by the second. It’s been about a week since I showed up here, and it seems that my calculations were a bit off. We’re still about two weeks or so away from when Lee is supposed to ride out ahead. No wonder everyone has been suspicious of me, I was giving out information that was only referenced by five people. They haven’t even finished the full idea yet and I tell them I know about it. If I didn’t have to be careful before, I sure as hell do now. I’m trapped in the most influential part of American history. The actual start of the country. This is going to be difficult. Things have also been a bit tense between me and Alex recently. Every night, he’s been trying to keep tabs on me. I know that he wants to know what happened, but I don’t think I can tell him. I don’t think I can tell anyone, at least I don’t want to. But I appreciate that he hasn’t told anyone else. It’s just not something I talk about, not anymore. I feel like I’m breaking just thinking about it. I think out of everyone, Alex would understand the most. This entry will have to be short, I have a lot of work to do.

I sigh, clutching my head in my head in my hands. For now, you were put in charge of organizing everything. You kept tabs on what people were doing, what they needed, and if we even had it. Basically, you were Mama’s personal assistant. If you weren’t sitting at this desk and going through papers, you were doing errands with Mama. No one calls her by her real name, you’re not even sure if anyone knows her real name. She’s just Mama. But that didn’t bother you, after all, is that not what you’re doing? Just as you were having that thought, you saw a splotch of dark blue in the sea of black forms coming towards you.

“Oh, Mr. Laurens, what are you doing here?” Honestly, you felt a bit uncomfortable around John. It wasn’t his fault, he was extremely kind. It was more of how he looked that got to you, as bad as that sounds.

“Mama asked me to make sure you take a break, and I can’t tell her no.” He smiled at you and gesture for you to follow him. “So, take a break with me.” Say no, you are allowed to say no, you aren’t obligated to do this!

“Thank you, a break is probably needed.” God damnit! Anxiety, why do you do this to me?! You reluctantly stand up from your seat, following close behind since it was impossible to walk side by side. When the two of you exited the tent, you were relieved to see that it was cloudy. The heat has been the worst about this, everyone else has even been saying it’s unusually hot as well. You picked up the pace a bit to walk next to John. He looks so much like Philip…

“Who’s Philip?” He asked curiously. WHY DO I KEEP DOING THAT?!

“Uh! No one, just an old friend of mine!” Is that why I get uncomfortable around him? John’s eyebrows furrow but he shrugs.

“So, Miss Titania-“

“I told you to call me Titania, Miss is too formal.” You corrected.

“Well, then you can’t call me Mr. Laurens. It’s just Laurens.” He retorted. You held in a laugh, you didn’t expect that from him.

“That sounded like sass, Mama would be very disappointed!” He smirked at your joke.

“What are you going to do? Tell on me?”

“No, I’m not a snitch.” John went silent for a moment.

“So, this is what you are truly like?” He asked, you didn’t exactly get what he meant.

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, forgive me. That must have sounded rude. I just, have not gotten the chance to be around you, I was unsure of your personality.”

“I see, is that why you asked me to have my break with you?” You stopped walking. John scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“Yes, well, that’s one of my reasons…” He chuckled, you raised an eyebrow.

“And what’s the other reason?” You questioned, crossing your arms. John’s eyes widened, as if he just remembered something.

“Right! I almost forgot!” He reached his hand inside his jacket, soon pulling something out. It was wrapped in a white cloth, so you couldn’t tell what it was. “This is for you.” He held it out and you took it reluctantly. You took an inquisitive look at it before unwrapping the cloth.

“It’s…a piece of bread.” You were oddly surprised.

“You and Alex are pretty similar. When he gets focused on something, he forgets to take care of himself. He’ll get so distracted that he won’t even realize that he’s hungry. I do this for him all the time!” He admitted. Is he really that nice? Now I feel bad…

“Laurens! We need a bit of help over here!” A voice called out from a few yards away. John nodded, dipping his head down apologetically.

“I am afraid my break must be cut short. Perhaps I’ll run into you at supper?” Before you could answer, the voice cawed once more, asking for John to hurry. With a roll of his eyes, he turned and began to head towards the man. “Goodbye for now, Titania.” He waved, his curls bouncing behind him.

“Bye…” You mumbled, looking back down at the bread. You tried to take a bite, assuming it would be impossible since all the bread here is as hard as a rock. To your astonishment, the bread was easy to bite into. It’s soft…and it tastes good?! You didn’t realize how hungry you were. You ended up scarfing down bread quickly. But then you had a second of realization. If he didn’t get that from here, then where did it come from? Suddenly, an arm linked with yours.

“Wh-“

“There is no time, Titania! The General wishes to see you immediately!” It was Alex, dragging you by the arm, to Washington’s tent.

“Wait! Wait! Alex! I’m not ready! Noooooo!” Alex shushed you before you came too close to the tent. He let go of you once you reached the entrance, motioning for you to go first. Taking a deep gasp of air, you took a step inside. He looked up from his desk, a map in front of him. You felt oddly guilty for breaking his concentration.

“Ah, Miss Taylor, please, sit down.” You looked behind you, you expected Alex to come in with you but he either left or was waiting outside.

“Yes sir.” You took a seat in a chair in front of his desk, you felt like you were in the principal’s office. “Is something wrong, sir? You haven’t called me in before…” He sensed your nervousness and quickly reassured you.

“Do not worry, I’m just going to ask you some questions.” NO! MY WORST FEAR! You tried to swallow your fears. He stood up, walking around you. This is an interrogation, I know what these look like… “When you first arrived, you told Colonel Laurens and Alexander that you knew of top secret plans that hadn’t left this very tent…how is it that you came upon such information.” God damnit! What do I say?!

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you…” Way to be vague, Y/N! George’s eyes narrowed, urging you to continue. “I overheard it!” Good start!

“From who?”

“Y-You?” Today is not my day! A mixture of surprise, concern, and amazement poured into his pupils. “The day I talked to Laurens and Alex…wasn’t the first time I was here. I overheard you discussing the concept originally.” This is risky, but it’s all I’ve got right now…

“A spy.” He stated.

“Wh-What are you-“

“I’m talking about you.” His voice wasn’t cold, more analytical, focused. But you were panicking.

“No! I swear! I’m not a spy! I wou-“ He held up his hand to signal for you to be quiet.

“I believe you.” Wait…didn’t he just say I was a spy?! “I’m a General, I wouldn’t risk the safety of my army just for a random woman who appeared out of thin air. I was suspicious of you from the beginning.” Of…course he was… “That being said, you’re clearly no longer in league with the red coats-“

“But how do you know that?” Honestly, you were tired of some of this shit going on today.

“I’ve had Mama keep close tabs on you, she personally requested it. On top of that, you don’t fit the mold of an active spy. And I know because we have one here with us that I also had help me with this endeavor.” Hercules Mulligan…That sly bitch! “Spies lay low, don’t get involved, don’t cause a scene. They would never try to break into our ranks without joining first. They also wouldn’t make the scene as dramatic. And most importantly, they wouldn’t get as close as you have.” Close? “A spy will silently work their way through the day, avoiding making attachments. You, have been nothing but trusting. You go out of your way to prove yourself. You have exceptional skills on top of that. I may not agree with the crown, but they are not idiots. No way in hell they would send a wealthy woman to become a spy in this manner.” That’s right, woman were usually used as mistresses acquire information…on top of that, they’d never let a woman with a sliver of power taste freedom during this period. It would have been democratic suicide. “So that leaves one option…” The whole time, he had been walking around you, but now he came to a sudden stop to look down at you. “It was your idea to become a spy…what I can’t figure out is why.” It was a statement but you knew it was a question. Okay, you can do this. Just go with it.

“I was threatened. They were planning on killing me. It was the only thing I could come up with to let them spare me.”

“What was your crime?” He asked, not missing a beat.

“Being the daughter of a traitor.” You took a deep breath. “My father, he openly degraded the kingship. He was rallying protests in the streets. He was caught and…” These stories get harder to tell the longer I’m here… George nodded, he seemed to understand enough from what you were saying. And the few stray tears dancing off your lashes weren’t exactly incriminating you.

“You needn’t say anymore. Unfortunately, I cannot simply let you go with this information.”

“Wait! Please, I-“

“Let me finish. However, I can still make a deal with you.” A deal? “I will allow you continue your work here, as you clearly wish to do. On one condition…”

“And what is this condition?”

“You give us all the information you have on the British’s plans.”

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hamilheros · 7 years

Text

what do you fall for? (8)

Words: 2914

Warnings: fighting, cursing

Tags: @ccecode @ichbindeindod @animediac @sarahgurl09 @an-enigmatic-avenger @lunaaugurium @insaneisthenewsane @interwebseriesfan24 @terminallyvolatile @arya-durin-51 @vallucky-gal @littlewinchestergirl725 @imjustsans @shadoweddarkness @tayyyy276 @kxitlin @merrahonthawall

A/N: Sorry we took so long for another chapter! But I hope y’all like it!

Thomas laughed, looking at George's outstretched hand. He took it in his, and they exchanged a firm handshake. You watched the two of them, confused. Weren't they enemies? What was happening?

"After six fucking years. George, I never thought you would be the one to invade James' mind. In fact, I recall that you said you'd never use your powers on the rest of us. What changed that?" Thomas was smiling, but it didn't reach his eyes. You were sure he was angry, his fingers were wrapped tight around the top of his cane. George shrugged, "I wouldn't have done that a long time ago. But times have changed, you know. Endangering innocent civilians? Anti-Heroes? Is that what you call yourselves?" Everyone else was silent. John had his hand on Philip's shoulder, watching them. Hercules and James stood next to each other like they weren't just fighting a few minutes ago. Angelica stood still, and you heard Peggy's heavy breathing next to you. Eliza was standing next to George, her eyes watery. Alexander, Lafayette, and Aaron were still nowhere to be found.

Staring at all of them from this position, you realized that they were all just normal people with different problems. They didn't despise each other like you once thought. They were just a broken family.

Thomas clicked his tongue, nodding slowly, "I suppose. It's still in the works," Thomas let go of his hand, "But it's a different meaning than you may think. We're not evil, you know that, George. We are helping everyone. We are saving thousands of lives-" "-and killing hundreds in the process," George interrupted. Thomas' smirk wavered, staring at him. "I believe your intentions to be true, Thomas. But how many lives will you sacrifice? How many 'natural disasters' will you let happen? Like Y/N," He gestured towards you, "What do they have to do with any of this?" Thomas was growing frustrated. His knuckles were turning white like he was going to break his cane. You hoped that George changed his mind about pestering him, it wasn't such a good idea. "They have everything to do with this, George. You all," He glared at each of them, "-are involving an outside entity in our problems. They’re a normal human, George, and again, you allow another into our inner circle." Thomas glanced around, "I'm sure you remember Martha, correct?" George face twisted, sorrow now shown. "Thomas, stop. She was one of us, she was family," He said simply, and Thomas rolled his eyes, a small smile on his lips. The others looked away, not saying a word.

James cleared his throat, moving closer to him,"Thomas, I don't think it's such a good idea-" Thomas held up his hand, silencing him. James closed his mouth, looking toward Angelica. But Angelica had her arms crossed, ready to hear what Thomas had to say. Peggy looked tense, her fingers clutching tightly on the fabric. You weren't sure what he was going to say, but it seemed to be a big issue. Thomas nodded at her, then continued. "George is lying, he killed her, yes. But it wasn't an accident, you see. I heard the both of them talking about it, and it was on purpose. Martha told George to kill her."

Aaron tapped on the keyboard, watching the scene from the computer terminal. He couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but it seemed like Thomas upset everyone. He leaned in, glancing between everyone. His eyes went to you, and you were bleeding, terribly. But your eyes were watery, and you clenched your fists, staring between George and Thomas. He pressed the zoom in button. Angelica held you down with a hand. You were saying something. Aaron desperately wished he knew what was going on. "Do it, Aaron," George said into Aaron’s mind. Aaron glanced at the red button, shaking his head. That was only for emergencies, and this didn't seem like one. He looked back at the screen. "Aaron Burr, press the button. If you don't, everyone is going to die." George said, this time with more urgency. Aaron's heart was beating quickly. He didn't think it would result to this, George said he would handle the situation. But then he glanced at another camera, seeing Lafayette and Alexander creep into the park. Angelica wasn't paying much attention, so he was sure he wasn't aware of the two of them. Aaron slammed his fist against the board. "Idiots, you were the backup," Aaron murmured. Lafayette looked up at the camera, his eyes seeming to look directly at Aaron. Aaron tensed up. Did the man actually hear him? But then Lafayette winked, looking away. What an imbecile. "Are you even listening to me? Press the fucking button, Aaron!" George yelled. Aaron looked back at the scene. James was holding up his hands, and George was clutching at his throat. Thomas was fighting with Alexander, and Angelica was closing her eyes. The rest were in a crowd, unable to see who was fighting who. "Shit!" Aaron yelled, slamming his palm on the button. Immediately, everyone dropped, except for Y/N. He let out a deep breath, leaning on his chair. He jumped out, and grabbed his bag. He ran out the building, hoping he'd make it there before the rest woke up.

You widened your eyes, looking at all of them dropped on the ground, not moving. You stood up, both terrified and confused. You weren't quite sure what happened, but you weren't staying to find out. You stood up, your legs shaky. You weren't positive if they were alive or not; your mind was elsewhere. You stumbled through them, barely giving a glance. Until your eyes laid on George. You crouched, reaching out your hand to touch him. "Hey!" You jumped, turning to see Aaron standing there, breathing heavily. He shook his head at you, "Don't touch them, I'm not sure what would happen if you do." You stood back up, wiping off your pants. Aaron nodded at you, walking over slowly. He looked exhausted. He opened his bag, pulling out gloves. You raised your eyebrows. "Doing a prostate exam?" You joked. Even in this situation, you had to admit, you loved your humor. Aaron rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He pulled out a needle, already filled with something. You widened your eyes.

“Aaron-” He put a finger to his lips, shushing you. He tapped the edge of the needle, and took out an alcohol cloth. He then turned to you.

“Okay, hold out your arm,” He held out his hand, waiting for you patiently. You shook your head, backing up a few inches.

“Uh, no. I already had my flu vaccination for this season.” Gosh, you were hilarious.

He frowned, “Y/N, this isn’t a joke,” Well he must have read your mind, “This will keep you safe from the toxin that I emitted in the air. The chemical that knocked the rest of them unconscious, and makes everyone who walks by turn a different direction. Now,” He moved closer, “Either you fall under the spell, or you let me inject you. Your choice.”

You glanced at the needle, and sighed, holding out your arm. You were never the best with the equipment, but if you had to, then you would tolerate it. Aaron wiped off your forearm quickly, and punctured your skin. You weren’t sure if he even found a vein, but you cursed. He let the liquid flow inside, then pulled it out quickly. Why couldn’t Lafayette do this? You were sure he’d do a much better job, since he was a doctor and all.

Aaron gave you a Spongebob band-aid, and smiled, dispensing the needle in a trash can nearby. Reminding you that he definitely wasn’t trained to do this. You traced your finger along the band-aid, saying nothing. The others were still passed out, and this time, you knelt down again to check George’s pulse. It was beating wildly for an unconscious man, but at least it was beating at all.

Aaron walked over, something else in his hand. He dropped a drop of the liquid on George, and he jumped up quickly, looking around frantically. His neck was red, from where James was choking him with his own necklace. George took it off, placing it in his pocket.

He turned to you, smiling, “Are you alright, Y/N?” He took a step toward you, but you took a step back. You remembered what Thomas said; he killed Martha, with intent. He lied right to your face. George’s face dropped at your thoughts.

“I can explain-”

“No need,” You interrupted, walking away. You thought New York City would be exciting. You didn’t think you’d find yourself in the middle of a superpower-fueled war. Maybe being in a calmer neighborhood was suited for you.

The others, that were part of the ‘heroes’, all awoke, with the help of Aaron. Eliza barely glanced at George, walking over to her husband. Alexander pulled her into his arms, whispering sweet words to her. He pulled Philip against his side as well.

Hercules and Lafayette exchanged a hug, smiling softly. John patted the two of them on the shoulders, stretching out his limbs. They looked innocent, but, you couldn’t stay with them. You couldn’t look at George without seeing blood fill your eyes. Would he kill you, if you stayed long enough?

“Y/N, it wasn’t that simple. You know that,” George said, looking at his hands, “I’m not a killer.”

You shook your head. Your body was aching, your head throbbing. But you would worry about that later. For now, you needed to leave the park, and think. Think about whether moving back to your home was a better bet than staying here. George looked visibly upset, but didn’t say anything to comfort you. You stumbled through the rest of them, and Hercules touched your arm.

“Where are you going, Y/N? It’s not safe-”

You pulled his arm off, tears welling up in your eyes, “Anywhere is better than here. Don’t call me, don’t visit me, delete my phone number, okay? I, I don’t want to be involved in any of this anymore.”

“But Y/N-” John started, but you held up your hand, silencing him.

“Don’t try to make this harder than it already is. Give me some space, I just, I need some space.”

And with that, you left.

They watched you walk away. Aaron wanted to follow after, to make sure everything was going to be okay, but he decided against it. You were strong, and you could handle yourself. Lafayette’s instincts were kicking in; he wanted to help you heal, but you barely gave any of them a glance. Philip was shaking, his head in his hands. Eliza and Alexander comforted him, saying nothing.

Hercules was clenching his fists. He thought, he thought that with you on the team, everything would be okay. But ever since you were kidnapped, things went downhill. And there was only one person to blame.

Himself.

Hercules was the first to speak up. “George, this wouldn’t have happened, if you didn’t send her out on that mission. Y/N would be safe, sitting in their apartment, watching TV. They wouldn’t have left m-, us, behind. Do you deny everything that Thomas said? About Martha? That you killed her on purpose?”

George nodded, “He’s right. Martha, Martha wanted to die. And Thomas and James knew about it. Thomas walked by the room, while Martha was sick in her bed. I was trying, I tried, every possible way to convince her that this wasn’t a good idea, that, killing her, wouldn’t solve the problems. And she looked at me, and said, ‘I’m tired, George, and I just want to rest, please, just let me rest’, and she went to sleep. I turned around, and saw Thomas and James standing there. They must have told Angelica about it, and I’m not so sure about Peggy. But I’m more than positive that the others told her once they separated from us.”

Everyone was silent. New York City traffic sounds were around them, but it couldn’t cover up the silence happening. Lafayette sighed, sitting at the edge of the fountain. He glanced at your blood stained on the edge, and wiped it away with the water that poured out. He knew how hard it would have been for George to say no to his wife.

Adrienne was the same way when she was on her last leg. He remembered the way she gripped his shirt, and told him that she wanted to die. And the next day, she did. But that didn’t excuse George. He could have brought her to a doctor, to help her. But he didn’t, and that was the problem. The lying didn’t hurt as much as this did.

“George, I forgive you,” Alexander said, smiling softly, “You weren’t thinking clearly, and I know you loved her. Every time you talk about her, I can see the stars in your eyes. So, I forgive you.” He glanced around at the others. Alexander was an easy forgiver. Not many things made him serious angry, not even this. He’s known the man for years, and he knew George never wanted to harm anyone. Especially, someone, he loved as much as Martha.

Eliza nodded, “Okay.” She didn’t say any more. Eliza, she was tough. Tougher than the others credited her to be. Alexander was sure she would get over this hump. John patted George, and Philip said nothing. Alexander knew his son. It would take Philip a while to look at George the same.

But Hercules and Lafayette? They were the ones that needed much more convincing than the others. And by the look on Hercules’ face, Alexander knew he was right in this regard.

“So, we’re just going to let Y/N walk away? After everything they have seen?” Lafayette asked, looking up. “Y/N, they, they are very important to me. I’m not sure why, but I feel like I need to protect them. She’s strong, but I’m not sure that they’re strong enough to handle people with superpowers.”

Aaron scoffed, “Trust me, they are. Y/N could handle anything that they want, if they put their mind to it. You’re not giving them enough credit, Gilbert.”

Hercules was still angry. He was pacing back and forth, walking around the others that were still passed out. At first, meeting Y/N, it was, an interesting experience. They were feisty, they were confused, but they reminded him a lot of himself in many ways. They were headstrong, but they were also reckless. Meeting the Anti-Heroes, here, in a secluded location, could have lost their life. And they were doing it to save them. People they have barely known for more than two weeks

“I’m taking a break,” Hercules turned around. George was picking his brain, so he tried to keep his mind as blank as possible. Until his thoughts put up a picture of you.

“Hercules, we need to give them time-”

“Bullshit, George. You have no right to talk to me right now, none,” He stopped walking, turning around, “You know what? Count me out. I’m done.”

He took off the gold emblem on his uniform, tossing it to the side. Everyone gasped, including Lafayette, whose eyes were red. Laf stood up, taking off his emblem as well. He stood next to Hercules. If Hercules was leaving, then he has to leave too. They were best friends, and he knew he couldn’t stay behind. But from the look on Alexander’s face, he wasn’t having it.

“You’re done? After all of these years, you’re done? Why? Is it because of Y/N?” He asked, letting go of his family. Eliza held onto his arm, trying to stop him. But he shrugged her off, shaking his head. “No, this person shouldn’t break us up. We are a family, Hercules,” He turned to Lafayette, “Does that mean anything to you? At all?”

Lafayette shook his head, “I think I should have left when Adrienne passed. Nothing has been the same since. And this secret George has been hiding, what more is there? What kind of family are we if we cannot tell each other everything?”

Alexander scoffed, “Are you being serious right now?”

John stepped in between them, holding his hands against their chest, “Y’all, we need to stop this, right now. Alex give them some time away, okay? There’s no need to fight, we are a family. We, I think we just need a break, from everything.”

John took off his emblem, putting it in his pocket. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like this was necessary. There was too much happening between everyone, and he knew that not seeing each other for a while, might break the tension.

George was reading his thoughts, and he nodded. “Yes, let’s, let’s separate, for now.”

Alexander turned back around, “Are you kidding?”

“No, I’m not,” He looked at all of his friends. No, his family. They all looked upset, arms crossed and frowning faces, “You all are right in your own ways. But if we just take time for our jobs and ourselves, we might be able to lessen the stress. Okay?”

Alexander grunted, but said nothing more. Hercules and Lafayette left first. George and the last few that decided to stay tied up the Anti-Heroes. George rubbed his head.

He hoped that the problems happening between all of them would be resolved.

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christabellanikolai · 7 years

Photo

The Untitled: Chapter 6

After Daenerys mourns her losses she may have to face the consequences of her previous actions.

Also available on [Wattpad] [AO3]

<– Previous Chapter

Sitting inside his chambers Jon could see the snowfall from where he sat on his bed. He found movement hard as he prepared for sleep. Removing his armor and shirt had been painful, and had taken longer than usual. Once they were off, he looked down at the bandages at his sides, noticing that the lacerations he received from falling were already scarring. Another mark, another reminder of everything he had been through, a reminder he really did not want. His thoughts were interrupted when his door opened and he found Daenerys staring at him.

Daenerys needed to find him, to be near him tonight. Men had always told her they would protect her, but none of them had ever made it as known. Not like Jon had, the only who could compare to him was her late husband Drogo. She had not even bothered to knock when she arrived at his chamber. There she found him shirtless sitting on his bed, examining his scars. The same scars she first saw when he had arrived in Eastwatch.

When Jon rose to his feet she stepped forward to stand front of him. She reached her fingers out trace each scar with her hand. He stood there unmoving as she examined each one, the gentle caress of her fingers soothing his rough skin. When she reached for the one that rested on his heart she remembered what Davos had told, what everyone including Jon himself, dismissed as nonsense. Tears welled in her eyes and she whispered, “What happened to you?”

He grabbed the hand that had been tracing the scar and shook his head. He wasn’t ready to go back to that night yet. She continued to look at him, silent and unmoving. Both of them already lost in each other’s gaze. When he saw that she still cried he brought his hand to her cheek, gently wiping the tears as they fell. “No, I am still here.” He whispered to her.

His touch, his kindness, everything in that moment caused her defenses to finally crumble. She reached up to draw him told her. Closing the gap between their lips, caressing her mouth to his. She heard herself give a weak gasp as he opens his mouth to hers, drinking her in. He placed one arm around her waist while the other ran through her hair, untangling her braids. His touch sending sparks down her spine. She rested her hand once again on his chest, while the other went to wrap around him, trying to bring him closer.

As they kissed through a new feeling invaded her bliss. It was one of dread and pure guilt. She shouldn't be happy, not right now. She remembered that her armies were gone; thousands had died because of her failures. Her child was gone; she would never see three dragons in the sky again. The man she currently held had fallen and almost died, she had been unable to save him. All of her thoughts became too much and she once again began to cry. The pain of what she had been through falling on her shoulders all at once. She would have fallen to the ground if Jon had not caught her.

He didn't say a word; instead, he continued to hold her. Guiding her to the bed he cradled her head to his chest. He allowed her to mourn her losses, providing her with simple comfort. Wrapping both of them in the furs he once again wrapped his arms around her. She felt him providing a safety net to let go, to feel the sadness of all that had happened. Wrapped in his arms, surrounded by his warmth, she found her shelter.

The next morning Daenerys awoke as the sun was starting to rise. Her head still lying on Jon’s chest, he still held her. They had fallen asleep together, in each other’s arms the night before. She looked up at his face as he slept, the rays of light illuminating his features. She had not felt this way about another in a long time, not since her first husband. He was different though, the way he cared for her was not like any man she had ever been with. She now knew without a doubt that she was in love with the King in the North.

He slowly began to stir; she lifted her head to bring to the smallest of kisses to his jawline. He smiled before his eyes fluttered open. As he looked down at her he returned her kiss before speaking "Good morning my Queen."

“Good morning my King.”

Later that day Daenerys sat at the training grounds trying to make it through another session with Brienne and Arya. The time she had spent with Jon had lit a spark inside her, giving her the strength to train harder. Arya had been ruthless though, and in a few hours, she was already being pushed to her limits. As she sat on a bench trying to catch her breath a leather bottle of water was handed to her. She turned to find that it was Sansa offering it to her. "Here," the redhead said. "You look like you could use this."

“Thanks.” Said Daenerys taking a sip from the bottle. “I really did.”

“Your Grace I must apologize," Sansa said as she sat next to Daenerys on the bench. “I have been cold to you since you arrived at Winterfell.”

“There is no need to apologize.” Said Daenerys as she took another sip of the water. “I understand that my families past might cloud the judgment the people of Westeros have about me.”

“But Jon is right, you shouldn’t be judged based on what they have done.”

“That is my goal, show people I am not my Father or my Brothers.”

“I do wish you nothing but luck with that.” Said Sansa, both women smiled, knowing how hard that was truly going to be. “Also I hope you continue to support the North in our war.” Sansa rose to her feet, before she headed back to get to work in her chambers she turned once again turned back to Daenerys. "Also thank you, Your Grace, for bringing my brother home.”

“Are you in love with her?” asked Arya as she walked into the main hall. There she found Jon and Davos sitting at the main table, looking over documents. Jon put down the raven he was about to un-roll and looked right out her. “Are you?” she asked as she pulled a chair to sit across from him.

“Daenerys?” said Jon, smiling at his little sister’s boldness. While a lot had changed with her, some things remained the same. “What gave you that idea?” He could see Davos smirking from the corner of his eyes. He shot him a look that immediately made the Onion Knight change his demeanor.

“I saw you.” Said Arya “Down in the cells, you were holding her hand.”

“I saw it to Your Grace.” Said Davos “Tormund did as well, he promised to keep it to himself though.”

"Well that is good but there is nothing going on," Jon said firmly.

“There are other things,” said Arya, cutting off her brother. “The way you look at her, how you protect her. The night she was attacked you even called her ‘Dany’.”

Jon was left speechless; he had not realized he had let that slip. While he had been so concerned for her he must have let his guard down. He wondered whom else in that room had noticed. “Arya… it’s complicated and I ask that you please do not speak a word of this.”

“You could marry her you know.” Said Arya “If she has so much of a claim to the throne it would be a good thing for the North, right?”

“Aye, you are right Arya.” Said Davos looking toward Jon. “The best alliances are the ones sealed by marriage.”

“I am not going to discuss this right now.” Said Jon returning to his work. “We need to prepare for the Night King.”

“Sometimes I think he uses the Night King as a deflection method.” Joked Davos, Arya laughing.

Jon held up his hand shushing both of them. His demeanor changing from light-hearted to serious as he read his raven scroll. "Arya, where is Daenerys?” he asked as he stood.

“Still on the training grounds with Brienne, why?”

“Excuse me.” He said walking past her, still holding the note. Davos and Arya quickly followed him. Once outside they found Daenerys, she to also had a scroll in her hand. "You got one too?" Jon asked.

“Yes.” Said Daenerys looking as serious as Jon, she handed him her note.

Arya grabbed Jon’s note out of his hand, reading it along with Davos they found what had stunned both the King and Queen. Cersei had written them both, informing them that she had rescinded her offer for a parlay unless Jon and Daenerys were both there. It also stated that she had sent the group back to Dragonstone with the wight.

“We have to go.” Said Daenerys, Jon nodded in agreement.

“Your grace, you still have not fully recovered from the excursion.” Said Davos “Traveling now may be too dangerous.”

“Davos I have to go, this has to be done.” Said Jon “Now prepare to ride for Kings Landing in the morning.”

“But your grace…”

“One of her children died for this!” said Jon pointing toward Daenerys “We are doing this, now get ready!”

Jon started heading toward his chambers, Daenerys not far behind him. As they made their way across the courtyard Jon stopped when he heard a familiar voice at the gate. “Please if you would just send for the King he can tell you who I am.”

“Sam?” he asked, stunned to see his friend and his family after such a long time. The larger man looked at Jon, a large smile lighting up his round face.

“Jon!” shouted Sam as he tried to come into the gate but the guards stopped him, saying something about referring to Jon as the King. Jon pushed past them approaching his longtime friend

“Seven Hells! I didn’t think I would see you again Sam!” said Jon hugging the man. “What are you doing here?”

“Jon I couldn’t stay there any longer.” Said Sam referring to the Citadel. “I know I promised to return a Maester but…”

“Aye Sam, do not worry about it," Jon said smiling. "Maester or not there is a place for you and your family in Winterfell.”

He went to hug Gilly and said hello to little Sam who rested on his mother’s hip. He then motioned for his guards to help Gilly and little Sam inside, telling them to find Sansa so she could help get them settled in one of the available quarters. Jon then led Sam toward the dining hall so the two could begin catching up.

“So the Maesters in the Citadel do not believe in the threat?” asked Jon, as the two sat at a table drinking ale. They had been talking for well over two hours, Sam mostly informing Jon of everything that had happened to him since he left Castle Black.

"No, they believe either Maester Wolkan has gone mad from the cold or Daenerys Targaryen made it up to lay claim to Kings Landing. I tried to convince them but they wouldn’t listen to me. I wanted to become a Maester to help you in this war, but since they wouldn't, believe me, I had to go."

"Do not worry about it anymore Sam." Said Jon taking another drink. "I will have a raven sent to the Citadel, they can come to Kings Landing to see for themselves that the threat is real."

“So…” said Sam changing the subject. “I still haven’t quite figured out how you went from Lord Commander to King in the North? I also hear Edd now has Castle Black?”

"It's a long story, Sam. One I would prefer not to tell you tonight.” Said Jon. The doors of the hall opened and both men turned around to find Daenerys enter, Brienne not far behind her. Jon rose to his feet, approaching her seeming concerned “Is everything alright?” he asked.

“Yes I just wanted to let you know your sisters, Davos, and I have made all the arrangements to leave tomorrow morning.” She said.

“Thank you.” said Jon “Why don’t you two join us for dinner?” he motioned for both of the women to sit at the table. “Gilly and my sisters should be here any minute as well.”

“Daenerys this is Sam, we were both brothers of the Nights Watch, trained together at Castle Black.” Said Jon as she sat at the table, pouring her some ale. Before Daenerys could respond or Jon could continue Sam looked at her, eyes widen in shock.

“You’re Daenerys Targaryen?” shocked that the Dragon Queen was now sitting right near him. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping Jon of course.” Said Daenerys smiling at the man’s candor. She took a sip of the ale, finding the drink hard to swallow. She made a face and both men laughed, even Brienne could not hold back a chuckle. “No it’s fine really, I am just not used to such a strong taste.”

“Maybe I can find you some wine.” Said Jon heading toward the kitchens.

"I am sorry Your Grace." Said Sam holding out his hand. "I never properly introduced myself. "My name is Sam, Samwell Tarly.”

Daenerys froze, doing her best she tried to hide her emotion. She rose to her feet, excusing herself from the table and immediately she went looking for Jon. She found him in one of the wine cellars of the kitchen. “He is a Tarly?” she said.

Jon turned to her, and when she saw that he had no idea what she was concerned about, she continued "Two members of House Tarly died while fighting me at High Garden. He couldn’t be could he…?”

Jon stopped, placing a bottle of wine back on the shelf. He had forgotten all about what happened when she had attacked the Loot Train and how Sam’s father had chosen to side with the Lannisters. “Aye he is, he told me that was his Father at the Wall.”

“Do you think he knows?” she asked.

“If not let me be the one to tell him, okay?” said Jon shutting the gate to the cellar. “We have been through a lot together. It would be better coming from me.”

The two walked back toward the dining hall. Both were prepared for what was to be a light-hearted evening, to turn into something darker. As they approached the entrance they heard Gilly say, “Daenerys Targaryen, isn’t she the one they said your Father and Brother died fighting?”

Both rulers stopped, shocked and not prepared for what to say next. Jon finally broke the silence. “Sam I…”

“Please,” said Sam, cutting him off and rising to his feet. He turned to Daenerys, who remained silent. “My Father was not a good man. Why he even betrayed the Tyrells I do not know. I do know he cared more about personal gains then loyalty. I wish to no longer discuss him tonight. For one night can we just forget that the world may be coming to an end around us?"

Everyone agreed with Sam and the rest of the night went on, each one of them at the table finding temporary escape from the weights of the world. For one night they did forget what waited for them outside. Each of them wishing this night would go on forever.

The next morning Arya arrived at the training grounds, hoping to get some sparring in with Brienne before it was time to see Jon and the rest of the group off. She was told by Brienne to instead go to an unused stable on the other side of the property. Confused she followed Brienne to the building, stepping inside she found it to be empty. She turned around to ask the blonde what was going on but when she did she found Jon standing there.

"Well, let's see what you can do." Said Jon, unsheathing his sword.

Arya’s face lit up with a smile. When she was younger the one thing she had always wanted to do was spar with her older brothers. Her Mother and Father had always forbidden her, saying it was not something becoming of a lady. Now though it was happening, and she couldn’t be happier that it was with Jon. She unsheathed needle from her hip before approaching him.

They continued to spar for well over an hour, each time finding themselves equally matched. Arya noted though that Jon seemed to be holding back. She hoped it was because of his injury and not due to the fact he was worried about hurting her. When it was over they both were dropped to their knee, swords crossed and pointed to one another. Both wore a smile, feeling happier than they had in a long time.

Both of them rose to their feet, dropping their swords. Arya hopped up, throwing her arms around her brother’s neck and shoulders. He held her, just like he had when he left for the wall all those years ago. She had to admit that this was the one thing she had wanted since she returned to Winterfell.

“Promise me you will come home soon.” She said. “and in one piece this time.”

He smiled and laughed, bringing her closer and mussing her hair. “I promise.”

Next Chapter --->

#jonerys #jonerys fanfic #jonerys fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones #jon snow #daenerys targaryen

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0writerchick0 · 7 years

Note

Writing prompts 9, 23 and 25. I really want to see what you do with these! *fingers crossed, waiting in anticipation*

“You better have a good reason for waking me up at theass-crack of dawn.” Arya groaned throughthe phone.

“Shit, sorry! Iforgot what time it was there.” Sansaapologized through the phone.

What time it was there? Arya sat up quickly, “Wait, what? Where are you? And why are you whispering?”

Sansa giggled into the phone, “I don’t want to wake him up.”

“Petyr?” Arya didn’tknow why she was asking, of course she would mean Petyr.

Except that she didn’t, “No, you don’t know him.”

Arya’s eyes widened in surprise and she threw the coversback, setting her feet on the cold floor. If Sansa was calling her this early in the morning, trying not to wakeup strange man, she was most definitely in trouble. Even if she didn’t seem to know it. Truth be told, Arya never thought Sansa wouldstep out on Petyr, but things did not sound good. Fuck. Petyr. “Sansa, where is Petyrright now?”

“Don’t know.” Her answerwas automatic and matter-of-fact as if it was the most normal thing on theplanet to not know where her husband was.

Arya put the phone in the crook of her neck as shesearched the floor for the pants she’d worn the day before. She was pulling them up to her knees when shesaid, “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

Sansa sighed, “I mean, I don’t know, Arya. I got up to pee and he was gone.”

What? He desertedher? No. Not Baelish. He wouldn’t dothat. Not to Sansa. Not after everything they’d beenthrough. Arya hadn’t known the man long,but in the short time she had, she was certain he would rather die than beseparated from her sister. Arya slid herfeet into her boots and grabbed her wallet and keys off the counter, headingfor the door as she asked, “Where the fuck are you, Sans?”

Sansa started laughed uncontrollably, “Bra—hehe—Brav—haha—Braavos.”

“Braavos!” Aryastopped dead in front of the door to her apartment. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Sansa erupted into a giggle fit on the phone. She regained her composure only slightly asshe answered, “Nope. All because I waswearing a short skirt.”

“What? Sans, you’reoff your head. You’re not making anysense.” Arya pinned the phone against her shoulder again, pulling her wallet out. She flipped through to make sure the good credit card was still inthere. She wouldn’t be buying a planeticket with the sixty cash she had in her wallet. “Did someone give you something?”

“Yes!” Sansaexclaimed and then instantly shushed herself, quietly giggling. “The nice man gave me this pill that made mereally horny.”

Arya’s heart began to race, as her brain started shufflingthrough the many possible substances some crazy asshole may have drugged hersister with. She flew out of herapartment, running down the hallway, rounding the corner to start running downthe stairs. She all but barked herorders into the phone, “Get in the bathroom and lock the door. Then text me Varys’ number.”

“What? Why?” Sansa’s confusion teetered on irritation.

Arya chose to hop over the last two steps. “So I can have him GPS your phone. I’m coming to get you.”

“What? Don’t dothat. I’m having too much fun.” Sansa sighed happily as she added, “And Petyrlikes it here, too. He’s a lot freerhere.” Her voice dropped as she addedwith a smirk, “Naughtier.”

What the hell? Aryastopped in front of her bike, “Sansa, how did you get to Braavos?”

“Petyr. We were atthe club and you know he’s only now going back to work, right? Until recently, he usually just worked fromhome, being a grumpy-grump because we weren’t screwing.” Sansa’s speech was rapid as she explainedboth the relevant with the irrelevant, “Which, to be fair, I get grumpytoo. Sansa needs dick, Arya, it’strue. ANYWAY!” She cringed over the phone, “Whoops, that wastoo loud, sorry.”

She continued at a whisper, “So he’s back at the club and Iwanted to look nice for him, right? Well, wrong. He’s all like, ‘Yourskirt’s riding up.’ So I’m all like, ‘No,the skirt is supposed to be this short.’ And he just rolls his eyes and smiles at me. I’m like, ‘What the fuck is that?’ Then I get all mad and tell him that he’sgotten boring being all grumpy and he has no sense of adventure anymore.”

Sansa paused long enough to take another breath before shebegan explaining at the speed of light again, “I said it nicer than how I’msaying it now, but I still said it, Arya. I swear, I did. And so he getsthat look that he gets when he’s either going to tear my clothes off me orshoot something, and the next thing I know I’m getting eaten out on a planeheaded for Braavos.”

Arya stood by her bike, taking it all in, feeling ready toshoot something herself. Sansa was theresponsible one. She was not supposed tobe the one stone-calling her sister from another fucking country. Arya could kill her for inciting such apanic, for what? Nothing. Just a married couple keeping thingsalive. Wait a minute. Where did the strange guy come intoplay? “Sans, who’s the guy?”

“Oh, don’t really know him all that well. He’s a friend of Petyr’s. We told him we were in town and he broughtthe drugs. And his wife. She’s gorgeous by the way. They have an open marriage, and offered tocome back with us.” Sansa’s words hadslowed, not as emotionally invested in this part of her tale.

“And Baelish—sorry, Petyr, let them come back?” Arya couldn’t help but feel curious. The man she knew always had his eyes andhands on Sansa, staring down anyone else that came near her. His possessiveness was well established andwithout question, until now. The ideapopped in her head and she couldn’t resist, smirking as she asked, “Are youguys swingers?”

“Oh my god, Arya, no. Petyr would blow a gasket.” Sansaexplained, “He invited them and some girls back, for them. And after we all took our medicine, Petyr started doing that thinghe does with my ear and drug me to the bedroom. Which, I could just talk your ear off about all the naughty things hedoes when we’re alone.” Sansa burst outin laughter again.

“Don’t.” Aryadidn’t care to hear Sansa’s inebriated over-sharing. She didn’t really care to hear any ofthis. It was too early in the morningfor phone calls like this at all, let alone from her sister. She pulled a pack of cigarettes out and begansmacking them on the palm of her hand, unwrapping it and cramming the plasticback in her pocket after. Now that sheknew she wasn’t in any danger, Arya figured she’d get to the point, “Ifeverything’s okay, why are you calling?”

“I wanted to say thank you.” Sansa’s tone got serious and Arya wondered how her buzz disappeared soquickly.

Arya brought the cigarette to her lips and started pattingherself down, searching her for her lighter. “For?”

“I know Petyr came to you at Wolfswood.” All the amusement had faded away to sincerityas she added, “I know that whatever you two talked about, he’s been differentever since. More confident. More like his old self. Not an invalid any longer.”

Arya lit her cigarette and took a long drag as she realizedhow Sansa was sounding more and more like him every day. She knew what conversation her sister wasreferring to, too.

Petyr had been on the tail end of his recovery from theirwedding massacre and Sansa was being her overbearing self. He came to Arya looking for support in gettingSansa to pull her head out of her ass, and Arya felt for him, seeing how hardhe tried for her sister. So, she threwthe guy a bone, and pushed all the necessary buttons to get Sansa to be morereasonable for him. After that, they allcelebrated Christmas together as one big happy family. Perhaps Baelish had changed, being stuck inbed for months trying to keep his insides on the inside, would definitelychange a man’s outlook. Though somehow,Sansa was attributing his change to Arya.

Arya took another drag off her cigarette and figured shecould use the brownie points so she just answered, “You’re welcome.”

She heard a distant voice in the background say, “Youshouldn’t be out here without me, Oberyn’ll think you’re interested in joiningthem.”

Sansa smiled through the phone, “They’re all sleeping. Where have you been?”

“Getting you coffee.” Arya recognized Petyr’s voice getting closer to the phone, “And more ofthis.”

Arya brought her cigarette back up to her lips, acceptingthat she was now chopped liver, and slightly wondering what “this” was. Sansa sighed, “But we like pomegranate.”

His voice sounded huskier as he said, “I know. They didn’thave any. And you like strawberries too.”

“Did you try it?” Sansa asked.

Arya left the cigarette in her mouth as she bent down, tyingher shoelaces. She wondered if sheshould just hang up, but decided to wait for Petyr to realize she was on the phone. She listened to his voice ask, “There’s nopoint. It won’t taste the same as when Ilick it off of you.”

Arya’s jaw dropped, the lit cigarette falling from her mouthand onto her shirt, burning a hole in it. She moved quickly smacking at the embers, “Jesus fuck!”

“What? What’s wrong?” Sansa’s voice sounded concerned over thephone, finally remembering that she was on the phone with someone. Petyr, in the background asked, “Who’s that?”

“Arya,” Sansa answered. “She sounds like something’s wrong.”

Arya sighed at the hole through her shirt and she answered, “No. I’m fine. I just dropped my cigarette on my shirt.”

“Again?” Sansasounded mildly annoyed as she added, “Thisis why you don’t ever have any shirts to wear.”

Seriously? She was chastising her right now? Sansa was the one who left the country on awhim, hooked up with some swingers, got high and called her little sister at anungodly hour to thank her for something that happened a month ago. Arya scowled into the phone, “I get that youare living it up in some weird vaykay, honeymoon catch up thing, but why don’tyou save the calls for when you get home and you’ve got your head screwed on.”

“Good idea.” It was Petyr’s voice. “Apologies, Arya. We’ll have to connect when we get back.”

“Sounds good.” Arya hung up before she said something shemay regret.

She looked around her,seeing the warm yellow light of the early morning. Arya couldn’t remember the last time she wasup this early, dressed and already at her bike. She thought to herself, Fuckit. Might as well grab breakfast.

#writing #prompt #unedited #after merger #after chapter 5 of wolfswood #not yet anywhere near deadhead #still early into marriage

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fuckallthegood0nesweretaken · 4 years

Text

The Dove and Her Hound - CH. Six

Title: Sheltered From the Storm

Words: 1,258

Warnings: None that I can see. Maybe Arya being a pain in the ass, but that’s about it. No swearing or mature content.

A/N: Our three main characters go by different names in this chapter. MC is Lara, Arya is Ava, and Sandor is Marcel. I explain a bit in the chapter, but I know so many names can get confusing.

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Sandor Masterlist

Game of Thrones Masterlist

Masterlist

~~~~~~~

“I think it’s gonna rain soon,” you said, frowning at the sky.

“Where are we?” Arya asked as she plucked a root from the ground.

“Near Fair Market. I think,” Sandor replied.

“You think? Do you have a map?”

“Does it look like I have a map?”

“Well maybe you should get one.”

“Why don’t you point out the next map shop you see and I’ll buy you one.” You let out a giggle.

“How far to the Eyrie?” You asked as the three of you walked back to the horses.

“Not far.”

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Arya quipped. She was in a mood today that was for sure.

“We’re going the right way, don’t worry. We’ll see Aunt Lysa soon.” You gave Arya a small smile and a pat on the cheek.

“We should find some shelter,” you said to Sandor. “A storm is coming.”

“Aye, one is.” He took your hand and pulled you close. “We’ll find something.”

“Seven Blessings to you,” someone said above you. Looking up, you saw a man and his young daughter.

“What do you want?” Sandor asked him.

“What do I want? This is my land.”

“I’m standing on it, makes it my land.”

“We were just watering our horses. We’ll be on our way,” Arya said. She stood up. “Forgive my father. He was wounded in the war and our cottage burned down while he was gone.”

“We’re just trying to find a place to put down some roots,” you said sweetly, holding onto Sandor’s arm. “My husband can be a little too brash at times.”

“Which House did he fight for?” The man asked you.

“The Tully’s of Riverrun,” you said. The man looked between the three of you.

“There’s a storm coming. You’ll be wanting a roof tonight. There’s hay in the barn,” he offered. “And Sally here makes a delicious stew like her mom used to do.”

“We’re very grateful for your hospitality,” you said, bowing your head slightly.

“We don’t have much but any man who’s bled for House Tully is welcome to it.” With a smug look on your face, you looked at Sandor and Arya. Arya looked back with the same expression and Sandor just pinched you lightly. You giggled and kissed his cheek.

---

It had started to rain a little before you got to the cottage. It wasn’t too much to where you were drenched, but enough to feel the wet. Inside the house was a fireplace that was already lit, a table, and a small bed. A door was on one side and you couldn’t tell where it led. The man took your cloak and hung it by the fire to dry. You and Arya sat in front of the fire to warm up while the little girl made the stew and the two men went and collected more wood. With a shiver, you stood up and made your way to the girl.

“What’s your name?” You asked her.

“It’s Sally.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Sally. Is there anything I can do to help make supper?”

“You can cut the vegetables if you’d like.”

The two of you made supper and you got to know the girl a little more. Her mother had died of an injury when she was young and ever since then it had been just her and her father. She was happy and healthy though, so she didn’t complain. Sandor walked in to the sight of you teasing the young girl, making her laugh. Your eyes met and you smiled softly at him before returning your attention to the child.

“Your wife is very kind. I haven’t seen Sally really smile like that since her mother was alive,” the man said.

“Aye. She’s very kind. Sometimes too kind.”

“I never got your names. Mine is Issac.”

“My husband’s is Marcel. Our daughters is Ava and mine is Lara,” you piped up from the kitchen. “Ava, help Sally set the table. Supper is almost ready.”

“Yes, mother,” Arya said, obediently getting up to help.

“Ah, you are guests you don’t have to do that,” Issac said.

“Nonsense. You are sheltering my family from the storm outside. It’s the least I can do,” you said with a wave of the wooden spoon. He looked like he wanted to argue, but Sandor put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s best not to argue with that one. She’s so stubborn she can give an ass a run for its money.” Arya let out a snort and you glared at him.

“Keep talking like that and you won’t get any food, dear husband.” Your voice was steely and Sandor gulped. Arya laughed and you turned your attention to her.

“It’ll happen to you too, if you don’t behave yourself,” you warned. Arya stopped laughing and quickly went to grab the bowls and spoons for the meal.

“What about me?” Sally said with a tug on your tunic. You crouched down to her height and pinched her cheek.

“You can have all the food you want, sweetheart,” you cooed. She smiled brightly and waltzed over to her father.

“I’m a sweetheart!” She said happily.

“That you are,” her father agreed. “Now let’s go wash up for supper.”

The two of them went to the wash basin across the room and Sandor came up to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and put his chin on the top of your head.

“Are you going to deny me some food, lovely wife?” He said.

“Are you going to stop being a prick?” You shot back. Sandor tightened his grip on your waist. Your breath hitched.

“Not the time,” you said lowly.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “That’s not what you were saying last night.”

With one last squeeze to your middle and a kiss on your cheek, Sandor went to wash up with Arya. Your cheeks were red and your gut humming as you recalled what had transpired the night before. You were only jerked out of your thoughts when Arya touched your shoulder.

“Mother? You can go wash up now. Sally’s going to finish with the food.”

“Thank you, love,” you said to Arya, kissing her head. “Go sit down, I’ll be right over.”

---

Dinner had gone off with only a few minor hitches. You had to stop Arya and Sandor from drinking directly from their bowls and to remind Sandor that he was in the presence of a child and that he shouldn’t curse. You doted on little Sally when you could and had helped with the cleanup after the meal. Sandor kept you close to him and you were grateful for the extra warmth. It was only when Arya and Sally both yawned at the same time that it was time for bed.

“Let me put Sally in the bed then I’ll lead you to the barn,” Issac said. He picked up his little girl and Sandor picked up Arya. She tried to protest, but you shushed her.

“Just go to sleep, Ava. It’s okay,” you murmured, brushing hair out of her face. Arya tried to keep the sleep at bay, but lost the battle. Before Issac came back she was out like a light.

“This way.” He led you outside and opened the door to the barn.

“If you end up needing anything, please let me know.”

“We will. Thank you very much for everything,” you said. Sandor had carried Arya inside and you followed.

“Goodnight, Issac.”

“Goodnight, Lara.”

#sandor clegane x reader #sandor x reader #game of thrones x reader #got x reader #x reader #reader insert #Sandor Clegane #Arya Stark #stark reader #game of thrones #got #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #got fanfiction #got fanfic #sandor clegane fanfiction #sandor clegane fanfic

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jo-the-schmo · 7 years

Text

Breaking... Ch.12

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

A/N: This chapter took way too long because I wasn’t planning for it but it’s here now so let’s go y’all! I’ll get back to the main plot next chapter I swear!

Wordcount: 3609

Warnings: Blood, slut shaming, taunting, cursing

Tags!!: @iamnotthrowingawaymyshit @renae-writes @deltablue202 @literally-melonkitty @meunicorn @favouritefighting-frenchman @demi-godamit @gum-and-chips @sweaterkitty-fluff @pinkyiger7 @littlemissshortcakes@msageofenlightenment @unprofessional-inhumanbeing @fandom-panda-221@hummusandchips @spoopy-piineapple @ashwolfcub @myself-and-the-madman @sweet-fate @superwholockbooknerd526 @frozengal2013 @lmaodedhaha @itsmikayblr @sarmar29 @arya-durin-77 @phantastic-fandoms @hoshihime98 If anyone else would like to be tagged just shoot me an ask saying so! ^-^

Breaking Trust

You felt the impact send waves through your skull, they reverberated through your brain. Bouncing off the bone. You were falling past the ground, it seemed like the ground faded from under you. Varying shades of grey were around you and sticking out like jagged stone; but as it faded out to white you felt the familiar wrapping of silk around your body. Just as you saw the end of the gleaming fabric, one of the pieces wrapped itself around your leg and dangled you above your point of exit. You stared numbly into the light, you couldn’t see anything beyond it but you could hear something faint. “Miss, I’m going to need you to step back and leave the room! The doctor needs room to work.” It was a woman, she sounded older and frustrated. “No! Please, I need to be here with her! Y/N! Please, wake up!” Another woman said, she seemed much younger than the first and her ton was frantic. Her voice was familiar. “Damn it all! She’s drifting off! Miss L/N, do not fall back asleep!” An older male voice called. You tried to fight the silk and reach out towards the voices but it was no use. The silk raised you up as you struggled and flung you the way you fell. You flew through the air, past the white, past the rocks and into the light you came from.

Your eyes shot open as you gasped for air. You were laying on some kind of couch and you felt the warmth and light from a fire nearby.

“Well, at least you’re finally up.” A female voice said curtly. You looked around to see a woman standing by a door. Her clothes were similar to yours, only her bodice was orange and had longer sleeves. “Honestly, you’re lucky to be alive at all. If Mr. Burr had not seen your horse, you would certainly be dead.” Mr. Burr? Her voice was cold, her hair, skin and eyes all matched that tone. Icy.

“Where am I?” You asked as your frantically sat up. She chuckled at your panic.

“I shall inform Mr. Burr of your current status. Wait here.” She ordered you and walked out of the room. What the hell happened? The last thing I remember… You touched the left side of your face and winced. You felt some sort of bandage along your left temple and although you couldn’t see it, you could feel how bruised your face was. There were footsteps coming toward the door so you stood up, you still felt a bit dizzy but you quickly steady yourself. In walked in a familiar man, dark skin, wearing a deep purple and a pleasant smile.

“I see that you are awake. What was your name? Titania, was it?” He asked.

“M-Mr. Burr, sir! Um, that’s what I am called yes?” Am I lying? He nodded and sensed your confusion about the situation.

“I heard a commotion outside my door at sun rise and saw a horse with gear standing on my lawn. I recognized it as belonging to Mr. Hamilton and decided I should send it back to his estate but it was acting rather strange. It kept moving away from me whenever I approached and, although it was probably foolish for to think it, it seemed to want to show me something. Low and behold you were not even a twenty meters from my home. I brought you back and called for a doctor, you had a terrible head wound but he said that you would wake up soon. Luckily he was correct, the sun has just only begun to set.” He explained. That’s crazy! Seriously universe? Why do you have to be such a bitch to me?!

“I don’t know what to say… Thank you, Mr. Burr! You really saved my life! I don’t know how I can thank you enough let alone repay you for this!”

“No need for thanks, I couldn’t just leave you out to die now could I? And in terms of repayment, I shall talk with Alexander about that.” Talk with Alex…Fuck… He’s not supposed to know about what happened! And hell I’ve already caused them enough trouble, why do I have to be like this?! He’s going to have to pay money for my idiocy! Ugh! He could read your disappointment as if you were actually saying it to him.

“Is something the matter?” He asked. Fuck.

“No, no, no, no, no! That’s perfectly fine! It’s just… I don’t exactly like having other people pay my debts but I suppose I’ll have to just live with it.” This is going to be bad when they get back… He closed his eyes like he was thinking about something. You couldn’t read his expression at all, which was something that Alex frequently complained about him. He was elusive.

“I have a proposition for you then, Miss Titania.” What?

“A proposition?” You asked.

“My wife you see, has fallen quite ill and we are a bit short of staff. I am aware that the Hamiltons are up town for the winter. Perhaps, while they are away, you could lend your services to help around here.” He offered.

“Seriously? Thank you so much, Mr. Burr! I just really don’t want to cause any problems for Alex and I’ll work really hard to make sure my debt is paid-“ He shushed you.

“Talk less.” Wait, what? “I will take that as a yes, however there are some rules you must follow.”

“Oh, um, of course.”

“Things are done very differently around here than at Alexander’s. You are at the Burr estate now and you must behave as such. Based on how you have worked at the Hamilton’s I can tell that your personality is rather… loud. That will not be the case while you are with me. Talk less, smile more. That is how you shall operate. You will be expected to hold a demeanor of calm and collectiveness at all times. I will not tolerate anything less, is that clear?” You were surprised by how serious he was while speaking to you, you were actually taken aback. I suppose not everything could be as accepting as it is with them… Even with the terms being so out of character for you, you knew you had to try. So you agreed to the conditions.

That night you were given back your horse and set out for the estate. You felt slightly uncomfortable with having to ride again after what happened but it was your only option. You were going to be a maid for the Burr’s and would have to leave at dawn every morning to get there on time for work. You got back home, led the horse back to the stables and went inside. You hastily prepared a fire to ward off the chill in your bones. You weren’t sure why but you didn’t have a good feeling about this.

…

Dear Starlight,

It already feels as though I have been away from you a century, has it truly only been a month and a half since I have seen you? I miss you, I miss our conversations, I miss your lectures, I miss your voice, your spirit, your passion. I miss it all, everything down to the way you hold a teacup as though it could fall apart in your hands. It is very quiet uptown; I do not think I like the quiet though. It feels empty and, dare I say, a bit lonely without you by my side to share your thoughts on this world we live in. Everyone else misses you as well. Father and Mother have been telling Grandfather all about you, he seems to find you quite charming. Angelica says that studying is becoming a bore without you there to give her alternative methods of remembering her work. Even Alexander, James and John seem quite withdrawn; specifically, they long for one of your fairytales. I have no idea what they are talking about but it has something to do with a fruit that can show you everything you desire? Or was it about gaining knowledge from it? It sounds fascinating, then again, everything about you intrigues me. It is surprising to think that it has not even been an entire year since our first meeting, I feel as though I have known you my entire life. Although since we are on a similar subject, I have some rather exciting news. My birthday is next week! I shall be turning sixteen, soon enough I will no longer be considered a boy but instead a young man. However, I only care about that title when it comes to you. Your wit and luminosity may suggest you consider me an equal. Yet, does that mean your heart sees me as such? I wish not to be considered a child in thine eyes, a boy who becomes as red as a blooming rose over his frivolous romanticized fantasies. I do not think the word ‘different’ quite fits how I see you, perhaps extraordinary would be a better term? You are not like any of the other maidens I have encountered; you are bold, utterly silly and stubborn in every wondrous way. You are the brightest star is the sky, the North Star. Others gaze upon you and wonder where you shall lead them, while I can only hope that you will take pity on a soul deprived of your love, a soul left completely helpless. I see your eyes and smile in the night sky, Lord knows that I have prayed. I have prayed that you will leave your celestial heaven and keep beside me. Is it not embarrassing? Even on paper I cannot articulate what I am feeling without becoming muddled. Perhaps it is best if I wait to express myself when I meet you at the end of February. Until then ma cherié, please do not forget to write. I know you must be busy as to not have the time to write but that shall not stop my own writing tendencies, your words bring me more joy than you could possibly imagine.

Sincerely yours,

P. Ham, your sunshine.

Your mind and your heart were telling you two distinctly different things by the time you finished reading Philip’s letter. Why does everything have to be so complicated?! You held your head in your hands, trying to decide what to do next. It’s been two weeks since you started to work for Aaron Burr and to say you hated it would an understatement. You’ve never felt so restricted in your entire life, it was huge reality check for you. Not everything could be all feminism and modern like it was with Alexander. Proper etiquette hangs over your head constantly, you never expected Burr to be as uptight as he is. It isn’t all bad though, Mrs. Burr is actually quite lovely. She tells you many stories of her younger days when she’s well enough to speak cohesively. Honestly, the best times were when she was awake, it always gave you the chance to take a breather from Aaron. He wants to be by her side as often as time allows, he acts like a completely different person around her. He’s happy. That doesn’t last too long though, and Sarah doesn’t help much either. Sarah was the maid that was ‘by your side’ when you awoke at the Burr estate. She’s kind of, maybe, the worst person. She frequently taunts you for the position you’re in and tries to accuse you because of your relationship with the Hamilton’s. “I know what you did, who knew a man would actually defend his whore.” When you asked her what she was trying to imply she said. “I wonder how the son reacted to learn that his whore was also his father’s. I believe I would pay to see such an encounter!” No matter how many times you try to convince her of the truth, she just shuts you down and claims that a prostitute will do anything to hide her sins. First of all, I’ll do what I damn well please with my body! Second of all, I DID NOT have an affair with Alexander! Seriously, I thought this whole situation was over! You didn’t have time to read the letter before you had to leave for work, so you took it with you. You heard footsteps from beyond the door you were behind and quickly hid the letter in your bodice. You stood up from where you were sitting at the dining room table, taking your spare cloth off of your apron and using it to wipe the table. You know, to make it seem like you were working even though there was nothing to clean yet. Sarah, cold looking as ever, came bursting in.

“Good morning, Miss Home Wrecker. I will be taking care of Lady Burr today, which means you will be in charge of everything else for the day. I suggest you be on your best behavior, or else you shall receive quite a tongue lashing from Mr. Burr… Although you probably want that!” She snorted as she left you alone to fester in your anger. Fuck you too, Sarah! Okay Y/N, calm down. It’s only for another five or so weeks. I can do this! Just put on your best smile and suck it up, buttercup! You took a deep breath and left to take your normal rounds. Things were going relatively smoothly, at least until mid-day approached.

You heard a carriage drawing into the ‘driveway’ as you started to call it. Ugh, a visitor… Normally, you wouldn’t mind having to greet a visitor, but you haven’t had to deal with any of Burr’s guest yet. You weren’t excited. Nevertheless, you did what you were taught, you walked over to the door and smiled sweetly. You heard footsteps and you opened the door, closing your eyes to block out the brightness from the light hitting the snow outside.

“Welcome to the Burr estate! What may I do for you today?” You asked in a bubbly voice.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Oh no. Please let it be a hallucination! Please let it be a hallucination! You slowly opened your eyes and to no surprise the first thing you see is a bright color. Magenta. The whole image started to fade in, Thomas Jefferson, in all his horridness, was standing in front of you. On top of that, you had to greet him with a smile and give him hospitality. I’d rather shut the door in his face… You bit your tongue and moved out of the way for him so that he could enter. “Well, well, well, Miss Titania! I would never guess I would find you here. What brings you? I thought Hamilton was away for the winter?” He gave you a mischievous grin as you shut the door behind him.

“Simply working, nothing worthy of noting.” You said through gritted teeth. He chuckled, but before he could retort, Burr’s voice echoed from the nearby staircase.

“Hello Thomas, forgive me but my wife is awake at the moment so I must focus on her. Miss Taylor, please make him some tea.” Can I pour the tea on him?! You nodded to the demand, you couldn’t exactly say no. You turned and began to walk towards the dining room.

“Take a seat, I’ll be back with your tea shortly.” You lashed, obviously annoyed. He smiled, but he didn’t sit down.

“Actually, I would much rather follow you. I hate not having company and personally, I’d say you make some pretty fine company.” He raised his eyebrows up slightly. This bitch… You shot him a thin smile and turned to walk into the kitchen, rolling your eyes as he trailed behind you. You began the tea preparations, hoping that he would at least give you the pleasure of not speaking. You were not granted that pleasure.

“How have you been Miss Titania?” He asked, your back turned to him.

“Fine.” You said insipidly. You began to heat up the water and turned to find Jefferson a few feet away from you.

“That’s a rather noxious injury you’ve got there.” He pointed and traced out in the air the slight crescent shape from the stitching on your left temple. You covered it up with your hand. “May I ask how that happened?” He asked with curiosity in his brown eyes, you spoke as you walked past him to grab the tea box.

“It seems that I am no equestrian, Mr. Jefferson.” You said with dun. He clicked his tongue.

“I see.” After that, things went silent for a moment. You got out the teapot and made the tea, now all that was left was for you to set up the tray and cups, you assumed Burr would join him shortly. You set the tray down, picked out he saucers, the cream and sugar as well. You grabbed one of the tea cups with both hands, careful not to drop it and as you picked up the second one, Thomas spoke up.

“How has Philip been recently.”

Crack, shatter, puncture, warm.

Some glass fragments from the delicate cup began to trickle from your seizing hands, the pieces digging into your palms. You whipped your head around, shock was etched into his features and it only grew deeper when he saw the burning hatred on your own.

“Don’t ever! You do not have the right to ask me about him after what you did! You made him hate me! Even if it was only for a day, it killed me! You do not deserve the grace of hearing his effulgent name, let alone say it!” You spat, you had had enough. You couldn’t hold back anymore, you were tumultuous. You felt like crying, screaming, and being sick all at the same time. He doesn’t deserve to know how wonderful that family is! He almost ruined them! He threw his hands up to show peace.

“Whoa, perhaps it would be best to calm down.” He said in an oddly soothing voice. You wanted to yell, don’t tell me to calm down! But you realized something.

The cup

You opened your hands and the rest of the glass fell to the floor, there were tiny cuts on your hands and blood prickled out from the ends but that’s not what you cared about. Fuck! You crouched down onto the ground and frantically began to pick up the pieces, gathering them up in your apron cloth to hold them.

“No, no, no, no! Burr’s going to kill me!” You spoke breathlessly and then a voice you really didn’t want to hear.

“Why am I going to kill you?” Burr asked dryly. He looked down at what you were doing, his expression blank. You hated that look, it made you even more fearful than most things. The idea that he could be thinking of anything and you wouldn’t know terrified you enough as it was. But now it was directed at you. You were about to apologize, try to convince him it was an accident and that you were sorry but you were interrupted.

“I dropped my cup, you know me Burr, my senses are never quite right when I’m around a pretty lady! I’ll pay for it, don’t worry about it!” Jefferson laughed. What? What’s he doing? Burr sighed and shook his head, rubbing his temples, which he commonly did when he was stressed.

“Seriously, Thomas? You can’t stop your womanizing for even a second? Well… It’s not the good china so I suppose no harm was done. I came in here to tell you that we shall head to the cabinet in a moment, I just have to get properly dressed first. It’ll only be a moment. Taylor, please clean up this mess.” He said as he turned and left the two of you alone once more. You quickly gathered up the rest of the glass and stood up, making sure it wouldn’t fall out of the sides of your apron, the edges you holding lightly between your fingers. You turned to look at Jefferson.

“Why…? Why did you cover for me?” You were dumbfounded, he took a deep breath.

“I know how Burr can be, it was honestly just better to say that I did it. Besides, I’m not a scoundrel all the time you know?” You disposed of the glass as he stepped closer to you. He was only a foot away from you by the time you noticed, he held out his hand.

“May I see your hands?” He asked calmly. You reluctantly showed him your hands, he held one in each of his and inspected them closely. “Hm, you should be alright. Clean them up, use a cloth to stop the bleeding and if anyone asks, tell them you slipped on the ice outside.” He instructed, you nodded along, still a bit confused.

“Why would you help me? Don’t you hate me or what I stand for or something?” He sighed at your question.

“Listen, I will admit that my accusations were under a false pretense, that I apologize for. I wasn’t asking you about Philip to be antagonizing, I was genuinely curious. I talked to James a while back and he told me about what you said. ‘I don’t care about my name’ All you care about is everyone else’s wellbeing. You could say it put things into perspective for me. Why would a whore care about her ‘lover’ and not have it be about money? Why would Hamilton write an entire pamphlet to protect the dignity of one mistress but incriminate the other? It doesn’t make sense, unless I’m wrong and that you truly had nothing to do with it. It was presumptuous of me, and for that I am very sorry. When it comes to Philip however, I am rather close to Angelica and we have discussed the two of you the recently. So do not worry, I get it.” He let go of your hands and gave you a soft smile, walking past you towards the exit into the dining room. “I should meet with Burr, perhaps I shall meet with you again in the future, Titania? It would be a real shame to not see your pretty face again. Au revoir, mademoiselle.” He waved goodbye to you with that same grin on his face. What just happened? Is he not an asshole 24/7? You were left to stew in your questions for a bit, but you eventually followed the directions he gave you, pushing the questions to the back of your mind. Which then made new questions form.

What am I going to do when they get back?

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